Friendship Is Political: Reflecting On The Systems That Form Intimate Connections

Imagine if every time someone tried to become your friend, they had to go through an immigration checkpoint. There'd be questions: What language do you speak? What's your background? Do you believe in the same things I do? Are you safe for me to be seen with? You wouldn't call it broader control. Or "vibe". Or we "didn't click," But under the surface, it would be a system-quiet, political, or unexamined.

We like to believe that friendship is natural. That it’s instinctive, built on shared humour, chemistry, or kindness. But the more I look around, the more I realise: our friendships don’t float freely. They’re shaped by where we come from, what we have access to, and what we’ve been taught to feel comfortable around.

In other words, friendship is political.

That doesn’t make it fake. It just makes it contextual. Who we trust, who we open up to, who we invite into our messiest selves—these aren’t just emotional choices. They’re shaped by caste, class, gender, language, and privilege. And often, by the quiet exclusions we’ve learned to see as normal.

The Circles We Don’t Notice

Most of us make friends with people who live in similar neighbourhoods, went to similar schools, speak the same version of English, or follow the same cultural cues. It feels organic. But often, it’s about proximity. Comfort. Safety.

If someone dresses differently, speaks with a different accent, or belongs to a caste or community we’ve been taught to see as “other,” the connection usually stops before it starts. Not out of hostility, but out of unfamiliarity. And unfamiliarity, in a society built on inequality, tends to harden into distance.

That’s how social structures work. Even in friendship.

I’ve seen it in elite colleges, start-up offices, and arts spaces. We talk about diversity, but we laugh with people who mirror us. We invite people into our inner lives who won’t challenge the rhythm. We stay close to what feels familiar. And often, without meaning to, we leave others out.

The Politics We Inherit in Childhood

Friendship is one of the first places where belonging begins or doesn’t.

Think about school. Who sat alone during lunch? Who was always the second choice? Who has never been invited to sleepovers or family trips? Children aren’t taught to be political, but they pick up caste, class, and gender codes long before they learn those words. And those patterns continue.

In adulthood, friendships shape not just our social life, but our professional life too. Referrals, collaborations, networks—they all emerge from relationships. And many doors open, or stay shut, based on who’s included in those invisible circles of trust.

Even in activist spaces, it’s friendships that decide who’s heard, who’s forgiven, and who’s quietly dismissed as “too angry” or “too sensitive.”

But It’s Also a Site of Possibility

Friendship doesn’t just reflect the world; it can quietly reshape it.

Throughout history, it’s been friendship that made resistance possible. Shared trust between people who saw something wrong and chose not to look away. Feminist groups, queer collectives, anti-caste movements—all began with people building a different kind of bond: one rooted in shared vision, not just shared identity.

Even now, I see it. In cross-community friendships that survive political pressure. In chosen families that offer what birth families can’t. In friendships that hold space for disagreement, discomfort, and growth.

But those friendships take effort. They don’t come through algorithms or shared Spotify playlists. They come when we’re willing to step beyond what feels easy. When we listen without rushing to relate. When we choose to hold space for someone whose story doesn’t look like ours.

A Quiet Thought This Friendship Day

So no, I’m not saying we should feel guilty about the friends we have. I’m saying we should become more curious. About how our circles formed. About who isn’t in them—and why. About the structures that shape our comfort and the quiet biases that define our trust.

To say “friendship is political” isn’t to take the magic out of it. It’s to understand the magic better.

So this Friendship Day, celebrate the ones who stood by you. But also ask: Who have I never made room for? What kind of friendship am I still capable of?

Because maybe the real beauty of friendship lies not just in who you hold close but in who you’re still willing to reach out to.

Views expressed by the author are their own.