Building a Community: The Courage to Be a Villager

March 2026

Everyone wants a village. We talk about it often — the idea of having people around who support us, encourage us, show up when life gets heavy, and celebrate when life gets beautiful. We romanticize the idea of community. But what we don’t talk about nearly enough is the other side of that equation: being a villager.

Because everyone wants a village, but not everyone wants to do the work it takes to be part of one. Being a villager requires time. It requires personal introspection. It requires transparency. And perhaps most difficult of all, it requires vulnerability.

For most of my life, I wanted a village. I wanted the support system, the circle of people who had my back. But if I’m honest, I didn’t always do the work required to be a villager myself.

For a long time, I was a very private person. I kept a wall around me that very few people could penetrate. I let people see the polished, professional version of Denise J. Herd, MBA — the capable leader, the strategist, the woman who always seemed composed and in control. But I rarely let people see the real person behind the image.

Then something happened that forced me to reflect. Years ago, after I was fired from a job, someone in the community wrote about my termination. They never mentioned my name, but they described me as “talented and capable, but cold and distant.” When I read that, it stopped me in my tracks because it made me realize something uncomfortable but important: I had a village, but I wasn’t a villager.

It was as if I had built a life where I was standing just outside the circle — observing it, and even benefiting from it at times, but never fully stepping inside. I had built a kind of facade that protected me, but it also kept people at a distance.

That experience forced me to do some serious introspection. I had to get to know myself in a way I hadn’t before. And as I did, one word kept resonating with me: mutual. Villages are built on mutual trust. Mutual support. Mutual vulnerability.

At a certain point, I had to ask myself a hard question: How could I expect people to be part of my village if I wasn’t willing to be transparent enough to be part of theirs?

Being a villager means trusting that if these are your people, there is no judgment. It means believing that when you show up as your authentic self, they’ve got you.

It also meant acknowledging something else I hadn’t fully admitted to myself: even though I knew a lot of people, and a lot of people knew me, I was lonely.

That realization became even clearer as I began planning my upcoming wedding.

I have been doing everything alone — attending wedding expos by myself, flipping through magazines, scheduling vendor appointments, and dragging my fiancé along while peppering him with questions he had no interest in answering. I was overwhelmed, stressed, and honestly, lonely in the process.

Then one day, he said something simple that completely shifted my perspective.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend you can talk to?”

It sounds obvious, but in that moment, it dawned on me: I have villages. Several of them, in fact. Women who have known me for years. Friends who have watched my journey, celebrated my engagement, and care deeply about my happiness.

But I hadn’t been a villager. I hadn’t asked for help, so I took his advice.

I dropped a message in our group chat of old friends who have walked alongside me through different chapters of life. I shared my confusion, my stress, and my hopes for the wedding. And just like any good village does, they came running.

Ideas, advice, encouragement, laughter, reassurance. They showed up in the way only true friends can. They reminded me that I didn’t have to carry everything alone.

But that support only came after I opened up, shared honestly, and allowed myself to be seen, even in the messy, uncertain parts of life.

What I learned is that villages don’t just exist. They are built on trust, vulnerability, and the willingness to show up not just as someone who needs support, but as someone who is truly part of the community that gives it.

Everyone wants a village.

But the real question is: are you willing to be a villager?

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Signing Off,

Denise

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