How Community Building Became a Core Value for an Immigrant, First-Time Mother
"It takes a village" hits differently when you've actually been raised by one.
I grew up in New Delhi, India, amongst a whirlwind of shared meals, spontaneous family sleepovers, and festival-packed weekends. My childhood was shaped by a network of grandparents, aunts and uncles (nearly ten of them!), cousins, and my parents' tight-knit circle of lifelong friends. It was loud, loving, and best of all, it was normal.
I never had to think twice about who would pick me up from school if my mother was busy or who would step in when things went awry for some reason. The village was always there. This became especially clear during one of the hardest chapters of our lives, when my younger brother became disabled at the age of one. While my parents traveled to Europe and the U.S. in search of answers, it was the village that took care of me. When we eventually lost him, that same village wrapped around us in grief, in food, in presence.
That's when I learned community isn't just about celebration - it's what holds you when everything else is falling apart. It’s the 2:00 am calls made without hesitation, knowing they’ll show up. And that became my foundation, a part of my very being.
Finding Myself Without My Village
So when I moved to San Francisco as a newlywed, everything about my environment changed. But the longing for connection remained. I was in a new country, away from everything familiar. The village I had grown up around was now millions of miles away.
There's no guidebook for friendship as an adult immigrant woman - no blueprint for creating the support structure that once felt as natural as breathing. I struggled. I missed the easy access to belonging.
Grad school gave me a glimpse of what community could look like. I pursued an MBA in Design Strategy at California College of the Arts, San Francisco and connected with peers during our monthly modules. But between classes and adjusting to married life, there wasn't enough breathing room for a true connection to take root and maintain itself. After graduation, I landed a role as a Service Designer at a consulting firm through a Slack group - a rare moment where a digital community translated into a tangible opportunity.
I met some amazing people and worked on some great projects. But it wasn't until I became a mother that the real need for a village hit me.
Motherhood Redefined My Identity and My Need for Connection
Having my first child in a country where "villages" aren't built into daily life felt isolating and disorienting. I was flooded with love yet buried under the weight of logistics, struggling with my own physical and mental well-being. Childcare is expensive. Family is thousands of miles away. And the systems here? They make it easier to disappear into motherhood than to feel included in it.
I craved support and guidance. I needed my tribe… so I set out to create it.
I joined mom groups, downloaded countless mom-dating apps, volunteered at my daughter's school, became a room parent, started conversations at the playground, and joined baby gym & music classes. Every opportunity with the potential to meet people and make friends, I took. And slowly, things started to emerge. I met some amazing women - some for a one-time walk, others enough times that we eventually met each other's kids and families. School friends moved closer to us and introduced us to other friends they knew. Some have become acquaintances, while a select few - let's say one or two - are now part of the village I had been seeking.
Beyond individual connections, I helped start and organize our annual neighborhood block party. It's been two years now, and it gets bigger and better each time. This became a great way to get to know our neighbors and for our kids to meet friends they'll grow up with. There might not be an "I'm your best friend" connection, but there's a belonging… of location, of kids' schools, of neighborhood activities that has been created among us. It helps because we no longer hesitate to watch out for each other, our families, and our homes.
I took the Indian concept of a kitty party and incorporated it among friends. I reached out to about seven or eight couples who knew us but didn't know each other and asked them to commit to year-long social gatherings. Each participating family takes a turn hosting dinner at their house on the last Saturday of the month, and everyone gets together. The first couple of gatherings were surface-level as people got to know each other and comfort levels developed. But after that, we became a tight-knit group of friends.
And of course, I continue to be involved in both my daughters’ schools in whatever capacity I can. Slowly, that feeling of the village has started to take root again. I have a community to lean on and a select few of the closest friends who will get the 2:00 am call, if ever needed. But this community is something I’ve had to grow myself. And I don’t take it for granted. Just as a plant flourishes when cared for, your community only flourishes and strengthens depending on the time and effort you put in. People respond to you if you respond to them. The needs go both ways, and I’m highly aware of that.
From Village to Platform
When the time came to start looking for full-time work again, it is this same village I have been leaning on. Old acquaintances, that friend I made at a summer camp for adults, the mom groups I’ve joined, my friends, and even my neighbors. And the support I have found has come in surprising places.
Sharing my story, being open about my journey, and my struggles sparked something. That’s when I realized that the need to belong, the longing for community - It wasn't just me. Other mothers are in the same boat, quietly navigating the messy middle of identity, belonging, work, and worth. The awareness didn’t come while sitting around, though. I am reaching out with openness and vulnerability. Shameless in admitting that I’m seeking paid work, because my need for both financial independence and professional community is dire. That realization also became the seed for what has eventually become Empower the Gap - a platform for mothers navigating similar journeys.
Community is no longer a luxury. It's non-negotiable. It's the infrastructure that holds us up when everything else feels uncertain. For immigrants. For mothers. For anyone navigating life's biggest transitions.
My biggest takeaway as I reflect on this journey is that community isn't just something I need… It's where I come alive. It's the value I most want to model for my daughters: that belonging isn't a luxury you wait for, but something you actively create, whether in your neighborhood, your workplace, or wherever life takes you.
If You've Been Looking for a Village…
You're not alone.
Whether you're just starting motherhood or trying to re-enter the workforce after a career break, this is your reminder that connection is a form of survival. And the best way to find your people is to begin building what you wish existed.
You don't have to do it all alone. You were never meant to.
Yes to all of this!!!