I still believe in the village

I grew up surrounded by women.

Not in the abstract sense—literally. My mom always had a million friends. Weekends were full of laughter, loud opinions, trips to the park, someone fixing someone else’s hair, shabbat dinners. These weren’t just brunch-and-birthday friends. These were “pick you up from school when your mom’s stuck at work” friends. “Let’s split the vacation house” friends. Women who showed up, who knew each other’s kids’ allergies, who fought and forgave and brought cookies when someone was sick without being asked.

Because of that, I’ve always placed friendship at the center of my life. Sometimes even higher than romantic love. When you grow up seeing women hold each other like that—reliable, expansive, ride-or-die—it rewires you. It becomes the standard.

But no one really prepares you for how hard it gets to find that as you get older.

In college, friendship is ambient. Built-in. You’re in the same classes, dorms, parties, group chats. You become close without realizing it’s happening. Post-grad, everything becomes... quieter. The days fill up. People move. You go from “we should hang out” to “let’s schedule for two Thursdays from now, maybe.” Suddenly the village you always assumed would grow with you feels like it’s dissolving, or at least becoming more distant.

And still—I crave it. I crave the group texts and the late-night talks and the people who know your childhood pet’s name. I crave being around women who get it, who don’t need the backstory every time, who remind you of who you are when your own reflection feels blurry.

But building that as an adult is hard. It requires effort, and follow-up texts, and a willingness to be the one who reaches out first. And if we’re honest, it requires vulnerability that a lot of people just aren’t willing to give anymore. It requires sacrifice, and being willing to be there, even when its inconvenient, or you’re tired. Everyone wants the village, but no one wants to be a villager.

I still believe in friendship as a foundation. Not a placeholder for romance—not something secondary. Something vital. Something sacred. The older I get, the more I realize how much strength comes from being deeply known by other women. The ones who have seen you ugly cry on FaceTime, who’ve texted “just checking in” at the exact right time, who will remind you that you deserve softness and boundaries, success and rest.

I don’t think we’re wrong for wanting more from our friendships. I think we’re just in a culture that makes it hard to sustain them. But I still believe in the long conversations, the spontaneous nights in, the friendships that feel like home. I still believe in women choosing each other—not just when it’s convenient, but when it really matters.