At its core, fascism is authoritarianism amplified by anger and blame. Fascism takes the already oppressive systems of control found in authoritarian governing and adds malice, scapegoating of certain groups, and fervor to keep others underfoot. Anger is central. Anger fuels divisiveness, suppression, and exclusion. Anger justifies cruelty and creates fear, resentment, and suspicion.

To grasp the impact of this leadership style, picture a workplace where one boss makes all the decisions, leaving no room for input, creativity, or dissent. Employees overextend themselves for fear of demotion or job loss, stifling collaboration and innovation. And if something goes wrong, it’s the employees who take the blame. The result is a rigid hierarchy obsessed with control and a workforce overcome by apathy.

Authoritarianism imposes conformity, stifling individuality and progress. The creative impulse, which fuels innovation in workplaces and societies alike, becomes viewed as a threat. In the workplace, employees just give up, do the job at hand, and complain about the toxic work environment. In governments though, it’s a grander scale of loss; when humans are silenced, cultural, scientific, and political advancements cease, and without the free flow of ideas, organizations and societies wither up and die.

As witnessed across many generations, inequality is immeasurably compounded when power stays at the top. Resources and opportunities are held close to the vest, slipping into the pockets of those in control and eluding the rest of us. Extreme inequality breeds fear, and fear is central to the operation of authoritarian systems. In workplaces, employees comply because they fear losing their jobs; in authoritarian governments, people face censorship, imprisonment, or worse. Fear silences opposition and discourages collective action. Fear undermines the sense of community essential to a thriving society.

When accountability is removed, power becomes self-serving and grows out of control, eroding public trust and weakening the institutions designed to help us. So how do we prevent authoritarianism from taking root and weakening the fabric of an already threadbare democratic society?

The few people who started reading this, if you managed to hang on this long, I appreciate you. Thank you. For much of my life, I have felt an unusual calling that might seem incongruous with who I am. This calling feels weird to me because I’m not religious. I don’t subscribe to the dogma of Christianity, or any singular faith, as I have written about previously. Faith in one belief system is not required to realize the profound beauty of humanity and the overlapping truths of all the world religions. Beneath the surface differences are whispers of a universal understanding that eludes the boundaries of anything specific.

I feel audacious and presumptuous imagining myself starting a church, but the idea has lingered for years now. I’ve played it out through tarot readings and reiki healings, but those were just roads on the way. It is not about preaching or sermons; it is about building something meaningful, something enduring. I desire to create a small, tightly woven community of like-minded people. This community will work together to create change through our profound spiritual belief in joy as a tool for disruption.

When I first shared this idea with my mom, she immediately pointed out the obvious challenge: finding followers. We moms have a talent for identifying practical obstacles and are rarely wrong. But as I’ve shared this vision with close friends, I’ve been heartened to find that some already resonate with my principles. These principles are not based on rigid beliefs or exclusionary practices. At their core, they are about disrupting authoritarian power with joy, collaboration, and the radical power of community.

In exploring what it means to start a church, I stumbled upon Dunbar’s Number, a theory positing that humans can maintain meaningful relationships with only about 150 people at a time. This theory struck me as deeply relevant to my vision. I am not looking to create a sprawling institution or a movement that loses its soul in scale. Instead, I want to build something human-sized and intimate enough for every member to feel known, valued, and essential. A community intimate enough for us to work together to solve problems.

(Me rapping, If you got a problem yo, I’ll solve it…)

The synchronicities surrounding this mission have been uncanny. In the last 3 months, they are coming at me like I am standing in front of a firing squad. Because I don’t love the idea of all the work this requires. I love to cancel plans at the last minute and spend the night on the couch with snacks and television. But this last synchronicity has me putting it out there. I’m looking for my people. Here it is:

Last week, I was standing at my bus stop and heard someone yelling on their phone, “Dunbar! I said Dunbar!”

Who knows what they were talking about, but I felt punched in the gut. Moments like this have felt like the universe shouting at me, or like, whatever is controlling my character in the Big Game is putting in some cheat codes, affirming that while jumping several levels might be self-indulgent, I better fucking do it or we’re going to lose the game. Yes. Audacious and presumptuous. I already mentioned that.

Still, doubt is a faithful companion. Starting a church feels like an act of complete narcissism, and I wrestle with the fear that people will misinterpret my intentions. But these doubts challenge me to lean into these feelings, to propel myself forward through the uncertainty, because I believe the stakes are too high to remain stagnant. Authoritarianism is taking root as I write. As you read. And besides, I’ve never been one to ignore synchronicities.

But why a church? Beyond the legal protections this country provides, a church is a group of people who gather around a shared belief. This group of people is what I am trying to bring together. It is not about the trappings of religious hierarchy or dogmatic teachings. It is about a community of people who find common ground in their shared values, who come together to build something greater than themselves and continuously work toward a more joyous, equitable, and just world.

In this moment in history, I see a world increasingly fractured by authoritarianism and fascism. Our challenges can feel insurmountable, and resolutions don’t lie in grand gestures or sweeping revolutions. Instead, we will find the answers in small, intentional communities where people gather with joy to build something better together.

My calling is to create such a space. It will not be perfect, nor will it have all the answers. But it will be a start. Whether it is 5 to 15 years down the road, when people are ready to gather in a physical space, we will be prepared to take our community offline.

If this rings true with you, let me know. There are seven of us so far. I don’t know where we are headed. I am navigating by instinct because, when my world feels overwhelmingly authoritarian, starting something small and meaningful feels like the most radical act I can undertake, and I’m feeling radical these days. Xo