I hear the phrase “I’m an independent woman” all the time—often from women themselves. And every time I hear it, I find myself wondering: what do we actually mean when we say that?
Somewhere along the way, being an “independent woman” started to mean not needing anyone. Being able to take care of yourself, figure things out on your own, and maybe even prove that you can do everything yourself.
And in a lot of ways, the progress behind that idea genuinely matters. Women being able to financially support themselves in ways that once weren’t possible matters. It breaks my heart when someone feels stuck in an unhealthy or unsafe situation because they don’t have the financial, educational, or practical resources to leave. I believe women should have the education, skills, and opportunities to provide for themselves without having to depend on others in ways they don’t want or need to.
But there’s another side to this conversation that I think we sometimes miss. There are plenty of women who want that kind of self-sufficiency but, for one reason or another, can’t fully get there. Disability. Chronic illness. Mental health. Parenting. Life circumstances that simply don’t allow for it right now.
Does that make a woman less independent? Less capable? Less than?
I don’t think it does.
We’ve Narrowed the Word Too Much
I think we’ve narrowed our definition of an “independent woman” until it mostly describes what she can do by herself. But there are so many forms of independence: financial, emotional, intellectual, spiritual, physical, social, political. And yet so much of our attention seems to land on just a couple of them—especially financial and physical independence.
But what about having the freedom to decide when you need help? What about having the emotional awareness to recognize that you need it—and being able to ask? What about surrounding yourself with people who support you and actually allowing them to show up for you? There’s something pretty powerful about being able to accept support when you need it, appreciate it when it comes, and offer that same support to someone else when you’re able.
That doesn’t sound like a lack of independence to me. It sounds like being resourceful.
Practical skills matter, too, of course. Changing a tire. Fixing something around the house. Putting yourself through school. Learning how to manage your money. Knowing how to advocate for yourself. Those are good things to know.
But we’re also all given different strengths. Someone else knowing how to do something you don’t know how to do doesn’t make her more capable than you. It just means she knows how to do something you don’t. And chances are, you know how to do something she doesn’t.
A Flat Tire Taught Me This
When I was dating my husband, a friend and I came out of a store one day and discovered I had a flat tire. I called my boyfriend at the time—and, if I’m being completely transparent, I was probably a little excited that I had a boyfriend to call. The relationship was still new. He didn’t answer.
I didn’t know how to change a tire. But I did have really good car insurance. So I called them. They sent someone out pretty quickly, and by the time my then-boyfriend called me back, the spare was already on and I was on my way.
My friend and I joked that I hadn’t “needed him” to come rescue me. And technically, I hadn’t. But here’s the thing: I would have been perfectly happy if he had come. And I also would have been pretty proud of myself if I’d known how to change the tire on my own. Both things can be true.
I don’t think we should ever lose the desire to learn, grow, and build skills where we can. There’s something really satisfying about realizing, Hey, I can actually do this. But I also don’t think we need to prove our independence by refusing support when it’s available to us.
Sometimes independence looks like doing it yourself. Sometimes it looks like knowing who to call. And sometimes it looks like letting someone you love show up for you simply because they want to.
Living This Out
Redefining independence doesn’t mean giving up on growth. If anything, I think it gives us a healthier way to think about growth—one that leaves room for both capability and connection.
A few shifts can help.
Build skills without shaming yourself for what you don’t know yet.
Not knowing how to do something today doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It might just mean you haven’t learned it yet. And before adding another thing to the list of what you should know how to do, it might be worth asking: Is this actually something I want or need to learn right now?
Separate your worth from your self-sufficiency.
Being able to do something on your own can feel really good. But needing help doesn’t take anything away from you. Your value isn’t measured by how little you need other people.
Practice asking for help before you’re completely overwhelmed.
A lot of us are pretty good at asking for help once we’ve reached the point where we have absolutely nothing left. Asking sooner can be harder. Sometimes it’s as simple as saying, “Can you help me think this through?” or “I don’t need you to fix this. I just don’t want to do it alone.”
Let independence change with the season you’re in.
Illness, parenting, grief, burnout, financial changes, or a major life transition can all change what you realistically have the capacity to carry. That doesn’t mean you’ve somehow become less independent. It may simply mean independence needs to look different right now.
Instead of judging yourself for that shift, try asking: What does independence realistically look like for me right now?
Remember that choice may be one of the best measures of independence. Maybe true independence was never about doing everything alone. Maybe it’s about having options.
The ability to choose support. To choose growth. To choose rest. To learn something yourself when it matters to you—and to let someone else help when that makes more sense. There’s a lot of strength in having choices and trusting yourself enough to make them.
A Few Questions Worth Sitting With
- When you think about being an “independent woman,” what does that actually mean to you?
- Which forms of independence do you value most—and are there others you tend to overlook?
- Is there support you’ve been resisting because accepting it somehow feels like being less capable?
- What’s happening in your life right now that might change what independence realistically looks like for you?
- If independence is partly about having choices, what might it look like to choose support this week instead of waiting until you absolutely need it?
You don’t have to have perfect answers to any of these. Sometimes it’s enough to notice what comes up when you ask them.
You can be an independent, powerful woman and still be resourceful, vulnerable, flexible, and connected to other people. Those things don’t take away from your independence. They’re part of being human. And if this reflection felt a little close to home, these are exactly the kinds of questions I help clients work through—figuring out what strength, independence, support, and a life that actually fits you can look like. If you’re in Washington, Idaho, Montana, or Utah, I’d love to help you sort through it.