And the more time I spend online, the more I realize just how much I miss it.
We have more followers. More groups. More memberships. More communities. More group chats. More ways to connect with people than we’ve probably ever had before.
But sometimes I wonder:
Are we actually connecting?
I see communities with 2,000 people in them.
5,000 people.
10,000 people.
And that’s great.
But are you learning?
Do people know your name?
Can you ask a question without feeling like you’re bothering somebody?
When you finally figure something out, are you turning around and helping the person behind you?
Because that is the kind of community I miss.
I Don’t Need 2,000 People
Give me 20 people who genuinely want to see each other win.
Give me the person who finds an opportunity and immediately drops it in the group because she knows somebody else would be perfect for it.
Give me the creator who figured something out after three hours of frustration and comes back and says, “Okay, here’s what I learned so you don’t have to go through all that.”
Give me the person who asks the question everybody else was too embarrassed to ask.
Give me people who don’t gatekeep every single thing they’ve learned.
That’s community to me.
And honestly?
Small communities make me happy.
Somewhere Along the Way, Community Became an Audience
I think that’s part of what I’ve been feeling lately.
There’s a difference between building an audience and building a community.
An audience watches you.
A community talks to each other.
An audience asks, “What can you teach me?”
A community eventually says, “Okay, you taught me that. Now let me help somebody else.”
That’s what I want more of.
I love teaching. If I learn something useful, I’m probably going to tell somebody about it.
But I don’t want everything to be me standing at the front of the room talking while everybody else listens.
I want somebody in the comments saying:
“Kendra, there’s actually an easier way to do that.”
PLEASE TELL ME. 😂
That’s the whole point.
I don’t have to be the smartest person in the room.
Neither do you.
We just need a room where people are willing to share what they know.
Are You Actually Learning?
This is the question I keep coming back to.
You can join a community with thousands of people and still feel completely alone.
You can consume post after post, watch training after training, save 100 resources and still not know what your next move should be.
More information doesn’t always mean more progress.
Sometimes you need a smaller room.
A place where somebody notices when you’ve been quiet.
A place where you can say, “I don’t understand this,” and someone actually answers you.
A place where wins are celebrated without everything turning into a competition.
A place where people can say, “This worked for me,” without pretending that means it will automatically work for everybody.
And a place where we can admit when we don’t know something.
I Think the Internet Needs More Small Rooms
Not everything needs to scale.
Whew.
I’m saying that to myself as much as I’m saying it to anybody reading this.
We’re constantly being told to grow.
Grow your followers.
Grow your email list.
Grow your membership.
Grow your reach.
Grow. Grow. Grow.
But what if something is already good while it’s small?
What if 50 people genuinely helping each other is more valuable than 5,000 people who never speak?
What if success isn’t always having the biggest room?
Maybe it’s having a room where people actually want to stay.
This Is the Kind of Internet I Want
I want to share the opportunity I found.
I want you to tell me about the tool that saved you three hours.
I want somebody to ask the “dumb” question.
I want us to talk about what worked and what flopped.
I want to celebrate somebody landing their first $50 opportunity just as loudly as we celebrate somebody landing $5,000.
I want people to be able to say, “Hey, I need help,” without immediately being handed a payment link.
And yes, people deserve to be paid for their expertise. I’m a firm believer in that.
But I also believe every helpful conversation doesn’t have to become a transaction.
Sometimes you can just help somebody.
Imagine that.
Maybe That’s What I’m Building
The older I get, the less interested I am in looking successful on the internet.
I want what I’m doing here to actually mean something.
I still want to create.
I still want to make money.
I still want the brand deals, affiliate income, opportunities and all the other things I’m working toward.
But I also want people around me.
Real people.
People learning.
People sharing.
People figuring it out together.
Maybe it won’t be the biggest community on the internet.
Actually, I don’t think I want it to be.
I just want it to be real.
Because give me a small room full of people who genuinely want to see each other win?
I’m choosing that room every time.
So let me ask you: Do you miss real community too? And what would make an online community actually feel like one to you?
