Is "Community" The Diaspora's Newest Side-Hustle?

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The South Asian diaspora has entered a remarkable new economic era. We no longer merely have entrepreneurs, we have community builders, we have curators, we have founders, we have safe-space architects. We even have people whose LinkedIn bios read like someone swallowed a wellness retreat brochure.

“Building intentional third spaces for radical belonging.”

Translation: I rented the back room of a café and bought samosas from Costco.

I don’t say this with malice, I say this because I have attended these events, repeatedly. I have paid to attend these events, repeatedly. I have also considered starting one myself approximately seventeen times. Thus is the beautiful contradiction of being South Asian in the diaspora: we make fun of every trend while secretly opening a Google Doc titled Potential Brand Names.

Community, it turns out, is no longer something you have; it’s something you monetize. I write this knowing that, for many of you, a paywall is about to appear. Don’t let the irony pull you out just yet. Communities have always required labour. Somebody has to organize, host, clean up, coordinate schedules, answer emails, and absorb the financial risk when only fourteen people show up. Organizers deserve to be paid. Writers do too, I have bills too god damn it. The problem isn’t that people charge money. The problem begins when every transaction is dressed up as a moral act, when buying a ticket is no longer just buying a ticket but “investing in the culture,” and every purchase becomes proof of how much you care. Somehow, capitalism puts on a kurta and suddenly we’re all expected to applaud.