Recently, I experienced an outpouring of congratulations on LinkedIn—messages full of kindness, joy, and genuine celebration for a professional milestone. I was moved, of course, and am still, but more than that, I found myself wondering:
Why do we love celebrating each other?
What makes us say “Happy birthday!” like we really mean it? Why do we feel pride when a colleague gets promoted, when a friend receives an award, when someone in our community gets their long-overdue flowers?
It feels natural. Automatic, even. But if you step back and think about it, it’s actually quite radical.
We live in a society built on competition and comparison. From early schooling to career advancement, we’re told to race to the top, to beat the curve, to outshine others in order to succeed. And if you spend anytime on the male side of the internet, it’s all focused on being the Top Dog Alpha Sigma Terminator.
But here’s the thing: celebrating someone else is the opposite of that. It’s not competitive. It’s not even cooperative. It’s more than that.
It’s selfless.
It’s other-more.
And, that is fascinating.
Are we more kind than competitive? Can that be true? Is that us?
In graduate school, I heard a phrase that shifted something in me:
“We can all win.”
It was a reminder that our learning journeys weren’t zero-sum games. That the person sitting next to me in class wasn’t my competition, but a resource. That we weren’t there to defeat each other, we were all there to grow … together. And doing it together made us stronger individually.
Like the redwoods, we are each other’s foundation for growth. We’re not competing for ground space, we are sharing roots. My foundation is yours, and yours is mine.
That phrase has followed me into every corner of my professional life. It’s a mindset. A worldview. And yet, when I see people go out of their way to cheer each other on, to amplify someone else’s moment, it still surprises me in the best way.
It surprises me because it cuts so swiftly against the narrative we’re sold. We’re told we’re divided. More divided than ever. We are Polarized. Split into factions.
You’re either woke or anti-woke. You’re either a patriot or you hate America. You’re either Red or you’re Blue. City or country. North or south. Rock or rap. Beer or wine. Waffle House or First Watch (sorry, I’m hungry for breakfast).
But when I see how eagerly we show up to celebrate each other, I think:
Maybe we’re not as broken as we think.
Kintsugi me and I’ll kintsugi you
Years ago, I was introduced to kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery using gold. The idea is that a bowl isn’t less valuable because it’s cracked. When it’s repaired, it’s more beautiful, more meaningful, more whole because of its brokenness.
At first, I saw this as a metaphor for healing: life breaks us, and we fill those cracks with gold over time. We get stronger when we heal.
But now? I’m starting to believe something deeper. And, I have to give Netflix’s K Pop Demon Hunters a lot of credit for this one. There’s a moment in the story that made me rethink the whole idea: what if life doesn’t break us? What if we start out already a little cracked?
We are born broken, and we are born golden.
But the gold we have, the gold we are born with, is not for us. My gold isn’t for me. Yours isn’t for you.
We are the gold that holds each other together.
Just like the lyrics in the song Golden by Huntr/x say:
No more hiding, I’ll be shining
Like I’m born to be
‘Cause we are hunters, voices strong
And I know I believe
We’re goin’ up, up, up
It’s our moment
You know together we’re glowing
Gonna be, gonna be golden
Maybe that’s why we celebrate each other.
Because we recognize that your win is part of my wholeness, and mine is part of yours.
It’s not just kindness. It’s kinship.
So, thank you for sharing your gold with me. If you’ve ever celebrated me, or anyone else, I hope you know what that means. You’re doing something human. Something generous. Something golden.
Maybe the most radical thing we can do in a fractured world is to keep showing up for each other. In joy, in sorrow, in triumph, and in loss.
Maybe we really can all win. And, I sincerely hope you do.
Stay golden!
Geoffrey Silvera, PhD MHA 