Before belief takes hold, people long to be received. Brands that host, not gatekeep, build the futures we crave.
Yesterday, I found myself lingering over a line buried in a Sunday column in The New York Times. In a piece exploring what happens when believing follows belonging, Lauren Jackson shared reflections from readers around the world—stories of faith lost and rediscovered, of communities left behind and of longing that transcends doctrine.
“They said they wanted to belong,” she wrote. “In rich, profound and sustained ways.”
The phrase resonated strongly with my ongoing exploration of the Me-to-We continuum of my model of Brand Citizenship. Because beneath our declarations and affiliations, beneath the increasingly rigid definitions of who is in and who is out, early on my investigation confirmed something older and more essential permeates our psyches: our human need to be received. And when brands learn to act not as gatekeepers and rather as gracious hosts receiving people in spaces where they can show up as they are, they begin to cultivate community and a felt sense of belonging.
Our need to be received
When we speak about abundance, we often reflect on if we feel worthy enough to receive. And more often than not, we neglect the equal and opposite side of this coin: our capacity to be received. Not evaluated, converted or even fully understood—simply received. Accepted. Held in a space where we are allowed to unfold and be whomever we are becoming without explanation.
For all our focus on belief—whether political, spiritual, or cultural—studies on happiness and wellness indicate most people are yearning for the opportunity to belong. Not conditionally. But fully.
The true shape of belonging that doesn’t ask you to erase yourself to be accepted.
Belonging that offers a soft welcoming in each moment you’re becoming.
And as I read Jackson’s column, I found myself wondering if maybe that’s the shift we’re being called toward—belonging as the starting point from which belief emerges from coherence. Rather than belonging as a reward for believing.
The unraveling of connection
We are living at a time that is increasingly described as disconnected, even as we’re theoretically more attached to one another through technology. And yet, I sense the truth is more layered than this linear view.
The anti-social century, as Derek Thompson has labeled the era we’re living in, is about much more than isolation—it’s about the disappearance of the space, of the connective tissue, that lies in between: workplace kitchen conversations, neighborhood interactions, the casual nods that remind us we were part of something shared. These are what the middle-ring relationships Marc Dunkelman speaks about in his book The Vanishing Neighbor: The Transformation of American Community are about—vital yet often overlooked.
Bonds that once anchored us—faith traditions, civic spaces, extended families, shared rituals—have been loosening for decades. And in their place, privatized lives have taken root: lives centered on personal screens, individual preferences, and algorithmic confirmation.
Although middle-ring relationships generally aren’t intimate, they still matter. Enormously. And as they fade, our capacity to hold difference, to engage in dialogue, to stretch beyond the bounds of our curated identities weakens.
Loneliness, now considered a public health crisis, is both a symptom and a cause of this. When we no longer know how to be with others without performing or defense, we also forget how to be with ourselves in silence. Without life’s busy-ness and distractions. And in that forgetting, meaning begins to blur.
Belonging before belief
Given today’s cultural moment, order matters. For years, we’ve assumed people must believe in something—an ideology, a doctrine, a purpose—before they are granted access to community. Before they belong. But what if the truth is the opposite?
What if belonging gives birth to belief?
Belonging provides the safety to question. The space to bravely evolve. The ground from which conviction can transform—and be a living orientation toward life, not a set of static rules. The people who shape us most profoundly accept us as we are. They rarely demand our agreement. They make space for our becoming. For feeling safe in our vulnerability, in the exposure of our true self.
Maslow understood this. Before “belonging” became a brand value or a corporate metric, he named it as a foundational human need—preceding esteem, preceding purpose, even preceding self-actualization. Without it, moving up his hierarchy remains out of reach. Yet, this foundational insight often gets lost in brand strategy and the evolution of purpose….
In the rush to define what we stand for, many brand leaders have lost connection with what people stand in need of—crafting purpose statements designed to convince, rather than to invite. The most resonant brands are those that embrace belonging before belief—creating environments where people feel seen, safe, and connected, even before they buy in.
We do not step into our highest potential alone. We only emerge into it through relationship.
The quiet return to community
In her article, Lauren Jackson shares that her inbox overflowed with letters. People didn’t write to argue theology—they wrote to share stories. Moments of loss, of grief, of return. Diagnoses and deathbed reflections. Regret and wonder. And in their flood of words, a pattern emerged: a yearning for connection, not certainty. For a place to explore questions safely and bravely, not for one with absolute answers.
Some were returning to faith traditions they’d left behind. Others were searching for a new shape for spirituality or secular belonging. What united them wasn’t their set of beliefs—it was their desire for a space that felt real. And dare I say, truly inclusive. A place where rituals of caring and the language of meaning were alive.
This quiet return is about resonance. Not revivalism. People aren’t asking to be persuaded. They’re asking to be invited into our shared humanity. Not sameness.
Many who had once left religious communities described a loss of worlds—of support systems, of friendships, of inherited traditions. And perhaps not surprisingly, in many cases aspects of their identity—their sexuality, their politics, their questions—placed them outside the circle. The grief that followed was relational as much as spiritual. Belonging, once lost, is often hard to rebuild.
Thin places and the language of meaning
The Celtic phrase “thin places”—used to describe where the veil between the material and spiritual world feels transparent—comes to mind. These aren’t always traditionally sacred places. They can be a forest clearing, a shared meal, a hospital bedside. Spaces where something unnameable feels present. Where we feel in coherence with our environment. Fully connected.
What struck me in Jackson’s piece is how often people described such experiences: meaning felt not from above, but between—through the connective tissue of two things. A remembered poem. A moment of comfort. A conversation that opens.
This is the fertilizer for belief—intimacy over ideology. The beautiful human alchemy of being received.
Belonging as architecture
Beginning from the premise that belonging precedes belief begs us to ask: where are the architects of belonging today? In a time when traditional institutions no longer hold the center, where do people go to feel held?
And what is the responsibility of those with cultural reach—leaders, educators, creatives, and yes, brands—to create those spaces with care?
Belonging doesn’t require uniformity. It demands resonance. It doesn’t erase difference—it honors it. And to cultivate true belonging, we must design for coherence—alignment between values, behavior, and being, followed by message. Not beginning with it.
This is why performative DEI statements or superficial inclusion efforts ring hollow. Especially now, as language around diversity, equity, and inclusion is being stripped back, reinterpreted, and for some, discarded altogether. The deconstruction of DEI—both intentional and incidental—has left more feeling unmoored than grounded. For some, a new sense of invisibility has emerged.
In this void, people aren’t looking for perfect systems. They’re looking for sincere signals. For signs that welcome them as they are—and a belief that their presence matters. That they are integral to the whole, operating in integrity.
Some brands are beginning to respond. Everytable is reimagining food access as a vehicle for dignity and community. Tonlé and Reformation are fostering circular fashion models that empower community economies and inclusion. . Etsy supports small creators while honoring cultural diversity. And through initiatives like Lego Replay and Play Included, even a brand synonymous with play is helping to foster learning, connection, and mutual understanding.
Holding the tension
Many of us sense a quiet reckoning underway—a recognition that the culture of othering, of binaries, of purity tests and politicized identities is not sustainable. That beneath performances lies a deeper fatigue. And that somewhere in the tension between solitude and connection, freedom and interdependence, a more pure form of belonging is silently pushing through.
A form that enables people to bravely hold ambiguity.
To belong without conformity.
And to be received in the messiness of their becoming.
In this way, belonging is more than a social construct. It’s a spiritual one.
It’s the foundation of trust, the doorway to creativity.
The space where coherence—among belief, behavior, and being—can take root.
This is where the next era of leadership and culture begins—
by inviting people to be received as whole,
not by asking them to prove themselves.
And where brands that lead with coherence, not conversion, define what’s next.