I thought about joining Toastmasters for months before I actually showed up.
Months.
I’d drive past the building where they met. I’d look up the meeting times. I’d think “maybe next week.”
And then I’d chicken out.
Here’s what stopped me every single time:
What if I didn’t know what to do when I walked in? What if everyone else already knew each other? What if I showed up and just stood in the corner awkwardly while everyone else chatted?
What if I didn’t belong?
But I kept thinking about it. I wanted to improve my public speaking. And I’d heard Toastmasters was the place to do that.
So finally, in March 2020, I forced myself to go.
I walked in. I was nervous. I didn’t know anyone.
And then I met Brendan.
He was also there for his first meeting. Also nervous. Also didn’t know anyone.
We were newbies together. In a room full of people who’d been coming to this club for years.
That was the week before everything shut down for COVID.
We didn’t know it then, but that would be the first and only time we’d see that club in person for two years.
And four years later, here’s what I learned about the power of formal community.
What Formal Community Actually Is
Before we go any further, let me explain what I mean by “formal community.”
Formal community is any group that:
- ▪️ Meets regularly (weekly, monthly, whatever)
- ▪️ Has some kind of structure (leadership, rules, format)
- ▪️ Comes together around a shared interest or goal
- ▪️ Gives you a sense of belonging over time
Examples:
- ▪️ Running clubs
- ▪️ Sports leagues
- ▪️ Toastmasters
- ▪️ Book clubs with structure
- ▪️ Community organizations
- ▪️ Places of worship
- ▪️ Neighborhood associations
- ▪️ Hobby groups that meet consistently
The key is: it’s structured, and it’s regular.
Not just “we should get together sometime.” But: “We meet every Thursday at 7 pm, here’s the format, here’s what we do.”
That structure is actually what makes it work.
Why I Picked Toastmasters (And What It Actually Is)
For anyone who doesn’t know: Toastmasters is an international public speaking club.
It’s a little nerdy, I’ll admit.
But here’s what it offers: a structured environment to practice public speaking and leadership skills. There are clubs all over the world. Some meet in person, some are virtual.
My club meets every Thursday night. Has for years.
We follow the same basic format every week:
- ▪️ Prepared speeches (people give 5-7 minute speeches they’ve prepared)
- ▪️ Table topics (impromptu speaking: you get a random question and have to answer on the spot)
- ▪️ Evaluations (people give feedback on the speeches)
- ▪️ Snack time (yes, really, and it matters; more on this later)
The structure means I always know what to expect.
Which, when you’re nervous about showing up to something new, is actually really comforting.
What Makes Formal Community Different From Friend Groups
Here’s the thing about Toastmasters that I didn’t expect:
It’s not curated.
When you build a friend group, you usually pick people who are similar to you. Similar values, similar lifestyle, similar interests.
That’s not how formal community works.
In Toastmasters, the ONLY thing we have in common is wanting to get better at public speaking.
Everything else? Completely different.
Our club has:
- ▪️ People in their teens through their 80s
- ▪️ Men and women
- ▪️ People from Colombia, Brazil, China, India, Kenya, the UK, Canada, Mexico
- ▪️ Software engineers, coaches, retirees, students, healthcare workers
- ▪️ Introverts and extroverts
- ▪️ Different political views, different religions, different life experiences
We span continents, decades, careers, and worldviews.
And you know what? That’s exactly what makes it so valuable.
The “Healthy Friction” That Creates Real Growth
Brendan said something in our conversation that really stuck with me:
“I like it when there are clashes. I think it’s healthy.”
Not big fights. Not drama. But small moments of tension when you encounter someone different from you.
“When everything is just everyone agrees and doesn’t put you outside your comfort zone, it’s nice,” he said. “But there’s a big upside to trying to see eye to eye with someone different and working through things.”
He compared it to running cross country in high school.
He had teammates with very different personalities. People he probably wouldn’t have talked to much otherwise.
But when you go through hard practices together (when you almost run yourself to death and can’t breathe for half an hour straight), it bonds you to them.
“That’s the same with our club,” he said. “You’re in an environment where people are doing something vulnerable, going outside their comfort zone. That attaches you to them.”
Even when (especially when) they’re different from you.
He called it the difference between the Amazon rainforest and the woods in his backyard in Massachusetts.
One has incredible diversity. The other? Not so much.
“When you’re all coming together for public speaking, you get people with way more variance than any hobby group,” he explained. “Because any other interest, people tend to be a lot more similar.”
Think about it:
A running club? Probably similar values around fitness, nutrition, and being outdoors.
A book club? Probably similar reading tastes and intellectual interests.
But public speaking? That’s just a skill. It doesn’t tell you anything else about someone.
So you end up in a room with maximum diversity. And that creates what Brendan calls “healthy friction.”
Moments where you have to work through differences. Where you encounter perspectives that challenge you. Where you can’t just nod along in agreement.
And on the other side of that friction? Real growth. Real connection.
The Vulnerability of DOING (Not Just Talking)
Here’s something else I didn’t expect about Toastmasters:
The vulnerability isn’t just in what we say. It’s in what we DO.
Every week, people get up on stage and give speeches. Sometimes prepared. Sometimes completely impromptu.
And sometimes (often) we fail.
We stumble over words. We forget what we were going to say. We try a new style, and it falls flat.
We fail publicly. In front of 20+ people. Every single week.
And you know what happens? Everyone claps anyway.
Not because the speech was good. But because we tried. Because we got up there. Because we’re all in this together.
As Brendan put it: “It’s an environment where there’s only upside. You learn to be okay with failing.”
“There are no repercussions to not doing well. No one really cares that much. They’re just happy to see you speak the next time.”
This is different from the vulnerability we usually talk about.
We talk a lot about vulnerability as sitting face-to-face and sharing our feelings. Telling our stories. Opening up emotionally.
But there’s also vulnerability in DOING. In trying. In failing while others watch.
When was the last time you, as an adult, publicly failed at something? In front of people you see regularly?
For most of us, probably not recently.
As kids, we failed all the time in front of our friends. We got in trouble, got bad grades, tried out for the team, and didn’t make it.
Our friends witnessed our growth. Our messiness. Our failures.
But as adults? We usually learn new things alone. In private. In controlled environments.
Toastmasters brought back that childhood experience of growing in front of others.
And it creates a different kind of bond. Not just “I know your story.” But: “I’ve watched you try and fail and try again. I’ve witnessed your growth.”
That’s powerful.
In the full episode, I share even more about the specific moments at Toastmasters that cracked me open and how “healthy friction” created deeper bonds than any casual hangout ever could. If you’ve been curious about formal community but unsure what to expect, this conversation will give you a real look inside.
What Belonging Actually Feels Like (And How Long It Takes)
Here’s something nobody tells you about formal community:
Belonging doesn’t happen immediately.
I showed up to that first meeting in March 2020. And honestly? I felt awkward.
Then we went online for two years because of COVID.
Meeting on Zoom. Every Thursday. For two years.
And I almost quit. Multiple times.
Every week, I’d think: “I don’t want to do this. This is exhausting. I don’t even know these people that well. Why am I showing up?”
But I kept showing up. Week after week. For two years.
200 hours of Zoom meetings.
And slowly (so slowly I didn’t even notice it happening), I started to feel like I belonged.
I knew the format. I knew what to expect. I knew the people.
Not deeply, not yet. But I knew them.
I knew who would give a hilarious impromptu speech. Who would give thoughtful feedback. Who was working on a specific speaking goal.
I started to feel comfortable.
And then in July 2022, we went back to meeting in person.
That’s when everything shifted.
Suddenly, the people I’d been seeing in little Zoom boxes for two years were real humans in a room with me.
We could talk during snack time. We could chat before and after meetings. We could actually interact.
And the belonging deepened.
Brendan said something about this that really resonated:
“I wouldn’t say there was anything about being online that rubbed me the wrong way. But once we got back to in-person, the interactions were a lot more fun. You’ve got to know people a lot better and feel a lot more comfortable around them.”
For me, it took about six months to start feeling like I belonged.
Six months of showing up every week before I felt comfortable. Before, I felt like “this is my group.”
And that’s normal.
Belonging takes time. It takes consistency. It takes showing up even when you don’t feel like it.
But once you have it? It’s so worth it.
The Unexpected Things You Learn
One of my favorite parts of Toastmasters is the randomness of what I learn every week.
Because everyone’s giving speeches about their interests, their expertise, their niche obsessions.
In the past four years, I’ve learned about:
- ▪️ Vintage typewriters
- ▪️ Fountain pens
- ▪️ Video game design
- ▪️ How Nintendo was started
- ▪️ How cans are made
- ▪️ And so many other random topics I never would have encountered otherwise
Every week, I learn something completely unexpected.
Not because I sought it out. But because I’m in a room with diverse people who are passionate about different things.
And they’re sharing that passion with me.
It adds color to who they are as people. It makes them three-dimensional in a way that surface-level conversation never could.
I know the niche interests of 40+ people.
And that’s beautiful.
The Power of Small Rituals (Like Snack Time)
Okay, this is going to sound silly, but: snack time matters.
Every week, right in the middle of our meeting, we take a 15-minute break for snacks.
Someone brings food. We all eat together. We chat casually.
And it’s one of the most important parts of the meeting.
Brendan explained it better than I could:
“There’s something about having food with someone else that makes relationships better. It opens you up more.”
“We start with prepared speeches: people are vulnerable, uncomfortable. Then we move to snack time, and everyone starts eating, talking, and having a good time. Then we go back to impromptu speaking: more discomfort. But that snack time break? It’s like breaking bread together. Something about that is so human.”
He’s right.
In a structured meeting where we can’t really chat freely, snack time is the 15 minutes where we can actually connect.
Where we can say “that was a great speech!” or “don’t worry, you’ll get it next time” or “how was your trip last week?”
Those small moments of casual connection? They’re what turn a group of people into a community.
How Relationships Form Differently Here
Brendan said something else that really struck me:
“I think it’s healthier when relationships start off seemingly like you have nothing in common and develop naturally over time.”
He compared it to meeting people on dating apps, where so much is already curated. You already know what you’re going to talk about. The relationship goes from there quickly.
But that’s not how it worked with us.
Brendan told me, “I remember talking to you the first time at that first meeting. I thought you were really shy.”
For anyone listening who knows me: yes, he thought I was shy. I know. It’s hilarious.
“But then, in the next meeting, you gave this really intense, motivating speech about your time on the crew. You had this energy that was very commanding. I was like ‘I did not see that in that person.’”
It took us a while to actually become friends.
Not because we didn’t like each other. But the relationship developed slowly. Naturally.
We kept showing up every Thursday. We gave speeches. We chatted during snack time. We watched each other grow.
And somewhere along the way, we became friends.
Not forced. Not curated. Just… natural.
“I like that,” Brendan said. “When you meet someone just in a normal environment, it takes a while for the friendship to develop. There’s something nice and old school about that.”
I agree.
What I Actually Learned About Myself
Four years in Toastmasters taught me a lot about public speaking.
But it taught me more about community.
I learned that:
Belonging takes time. You can’t rush it. You have to keep showing up even when you don’t feel like it yet.
Diversity creates depth. A room full of people just like me would be comfortable but shallow. A room full of different people is challenging but meaningful.
Vulnerability through doing bonds differently than vulnerability through talking. Watching someone fail and try again creates a different kind of connection than hearing their story.
Structure makes it easier to show up. When I know what to expect, when there’s a format, when it’s the same time every week. I’m more likely to keep coming back.
Small rituals matter. Snack time. Inside jokes. Predictable rhythms. Those create culture.
You don’t have to curate your community. In fact, maybe you shouldn’t. The friction from difference is where the growth happens.
Relationships can form slowly and that’s okay. Not everything has to be instant connection. Sometimes the best friendships take months or years to develop.
I go much deeper into what formal community taught me about myself in the complete episode, including the surprising ways Toastmasters changed how I show up in all my relationships. If you’ve ever wondered whether joining a group could actually change your life, listen here.
The Honest Ending (That Nobody Talks About)
Okay, here’s the part I need to be vulnerable about:
I left Toastmasters after four years.
After all that time. After becoming president-elect. After all those Thursday nights.
I didn’t renew my membership.
And honestly? It wasn’t my finest moment.
I was supposed to be president this year. I’d committed to it. People were counting on me.
But I realized: I couldn’t do it.
Not because I didn’t love the club. Not because I didn’t value the people.
But because I wasn’t actually participating anymore.
The last year, I’d been showing up but not preparing speeches. Not doing the work outside of meetings. Not fully engaging.
I was going through the motions.
Between work stress and health issues, Toastmasters kept falling further down my priority list.
And here’s what I realized: that’s not fair to the group.
Formal community only works when people actually participate. When they engage with the structure, the goals, the format.
I wasn’t doing that anymore.
So I made the hard decision to step back. Not to take on the president role. To let my membership lapse.
And you know what? That’s okay.
Because here’s what nobody tells you about formal community:
You don’t have to stay forever for it to be valuable.
Four years in Toastmasters gave me so much. Skills, yes. But more importantly: a sense of belonging. Relationships. Growth. Understanding of how community actually works.
And I’ll always have that.
Even though I’m not going every Thursday anymore, I still have this sense of: I could walk back in anytime, and I’d know what to do. I’d know the format. I’d see familiar faces.
That sense of belonging doesn’t disappear just because I’m not actively participating right now.
Maybe I’ll go back someday. Maybe I won’t.
But those four years mattered. Even though they ended.
What I Want You to Take Away From This
If you’ve been thinking about joining some kind of formal community (a club, a group, an organization) but you’re scared:
Just go. Just try it.
I thought about it for months before I showed up. Months of driving past the building. Months of looking up meeting times. Months of chickening out.
And you know what happened when I finally went?
It was fine. More than fine. It was good.
Yes, I was nervous. Yes, it was awkward at first. Yes, it took six months to feel like I belonged.
But on the other side of that nervousness? Community. Growth. Relationships I never would have had otherwise.
Here’s what else I want you to know:
You don’t have to stay forever. You don’t have to commit your whole life to this.
Just try it for a season.
Maybe it’s three months. Maybe it’s a year. Maybe it’s four years like me.
However long it is, it will teach you something.
About community. About yourself. About how belonging actually develops.
And even if you eventually leave, that sense of belonging stays with you.
You’ll always know: I tried that. I showed up. I was part of something for a while.
And that matters.
Where to Start
If this resonated with you and you want to find your own formal community, here’s how to start:
1. Think about what interests you
Not what you think you SHOULD be interested in. What you actually enjoy or want to learn.
Public speaking? Running? Books? Board games? Gardening? Community service?
Pick something that genuinely appeals to you.
2. Look for groups that meet regularly
Not “we should get together sometime” groups. Groups with:
-
- ▪️ Set meeting times
-
- ▪️ Consistent format
-
- ▪️ Some kind of structure
That structure is what makes it work.
3. Visit a few times before deciding
Remember: belonging takes time. You won’t feel comfortable immediately.
Give it at least 3-4 meetings before you decide if it’s for you.
4. Accept that it will feel awkward at first
You won’t know what to do. You won’t know the people. You might stand in the corner.
That’s normal. Everyone feels that way at first.
5. Keep showing up
Even when you don’t feel like it. Even when it’s uncomfortable.
Belonging develops through consistency.
6. And remember: you can leave when it no longer serves you
This isn’t a lifetime commitment. It’s just: try this for a while and see what happens.
If it stops working for you, that’s okay. You can step back.
The value doesn’t disappear just because you’re not there anymore.
A Final Thought
Four years ago, I was terrified to walk into that first Toastmasters meeting.
I almost didn’t go. Multiple times.
But I’m so glad I did.
Not because I’m still going every Thursday. Not because it’s still part of my weekly routine.
But because for four years, it gave me exactly what I needed:
A place to belong. A place to grow. A place to be vulnerable. A place to meet people completely different from me.
A place to learn what community actually feels like.
And now, even though I’ve stepped back, I carry that with me.
I know what belonging feels like. I know how to build it. I know it’s possible.
And if I ever need it again (if I ever want to walk back through those doors) I know I could.
That sense of “I belong here” doesn’t go away.
So if you’ve been thinking about joining something (anything) but you’re scared:
Just go. Just try it.
You might be terrified. You might feel awkward. You might not feel like you belong for months.
But maybe, like me, you’ll look back four years later and realize:
That scary first step? It changed everything.
Curious about Toastmasters specifically? You can find clubs all over the world at toastmasters.org. Many offer virtual options too. Visit a few different clubs. They all have different vibes. Find one that feels right for you.
Already part of a formal community that’s changed your life? Tell us in the comments below.
Tune into the full episode to hear the complete story of my four years at Toastmasters, including the parts that were messy and hard and the moment I knew it was time to step away. Whether you’re considering joining a formal community or you’re already in one, I think this story will resonate.
