Brooke Dempster knows what it's like to need community. When she moved to Connecticut, she "knew less than a handful of people in the area." She was searching for more than just a new job. She wanted connection. A place to network. A way to figure out her next role.
That search led her to HAYVN Coworking, where she found something unexpected: not just a community to join, but a mission worth serving. Now, as Community Manager for the past eight months, Brooke has become the kind of person who transforms spaces into homes and members into family.
It's why she's a semi-finalist for Community Manager of the Year 2025, an award that will be presented at the Global Workspace Association conference in Chicago. The recognition, sponsored by Coworks for the third consecutive year and presented by CEO DeShawn Brown, celebrates the people who make coworking spaces more than just offices with nice coffee.
For Brooke, it's never been about the perks. It's about the people.
There's a moment every community manager dreads: when a member starts to slip away. Not because of pricing or location, but because something feels off. The connection breaks. The experience disappoints. And before you know it, they're gone.
At HAYVN, they almost lost someone this way.
One member had been shuffled between desks multiple times while the team troubleshot issues with his stand-up desk. It was nobody's fault, really—just one of those operational hiccups that happen. But hiccups add up. Frustration builds. And this member was reaching his limit.
Brooke noticed.
She didn't wait for a complaint or an exit interview. She alerted the team, brought in some thoughtful desk goodies, and surprised the member with a treat for his dog.
That small gesture turned everything around. What could have been a breaking point became a turning point. "We could've lost him," the nomination reads, "but instead, we strengthened a connection."
This is what unreasonable hospitality looks like in action. Not grand gestures or expensive interventions. Just someone who pays attention. Someone who cares enough to act.
When another member began cancer treatment, Brooke stepped in again—quietly, without fanfare. She made sure everyone knew what was happening, brought nourishing bone broth, and ensured the member felt supported "not just as a member, but as a person."
These aren't one-off moments. They're patterns.
"Brooke is always on the lookout for ways to show care," her nominator explains. "She leads with heart, and her instinct for random acts of kindness has become part of our culture."
Brooke's journey to community management wasn't linear. She graduated with degrees in Creative Media—film, videography—and Computer Science. Then she worked for a restaurant company, managing advertising communications and helping build a brand for franchising. She created brand books. She met with potential franchise buyers.
None of that screams "community manager."
But look closer and you'll see the through line: someone who understands storytelling, who knows how to build brands that resonate, who can translate vision into reality. Someone equally comfortable with technology and human connection.
When Brooke discovered HAYVN, she "became interested in Hayvn's mission and wanted to be part of the team." She celebrated her one-year anniversary with the space last month, moving into the Community Manager role eight months ago in December 2024.
The timing was perfect. HAYVN was moving into their new Greenwich location, and the space needed more than just setup—it needed soul.
Sometimes the craziest moments reveal the most truth about a community.
During the move to Greenwich, HAYVN's meeting room renters did something unexpected. They grabbed paintbrushes. They helped transform the space. And when a blue couch wouldn't fit through the door, they didn't stand around watching—they moved it themselves.
"Unexpected collaboration and helpfulness from new members during the space's transformation," Brooke recalls. It's the kind of moment you can't manufacture. People don't help you move furniture unless they feel ownership. Unless they believe in what you're building together.
That's the community Brooke creates. Not one where members consume services, but one where they contribute. Where they show up. Where a coworking space becomes their space.
Ask Brooke what she loves most about being a Community Manager, and the list comes quickly. "Making people happy. Building relationships." Even though she's "an introvert," she appreciates being pushed to interact.
She loves "the ability to wear many hats" and how there's "always something new to do." She thrives on "solving unexpected challenges" and values "the freedom to try new ideas."
That problem-solving instinct shows up everywhere. When a healthcare company renting a meeting room discovered windows they didn't know existed, they had a problem: privacy. Brooke had a solution: she "creatively used space dividers to cover windows," solving their concern without damaging anything.
It's the kind of thinking that defines great community management—resourceful, considerate, and focused on the member's actual need, not just the stated request.
When Brooke describes the ideal community manager, she emphasizes being "intuitive and proactive." Someone who's "tech-savvy and smart" and "able to handle multiple tasks." A "good team player" who can "be a central point connecting different roles in the space."
She's describing herself, of course. But she's also describing the gap many spaces struggle to fill.
Community management looks magical from the outside. Someone who remembers your coffee order, hosts great events, and keeps everything running smoothly. What could be hard about that?
Everything, actually.
"Ther is not enough time in the day," Brooke says plainly. She's "balancing relationship building, space management, event preparation, and administrative tasks," all while being "spread across many different responsibilities."
It's the invisible labor of community work. The mental load of tracking dozens of member preferences, anticipating needs before they arise, and being present for both the planned events and the unexpected crises. You're part hospitality professional, part facilities manager, part event planner, part therapist, part tech support.
And somehow, you're supposed to make it all look effortless.
The truth is, great community managers are rare. They need emotional intelligence and technical skills. They need to be extroverted enough to energize a room but observant enough to notice who's sitting alone. They need to juggle logistics while never losing sight of why any of this matters.
Hence the awards to recognize those managers that do it all.
HAYVN isn't trying to be everything to everyone. They've built their community around core pillars: entrepreneurship, sustainability, health and wellness, marketing, and empowering women.
"Supporting entrepreneurs at different stages of business," Brooke explains, describing how the space cultivates a "large social membership beyond just coworking members." They're "hosting networking and informational events" that serve both their daily members and the broader community.
This focus matters. When you stand for something specific, you attract people who care about those same things. The community self-selects. The culture reinforces itself.
And with Brooke at the center, connecting people and ideas, that culture has a champion.
Here's what her nominator says: "Having her at the helm of our community gives me peace of mind. It allows me to focus on working on the business, knowing she's there, always working in it—with intention, with joy, and with unreasonable hospitality."
That's the real value of an exceptional community manager. Not just the events they plan or the problems they solve, but the trust they build. The confidence they give leadership that members are not just served, but seen. Not just accommodated, but celebrated.
"Brooke is the heart of our community," the nomination concludes, "leading with a can-do spirit, genuine empathy, and instinctive generosity, always ready with an act of kindness that makes people feel seen, valued, and at home."
Seen. Valued. At home.
Those three words capture what coworking is supposed to be. Not just flexible office space with better amenities. Not just networking opportunities and event calendars. But a place where you belong. Where someone notices if you're struggling. Where your wins get celebrated and your challenges get supported.
As the coworking industry matures, we risk losing sight of what made it special in the first place. We optimize for efficiency. We scale for growth. We measure everything except the things that matter most.
Brooke reminds us that community isn't a metric. It's not member retention rates or event attendance numbers, though those things follow when you get community right. Community is what happens when someone brings bone broth to a member going through cancer treatment. When someone notices a frustrated member and brings a treat for their dog. When members grab paintbrushes because they want to help build something together.
It's the work of showing up, paying attention, and caring enough to act.
That work deserves recognition. It deserves celebration. And it deserves our support, because there aren't enough Brookes in this industry. There aren't enough people who lead with heart and turn kindness into culture.
When DeShawn Brown presents the Community Manager of the Year award in Chicago this October, whoever wins will join a group of people who understand that coworking isn't really about the space at all.
It's about the people who make that space feel like home.
And Brooke Dempster? She's been building home for her community every single day.
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