Healing the Sisterhood: Do Your Part in Taking Her from Enemy to Bestie

I sat in a Boulder coffee shop one late-March morning a couple of years ago.

I was waiting for Kate—a good friend of a good friend whom I found out had just asked my (very recent) ex out on a date.

I was upset. Very. So I called her to see if she was willing to meet up to talk.

My ex had just moved out a few weeks ago and my heartbreak was still in the immobilizing and excruciating stage. Now, to make things even worse, I felt jealous. Vulnerable. Unprepared (he’s dating already?). Intimidated (she’s gorgeous). And I felt so much fear coursing through me that I wondered if I’d even be able to form complete sentences.

A few moments later, Kate came in and sat down across from me: present, curious. Her concerned gaze met mine. She asked me what I’d like to talk about and then listened.

“I feel really nervous,” I admitted, letting my voice shake. We took a deep breath together. Then I told her what I had heard and why we were there.

“It’s not so much that you asked him out,” I shared, “In fact, it’s not even about him at all. It’s about you and me, as women.”

She leaned in a little bit more, nodding her head.

“It’s that you’re good friends with one of my best friends and I feel like this could make things really awkward between all of us,” I continued, “I wanted to come straight to you to share how I feel and to hear how you feel. I don’t want there to be animosity or cattiness between us.  I’m committed to creating more partnership and less competition between women.”

Unexpectedly, together, our eyes filled with tears. She reached across the table and took hold of my hands; and I knew with her touch that she had been in my shoes before.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” I cried as tears started gushing down my face.

We talked for the next hour—not about her asking my ex out, but about how we want to relate to each other, as women, when things like this happen. We got curious about how our singular interaction could help to heal the fabric of jealousy and backstabbing that’s so common between women.

When we said goodbye we felt intimate. Like sisters.

Honesty like this is uncomfortable. But it’s the only way to forge true intimacy. And it’s the only way to mend the divide that we women have created amongst ourselves.

We see a beautiful woman. We see an accomplished woman. We see a woman who has the great boyfriend/partner/husband. The woman who’s happy, fulfilled, confident. Who has whatever we think we don’t have. And what do we do? We find ways to undermine her, to diminish her light, to bring her down.

Is this any way to treat a sister?

What would happen if instead of setting her up as an enemy, we showered her with praise and appreciation?

One of my favorite things about being at Burning Man was how women would mozy up to me on the dance floor and whisper in my ear, “Wow, you look so beautiful tonight.” Or they’d  whizz me on a bike and say, “Looking hot, girl, keep it up!”

Their adulation always caught me off guard—I had never experienced anything like that. And it always made me smile and shine more brightly. Their praise fed a part of me that I didn’t even realize was hungry. 

These boldly generous women then inspired me to pay it forward. I started complimenting other women too. Instead of keeping reflections to myself, I started to voice, “Wow, that’s a smokin’ outfit” or “You have such a great ass!”

The result? An immediate win-win-win scenario. She felt good. I felt good. And as a result, we both walked away brighter and fuller, ripe to inspire all who crossed our paths.

It’s time for all of us to do this.

Compliment her.

Smile at her when you pass her on the street. 

Start looking for how you’re alike, rather than how you’re different.

Get curious about her. Talk to her. Listen to her.

Remember that there’s room for both of you to shine.

In fact, it’s much better for all of us that way.

Shine on, sisters.