Remembering the importance of community

Zionsville is a small suburb of Indianapolis I’ve never been particularly proud to call home. Although it was a fine place to grow up, I spent many of my adolescent years rejecting its whitewashed, Bible-school naivety.

But following the death of a Zionsville resident, who was on the cusp of beginning her tenure as an Indiana University student, the solidarity and camaraderie of my community, both in Bloomington and at home, has settled into my unwavering appreciation.

It’s a tragedy that seems to blindside our school at least once every academic year. A student goes missing, overdoses, commits suicide or succumbs to injuries resulting from an accident. But in my three years at IU, never has such a tragedy struck me so close to home.

I didn’t know Rachael, and I am in no way trying to compare my feelings to her family’s unimaginable loss. But in a small town like mine, it’s no stretch to connect yourself to your neighbors through a few minor degrees of separation.

She graduated from the same high school I did. She probably spent her summer before moving to Bloomington in the same whirlwind of nervous anticipation I did. Three years ago I was her, moving into my dorm room with the growing sensation that I was finally breaking free and going places in the world.

So when my Twitter feed was flooded with tweets and posts about Rachael’s death, it hit me much more personally than any other tragedy at IU. Rachael was from my hometown. Many of my friends coming to IU this year knew her.

Maybe I wasn’t mature enough to realize it before, but when we suffer, we don’t have to suffer alone. Although sadness is often rooted in isolation, seclusion and loneliness, it is often the time in which we must band together.

A decade ago in the aftermath of a 9/11, America banded together in a way I don’t believe had occurred since World War II. We rose as one because what other choice did we have? The loss was too great. Separation was not an option.

It’s unwise to compare tragedies, but this loss is another reminder of the power of community. The community of Zionsville, the community of Bloomington and the community of IU.

If you’ll allow me to get a little preachy here, it’s a chance to remember there’s no community more powerful than that of the human race.

I don’t know Rachael’s family, but my heart breaks for them. My heart breaks because I can’t begin to imagine the scenarios running through their heads. What if she hadn’t gone to that party? What if she hadn’t fallen? There are only so many “What ifs ... ?” you can ask before you drive yourself insane with the possibility of the unknown.

Of course hindsight is 20/20, but it’s unfair and hypocritical to condemn choices made by people whose shoes you haven’t stood in. Then again, that’s easy for me to say as an outsider with nothing but sympathy and a newfound appreciation for my community.

It’s not normally my method of operation to write about somber or serious topics, but I struggled to find another matter to explore. The friends I’ve gained in Bloomington rank among some of the most trustworthy people I’ve ever met. You can meet a stranger anywhere around the world and upon learning they are a fellow Hoosier, your camaradery is instantly concrete. This school year began with a tragedy, but it’s a sobering reminder there aren’t many universities that can build a community of students like IU.

— wdmcdona@indiana.edu
Follow Opinion Editor Dane McDonald on Twitter @W_DaneMcdonald