Understanding Our Need for Connection
Connection has always been the way that human beings have survived throughout our existence. Before the immediacy of food and shelter that we now have, we had to depend on others for sustenance, safety, and support. So, why is it that our society has prioritized individuality and independence in the face of historical, social and personal events that consistently remind us that we can’t do this alone? And why is it that our desire and need for connection has oftentimes been described as a weakness (“You’re just being needy!), instead of being recognized as one of our greatest strengths?
As a queer, black man, I was socialized to be mistrusting of those outside of my family. This was a trauma response of my parents and older family members who sought to protect me from the harm(s) they expected I’d encounter as someone with intersecting marginalized identities. But even more, there was a belief that if I could be independent, cautious with others, and not too forthcoming, I’d be more likely to survive a society that wasn’t built for folks who look as I do. Although their upbringing was rooted in past fears and traumas, they did the best that they knew how. And yet, it’s sad that we as human beings feel that the best protective factor that we have against harm is disconnection from others. As we enter relationships centering and enforcing disconnection, we rob ourselves of community. As we suppress our desires to be known by others and share deeper parts of ourselves, we aren’t allowed to experience the joy and excitement of trust. And as we see ourselves as “other”, despite the multitude of “sameness” that we share, we further exile ourselves from others, bringing about the very loneliness that we wish that we could nurture.
Although we don’t all have identities that have been marginalized in a historical context, we have all experienced some form of relational trauma. And one of the symptoms of a relational wound is chronic disconnection. We chastise ourselves for having been so trusting. We shame ourselves for having been so open that we allowed others to disappoint and hurt us. But—as we all know—just because something is difficult doesn’t make it inherently “bad”. Jean Baker Miller, a psychiatrist in the 70s, believed in the power of connection so much that she developed “Relational Culture Theory”. This theory’s contributors were/are all women who lived through the women’s liberation movement. Not only did this concept combat the narrative that women were “weaker” due to their reliance on connection and kinship with other women (in an otherwise individualistic, male-centric society), but it highlighted that, as humans, our ability and desire to connect to others and trustheavily in community is not only a strength, but a necessity to one’s well-being.
Normalizing disconnection keeps us from responding in such a way that wards us off future connection. Understanding that disconnection is both typical and inevitable in relationships better prepares us to work through relational scars, allowing for deeper relationships since there is so much to learn about ourselves and others by working through conflict. In other words, disconnection is the easy part. It’s virtually unavoidable. But connection—that’s where things get tough, even though it has the ability to be so rewarding. The desire for more connection despite a series of “failed” relationships doesn’t have to mean that you’re weak and co-dependent. It can mean that despite experiencing numerous disconnections in life, you’re still willing and resilient enough to seek out relationships with others. It means that you recognize that your greatest strength is your ability to trust others, although trust can be broken, to depend on others, although people will inevitably disappoint you, and to seek out community in a world that continually seeks to tell you that you’re in this alone. You aren’t. The connection that you desire so much will take effort, but isn’t it worth it?
