How Friendships with Black Women Helped Me Heal

the most elite kind of friendships

Hey y’all,

I hope your weekend was restorative, refreshing, and restful! Whether you read Carefree Mag for free.99, it’s your first time reading one of our essays, or you’ve thrown a few dollars in to support the mission, I’m grateful to have you here.

I was reading this story on Refinery29, (written by Hena Bryan, this week’s author!) about a TikToker who received backlash because she shared her experience about not having any Black friends until age 26. I then immediately thought about the essay I published earlier this month by

Aajah Sauter

on her “Black Awakening Era,” which shared a very similar sentiment on how making Black friends after moving to a new city helped her find her identity as a Black woman.

POV: You're Stepping Into Your Black Awakening Era

Not gonna lie, I was pretty confused by the backlash. Appreciation for nuanced experiences is rapidly disappearing online. And it’s such a shame, as I started this newsletter to show that Black people are not a monolith—we have a multitude of ways of being that are all valid. When I published Aajah’s essay, readers in the comments shared how they could relate to growing up in predominantly white areas and eventually finding their “Blackness” after moving to bigger, more diverse cities. They finally were able to connect with a side of themselves that they just didn’t have access to growing up, and they’re now coming into their own. For those of us who didn’t have the opportunity to grow up in communities where seeing "US” was the norm, we did what we could to survive and found our way back home eventually.

This Week’s Essay

In this week’s essay, writer Hena Bryan doubles down on making Black friends, and adds an underline to the healing power of Black female friendships, specifically. We all know the elite nature of Black female friendships that pour into us, hold us accountable, and make life so much more colorful. This essay is an ode to our girls. Enjoy the read and let me know about your Black female friendships in the comments!

Take care,

Anayo Awuzie
EIC of Carefree Mag

PS - Who’s going to Roots Picnic? I’ll be there and would love to meet up with any of the Carefree crew that’s going!

How Friendships with Black Women Helped Me Heal

by Hena Bryan

I’m far from a ‘friendship expert.’ In fact, I’ve never had a large circle of friends, nor have I considered myself particularly sociable. As an introvert with a history of past trauma, forming deep, intimate friendships has often felt like navigating a maze. Yet, the relationships I’ve cultivated over the past decade—particularly with fellow Black women—have been transformative, teaching me how to nurture healthy relationships and, more importantly, to see myself as deserving of such closeness.

I never gave much thought to how our past experiences shape our friendships until I found myself surrounded by people who were truly dedicated to being in my life. Said friends were committed to understanding who I was, even when the journey was messy and riddled with misunderstandings. Building mutual knowledge of each other's characters, communication styles (especially during conflict), and how we each viewed platonic love and intimacy wasn’t easy. But it was in these moments of vulnerability and patience that I realized something essential: friendship is a continuous, deliberate effort. And while confronting my own trauma and expectations, I had to acknowledge that my friends were also grappling with their own histories—struggles with love, hyper-independence, or unresolved pain stemming from family dynamics that had negatively affected their nervous systems.

The majority of my closest friends are Black women, many of whom are first-, second-, or third-generation migrants living in the UK, with roots in the Caribbean and Africa. Together, we’ve been unlearning and challenging what healthy friendships look like outside the constraints of cultural norms and traditions. We’re pushing back against the standards our parents and grandparents might have considered signs of strong relationships and community—like stoicism, avoidance, self-sacrifice, or the belief that emotional intimacy is a weakness. Instead, we are embracing vulnerability, honesty, and the understanding that true friendship is built on mutual care, not silent endurance.

But even in challenging these inherited beliefs, I can’t deny that my own upbringing has left me deeply averse to conflict. Growing up in a large, chaotic Jamaican household—a reality I don’t consider synonymous, but one that certainly influenced how I related to others—shaped me into an introspective person who often chose silence over confrontation. For years, I witnessed family members argue over the most trivial of things—conflicts were loud, relentless, and sometimes hurtful. At some point, I unconsciously conditioned myself to run away from problems rather than address them, hoping to avoid the unhealthy displays of communication and inevitable misunderstandings.

This aversion to conflict seeped into my friendships. When I began forming bonds with the women I cherish now, I struggled to separate genuine disagreements from outright rejection. Every misunderstanding, every moment of tension, felt like a precursor to abandonment. I avoided voicing my concerns or discomfort because I’d grown to associate arguments with harm rather than healing. Truthfully, it was easier to bury my feelings than risk the possibility of losing the people I’d grown to care about.

While I'd love to claim that my commitment to therapy and self-reflection was solely responsible for me overcoming my fear of conflict, the truth is that my friendships were the real catalysts for change. Despite my aversion to confrontation and my tendency to envision catastrophic outcomes whenever I expressed my feelings, I found myself surrounded by women who were determined to address issues head-on. These were women who, although struggling in other areas, refused to let discomfort fester. I remember one friend gently calling me out for abruptly leaving her house after we disagreed over something as trivial as cooking. At the time, it felt like a friendship-ending conflict to me—my nervous system went into overdrive. In hindsight, we both laugh at how disproportionate my reaction was, but in that moment, it was deeply triggering.

Through these interactions, I gradually learned that not all disagreements are harmful, nor do they always result in abandonment. Instead, they can be opportunities for clarity and growth. That’s not to say unlearning my unhelpful conflict aversion was painless. Change doesn’t happen overnight, no matter how much we might wish it did. I still backslide into old behaviors at times, and choosing to act differently—even when I know it’s for the better—continues to challenge me.

Reflecting on conflicts with my closest friends, there have been moments of tears, raised voices, and, admittedly, periods of silence that stretched into days or even a week or two. But despite the messiness, we always found our way back to each other, with a deeper understanding for our friendship. The truth is, sustaining strong friendships requires commitment, but having the tools to truly support each other demands dedication to personal growth.

As Black women, many of us are doing the heavy lifting of emotional labor, working tirelessly to confront and heal from the wounds of our past. This journey requires not only facing our personal struggles but also learning how to carry these burdens in a way that doesn’t damage our relationships. The real transformation often comes from applying the tools we’ve gained through therapy, self-reflection, or spiritual growth within the context of our friendships.

In my experience, the discomfort of confronting my personal struggles head-on—especially when they impact the quality of a relationship—has led to profound growth. While the process hasn’t always been easy, the beauty lies in the intimacy and understanding that it emerges when we work through these challenges together. There’s a rare kind of closeness that forms when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable with each other, to show up with honesty even in the messiest of moments. And through this, we come to understand the complexities of how another person behaves within a friendship, gaining insight into their journey and struggles.

I’m deeply grateful for the friends who’ve shown me that running away from the very relationships that offer the most healing is not an option. Their unwavering commitment to truly knowing me—to seeing beyond my fears and shortcomings—has allowed us to build relationships that are authentic, raw, and deeply transformative. Without their dedication, I know these bonds would not exist in the way they do today.

These friendships have not only been a source of joy but also a catalyst for my own healing—reminding me that no matter the depth of our personal struggles, we are capable of creating something beautiful and nourishing together.

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Hena J. Bryan is a writer, ex-publishing professional, and digital strategist currently working on her first book. Her work has been featured in Glamour UK, The House, HuffPost, Refinery29 and others, where she explores culture, politics, and social issues. With a background in publishing, she is passionate about storytelling, amplifying marginalized voices, and shaping digital narratives.