They say it takes a village to raise a child. What if it also takes a village to find love?
For generations, love was woven through our networks. Church aunties introduced you to a “good young man,” your brother vouched for his best friend, and your cousins told you who to avoid and who to give your time to. Love wasn’t just about two people meeting by chance – you had an invisible community web that was here to guide, protect, and steer you in the right direction.
But somewhere along the way, individualism changed how we connect, and dating became a solo pursuit. Dating coach Anwar White says that the change is largely due to the disappearance of third spaces.
“For many of us, it was church, it was community centers, it was playing outside and making more connections with neighbors,” he says. “That’s not the case anymore. Most of us just have home and work, so it’s harder to meet people and create those bonds enough to trust people with our dating lives. It’s quite different from our parents’ and grandparents’ generations.
“The third space has really become the internet, and that’s why I think dating apps have been so important, as well as things like Instagram.”
He says that technology has also changed the geography of a relationship. “You can connect with someone in Europe or Asia and potentially have a long-distance relationship. You don’t need the network in the same way because the network is the World Wide Web now,” he says. “But what we’ve gained in reach, we’ve lost in depth. Those organic, trust-based connections that came from seeing the same people week after week, year after year, in shared physical spaces.”
When I think about my father or my brothers introducing me to someone, I cringe a bit. Do they even know me well enough to know my type? The last time my dad tried to set me up, it was with his doctor… who was 50. His excuse? He “looked” young. And truthfully, I’ve always kept my love life private. This is not uncommon in Black families.
“In many Black households, there’s a foundational rule: you don’t tell your business. And when many Black women are growing up, they’re not allowed to date, so they get very used to dating in secrecy. A lot of people are very used to doing this alone because that’s what they learned early on,” says White. “Our culture has also deeply romanticized the idea of finding ‘the one’ through fate or individual effort: the meet-cute, love at first sight, or swiping right on your soulmate. The rise of dating apps has made it feel like a solo activity you do on your phone rather than something woven into your social life. But doing it in partnership, doing it in community, is so much more helpful and beneficial.”
And there are success stories to prove it. We talked with two Black women who let loved ones introduce them to the men who later became their husbands.
When Jameelah Nora met her now-husband, she wasn’t thinking about marriage or a relationship. She’d been married before, and after her late husband passed, her focus shifted inwards. Years later, her father wanted her to meet someone. It was a young man whom he’d spent time mentoring, named Grant.
“My dad said, ‘Hey, I want you to meet this guy.’ And I was hesitant because I wasn’t really interested. I was actually getting ready to move to Egypt,” Nora recalls. “We had a blind date at our house. My dad invited him over for dinner, and we sat and talked for a few hours. And I guess the rest is history,” she says with a laugh.
“I think my dad thought he would be a good match for me because of his journey and the experiences he had. My dad knew I was just coming out of grieving my late husband and understood what kind of man I needed to be with – someone who was emotionally mature enough to understand what it takes to be with someone who was already married,” she says. “I was very financially stable and had a good understanding of the world, and Grant had just been released from prison a few years ago and was still navigating his life. My dad thought I could teach him and that he could teach me, too.”
Grant was shocked when Nora’s father brought up meeting his daughter. He didn’t know his mentor had a daughter at the time, and was honored that he would trust him with his child. So, he didn’t take the opportunity lightly.
“The first day we were supposed to meet, Grant cancelled, and I thought, this man is wasting my time,” Nora says. “So I told my dad, ‘Don’t even worry about it.’ This man doesn’t need to show up. And my dad said, ‘No, Grant wouldn’t cancel for no reason. Just give him a chance.’ So I did. He then shows up in the middle of the week and comes over to my dad’s house for dinner. My entire family is there. It was a triple date. Everyone is involved in this process. It was intense. I’d ask him a question, and everyone would be paying attention to the response. If I could describe the date in one word, I’d say mesmerized. I’m not one who’s easily impressed by men. And I remember at the dinner, my sister had to ask him questions for me, because I really couldn’t get my thoughts together, which is so unlike me.”
She says that there were a number of signs that Grant was meant for her. “It was a slow burn kind of love. There were many moments that reassured me that this was the person I was meant to be with. He was a kindhearted man who was emotionally available and never made me question if I was in or out of the relationship. He brought reassurance in abundance and always made me feel safe and loved.” She also says that one of her biggest green flags was how much space he made for her “big personality.”
Nora says that her family’s early involvement was a blessing in disguise. Grant was able to establish a healthy relationship with her family members, outside of his relationship with her. “It’s like he was meant to be here all along. It also gave him a sense of responsibility and accountability, knowing the relationship he has with my family,” she notes. “Sometimes we get into relationships as people and it’s hard for us to see flaws when we become enamored by a person. It’s important to have another perspective who knows you and whom you can trust.”
Vivian Duru agrees. When she met her husband, love was the last thing on her mind. She, too, had experienced loss. Her father had just passed. She didn’t care to meet someone new, but her brother-in-law had other plans.
“My brother-in-law and his friends had met a young man at a Nigerian event and insisted I meet him,” she says. “They took a liking to him right away and saw him as a little brother. I refused, of course. ‘I’m not meeting anyone through a setup,’ I said. But my brother-in-law persisted, telling me to just give him a chance.”
She reluctantly agreed and wore the most unflattering skirt she owned to the meetup, she says. When they first met, she was stunned. He had a salt-and-pepper goatee, a confident smile, kind eyes, and was very much in shape. She was sold.
“Our date was supposed to be a casual conversation, but it turned into us talking about everything from politics to Nigerian culture and family,” she recounts. “He was sharp, thoughtful, and grounded. I even sneakily snapped a picture to send to my best friends, asking if anyone knew who he was. No one did! By the time I left that night, we’d exchanged numbers. And suddenly, my ‘I’m not looking for love’ energy went out the window.”
Letting your loved ones play matchmaker is about opening the door to possibility. Your village already knows you and your values, and that insight can be priceless. They also should have your best interests at heart. Even if it feels old-fashioned or risky, leaning on your circle could lead to something surprisingly real and remind you that love doesn’t just happen to you. Sometimes, it’s built through community.
So maybe this holiday season, when loved ones ask you why you’re still single, ask them same question: “Why am I?” It takes a village.