Belonging Without Losing Yourself

Written by :Alexa Yeshua Alcantara

“The price of community is inconvenience.”

This quote gets thrown around a lot on Twitter and TikTok — both of my most prized social media platforms. I relate to it deeply since I’m an introvert. I like hanging out with friends, but sometimes I can’t help but go quiet and hibernate for two hours minimum. It’s not out of pure hate for socializing (depends on the person, but usually no) — it’s because my body literally gets physically tired when I socialize too much, especially when I’m arguing with someone I love most.

But here’s the thing: if I enjoy your presence, does that mean I’m automatically willing to host every party, organize every hangout, lead every conversation — especially with people I’m not close to — and sacrifice my Google Calendar and precious free time?

No.

Though apparently, I’m supposed to. Someone told me. Or more like… a fish told me.

> "Finally the Rainbow Fish had only one shining scale left. His most prized possessions had been given away, yet he was very happy.

> “Come on Rainbow Fish,” they called. “Come and play with us!”

> “Here I come,” said the Rainbow Fish and happy as a splash, he swam off to join his friends."

Yeah. That story? I’ve read it before, as a kid. And I regret it.

For those who don’t know, The Rainbow Fish by Marcus Pfister is about a fish with sparkly rainbow scales who is alone because whenever another fish asks for one, he refuses. Overcome by loneliness, he goes to a wise octopus who tells him to share his scales to be happy — even if it means losing his beauty. He does so and gains friends.

It’s framed as a sweet moral tale. But to me? It’s a parable about burning yourself out just so people will tolerate you. About being told your value is only real when it’s distributed to everyone else — even if you’re left with nothing.

And here’s the thing: when you read this as a kid, you don’t think about it too much. It’s “sharing is caring” territory. But as an adult? I’m looking back at it like, why did we normalize self-erasure for the sake of approval?

Let’s talk about boundaries — because clearly, the Rainbow Fish couldn’t have any.

If my friend came into my home through the window, do I still welcome them with snacks or do I tell them, “Hey, that’s breaking and entering”? Boundaries are not selfish. Boundaries are literally the lines that keep relationships safe and mutual. Without them, there’s no respect — only access. And access without consent is exploitation.

Now add this: “Dim your light for nobody” — Tyler, the Creator.

The price of community is inconvenience. But does the word “community” still apply when the cost isn’t just your time, but your individuality? What about when your friends forbid you from attending an important event because they’re more important? Or when they force you to stay with them at a religious event even though you’re an atheist with religious trauma?

At that point, is it generosity? Or is it divine suffering dressed up as kindness? And if it’s the latter, why are we teaching kids that it’s okay to shred yourself into pieces to be accepted? Why are we telling them that love means depletion?

Because here’s the thing — a true friend wouldn’t need the Rainbow Fish to rip away his scales just to be liked. At most, they’d compliment them, maybe ask where he got them, and then move on without expecting him to break himself apart.

And this isn’t just about friendships — it applies to family, workplaces, organizations, and even activism. If your “community” requires you to lose your voice, your rest, your joy, your resources, and your beliefs before they consider you worthy, then it’s not a community. It’s a consumption pit.

Let me say this louder for the people in the back: yes, the price of community is inconvenience. But if you are already sacrificing yourself — your wealth, your body, your beliefs, your morals — then you don’t need that “community.”

Run. Or in this case, swim away as fast as you can.