Dr. Benjamin [Iweapew] Rieth
Life is hard and lately, it has been especially hard. My husband and I adopted two incredible children this past year. They are bright, loving, and resilient, and they also carry a lot of learning and relearning with them. Our home can feel hectic, emotional, and unpredictable. We have really good days, and we have really tough ones. Often, the tone of the evening depends on how their day went, and when I walk through the door, I need to be present. Parenting requires you to be in it.
But over the past year, I realized something difficult: many days, I wasn’t fully in it. I would talk about how my kids’ days went such as their challenges, their growth, their emotions but I rarely stopped to ask myself about my day.
Long, grueling hours at work, not feeling part of a community at or out of work, a slight mid-life crisis, and the slow erosion of connection all began to pile up. Eventually, the weight shows itself somewhere. For me, it showed up at home.
I had good days and bad days just like my kids, but I hadn’t acknowledged that truth. And one day, I saw what my bad days looked like. The Moment That Stopped Me I came home after a particularly difficult day and slipped into what I now call “drill-sergeant parent” mode — rigid, loud, impatient. My husband later showed me a short video of myself at that moment from our security cameras. It was horrifying! What was I even yelling about? Why did my face look so tense, so unfamiliar? But what truly stopped me were my children’s faces. Their expressions held confusion and hurt. I sat on the couch afterward for what felt like hours — sad, disappointed in myself, and asking the same question over and over again: Why?
People who know me often describe me as upbeat — the person laughing down the hallway, walking into meetings with a joke ready, someone who genuinely loves the work of higher education and belonging. But this year, something shifted. I didn’t feel that lightness. I didn’t feel that connection. I finally realized the question I needed to ask wasn’t What’s wrong with me? but rather, Where is my belonging?
Remembering Joy
I have a tattoo on my arm of a phrase my grandmother used to say: “Smile at the world and the world smiles back.” For a while, I found myself rolling my eyes at it. The irony wasn’t lost on me. I had built a career around belonging, yet I couldn’t locate my own. My workplace had once been my sanctuary — a place where I felt fully myself. But this past year was also my first year serving as a vice president. At the same time, my home life was adjusting to two new children, new routines, and new emotional landscapes. Slowly and almost invisibly, I began distancing myself from colleagues and friends at work. I told myself I was just busy.
What I didn’t realize was that I was losing one of the core pillars of my own framework: Relationship.
The Five Rs of Belonging
The Five Rs are not complicated, nor are they reserved for elite institutions or large budgets.
They are human practices that any organization or individual can live out intentionally.
- Relationships holds each R together because it reminds us that everything is connected. Our ability to relate to people and spaces is foundational.
- Respect shows up in how we treat others, how we treat ourselves, and how we honor the environments we occupy.
- Relevance asks whether a space, group, or experience matters personally enough to foster belonging.
- Reciprocity is the two-way street — giving and receiving energy, care, and effort at the same time.
- Responsibility involves accountability to ourselves, to others, and to the communities we are part of.
At the center of all of them is relationships. When relationships weaken, belonging begins to crumble.
When the Tables Get Smaller
I am a huge advocate for team lunches, icebreakers, and gatherings outside the office. These moments weren’t frivolous; they were connective tissue. At one point, we would push together four tables and have fifteen people from different departments eating and laughing together. The laughter was music. Conversations ranged from light to deeply personal. Ideas were born at those tables. Projects formed. Assessments started. Outside of work, it led to dinners, celebrations, and meeting each other’s families. It built pride and culture. Then, gradually, fewer people came. Outings slowed. Doors closed. People stayed in their offices. Curiosity was replaced with assumption. Benefit of the doubt gave way to blame. Gossip grew louder while laughter grew quieter. Colleagues became acquaintances. Some left altogether. And in many ways, the “drill sergeant” energy I saw in myself mirrored what I was beginning to see in organizations: rigidity, tension, and disconnection.
What If?
It’s easy to ask, What if we got the band back together? What if the organization stepped in?
What if I simply reached out to one person at a time? The lesson for me is not nostalgia — it’s awareness. Community does not disappear overnight, but it can dissipate faster than we expect. And when belonging erodes, it rarely affects just one R. Relationships weaken, respect suffers, reciprocity fades, responsibility feels heavier, and relevance begins to blur. The encouraging truth is that relationships can be rebuilt. Belonging can be reclaimed. But it requires intention.
What if it was me? Now parts of this had to be me. I could of done more, I could of tired to get people together more. Again with the “What Ifs.”
Belonging Starts With Ourselves
It is imperative that we tend to our own sense of belonging. As employees, as leaders, as parents, as people — if we do not feel that we belong somewhere, the work becomes heavier and our patience thinner. In higher education especially, we often ask how we can help students feel that they belong. But an honest question follows: How can we cultivate belonging for students if we ourselves feel disconnected from our own communities? This reflection is not meant to be a doomsday message. It is a gentle warning and an invitation. A reminder to notice the signs, to check in with ourselves, and to nurture the relationships around us — at work, at home, and within ourselves. Because belonging is not just something we create for others. It is something we must also allow ourselves to have.
Finding Our Way Back
Let me be clear: this is not a doomsday story. It is a wake-up call. A nudge to snap out of the slow drift that can pull any of us away from the very work that once lit us up. Belonging is not gone; it is waiting for our attention. And part of that work sits squarely with each of us. Responsibility — one of the Five Rs — is not only institutional. It is personal. Each of us carries a role in cultivating our own sense of belonging. That means stepping back up to the plate, putting ourselves out there again, and choosing connection even when it feels easier to withdraw. This means having open hard conversations with friends, colleagues, etc. if something is bothering you. It means remembering that the glass is still half full, even on the days it feels nearly empty. It means treasuring the relationships already around us, not just the ones we wish we had. And it means returning to the question that started many of us on this path in the first place: Why did this work once bring me joy?
To keep that joy from quietly slipping away, I am holding onto five small but powerful commitments: pause and check in with yourself honestly; reach out to one person and nurture the relationship; assume the glass is half full and lead with generosity; reconnect with your original “why” in this work; and intentionally create moments of joy, even in the middle of hard seasons. None of these require a budget line or a strategic plan. But together, they can begin to shift the energy back toward belonging. Because the truth is simple: joy rarely disappears all at once — it fades when we stop tending to it. And the good news is that we can start tending to it again, today.
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