Living Alone as a Woman: Why Every Woman Should Live Alone at Least Once

Solitude isn’t loneliness—it’s liberation.

A few weeks ago, I received a text: “Should I live alone or move back in with my parents?” My friend had lived with the same roommate for half a decade, and life was inviting a change. To me, the answer felt obvious—perhaps that’s only because I’d already taken the plunge. 

I was 20 years old when I first lived alone. It was a drastic transition from the home I’d grown up in to a one-bedroom apartment, 40 miles away (to Angelenos, I might as well have moved cross-country). I didn’t know a single person in my new city, and a growing pain was definitely felt. But I’d soon learn that it was only the beginning of the next (very important) four years. Yes, living alone is an economic privilege—for anyone. But living alone as a woman is not inconsiderate—it’s self-honoring. 

In my response, I asked my friend, “What happens when a woman builds a life that belongs solely to her?” 

Related Posts:

• Moving to a New City in Your 30s—Feeling Lonely in Your “Prime”
• Staying Focus-Driven: How Giuliana Mendoza Tunes Out the Noise & Focuses on Her Purpose
• 7 Books on Self-Awareness to Become a Better Person

Society tells us women are not meant to be alone 

Women across cultures are brought up to serve others—emotionally, logistically, physically—even in the modern world and in such subtle ways that you might not notice it until a moment relieves you of those duties. Despite the feminist movement making significant social strides, society still manages to whisper rewards for partnership and condemnation for solitude.

In response to the longer, more philosophical answer than she probably expected, my friend replied, “So you’re team ‘Live on Your Own.’ That’s where I’m leaning too, but I don’t know—I feel bad.” 

And there it is. Right on time: feminine guilt. 

She wasn’t feeling bad for her multiple years of cohabitating with a friend. Perhaps because it felt justified for reducing costs on behalf of herself and another. Possibly the righteousness of providing company was enough to rationalize. And yet, given the option of her preference—personal space—she felt shame. Precisely my point. 

What happens when a woman learns to hear her own voice 

If the opportunity arises, women should, at some point, choose solitude, for what accompanies it is invaluable and rare: self-rootedness, independence, and autonomy. 

At first, the feeling might be odd, even uncomfortable, not just from the sudden silence of external noise but from the internal clutter, as well. 

When the alarm goes off in the morning, she’ll make her way out of bed, moving through her mute space, pour some coffee, take a shower, get dressed, and leave for work—all without saying a word. Saying “goodbye” to a coworker before clocking out some evenings might be her voice’s grand finale for the night (at least with an audience). So long as she doesn’t work from home, like I. 

Her ordinary choices will be perceived and influenced by none other than her own heart and mind

Perhaps she’ll make an occasional call. But eventually, she’s thinking most of her thoughts aloud and becoming accustomed to constant background noise—classical music, television, or podcasts.

But wh