Standing Alone To Create Space

At some point we have to ask ourselves, "Who's responsibility is it?"

I say, “don’t wait for the space to feel diverse, show up and help make it so.”

I was asked last year, “What do you do for community as an Indigenous Unschooler?

One year ago my answer was, “Stand alone. Because, we were witnessing people teach their kids to hate others who are different. To hate those who are not christian. To scorn others that are not you.”

I realized I was taking in much of such commentaries from social media. So I got off of social media! For over half a year I pulled away from toxic messages published by homeschool influencers. Then it hit me that we were isolated not from standing alone in toxic spaces but standing alone, alone.

This didn’t bother my kids they love their own space and their lives as we live it. Bur for myself an extroverted awkward social butterfly it hit me strangely. For one I didn’t know what events were going on, but I wasn’t experiencing judgment. I didn’t have friends but I wasn’t holding space for others who never held space for me.

Then this summer, per usual, I caught the bug again, the desire to be out in the world, to do all the things and meet all the people and to promote my book. As I talked with parents in my network I got the opportunity to resubmit myself to community. I though with time I had built up my guard enough to not allow the BS of other to penetrate my soul. What I found after a period of healing was far deeper than thicker skin.

I found I had grown a bull shit meter.

Not the kind that just detects and dismisses surface-level nonsense, but one deeply attuned to energy, intention, and values. A discernment that didn't just say “no” to toxicity, but said “yes” to authenticity.

This time, when I entered spaces, I wasn’t trying to fit in. I was listening. Observing. Trusting the quiet guidance that says, this person is safe, this group doesn’t align, this event may seem inclusive, but the undercurrent isn’t for us.

Standing alone no longer felt lonely. It felt like integrity.

What I realized is this: standing alone isn’t about isolation. It’s about sovereignty. I wasn’t just removing myself from toxicity. I was creating space for something else to grow. For aligned relationships. For communities that celebrate complexity. For learning environments where children, and parents, don’t have to conform to feel safe.

Still Standing In

We are still very much alone in saying no to toxicity. But now, that “alone” no longer feels like a sacrifice. It feels like a boundary well kept. We continue to show up in spaces where we’re neither overtly welcomed nor explicitly dismissed, like in Scouts (fingers crossed). We show up anyway, because our lives and our values matter even in the absence of others.

So now, when someone asks me, “What do you do for community as an Indigenous unschooler?”

I say: I make space. I protect it. And I trust that in time, the right people fill it.

Why? Because I’ve listened to other families of color say they won’t participate in certain spaces because “it’s not diverse.” And while I understand that feeling deeply, I also want to whisper a hard truth: if no one shows up, it never will be diverse.

What if every BIPOC family joined, one at a time? They’d begin to create the very sense of diversity they’re looking for. They’d open doors for other families of color who are waiting to see themselves reflected before stepping in. I say, “don’t wait for the space to feel diverse, you show up and help make it so.”

But I also need families of color to understand something else: diversity is not just Blackness. It’s not sameness. It’s not a mirror of our own culture or worldview. This year alone, I’ve had to remove myself from toxic Black spaces. Spaces where there was only one way to be a person of color. That shit hurt. Because even in places labeled “diverse,” the demand to conform, to be a particular version of “them,” was WORSE than being the only one in the room.

So here I am, standing alone, but whole. Alone, but clear. Not isolated from community, but making room for one that doesn’t yet exist.

And when it does, I’ll be here. Not to fit in, but to belong right alongside brave pioneers.