What Can Bicycles Teach Us About Belonging?
I got my first two-wheeled machine when I was five—a Schwinn Stingray. I think I took it apart the first time when I was six. I wanted to understand what made it work and make it cooler. The first iteration was a banana seat and sissy bars. In 1973, that did the trick for cooler, but by seven, I wanted lighter and stronger for going over jumps. So, I swapped them for a ten-speed seat and a pair of motorcycle ape hangers off someone’s old dirt bike. Now it was cool because it was tougher.
I valued that bike. I painted it, changed the tires, and cleaned and lubed it obsessively. I judged my friends for dropping their bikes unceremoniously and leaving them out in the rain. Some abuses were justified—skidding, of course, landing crossed-up, crashing into too-far-away landing ramps, and mud, among other things. But take care of it. Take the time to appreciate the machine and give it what it needs.
That squeak is telling you it needs something before it can function optimally. The only difference between a functional bike and a non-functional bike is the care it receives. Every bike (even a Huffy) can fulfill its purpose if it is cared for well. This is still true now that I ride and work on motorcycles, too. It is true for everything: tools, machines, furniture, houses, plants, animals… and people.
People, even male people, are whole when they are cared for and lacking when they are not. We do not usually think about it this way. We think a man is what he should be if he is strong, disciplined, reliable, productive, and in control of his anger, sadness, and fear. If we think that a man is whole because he is cared for, it implies that he may not be able to be all those things without help. It implies he may have limitations and weaknesses that need to be compensated for. People can do nothing on their own. We are limited, and that is not a flaw.
“An oxygen atom is not weak or flawed because it cannot do what a hydrogen atom does. When they get together, their differences make their relationship powerful.”
This is the way things work—everywhere else in the universe. An oxygen atom is not weak or flawed because it cannot do what a hydrogen atom does. When they get together, their differences make their relationship powerful. They each give for what they are and take for what they are not. And in doing so, they become water. A molecule of water is not defective if it cannot be caffeine without the help of carbon and nitrogen. A liver cell is not less than because it is not a skin cell. A fish that cannot climb a tree is a perfectly complete fish.
All these things live, contribute, and experience the interconnectedness of belonging because, not in spite of, their needs. They fit, not because they change but because of their truest identity. My Schwinn Stingray could do its job, be cool, be tough, and get me from A to B because I took care of it. Because when it squeaked, I listened and gave it what it needed.
In the same way, a man who has needs is not less of a man. The very structure of the universe is based on an exchange of resources. We give and take to be living participants in reality. It is fundamentally human to need. We literally cannot live without our needs being met. We have forgotten that when we began this life, the only thing we offered was cuteness and poop. We were one hundred percent dependent on others to meet our needs. This is why belonging is so important and so intrinsic. Not the feeling or sense of belonging—the structure of it. The relationally engineered combining of our identities and their outputs and inputs. We must know who we are, what we have to offer, and what we need. It is wired into our brains and coursing through our veins.
We have not been saying this—or acting like it. Most men are so well-trained to think that it is bad to have needs that we have not considered what they are. And we think talking about it is embarrassing. If we get desperate enough, we might listen to a podcast or talk to a therapist but talking to our friends or partners (if we have them) is too vulnerable. It takes a lot of courage.
I want to say definitively that we do not need to feel ashamed of our limitations. They are the places where others get their chance to be cool. We should not hide them; we should offer them with generosity. We can never experience real, durable belonging without acknowledging our needs. They are our half of how we fit together with everyone and everything else.
How do we change the way we think about this so we can change the way we feel and act? There are a few important steps we need to take together. They are hard work but well worth the effort and patience.
Work to Adapt Our Thinking
Together, let’s believe the truth that when human needs are met, we are all good. We are whole and useful, and we share a meaningful purpose. We all have something to offer that comes from our deepest, truest identity. And we all have needs. The tension between our outputs and inputs makes both our individuality and our shared dependence fundamentally important.
Re-learn how to Communicate
Feelings come from needs: Our happy, sad, scared, and angry feelings tell us whether our needs are being met or not.
Observe rather than judge: Our feelings are not caused by the actions of others but by how we think about them. They are not bad for causing us pain and we are not bad for what we think. We have just discovered an unmet need—that is all.
Ask (not demand) for our needs to be met. Be grateful if they are, and mourn if they are not.
When people ask for their needs to be met, or when we recognize them, and we are willing and able to meet them—do it.
K.N.O.T.S. (Know - Notice - Offer - Take - Share)
Know ourselves and Notice others. If this needs thing is true, and we have not been paying enough attention, then we need to learn who we are and what needs we have. Once we start figuring it out, we need to Offer what we have to give (and not offer what we do not have to give) and Take what we need. Since this is a new and powerful thing for so many, we need to Share the story. We need to talk about what it is like, how we overcome our hesitance, what worked and didn’t, and what we learned about ourselves and each other.
I’ve had many more bikes in my life—with and without engines. All of them were good if I took care of them. The same is true for people. We are good if our needs are met. For each other, let’s add oil, fill up tanks, charge batteries, polish the wheels, and believe that when we take care of each other, we will all function optimally.
