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Friendly Fridays: Who Makes You Feel Like You Belong?
- Aug 19
- 6 min read
Big up fam! 🙌🏾🌍
You know what I notice first at an event?
The door.
Not the stage.
Not the bar.
Not whether somebody remembered to test the microphone before people arrived - although, for the record, somebody absolutely should. 😂
The door.
Because that's where you can usually tell how somebody is feeling.
Some people walk straight in like they've been coming for years.
Some stop just inside and look around.
Some pretend to check their phone while they're really working out whether there's anybody in the room they recognise.
And some nearly turn around.
Those are usually the people I'm watching.
Because opening a door is easy.
Making somebody feel like there's a place for them on the other side of it?
That's the work.
And this week, I've been thinking about how often we confuse the two.
The People Standing Near The Edge
I've spent most of my life around community spaces.
Highfields raised me in them.
Church halls.
Community centres.
Family gatherings.
Caribbean events where somebody's auntie has somehow taken charge despite not being on any organising committee anybody knows about.
You learn to read a room.
Who's comfortable.
Who's new.
Who's already found their people.
Who's been standing beside the same wall for twenty minutes hoping somebody will speak to them first.
And here's the thing.
A room can be full of people...
and somebody can still feel completely outside it.
That's something Episode Three of When the Village Carries Home has had me thinking about.
Because there's a difference between being invited somewhere...
and feeling that you belong once you arrive.
I've known that difference most of my life.
I just didn't always have words for it
Welcome Doesn't End At The Door
People sometimes think hospitality is the greeting.
"Welcome!"
"Glad you came!"
"Come in!"
Lovely.
But then what?
Because if I welcome you through the door and leave you standing by yourself for the next forty minutes...
I haven't done much, have I?
Real welcome happens afterwards.
It's remembering somebody's name.
Introducing the person who arrived alone to somebody you think they'll actually enjoy talking to.
Moving a chair instead of explaining that there aren't any left.
Noticing when one table is having the time of its life while somebody three metres away hasn't spoken all evening.
Sometimes it's knowing when to approach someone.
Sometimes it's knowing when to leave them alone for five minutes.
Community lives in those tiny decisions.
Most people will never notice them.
But they'll remember how the room made them feel.
And that's what matters.
What Happens When The Room Belongs To Everyone?
That's what I'm looking forward to about this month's Friendly Fridays.
We're having an Open Mic Night.
And listen...
I have absolutely no idea what some of you are going to do with that microphone. 😂
That's part of the fun.
We'll prepare the room.
The doors open at five.
The bar opens.
People arrive after work.
We'll have our Social Mixer and make it slightly less awkward to introduce yourself to somebody you've never met before.
Then at 7:30 PM...
the microphone opens.
Somebody might sing.
Somebody might tell a story.
Poetry.
Spoken word.
Comedy.
An acoustic performance.
And somebody is definitely going to tell us they're "not performing" at 5:15 and somehow be holding that microphone by eight.
I've seen community events before.
I know how this goes. 😂
But here's what matters to me.
For those few hours, the room doesn't belong to the person with the biggest title.
It belongs to everybody inside it.
Your Voice Doesn't Have To Be Loud
We've been saying:
Your Voice Belongs Here.
And I want to add something to that.
Your voice doesn't have to be loud.
You don't have to perform.
You don't have to walk through the door overflowing with confidence.
You don't even have to be particularly sociable that evening.
Sometimes participating looks like standing behind a microphone.
Sometimes it looks like applauding the person who finally found the courage to stand there.
Sometimes it's moving your chair over.
Sharing a table.
Asking somebody where they're from.
Remembering their name when you see them again next month.
That's community too.
I've known people who could command an entire room...
and people who barely said ten words all evening.
Both changed the room.
Because belonging isn't about everybody contributing in exactly the same way.
It's knowing your way of being there counts.
The First Conversation Is Usually The Hardest
This is why I'm a big believer in the Social Mixer.
Not because I'm trying to force grown adults to make friends.
Nobody needs that pressure on a Friday evening. 😂
It's because the first conversation is usually the hardest.
You arrive.
You don't know anybody.
Everybody else appears to know everybody they probably don't, by the way.
Then somebody says hello.
You discover you both live in the same part of Leicester.
Or somebody recognises your accent.
Or you start talking about the music.
Or food.
Or travel.
Or why on earth you decided to put your name down for the Open Mic.
And suddenly...
you know one person.
That's all it takes for the room to change.
One person becomes two.
Two becomes a table.
Somebody introduces somebody else.
And before you know it, the person who nearly turned around at the door is still there two hours later.
That's the kind of thing I notice.
Not because it's dramatic.
Because it isn't.
It's ordinary.
And most real community is.
Come Alone. You Won't Stay That Way.
I want to say this particularly to anybody looking at Friendly Fridays and thinking:
I'd come if I had somebody to go with.
Come anyway.
Seriously.
Some of the best people I've met in my life entered a room without knowing anybody inside it.
I know walking into somewhere alone can feel strange.
There's that first minute when you're wondering where to stand.
What to do with your hands.
Whether getting a drink makes you look occupied enough. 😂
We know.
That's why we're there.
Friendly Fridays isn't supposed to be a room where everybody arrives already belonging.
It's supposed to be somewhere belonging can begin.
Come after work.
Come for an hour.
Come for the Open Mic.
Come because you want to perform.
Come because there is absolutely no chance you're getting anywhere near that stage.
Just come as yourself.
We'll make room from there.
🎙️ Friendly Fridays: Open Mic Night
Friday, 28 August 20265:00 PM – 10:00 PM
📍 African Caribbean Centre, Leicester
The bar will be open from 5:00 PM until 9:30 PM.
We'll start socially, then move into our hosted Social Mixer before the Open Mic begins at 7:30 PM.
Come prepared to share:
🎤 Music
📖 Poetry and spoken word
🔥 Stories
🎸 Acoustic performances
😂 Comedy and creative expression
Or come with absolutely no intention of performing.
You don't need an audition.
You don't need to arrive with friends.
And you definitely don't need to be the loudest person in the room.
£6 General Admission
FREE for eligible Tribe Members
Adults only - 18+
👇🏾Reserve Your Place
Leave One More Chair
There's something I've been reminded of this week.
I didn't become who I am because one person opened a door for me.
There were a lot of people.
My family.
People around Highfields.
People who gave me another chance when I'd already made a mess of the first one.
People who let me help.
People who trusted me with something small before anybody trusted me with something big.
People who made room.
I didn't always recognise what they were doing at the time.
When you're nineteen, you tend to think you've figured out considerably more about life than the evidence supports. 😂
But I can see it now.
Community didn't fix my life for me.
It gave me somewhere to keep showing up while I learned how to take responsibility for it myself.
That's different.
And maybe that's why I still notice the person standing near the edge of the room.
Because sometimes people don't need us to drag them into the middle.
They don't need us deciding who they should become.
They just need some evidence that there's space for them if they decide to step closer.
That's what I want Friendly Fridays to be.
Not a room where everybody already knows how to belong.
A room where belonging is allowed to happen.
So we'll open the doors.
We'll turn the music up.
We'll introduce a few strangers.
We'll probably move more chairs than we originally planned.
And somewhere in the middle of all that...
somebody who walked in wondering whether they should have come might realise they've stopped thinking about leaving.
That's a good Friday night as far as I'm concerned.
Hospitably yours,
Kai 🎭🥁🌴
Community Director | Global Village Stories
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