Book Review: Urban Tribes
Christina Bruni
Before reading Urban Tribes by Ethan Watters, I had no idea words existed to describe the kinds of social networks available in cities across America. While his “urban tribes” are defined as college-educated, yet-to-be-married-people living in cities, I think mental health consumers need to take note of the concept, if not its roots, and form tribes of our own.
In his book, Watters talks about how everyone is connected by no more than six degrees of separation in the world, a common assertion, but he goes deeper to reflect on the social ties that are called “weak ties”—the ones that affect our day-to-day lives, and are within one or two steps of each other.
The author, whose father had a stroke on Christmas some years ago, called a friend for support, and this friend knew a neurologist who gave Watters his phone number. Such links help members of the tribe get things done. In the extreme, the fall of the Berlin Wall was the proof that “weak ties” of this nature can change history. While East Germany invoked stiff penalties for citizens who joined together to advocate unity, people rose up to challenge this oppression.
What can we as mental health consumers learn from this? Urban tribes have the power to create positive social change. Networks of consumers could do things like help each other out with prescription drug co-payments, or call a member on the phone to see how he’s doing, or lobby for our rights in Albany.
In terms of human growth and change, urban tribes can’t be beat. Members interviewed across the United States spoke in the book of how their friends encouraged them to take great risks, yet provided a safety net should their dreams fail. They could always return to the tribe, and would be received with open arms.
Too often in the mental health world, divisions occur between people who have competing agendas or beliefs that are at odds with each other. Early on in my recovery, I joined a clubhouse. On my first day there, one of the members took a look at my black Levis and navy wool turtleneck, and started making comments like “…a yuppie gets fumbled out by a waiter, and pops into a meeting to blast others with her feelings.”
He judged me by how I looked, and thought I didn’t deserve treatment. In the support group I attend, we follow the NAMI-CARES model whose guiding motto is, “We believe no one’s pain is any greater or lesser than our own.”
Early in his book, Watters touches on how his tribe has sacred rituals: Tuesday night dinners at the Rite Spot in San Francisco and yearly pilgrimages to the Burning Man festival in the Black Rock desert. In New York City, it can often be lonely living here for mental health consumers who lack strong social networks.
I was lucky that last year I was included in an urban tribe of people in recovery who are making the world better for others and for themselves. I reached out to them and they opened their circle to me.
Let’s get together at the table. Let’s create our own urban tribe.
In his book, Watters talks about how everyone is connected by no more than six degrees of separation in the world, a common assertion, but he goes deeper to reflect on the social ties that are called “weak ties”—the ones that affect our day-to-day lives, and are within one or two steps of each other.
The author, whose father had a stroke on Christmas some years ago, called a friend for support, and this friend knew a neurologist who gave Watters his phone number. Such links help members of the tribe get things done. In the extreme, the fall of the Berlin Wall was the proof that “weak ties” of this nature can change history. While East Germany invoked stiff penalties for citizens who joined together to advocate unity, people rose up to challenge this oppression.
What can we as mental health consumers learn from this? Urban tribes have the power to create positive social change. Networks of consumers could do things like help each other out with prescription drug co-payments, or call a member on the phone to see how he’s doing, or lobby for our rights in Albany.
In terms of human growth and change, urban tribes can’t be beat. Members interviewed across the United States spoke in the book of how their friends encouraged them to take great risks, yet provided a safety net should their dreams fail. They could always return to the tribe, and would be received with open arms.
Too often in the mental health world, divisions occur between people who have competing agendas or beliefs that are at odds with each other. Early on in my recovery, I joined a clubhouse. On my first day there, one of the members took a look at my black Levis and navy wool turtleneck, and started making comments like “…a yuppie gets fumbled out by a waiter, and pops into a meeting to blast others with her feelings.”
He judged me by how I looked, and thought I didn’t deserve treatment. In the support group I attend, we follow the NAMI-CARES model whose guiding motto is, “We believe no one’s pain is any greater or lesser than our own.”
Early in his book, Watters touches on how his tribe has sacred rituals: Tuesday night dinners at the Rite Spot in San Francisco and yearly pilgrimages to the Burning Man festival in the Black Rock desert. In New York City, it can often be lonely living here for mental health consumers who lack strong social networks.
I was lucky that last year I was included in an urban tribe of people in recovery who are making the world better for others and for themselves. I reached out to them and they opened their circle to me.
Let’s get together at the table. Let’s create our own urban tribe.
