Never had I imagined that the first friends I would make in a new city would be men.
For me, friendship = female friendships. I can write 10 essays about their beauty. Several studies have established their healing power.
I've had male friends before. But nothing compares to the safety and nurturance of sisterhood.
Yet, this time, befriending guys felt liberating. We didn’t assume sameness. Different genders meant accepting different personalities. We arrived at a common ground slowly.
Female friendships fire off with ‘OMG, Same!’ Disagreements are delayed and awkward. We struggle to digest our contrasting desires and values.
We rush into sisterhood based on gender. We ignore hundreds of factors that shape us differently.
I remembered the female friendships that didn’t survive. We settled for mind and face reading, instead of direct communication. Anger was rare. We filled silence with too many words. Polite. Nervous. Anxious gibberish. Perfect ingredients for bad writing.
My biggest fear was making my friends feel insecure. They reciprocated the coddling. We flattened our gifts to make the other person feel safe. We praised each other like it was our job. We didn’t brag. We harped on our weaknesses. I knew their triggers better than mine. There were eggshells everywhere!
Patriarchy doesn’t affect us in the same way. We are pulled and pushed by our caste, class, our family histories. Shaped by our sexuality, age, neurotype. We don’t have the same capacity and audacity to respond to social pressures.
Not all female friendships are feminist. Not all feminist friendships include women. Feminism is boring when it does not help us understand the power dynamics between women.
Do we use each other sometimes, to avoid the arduous process of individuation? Do we smother each other until one of us breaks? When our energy drains, the role play ends. The caring friend suddenly feels overbearing. The fun one seems flaky. The radical one sounds judgemental and the peaceful one looks like a coward. We feel betrayed.
It’s not because we lack love. We fall into these patterns because we're trying to protect each other from a world that has already wounded us too many times. Its not our gender that binds us, it is our collective trauma. In our quest for independence from men, we’ve become codependent with each other.
The truth is I don’t know how to be friends with women, as humans. My heart breaks when I see us trade our authenticity for attachment.
I'm learning to nurture friendships resilient enough to weather these differences. Friendships that breathe and grow as we do. Now those are the friendships I shall write praise songs about. Directness. Curiosity over assumptions. Trusting others to take care of their emotions. Perfect ingredients for good writing.
Until I cultivate healthier female friendships, I’ll befriend myself. Because that too, would be a female friendship worth rooting for.
The Rhythm of our Stories workshop is back. Presented by Natasha Badhwar. Facilitated by Raju Tai and Vimal Chitra. For writers, poets, and performers.
Extra love for using Eric Carle’s art! This essay made me pause and think. A lot. It also made me so uncomfortable. I found myself taking stock of the feelings each of your words evoked in me. Some stung, some resonated so deep it hurt, some made me smile. A good way to figure what’s to be figured. I love that your essays in this season make room for some compassionate inquiry for self. Thank you Raju Tai! Our tai for a reason :)
Raju another thought provoking, searing essay. You have brought to the fore a critical realization. It is not our gender that binds us but our collective trauma. When our energy drains, our role play ends. So much to reflect upon.