The many faces of sisterhood…

“Amazing things happen when women help other women”. That’s the message written on a bookmark I treasure. It was handmade by a woman who, at one point, had to move into a shelter for domestic violence victims. In one of the hardest times of her life, she found the support of other women - and that support carried her forward.

The truth is, great things happen whenever one person supports another, irrespective of gender. But there is something unique about the layer of support that exists among women. Perhaps it lives in the space many women still occupy - the space of caregiving, nurturing, holding the emotional weight of families and communities. Statistically speaking, women still carry much of that role. And in carrying it, they learn how to hold each other, too.

And then there are the spaces that emerge beyond and around those carved expectations - career growth, personal ambitions, quiet desires. The space that is less about who a woman feels she should be, and more about who she wants to become. The space carved out between responsibilities and the relentless pace of life. It sounds complicated, I know. But many women will understand exactly what I mean.

My first taste of sisterhood

Looking back, sisterhood is something I was born into. My first experience came from - well - my sister.

I am the youngest of two. Yes, we argued over silly things (mostly because I wanted her stuff) when we were children and later as teenagers. But she was always my role model. For years, I walked in her path. At school, I was known as “Daniela’s sister.” And truthfully? I was proud of that. Still am. It was a path I was happy to follow.

“She was always my role model. For years, I walked in her path. At school, I was known as “Daniela’s sister.” And truthfully? I was proud of that. Still am. It was a path I was happy to follow.”

My sister taught me kindness… and how to always, always put things into perspective.

I will never forget the day I borrowed her suede brown jacket and stained the back by leaning against a dusty wall. I was terrified to tell her. When she saw the fear in my eyes, she expected something far worse - so she was almost relieved when it was “just” about the jacket. That moment stayed with me. The relief. The softness. The understanding.

To this day, she is still the person I want to call when something big happens - good or bad. The one who understands my strangest, darkest thoughts without judgment. A major trait of sisterhood I would later discover beyond my sibling.

At first, I didn’t have to look far.

A bond beyond siblings

There are my cousins - “sister cousins,” as we call ourselves. And, of course, my mum and my aunts - the four sisters. Sadly, they are no longer four, but in our hearts they always will be.

They were not just sisters. They were - they are - best friends. They supported one another through everything: cooking and sewing clothes, pregnancy announcements, raising children, navigating family struggles, and eventually caring for and saying goodbye to their parents and siblings. They showed me that sisterhood is not loud (although they tend to be loud when they are together) - it is steady.

And somehow, that steady thread has woven itself into us cousins too - male and female alike - forming something that feels less like a label and more like a strong, living “hood.”

Beyond blood - friendship power

And then life taught me about another form of sisterhood - the kind not tied by blood, but by shared ‘becoming’.

My friends.

We transformed from girls into women on parallel lines. We learned together - about makeup, periods, tampons, body hair, blow-dries, heartbreak, first loves and broken ones. Sleepovers. Weekends in Gozo. Career decisions. Exams and deadlines. Then, later, conversations about partners and children and the lives we were building.

These are the women with whom I can be fully myself - from silly to serious. The ones I bounce ideas off for Woman Unclouded (thank you for your patience, support and honesty). My sounding board. My research pool. My mirrors.

We live busy, rushed lives now and barely meet. But the bond is there, and the support comes flooding in whenever it is needed. There is no pressure. We understand that life is hectic. We check in on each other (thank you, WhatsApp). Sometimes we go without talking for weeks - in some cases, years - but our paths always find their way back together.

Those parallel lines run deep now. They may stretch and bend with distance, but they don’t disappear.

That sisterhood expanded into my neighbourhood too. I know this isn’t always common, but where I live, we are a bit like a village. It can be as simple as borrowing an egg mid-recipe, or as meaningful as showing up for each other’s dreams, or helping with the children when someone is stretched thin.

It’s in the quick chats in the road. Our “sanity hour” of honest conversations (and emotional unloading). The “Are you okay?” asked without agenda. The listening. The speaking. The quiet noticing. I wish I could bottle this up and share it with the world because we all need this type of village.

Women at work

Then there are the colleagues - the women I’ve worked alongside. Some became friends - others remain something uniquely valuable. There is a different kind of connection here. It lives in the subtleties of office culture - shared glances in meetings, the unspoken understanding during tense moments, the safe space to vent in the break room.

The woman you can quietly unravel with between tasks. The one who reads your expression before you’ve found the words. The one who says: “You’re not crazy,” when you need to hear it most.

And there are strangers. Women you meet fleetingly - at events, in meetings, at special occasions.

You know it when it happens. When a conversation slips past small talk and lands somewhere real. When you look into the eyes of a woman and immediately sense that something has weighed on her. Or that she is tired. Or that she is carrying more than she lets on. There is a flicker of recognition - a silent “I see you.”

*“Women older than me have offered support and advice at pivotal moments. They’ve shared stories of their own missteps and lessons, not to instruct, but to guide.”*

A bond across generations

As I look back, I see how sisterhood stretches across generations - something I am beginning to feel more deeply now.

Women older than me have offered support and advice at pivotal moments. They’ve shared stories of their own missteps and lessons, not to instruct, but to guide.

And I feel that shift happening within me too - the desire to do the same for those younger than me. To share experiences honestly. To speak about mistakes without shame. To make the path just a little clearer for someone else.

Rituals of care

I asked some of the women I mentioned above how they show care and how they experience it. The answers were beautifully simple…

Meeting for a chat over a cup of tea (or glass of wine)
Sending the “Did you get home safe?” message
Checking in after a difficult meeting, appointment, or date
Dropping off food when someone is overwhelmed
Giving someone an hour to herself
Walking near a mother who is following her toddler

Saying: “You’re not crazy” or “That makes sense”
Sharing similar stories to reduce shame
Offering a safe space to open up
Gathering around a bride while she gets ready

Helping clean out a parent’s home after loss
Celebrating promotions or new ventures with intentional dinners
Being present during heartbreaks

Helping zip dresses, fix hair, adjust straps
Encouraging doctor visits or therapy appointments
Reminding each other to rest

The group chat that never really sleeps
The “thinking of you” message sent without explanation

Passing down recipes

Noticing when someone is tired
Noticing when something is off
Remembering details
Helping her feel heard and seen

What are your rituals of care? Share your view here.

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