On Belonging: Why It Matters and Why I Built CRD Home Around It
The idea of belonging has shaped much of how I see the world. Growing up between countries and cultures and shifting family dynamics, I often felt like I was living between spaces—not entirely rooted in one home, one identity, or one version of myself. That experience taught me how to adapt, observe, and blend in when needed. But it also made me aware of what it feels like to move through the world without always knowing where I belonged.
Over time, I noticed how often I would make myself small—softening my edges, adjusting how I showed up—not because I wanted to be accepted or blend in but because I wanted to feel at ease, avoid misunderstanding, and feel safe enough to be. Looking back, I realize that what I was seeking wasn’t necessarily to fit in but to exist in spaces where I didn’t feel the need to shrink.
The Cost of Searching for Belonging
That habit of shrinking myself became something I carried quietly. I would filter how much of myself I shared, softening parts of my personality or experiences that felt too different or too complicated. Even in conversation, I sometimes gave vague answers to questions—not out of secrecy but out of an instinct to protect the parts of myself that felt easily misunderstood. It wasn’t that I wanted to belong at any cost. It’s that I wanted to belong without having to explain, perform, or compromise who I was. And in many spaces, that felt like a difficult balance to strike.
Over the years, I’ve become more aware of how often we move through the world carrying assumptions about others—how our subconscious biases shape small interactions that can either invite someone in or quietly keep them at a distance. Everyone has bias; that’s human. But when those quiet assumptions accumulate, they shape how safe, seen, or welcome someone feels. And often, they shape whether or not we ever truly experience belonging.
The Complexity of Belonging
For much of my life, belonging felt like something I was quietly searching for—even when I didn’t have the language. In my early years, there were moments of love, care, and connection—but also moments marked by unpredictability and the need to adapt quickly. I was often labeled as “different.” Not in a way that carried pride or shame—just an observation that I moved through the world differently than those around me.
That difference could feel isolating at times, but it also shaped how I connected with others. It’s what drew me to stories through film, literature, and listening to others’ experiences. Stories offered a place where difference didn’t matter as much because at the core of every story were the same feelings: grief, joy, love, longing, and fear. It became clear to me that belonging wasn’t about sameness. It was about connection. And more profound than that—it was about feeling safe enough to exist fully without editing or explaining myself.
What I Observed
I’ve always been an observer. Even as a child, I preferred to notice, listen, and pay attention to what was spoken and unspoken. Through that lens, I saw something contradictory: how often people celebrate values like honesty, vulnerability, and kindness yet struggle to hold space for those same things when they appear. We seek to belong yet draw lines around who belongs and who doesn’t. We value difference but defend the boundaries of what feels familiar.
Across cultures and communities, I’ve seen how people share many of the same values—care, family, belonging, community—but how fiercely we hold on to our specific version of those values. It became clear that much of this comes from inherited survival instincts. Historically, belonging to a group was essential to survival. Difference was perceived as a threat. But the world we live in today no longer requires that kind of defense. And yet, many of us still carry that conditioning in how we judge, categorize, and draw boundaries around belonging.
What I’ve Learned About Belonging
For me, belonging has become less about fitting in and more about creating environments—internal and external—that allow people to feel safe enough to show up fully. It’s about knowing I don’t need to filter or shrink who I am to be treated respectfully. It’s about recognizing when a space supports that—and when it doesn’t.
That’s what I hope to build through CRD Home—not just a place where people belong by appearance or performance but where they can belong as they are without needing to explain or shrink themselves. Because real belonging isn’t transactional, it’s not something you have to earn. It happens when we build spaces rooted in care, curiosity, and grace.
Belonging Is Ongoing
There are many more stories I could share about belonging—moments when I felt welcomed and moments when I didn’t. And I intend to share them—not all at once, but over time, as part of an ongoing conversation—because belonging isn’t a fixed destination. It’s something we build and rebuild throughout our lives. And it’s shaped not only by our personal stories but also by how we choose to show up for one another.
One of my most formative experiences was participating in a cross-cultural leadership retreat in college. It was a space where students from different backgrounds, cultures, and identities gathered to share their stories—not to debate or defend, but to listen. Those conversations reminded me how complex, layered, and human each narrative is—and how much belonging can grow when we create space for people to be candid without fear.
What I Hope for CRD Home
Much of the world encourages us to judge quickly, categorize, and protect ourselves by limiting our engagement with the unfamiliar. I want CRD Home to be something different. I want it to be a space where belonging is not assumed or conditional but practiced, where people can share honestly, where complexity isn’t something to fix but something to make space for, where belonging doesn’t require sameness, and where people don’t have to shrink themselves to be welcomed in.
For me, belonging is deeply connected to the idea of home and family—not just in the literal sense, but in the feeling those words carry. Members of a family aren’t necessarily the same. Some people find more kinship in their friendships than in their relatives. Some families support each other despite holding vastly different beliefs or ways of being. What makes a family isn’t uniformity—it’s the choice to show up, hold space, and say: I will be here for you through it all.
That, to me, is what makes a home. Not the walls, not the categories, not the sameness—but the willingness to extend care, to create safety, and to build something together. It’s the shared purpose of wanting to show up for each other despite differences. That’s the feeling I want CRD Home to carry—a sense of belonging that feels like a family you choose and a home you can return to—where you can show up as you are, knowing you will be met with grace, care, and understanding.
This is what CRD Home is here for. Not to offer easy answers but to hold space for the questions. A place to belong, to build, and to come home to ourselves—and to one another.
A Reflection for You
Before you leave this space, I invite you to pause and reflect:
Where in your life have you felt a true sense of belonging—not because you fit in, but because you felt safe enough to show up fully as yourself? And if you haven’t felt that yet, what would it look and feel like to build that kind of space for yourself and others?
You don’t need to have all the answers. This is an ongoing conversation—a process of noticing, unlearning, and choosing how you want to present yourself to the world.
An Invitation
CRD Home was created to share my story and hold space for yours. If this reflection resonates with you, I would like you to continue the conversation by journaling your thoughts, sharing them with someone you trust, or joining the community here as we explore these ideas.
You’re welcome here, as you are. This space is for belonging, building, and coming home to yourself.
