When looking up advice on how to find community in a new place, I was met with a lot of the same answers: walk around your neighborhood, become a regular at your local coffee shop, and attend local events. While all of these are good pieces of advice, I am not, and will likely never be, an extrovert who can dive into conversation with strangers at a cafe or street fair despite how much I try to be. So, at the start of my fellowship and the beginning of my time in New York City, I found myself relying solely on my new roommates for community. And while I was, and am, thankful for their company, I also craved a space that was my own. However, the difficult thing about community in New York City is not that there are a lack of groups or circles to join but rather trying to find your place in the thousands of niche communities across the city. Thus, I began my search for avenues of connection.

The most successful route to community that I have leaned into is that of hobby. An important thing to know about me is that I am a person who aspires to do anything and everything—I want to be good at every artform, speak every language, and play every sport. Unlike in college, working a 9-5 job has given me the privilege of free time as well as the financial resources to pursue new passions. That being so, I looked back at all the “saved” posts and open Google Chrome tabs that featured hobbies I had always hoped to pursue and got to work.

Hobbies such as crochet and visiting museums were some of the first that created concrete moments of community building for me, some of which have even transcended geography. My love for art museums, for example, led me to attend an art tour hosted by the New Museum throughout parts of Lower Manhattan. There, I shared powerful conversations with strangers all focused on the lives and work of some of New York City’s best known contemporary artists such as Jean-Michel Basquiat and Keith Haring. Even if only for an hour, I was part of a tight knit group of 11 individuals who shared the same interests and passions. I have had other similar experiences to this in becoming a frequent visitor to many museums across the city where I often exchange thoughts with other solo museum goers about art. Creating my own art has also opened unexpected paths for connection. Through wearing my finished crochet projects, I have had many conversations with strangers about crochet and fiber arts in places ranging from the subway to a street corner. Recently, on a trip to Portland, Maine, my interest in crochet allowed me to connect with countless artists at craft shops and vendor fairs, demonstrating how far reaching the hobby community extends. Never did I imagine what looking at a work of art or wearing a crocheted scarf could do for me.

This brief reflection on hobbies and community is not meant to be a proclamation that I have cracked the code on how to make hundreds of friends in a new city. There are many days that I only speak to my coworkers or roommates and even more days where I don’t engage with any of my hobbies or their respective communities. However, experiencing the intersection of hobby and community firsthand has given me a new perspective on what life in a big city can be like. It has shown me that community can, and should, take many forms. For me, community has many meanings and feelings. Some days, it is made up of the tight-knit group of friends and peers with whom I share my worries and successes with. On others, community transcends the individuals that make it up and instead represents the feeling that no matter where I go, I am not alone.

For me, community is felt when I am walking through the aisles of craft stores and see people of all ages looking at sewing needles or crochet hooks. It is the few words exchanged as another artist says “excuse me” as they reach for the same yarn I was contemplating buying. It is a group of art lovers contemplating a statue from thousands of years ago. These passing flashes of connection have shifted my understanding of where I fit in outside of work and academia entirely. I can imagine that as the remainder of my time as an FAO Schwarz Fellow progresses, I will only continue to discover who I am and further witness how my hobby-driven community expands alongside my own growth. I can excitedly say that I look forward to all that this experience in New York City has in store.