In August, my apartment unexpectedly went under construction two weeks before my lease renewal. As the jackhammers arrived outside my windows with a promise to stay for the next two years, I made a quick decision to put all my things in storage, sell my car, and travel the world for the next year as a digital nomad in search of my future home.
I briefly returned to Miami for a week in February to run M365 Miami before heading to Buenos Aires for the next three months. It was my first year expanding the event team past myself and one other person, which came with so many challenges and lessons.
Take the leap
M365 Miami was the Friday before the Super Bowl and the promised iconic performance by Bad Bunny. I was excitedly sharing my plans for Buenos Aires with Diego Domingos da Silva and how I would be going to the concert on Valentine’s Day when he looked at me and said, “Should I just come? I can buy a flight right now.” In a loud bar as we waited to watch Benito on stage with our greater Miami community, Diego broke all xennial rules by pulling out his cellphone to make two large purchases (a plane ticket and stage seats).
Fast forward to a bit to about a week later on Valentine’s Day in River Plate Stadium filled with ninety thousand people. We arrived 4 hours before the concert started to grab our spots in the stage pit. As we sat in the sun bursting with excitement, I looked up at Diego and said, “Should we go tomorrow too?” and I continued the tradition of cellphone purchases that give many millennials hives and really deserve a laptop.
That night we melted into the community around us, tears streaming down our faces, as Benito calmy, confidently, proudly took the stage representing his culture while including every single person in the room in that experience. It was a rare moment I felt proud to be American, basking in the glow of his leadership and inclusion. The night ended with the wood of the stage pit bending under our feet as we jumped in unison with strangers singing at the top of our lungs. For that night, we were a community.
The next day, our tired legs and feet opted for actual seats and a new viewpoint away from the stage and part of the larger crowd. We knew what was coming from the night before but the moment that undid me wasn’t at all what I expected. It was just one breath.
The breath
Every night on the tour, Benito brings one fan on stage. He takes his time carefully choosing who to connect with and from the crowd it is obvious he selects the person who needs it most in their soul. On this last night in Buenos Aires, the fan was shaking. We could see it from the midline in the stadium. His nerves, tears, and body rattling. The overwhelming Oh-my-god-there-are-90,000-people-here-and-Benito-chose-me realization.
Instead of rushing it or turning it into a spectacle, without any posturing, Benito stepped closer. They paused and took a deep breath together, facing each other. The stadium came to a murmur, watching the buildup to this moment. Ninety thousand people, silent, watching two people breathe and regulate their emotions in the moment together. When the fan steadied himself, you could see his shoulders settle and the crowd erupted. He was seen and centered in a moment we can all understand.
Diego and I kept grabbing each other’s arms, in brief moments over the music, trying to describe what this concert meant to us. What we were feeling deep in our core. It wasn’t the proximity to celebrity, our love of his music, or even the spectacle of the show but truly experiencing the leadership we have been craving. Benito models presence, vulnerability, and regulation with a genuine focus and care for the people in front of him. In a world where masculinity is often displayed as dominance or control, this shift struck deep. The loudest man in the stadium chose to be the calmest.
I am that fan. We all are sometimes.
There was something about that moment with the fan that felt deeply personal. For years, I used to throw up before speaking. Not metaphorically. I carried an airplane bag in my backpack for the expected moment the nerves in my body betrayed me. (I wrote about it in Living UX Values Beyond the Screen).
I used to think public speaking meant performing. Delivering a flawless 60 minutes. Proving my technical prowess to the room. For me, the shift came when I stopped trying to perform for a crowd and started connecting with one person at a time. David Warner once told me if one person left his talk having learned something then he was successful. This became my new mantra. When I reframed the room as my community with knowledge to contribute to the session, all of us together creating that 60-minute session…. that was the moment I realized I could pause too.
The power of pause changes everything. Watching Benito center that fan visibly and deliberately reminded me of what I’ve learned the hard way: when you see the one person who needs you, the whole room feels it. The impact of caring for one person ripples across 90,000. That is the power of community.
It was more than a concert
It’s complicated to feel proud of the U.S. sometimes, especially right now for me. Miami is a proudly diverse, bilingual city with roughly two-thirds of Miami-Dade County identifying as Hispanic or Latino, and Spanish is spoken in a majority of households. That community is foundational to the city and to the M365 Miami event. In recognition of that, we offer Spanish-language sessions every year and are committed to creating a welcoming, respectful environment for all of our attendees.
In Buenos Aires watching a U.S. citizen celebrate culture, language, unity, and difference by fully using his platform to amplify this message during a time when the loudest voices are declaring a narrow version of belonging meant absolutely everything to me. It was connection over posturing. Love over hate. Presence over performance. This isn’t political, it is just human and, honestly, that feels radical right now.
The long work of community
The concert also meant something because of who I was there with. Diego and I work very differently and we always have. We’ve built and ridden quite the rollercoaster together over the past 3 years in Miami. We’ve misstepped but what matters more to me is that we keep showing up to have the hard conversations and find our way. We have to own how we show up. Again. And again. But we keep choosing alignment over ego. We are learning to celebrate where we connect instead of obsessing over where we differ. We give each other space. We extend grace. We try again. That’s community too.
Standing in that stadium, crying over a breath with 90,000 witnesses, underscored what I have felt deep in my bones but been unable to explain in words until now: The work we do (conferences, open-source initiatives, events) only matters if it makes people feel seen. For me, as a neurodivergent woman in tech, being fully seen is about celebrating my differences (I can be a bit of a Hermione) while leaning on the scaffolding of incredible collaborators who help me to continue growing. Benito did that for one fan in front of the world.
This moment will be with me forever
That nervous fan eventually took the mic and confidently shouted into it, bringing back the thumping bass, insane lights, and a pulsating crowd. The show continued but the moment lingered.
Benito cares more about the human experience than about looking powerful. I think that is what struck so many people about his Super Bowl performance and award acceptance at the Grammys. That’s the kind of leadership and the kind of community that I want to build. A community where we pause, we breathe, we see the one person who needs steadiness, we put our tech down to connect, we celebrate alignment without erasing difference, and we all jump together in unison.
Ninety thousand people. One breath. That’s what community feels like.
Emily Mancini 