When Will We Choose Each Other?

 The other day, I found myself opening up to a friend — not because I wanted to complain, but because I genuinely needed to feel seen. In return, she shared how her own mother-in-law treated her, and as she spoke, I listened… not to compare pain, not to form opinions, but just to connect.

She’s been married into this family for 14 years. I’m sure she’s seen it all. Maybe she’s even been through things I can’t imagine. But that’s not the point.

My point is — why are we, as women, so quick to take roles like "mother-in-law," "daughter-in-law," "chachi," "mami," "bhabhi," but so hesitant to just be friends to one another?

Why is our culture so obsessed with hierarchy in relationships — when deep down, we all carry similar wounds, similar pressures, similar tired eyes?

And you know what’s interesting? The men in our homes rarely push us to be friends. Because maybe — just maybe — if the women in the house started supporting each other, started taking stands for each other, it would shake the unspoken power dynamics. Suddenly, silence wouldn't be the norm. Suddenly, respect wouldn’t have to be begged for.

But I’m not here to blame. I’m just here to dream.

✨ What if the damage that was done to us, doesn’t have to be passed down?

✨ What if we stop treating each other as threats, and start seeing each other’s burdens?

✨ What if we forgive — not to forget — but to finally feel free?

I imagine a home where the women of all generations sit and laugh together, not behind closed doors. Where we don’t just tolerate each other, but stand up for each other. Where one woman’s pain isn’t gossip, but a reason to hold her hand tighter.

It’s possible. It starts with one conversation. One softened heart.

And maybe, just maybe — one blog post like this.