Creating the Villages We Long For- Andriana’s Travel Blog
Guendalizá
What the Zapotec People’s “Reconstruction of the We” Can Teach Us About Creating the Villages We Long For
Travelling and immersing myself in different cultures is my passion. I love trying new foods, seeing new sites, and learning about the ways of knowing, doing, and being that guide local people. Again and again, I find myself drawn not only to place, but to relational worlds - to how people organise care, responsibility, and belonging.
I have been lucky to live for a period of time in the state of Oaxaca, Mexico, where the Indigenous Peoples known as the Zapotec continue to represent the majority of the population. As self-governing Peoples, the Zapotec traditions and customs are not simply cultural artefacts, but the foundation for economic and social policy, community life, and everyday rhythms.
One Zapotec principle that I have been sitting with is Guendalizá - often translated as “the reconstruction of the ‘we’”.
Guendalizá As A Lived Ethic
Guendalizá is not an abstract ideology. It is a relational ethos lived through everyday practices of comunalidad - collective responsibility and shared life. Across class or social standing, members trust their community to come together and share in life’s joys and hardships alike. It names a way of living that understands belonging not as a feeling we chase, but as something we actively practice.
Guendalizá encompasses three components:
● Kinship and familiarity. Community members are treated as family, regardless of blood relation. Belonging is not earned through productivity or similarity, but assumed through shared humanity.
● Mutual aid and solidarity. People show up for one another during critical life moments - weddings, harvests, funerals, illness, and natural disasters. Support is expected not because of obligation, but because relationship matters.
● Reciprocity. Giving is not transactional. One offers time, labour, or care without expecting immediate or equivalent return, trusting that investment in the collective will eventually circle back.
This way of living aligns deeply with what we know about human attachment.
Brené Brown defines connection as “the energy existing between people who feel seen, heard, and valued, allowing them to give and receive without judgment”.
We are attachment-wired creatures. Our core drive is to belong. This does not mean being boundaryless or enmeshed, but interdependent and connected.
The Harvard Study of Adult Development - which followed participants for nearly 80 years - found that the single strongest predictor of long, happy, and healthy lives is the quality of our relationships and how we embrace community. Strong connection mattered more than wealth, fame, or genetics. Deep connections and a sense of belonging keep us healthier and happier.
And yet, today’s society is facing a loneliness epidemic. Feelings of isolation are at an all-time high, with profound impacts on individual and collective well-being.
How We Have Become Detached From Our “We”
The deconstruction of our sense of belonging and interconnectedness is multifaceted.
Capitalism has played a significant role. It prioritises individualism, competition, and constant productivity. Time and energy become commodities rather than offerings. Many people are stretched thin by economic pressure and burnout, leaving little capacity to invest in one another. A scarcity mindset replaces an abundance mindset - and community becomes something we feel we can no longer “afford.”
Self-care has also been narrowed into an individual, market-driven pursuit. Bubble baths, spa days, shopping, and solo rest are all valuable in balance. But when care is practised only in isolation, it removes the collective - the relationships that actually resource us and help us become resilient. Care becomes something we consume, rather than something we co-create.
The convenience economy has further eroded interdependence. Uber, Instacart, AI companionship, and on-demand services offer efficiency, comfort, and perfection - while asking nothing of us in return. We no longer need to ask a neighbour for help. We no longer need to tolerate each other’s imperfections. We no longer need to risk vulnerability. Convenience comes at the cost of belonging.
Social media compounds this loss. We are hyper-connected yet deeply isolated - observing rather than participating. Likes and follows offer the appearance of connection without the embodied experience of being seen, known, and valued by one another.
“Protecting our peace.” This language began as a boundary - and quietly became a wall. Our peace and well-being are essential. But peace does not mean constant comfort or emotional ease. Real peace is not the absence of challenges - it's navigating these moments from that place of groundedness where we don’t abandon ourselves, but rather get rooted so we can rise to meet the relationship. Boundaries are not meant to free us from the responsibility of being human in a relationship with other humans. In the name of peace, we have retreated into isolation rather than practice relational discernment and regulation.
If We Want A Village, We Have To Be Villagers
Villages don’t emerge from good intentions alone. They are built - slowly, imperfectly - through repeated relational choices. Becoming a villager is less about grand gestures and more about how we show up in the ordinary moments of our lives.
Ways We Can Be Villagers:
Create boundaries that are bridges, not walls. Boundaries are often misunderstood as tools of separation. In reality, healthy boundaries are what make connection sustainable. When boundaries become walls, they protect us from discomfort at the cost of intimacy. When they act as bridges, they allow us to stay connected without abandoning ourselves. A boundary that says, “I can’t stay late, but I’d love to connect another time,” preserves both self and relationship. Villages are built by people who can say no without disappearing.
Ask for help. Asking is vulnerable and powerful. Research shows that when we ask for a small favour, we actually strengthen relational bonds. Asking signals trust. It invites reciprocity. It disrupts the illusion that we must be self-sufficient to be worthy of belonging. When we ask, we give others permission to ask too.
Practice everyday moments of human acknowledgement. Villages are woven from micro-connections. A smile to a stranger. Complimenting the barista’s earrings. Asking the cashier how their day is going, and actually listening. These moments may feel insignificant, but they re-humanize shared spaces. They remind us that we are not moving through the world alone. When we notice one another, we soften the edges of isolation.
Say yes when you can - even when it’s inconvenient. Belonging rarely fits neatly into our schedules. Saying yes to the invitation when the couch is comfier is often the threshold moment, the point where comfort and connection diverge. Not every yes is possible or wise, but habitual no’s slowly shrink our relational world. Villages grow when we choose connection over convenience.
Practice generosity within your limits. Research shows that we feel most connected and fulfilled not only when we receive value, but when we offer value. Contribution anchors belonging. This might look like bringing a meal, offering childcare, checking in on a friend, or simply being present. Generosity does not mean self-sacrifice; it means discernment. Say no when you need to and yes when you can. If not dinner, maybe a walk. If not an hour, maybe ten minutes. Small offerings still matter. When we participate rather than consume, community becomes something we belong to and help shape, not something we expect to meet our needs without our involvement.
Tolerate one another. Community is not meant to be efficient, smooth, or perfect. It requires patience, flexibility, and a willingness to be impacted by difference. Villages fall apart when inconvenience is treated as failure. Growth happens when we stay — even when it’s awkward, slow, or uncomfortable. Tolerance is not settling; it is the soil where trust grows.
Cultivate authenticity. Deep connection requires vulnerability - the willingness to be seen without a guaranteed outcome. Authenticity is risky because it means showing up as we are, not as we think we should be to belong. But performative connection cannot sustain us. Villages are built by real people, not curated selves.
Repair ruptures. Disconnection is inevitable. Repair is what creates resilience. Naming and owning impact, taking responsibility, listening, and reconnecting are essential relational skills. Connection doesn’t dissolve because rupture happens - it dissolves when repair does not.
Expand self-care from individual to collective. Many Indigenous ways of knowing - including Zapotec worldviews - understand well-being as something that requires collective responsibility. Regulation, resilience, and vitality are relational processes. While individual self-care has value, it cannot replace the nourishment that comes from shared care. Sometimes the most regulating thing we can do is let ourselves be supported, or support someone else.
Use your phone and social media as a conduit, not a substitute. Technology can initiate connection, but it cannot replace embodied presence. Use texts to set up walks. Use social media to gather people, not just observe them. Connection deepens when we move from watching life to participating in it.
Live into your values. Values become real through action. You may not value picking up garbage, but if you value nature, shared spaces, or intergenerational care, joining a beach clean-up becomes an act of belonging.
Practice solidarity and mutual aid. When other people’s struggles remain none of our business, community dissolves. Solidarity asks us to see joy and hardship as collective concerns requiring a collective response. It moves us from empathy to action.
Engage in third spaces. Third spaces - libraries, parks, community centres, cafés - are essential to collective life. They are places where belonging is not transactional, and identity is not curated. Villages require shared spaces where people can simply exist together.
Cultivate a living practice of Guendalizá
The inconvenience we pay for community is the investment.
What we receive in return is a shared humanity, deep belonging, and resilience that comes from not carrying life alone.
References
Harvard Gazette. (2017). Over nearly 80 years, Harvard study has been showing how to live a healthy and happy life. https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2017/04/over-nearly-80-years-harvard-study-has-been-showing-how-to-live-a-healthy-and-happy-life/
Harvard Graduate School of Education. (2024). What is causing our epidemic of loneliness—and how can we fix it? https://www.gse.harvard.edu/ideas/usable-knowledge/24/10/what-causing-our-epidemic-loneliness-and-how-can-we-fix-it
Martínez Luna, J. (2015). Comunalidad y desarrollo. Voces de América Latina, 7, 1–15. Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. http://www.revistascisan.unam.mx/voices/pdfs/3711.pdf
Maldonado, B. (2010). Comunalidad, educación y resistencia indígena en Oaxaca. University of California eScholarship. https://escholarship.org/uc/item/7tv1p1rr
