It also takes a voice to raise a child

‘It takes a village to raise a child,’ the saying goes. That’s true. We’re not meant to raise children alone. But here’s something we don’t always talk about: even when do have a village – or something that comes close, like when your extended family is visiting or you’re visiting them – I’ve learned I need a voice there too.

Look, a village isn’t something you have, or own. It’s something you’re part of. In a traditional village, you give and you receive. You show up for others while they show up for you. You’re as much a part of their village as they are of yours.

Every summer in Djerba, I gratefully get to experience what it’s like to be part of a real village. A village that supports me. A village where raising children is a shared job. It’s a bit like work, like having colleagues. A place where raising children – including the work around food – is shared. And yes, it truly helps me grounding, breathing, unloading. It also feels natural to be part of this ecosystem of care, where giving and receiving are one.

But what I’ve noticed is that even in the most loving village, I can lose myself. That’s why I started walking every evening, one hour, just me. From the outside, it might look like I’m stepping away from the village. But that hour brings me back to myself, getting lost in the urban desert to un-lose myself. It allows me to take up the space I need in a life that’s fuller, warmer and less structured than I’m used to.

I call it my golden hour, when the sun sets, when everybody comes out after a hot day, and when I go inwards. I’ve had to learn to set boundaries to make space for my walk. To speak up. To keep checking in with myself. Because if I don’t, it’s easy to drown in this village. Not from lack of love, but in the constant flow of roles, rhythms, and expectations.

This brings me back to Belgium. Yes, we need better systems. More support, that part is real. But I think we need soft revolutions too. The kind that start when we reconnect with what we truly need, and dare to take agency. Not from protest, but from presence, from that quiet truth that lives in our body. That, to me, might be the deepest kind of self-care. Not just for you, but for the generations that follow.

Connecting with what we need, and letting that be the starting point, that’s really what this is about for me. Not the perfect morning routine, not getting in shape, not changing our bodies. It can include those things, yes. But if that’s not what you truly need, it easily turns into self-neglect or even self-harm, wrapped in the wellness glow we see all over Instagram. What if we see self-care not as performance, as something we need to do? Not just caring for yourself, but caring about yourself. Listening to yourself. Speaking up for yourself. And acting from there.

For some of us, that voice got quiet a long time ago. Sometimes even as babies, when someone told us we weren’t hungry, even when we were. Or when we turned our heads away from food, and were told to just take one more bite. Of course, with good intentions. But still, we learned to second-guess ourselves. To believe someone else knows better. Even about our own body. Our own basic needs. Over time, that doubt grows. So we stop speaking up. We think our needs don’t matter. Aren’t permitted. And we carry guilt for simply wanting what we want.

If there’s one thing I hope this message does, it’s to remind you: your voice matters. And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to start using it again, in your own way, so your needs have a place. If you need a green juice, drink a green juice. (I like them too.) If you like to get back in shape, please, do it. But if you’re craving something that isn’t ‘allowed’ – from sugary things to going out alone for a walk (thank you, diet culture and intensive parenting culture) – then go deeper. Not to question it, but to reclaim it. Ask yourself for example:

• How can I give myself permission to need this?
• How can I speak up for myself?
• What’s possible, helpful, and safe now?

And if that feels hard, I’m here to help. I’ll always ask you what you need. Even if that need looks like something that is not permitted. I’ll listen, and question you, until we hit the core of what you only know you need. Promise.

© 2025 Sofie De Niet. The information in this article does not constitute personal medical advice. If you have any questions or concerns, please contact a healthcare professional.

 

Need help?