Last night, my friend

hosted a party at his apartment that came with one non-negotiable rule: Every person in attendance had to stand up in front of the crowd and read something aloud.

Everyone in the room knew the host, but none of us knew each other. He had us wear name tags and bought a lot of fancy cheese.

There were no further parameters on the “read something “ edict. Some people read book excerpts, some read original poetry or fiction, two people (myself included) read portions of revolutionary manifestos. Someone read a magazine story about the decline of men reading fiction.

The whole thing was very 1930s salon-style socializing, though this crowd was gender and racially diverse. Each person’s choice of reading material told us something about them — whether it was quite personal (one person read an unsent letter to a situationship) or strongly political.

It opened up this group of strangers to real, engaging conversations about the interests and experiences we share, and the things that intrigue us but we have yet to explore.

Our discussion about non-fiction readers versus fiction readers — and the way that writers now get siloed into one lane or the other — was one of the most generative conversations of the night. Sorry to everyone who has only engaged with this topic online instead of amongst their fellow avid readers.

The natural vulnerability of standing up in front of a group of strangers and reading for them, regardless of the actual material, made it easier for all of us to share parts of ourselves with one another throughout the night. I had spent a good portion of the afternoon leading up to the party rehearsing my excerpt and annotating the way I wanted to read it in this setting. Now I want to be an actor — born to perform, baby.

I know that there is a great privilege in being an adult who lives in an urban environment where adult friendships are a broadly accessible and fungible part of my life, but I really experienced this party as a new way forward in a time when everyone I know is concerned about the differences between us instead of the commonalities. The way forward, I guess, is taking a big step back.

It’s difficult to generate spontaneous conversations with strangers, and I think that having a gimmick, a hook, a demand that we each literally bring something intangible to this party really softened the blow.

I want everyone around me to have spaces where they can be intellectually and socially explorative, and I went home feeling incredibly fulfilled. Make your friends read to each other. It’s much more interesting than asking a stranger what type of work they do to pay their rent.