One cake at a time

When my tennis coach carried a birthday cake onto the courts, surrounded by the group we were coaching, I froze. A month earlier she’d casually asked me what cake I liked. Now, there it was: a chocolate cake with vanilla icing. The kids clapped, singing off-key, and I felt something I hadn’t in ages: I belonged.

For years I thought belonging was something you built through shared history and experiences, the “ride or die” kind of friendships. After COVID, my life was a cycle of moving and readjusting: new houses, new schools, new faces. Each time I arrived, it felt like everyone else was already in the middle of a story I had missed. 

But my coach’s gesture wasn’t built on years of friendship; it was a small act that said, “I see you.” 

I’ve become more conscious about creating the same feeling for others. When my coaches drove long distances to practices, I’d bring them sandwiches. When a boy from Brazil at my academy wore socks with holes, I slipped him a spare pair from my bag. When a friend mentioned she couldn’t eat gluten, I made a habit of checking restaurant menus ahead of time. These weren’t grand gestures; they were small intentional ways of saying, “You belong here.”

I’ve shaken off the constant feeling of being an outsider. Back in my hometown, I’m starting over again. But I now see belonging as something I can help create instantaneously. I am most proud when I’ve shown someone that they are important. Sometimes that's as simple as piping their name onto a cake.