Independence is supposed to be the dream. The ultimate win. The proof that you’ve made it. As Nigerian women especially those in the diaspora we have fought for this independence, built lives on our own terms, earned our own money, created options that generations before us never had. But somewhere along the way, in the middle of all this winning, something started to feel off. The village that invisible network of aunties, sisters, cousins, friends, and elders that once made life communal began to disappear.
Gone are the days when motherhood came with built-in babysitters, when a problem in your home meant the entire compound would be involved, when your mum’s friends became your extra mums whether you liked it or not. Once upon a time, Nigerian women never really had to do life alone. There was always someone many someone’s, in fact who carried the weight with you. Need to vent? There’s a kitchen stool waiting for you and a plate of pepper soup to accompany the conversation. Just had a baby? Forget cooking food will be arriving unannounced for the next month.
But today, many of us especially those abroad are navigating life in quiet isolation. We are raising children with no safety net, working high-pressure jobs with no one to share the weight, managing marriages and relationships without elders stepping in to guide or advise. The unwritten contract of “I have you, and you have me” has slowly been replaced with “Everyone is busy; deal with it.”
We act like we don’t need community, but let’s be honest we feel the loss. It shows up in the mother who hasn’t had a real break in years because she has no one to call on. It’s in the friendships that have turned into sporadic check-ins, the “let’s link up soon” texts that never materialize. It’s in the career woman who is crushing it at work but realizes that success feels hollow without people to share it with.
In the diaspora, the loneliness is even more pronounced. Here, there are no random drop-ins, no last-minute babysitting favours from the aunty next door, no spontaneous weekend owambe where your extended network magically appears. Instead, life is scheduled, structured, and if we’re keeping it real lonely as hell. You want to see someone? You better book them two weeks in advance. You need help? You better find a way to package it because Nigerian women are expected to be the givers, not the ones asking for help.
So, what happens when the village is no longer there? Do we keep pretending we don’t need it? Do we double down on our independence, convincing ourselves that we can do life solo? Or do we start building new villages intentionally, consciously, and without shame? Because let’s be clear: independence is great, but human connection is necessary.
Maybe it starts with admitting that we actually need people. That we want deeper friendships, not just surface-level acquaintances. That we must create spaces where women can show up not just as strong, capable forces of nature but as humans who need care too.
And let’s not overthink it rebuilding the village doesn’t have to be complicated.
1. Stop waiting for ‘your people’ to magically appear. Yes, we all long for deep, ride-or-die friendships, but waiting for the perfect squad to fall into place might leave you waiting forever. Community is built, not found. That means putting yourself out there attending that event, saying yes to that invite, following up on that “let’s catch up soon” message.
2. Turn convenience friendships into real friendships. A lot of us have people we text occasionally, work friends, gym buddies, the fellow Nigerian woman we say hi to at church but never really engage with. What if we actually deepened those relationships? Instead of “How’s work?” ask, “How are you really doing?” Instead of waiting for someone else to plan something, take the lead.
3. Learn to ask for help without guilt. Somewhere along the way, we convinced ourselves that needing help was weakness. That unless we’re drowning, we shouldn’t ask. But real community isn’t just about showing up for others it’s about allowing them to show up for you too. Start small. Let people in.
4. Bring back the culture of showing up. No one is saying we must return to the days when every family friend had a key to your house, but can we bring back the essence of those times? The last-minute invites, the casual “I was in the area, so I stopped by” moments? In a world where everything is scheduled, a little bit of intentional spontaneity goes a long way.
5. Be the friend you wish you had. We all want supportive friendships, deep connections, and a strong network. But are we cultivating that for others? Are we checking in without a reason? Are we making people feel like they can come to us without judgment? The best way to find community is to be part of building it.
Maybe the old village is gone. But that doesn’t mean we can’t build a new one. One where women are not just strong and independent, but supported, cared for, and deeply connected. Because real independence isn’t about doing everything alone it’s about having the freedom to say, “I need help,” and knowing that help will come.
Do you feel like the village is disappearing? Have you struggled to find real community as an independent woman? Let’s talk about it. Drop your thoughts in the comments or join the conversation on our social media platforms.
