Contact The Editor
Articles By This Author
Many of the workers who arrived at the neighborhood art space were fed up, disillusioned, burned out, anxious about layoffs, nervous about money, annoyed that another day of their precious few on this Earth would be spent on tasks that left them feeling unfulfilled. But even the anti-capitalists gotta make a buck.
So, on a recent Friday morning, they dutifully unwrapped their laptop cables, set up their dual screens and clicked open their email inboxes.
It would, for many of them, be much like a typical work from home day if not for the fact that they were about to take a guided art break.
"Let's all take a big breath together," club organizer Sarah Stern said in a firm, gentle voice. The 20 or so people in the airy room inhaled slowly in unison, after a long stretch of silent work time.
Not everyone at the Anti-Capitalist Co-Working Club is an actual anti-capitalist (or at least didn't claim that title when talking with The Washington Post). The club isn't for debating Marxist theory or organizing labor unions. For many, the name simply signified a set of values they believe are missing from modern work culture: rest, community and self-actualization.
The club, which operates on Fridays out of a recently opened arts space called Living Room in Mount Pleasant and costs $20 per day, was founded last month as an alternative to the sort of co-working spaces that gained popularity after the pandemic - such as WeWork and Industrious that allowed remote workers a quiet place to log in outside of their homes. Unlike these spots, the Anti-Capitalist Co-Working Club explicitly rejects the "grindset."
Everyone gets a handmade sticker on their way in: "We work to live, not live to work."
A typical session involves 90 minutes of independent work time followed by a lunch break, where Stern invites attendees to chat with neighbors by using prompt cards with questions like "What's something you've unlearned about ‘hustle' culture?" and "What's your go to ritual when you need to recharge?" Ninety more minutes are succeeded by reminders to stretch and an art break. One week, she had visitors make name tags that describe their identity beyond their work. This time, she encouraged writing a note to a co-worker who needs to remember to take breaks.
"Capitalism reminds us to do things all the time," she said.
The percentage of global employees who reported high stress, anger or sadness remains above pre-pandemic levels, and in 2025, global employee engagement declined to its lowest level since 2020, according to a Gallup poll. In D.C., a city that often jokes about its favorite recurring party icebreaker - So what do you do? - Stern said workers are experiencing a specific brand of labor-related ennui.
"With the federal layoffs and AI as competition, the social fabric of workplaces, especially after the pandemic, has really collapsed," she said. "Folks used to rely on offices as places where they had social connections."
Though more companies in the District have ordered employees to return to the office, there are fewer in-person requirements than before the pandemic, according to the D.C. Policy Center. Stern pointed to another potential point of disconnection with co-workers: "There's this interesting void where people really want to connect with each other but don't feel safe in a workplace setting where they can be laid off tomorrow."
She spoke from experience. Stern has been laid off twice from different design agencies, she said. It was, in part, her disillusionment with traditional workplaces that led her to become what she calls a "solopreneur" - running her own design company independently. She's since been part of other co-working groups opposed to traditional systems that met online.
"The idea is you can't do everything, and capitalism wants us to do everything," she said. "So these virtual communities would check in about that, and at the end of the week ask, ‘Did you accomplish your thing? Did you do something good for your health or mental health? Did you just take a nap?' All those things are wins."
Earlier this year, she brought an idea to the owners of Living Room, which opened in the spring and hosts events like tarot-inspired collage nights and "guided breathwork journeys." Passes for the Anti-Capitalist Co-Working Club, which are available online, have sold out every week since they began in early August - though upcoming sessions still have open spots.
Living Room is designed to feel like one, with cozy couches, pothos leaves draped over bookshelves and warm lamps. An "art library" has supplies to paint, embroider or sew, including a jar filled with real cicada wings. The soft instrumental songs are akin to what one might hear in a yoga class - fittingly, the building's prior tenant was a yoga studio.
The space is shoe-free (but barefoot-friendly, Stern said in an email before the session) so visitors leave theirs in the lobby. The WiFi password is "slowerpace." Coffee and tea, filled in mismatched mugs, are free, but a drop-in art session at Living Room costs around $30.
On a day last week, people tapped away much of the session on keyboards below bright skylights, smiling and gesturing wordlessly at their screens when they had to pop into virtual meetings.
Amanda McCrum, 40, sat on a couch with two spreadsheets displayed on her screens and a bundle of crochet yarn in her fingers. She worked most of her career in nonprofits before the burnout hit. Now, she said, she's a contractor supporting a government client and "it's boring as hell."
"Work is work," she said. "I call it pushing paper. It's not very interesting. I just keep yarn with me all the time."
She spends most of her workdays at home with an Ikea desk and her black Chihuahua. She tries her best and does a good job professionally, she said, but has "learned to decouple" her self-worth from her work (she stopped giving out her personal phone number to government clients so they can't call her after 5 p.m.).
"I think there's this mentality especially with the older crowd - let's call them boomers - that work is the end all be all, that it defines who we are," she said. "It doesn't have to. I think that my generation is the first ones to be like, ‘Hey, this isn't working for us mentally.'"
That desire for alternative work models may run especially strong in a city so often defined by its aptitude.
"We have so many really passionate, really driven people who care a lot about making their community and the world a better place," said Olivia Delaplaine, 28, who has worked 60-hour weeks between service and government jobs.
She had actually taken that day off work but attended the Anti-Capitalist Co-Working Club meeting to finish up some work-related side projects.
"Many of us do make our work the core of our identity, the core of life and the core of time," she said. "I've had to unlearn that norm myself."
Riyhana Bey, 42, started working her marketing job remotely during the pandemic. She described her typical day: working steadily, alone, for four hours at a time, followed by a fatigue that extra coffee didn't fix.
"Today I feel like I have energy from the people in the room," she said. "Seeing other people working is just, there's no trade-off for the human experience. It also doesn't feel super woo-woo. I was a little worried that an anti-capitalist club would go too far."
While some people attended the club for their 9 to 5 gig, others came to work on their own creative projects. Kelsey Buckner, 46, a cat sitter, cat photographer, kids' yoga instructor, silent retreat leader, poet and somatic vocal healer, came to work on her zines and answer emails. Plus, here she could do her daily 2 p.m. yoga nidra, or yogic sleep.
"I can't go to the coffee shop and lay down in the afternoon," she said. "I knew if I was here, I could just lay on the couch, not bother anybody, put my little earbuds on. … I don't have to go all the way home and come back, but I also don't have to just burn myself down all day, right?"
(COMMENT, BELOW)