Welcome back to The Neighborhood Table - your seat is here.

At The Neighborhood Table, we gather to think deeper, speak honestly, and build the kind of community the world keeps saying is impossible. Every issue is a moment, a mirror, and a practice. Pull up a seat. The conversation begins here.

In this issue, expect to challenge the “build your own table” mantra, rethink how differences shape community, and examine whether your table is building connection or isolation. You’ll walk away with a clearer lens on belonging and a question that might reshape how you show up in your relationships.

If Everyone Builds Their Own Table, Who’s Left to Sit With You?

There’s a phrase floating around our timelines.
A mantra people repeat like gospel.

“If they don’t respect you, build your own table.”

I get it.
It sounds powerful.
It sounds freeing.
It sounds like the exact antidote to broken relationships and toxic spaces.

But lately…
I’ve been wondering.

If everybody is building their own table, who in the world is left to sit with you?

One of the roads nobody talks about is the lonely one.
The one that shows up after you’ve burned every bridge in the name of self-protection.
The one where you look around and realize that every table you built was meant to keep others out instead of letting someone in.

I’ve been there.

There were seasons where I walked into spaces and met some truly nasty people.
People who didn’t see me.
People who didn’t care about me.
People who looked down on me like I was breathing their air.

I had every right to walk away.
Every right to build my own table out of spite, pride, and frustration.

But here’s what shocked me:

It wasn’t the people who mistreated me who decided my future.
It was how I held myself at the table…
that opened the next table I was invited to.

Your character is the invitation card.
Your presence is the RSVP.
And your posture determines whether a community sees you as a bridge or a barricade.

We talk a lot about boundaries.
We talk a lot about self-worth.
We talk a lot about removing ourselves from toxic environments.

But here’s the truth most people avoid:

Some of us aren’t building tables.
We’re building islands.

And we disguise isolation as empowerment.

Not every table is meant to be abandoned.
Not every disagreement is a sign to cut people off.
Not every difficult person is a villain.
Sometimes…
they’re just different.

And if our differences always become division,
we’re not building community.
We’re avoiding it.

I’ve seen people shout “protect your peace” when really they’re just allergic to accountability.
I’ve seen people say “build your own table” when the real issue is they don’t know how to sit with others without demanding control.

Community doesn’t grow where comfort is king.
It grows where character is chosen.

This issue speaks directly to three spaces:

The Community of One
Are you building tables from healing or from hurt?

The Community of Peers
Are you expecting others to meet you where you won’t meet them?

The Table
Are you forming community or recreating isolation with better furniture?

The Trust Engine teaches us this:

Your table is powerful.
But community is built when you learn to sit at someone else’s table too —
even when their food, their stories, their worldview, or their style is different.

A strong community doesn’t erase differences.
It builds bridges across them.

Ask yourself this week:

Is the table I’m building an act of courage or an act of avoidance?

If you want a challenge:

Invite someone to your table whose worldview doesn’t match yours.
Or accept an invitation to theirs.
Not to debate.
Not to convert.
Not to fix.

To listen. Listening is the first ingredient of belonging.

Pull up a seat.
Your table is yours.
But community begins when more than one person sits down.