wanted: generous friends

my ea origin story

I smiled gratefully at the gold-painted woman who offered me a platter of grapes. I grabbed a bunch, tucked my feet underneath me on the couch, and frowned as I watched the costumed dancers and munched on my snack. As great as this party was - two DJs, elaborate decorations and a hot tub, all on a boat on the Thames - something just didn’t feel right.

I’d been in London for a year and a half. I’d met a wonderful group of people through the blues dance scene, including my fiance. I’d had a great time spending my weekends with them. But seeing crowdfunding requests for parties like this, trying to raise thousands of pounds to make the next party even more elaborate, just wasn’t sitting right with me.

Growing up embedded in a vibrant church in rural Canada, my community had always emphasized generosity. The people I grew up with would give 10% to the church and a little extra to those in need around the world, even when they themselves were living below the poverty line. Here, my friends were making more money than almost anyone in my hometown, but they never talked about giving to others.

I hoped to find more generous friends at church. My husband and I were attending Holy Trinity Clapham in south London. The church regularly raised money for charitable causes, but I wasn’t always convinced by the causes they chose to focus on. The pastor encouraged us to donate to a soccer club in Uganda that was run by an old friend of his - it made me wonder if that was really the best charity, or if this was just old-fashioned nepotism.

So at home one day, shortly after my wedding, I started Googling. “Generosity London” brought up some links to minimalist and Christian content, but no groups I could join - no communities of potential friends with the same values as me. “What do atheists call generosity?” I wondered, and then remembered they call it “altruism”. With that Google search I found Effective Altruism London, and the rest is history!