Friendship Day is for women who fix each other’s crowns

I couldn't help but wonder — are soulmates always romantic, or are some of them sitting beside us with sheet masks on, eating a whole cake straight with a fork? It's International Friendship Day, which, in theory, is supposed to be a sugary Hallmark celebration of platonic love. But in reality? It's a day I want to set aside for the unsung heroines of our lives — our girls, our tribe, our family of choice. The women who patch us up when life rips us apart. The ones who hold our secrets like heirlooms, scream at unruly men on our behalf, and remind us who we were before the world told us who we should be.

Growing up in Dhaka, friendships were rationed by logistics — who went to the same coaching, who bunked the same classes, who your mother liked enough to not ban from the house. But somewhere between school tiffins and adulthood trauma, something magical happened. Those classroom alliances turned into lifelines. We grew up and grew into each other. Now, my girlfriends aren't just my friends. They're my therapists, emergency contacts, accountability coaches, financial advisors, and — on particularly unhinged days — private investigators.

Let me explain. When a man ghosts you after introducing you to his mother, it is not your therapist you call first. It is your best friend who once tracked down an ex on LinkedIn Premium and sent you screenshots titled Red Flag Alert. When you're bloated, broken, and convinced you've peaked in 2017, it's your girls who send unfiltered photos of themselves to remind you that imperfection is sisterhood's love language. When your mother says, "Why are you still single?" at a family dinner, it is your girlfriends who text mid-bangla-chinese, "Abort mission, aunty's at it again."

There's a unique intimacy in female friendship that's both feral and tender. We cheer for each other like over-caffeinated fangirls, but also drag each other out of emotional trenches like battlefield medics. We borrow brow gel, boundaries, and boycotting strategies. We speak in full conversations using only one raised eyebrow. And we build entire languages out of trauma, memes, and voice notes that begin with, "Okay so don't freak out but…"

In a world that often pits women against each other, female friendship is radical. Because it says: I see you. I believe you. I will fight for you, even when you won't fight for yourself. There is no transaction here, no performance. Only safety. Only solidarity. And if you've ever survived heartbreak, harassment, or a misogynistic boardroom, you know that safety is not a small thing — it is everything.

Photo: Collected / Ignat Kushanrev / Unsplash

In our society, family is often considered sacred, and rightly so. But it is also often conditional. We are loved… if we behave. We are protected… if we comply. We are accepted… if we shrink ourselves to fit the shape of who they need us to be. But the family we choose? That's love without fine print.

There's a reason so many of us would rather spend Eid evenings in pyjamas with our friends than draped in satin with second cousins we barely know. It's not rebellion — it's refuge. Our chosen family gives us permission to rest. To cry. To eat second servings without judgment. To exist, without curating. And that is no small act.

Because in a world that exhausts women with expectations — be polite but assertive, be hot but humble, be independent but not intimidating — our friendships become the only spaces where we're not performing. Where we are soft and unfiltered and held.

I remember a night in London when everything came undone. I had just missed a big opportunity, felt hopeless about my legal career, and was spiralling into the kind of self-pity spiral that even chamomile tea can't fix. I called my best friend. She didn't say, "It'll be okay." She said, "I'm ordering cake, cancel tomorrow, and you're staying over. We rot together tonight."

And we did. We watched Legally Blonde, ate cake, cried a little, laughed a lot, and invented new cuss words for the British immigration system. By the time morning came, I still didn't have a plan. But I had her. And sometimes, that's all you need. That's the thing about real friendship — it doesn't fix everything. It just makes survival less lonely.

It's ironic that we live in a culture that worships weddings but forgets who does the actual emotional heavy-lifting. Where are the registries for the friend who picks up your call at 3 AM because you saw your ex on Instagram with someone new? Where are the speeches for the woman who has stood beside you through every diagnosis, divorce, and dreadful decision you've ever made?

If you ever get married, the bridal party shouldn't just be decorative. It should be justice. Each bridesmaid should be there not because she matches the aesthetic, but because she's been there in the trenches. Because she deserves a thank you, with glitter.

So, on this International Friendship Day, let's raise a metaphorical glass (or an actual iced coffee) to the women who hold our lives together like high-waisted shapewear. The ones who gas us up when we feel like scraps. Who reply "hot" even when we send selfies looking like overworked potatoes. Who show up, again and again, not because they have to — but because they want to.

They are our backbone, our emergency contact, our emotional Wi-Fi. They are the family we were wise enough to choose. And in a world where everything is uncertain — politics, petrol prices, PMS cycles — our friendships are the only thing that consistently, stubbornly, beautifully hold. Because sometimes, the love story of your life isn't about the one who gets down on one knee. It's about the one who holds your hand when you can't stand. And that, dear reader, is a friendship worth writing home about.