“During the wildfires, story after story showed us how all kinds of women, including the same ‘childless cat women’ so derided by our politicians, play indispensable roles in times of crises.”

Like so many of us, I watched the wildfires sweep through Los Angeles early this year with a mix of horror and helplessness. Climate change is revving up the frequency and severity of these events, and witnessing them in real time — alongside stories of everyday heroes stepping in to help — leaves little doubt that building strong community bonds is becoming increasingly crucial to our survival, and women will be the ones to get us there.

As I monitored the situation from afar and prayed for the safety of my two LA-based sisters, I found myself asking, “How would I react to the encroaching smoke and flames? What could I do to keep my friends and loved ones safe?” The answer, I realized, was not much.

I’m pregnant, in my third trimester, and losing more physical agency every day as my baby and belly grow. With motherhood rapidly approaching, I understand more deeply the inevitable trade-offs that come with it. How, once I transition from waddling to swaddling, my priority in a crisis will shift to safeguarding my little one — a role that, while rewarding, will limit my capacity to participate in crisis relief. This revelation underscored for me a critical need to rebuild something so many moms and moms-to-be I know long for: The Village. 

The Village is a communal network within which parents and nonparents alike work together to care for and protect their children. In his book, “Bowling Alone”, Robert Putnam argues that American society has seen a profound decline in these networks, something he attributes to shifts in work culture, suburbanization, and a rise of individualism. In our more isolated existence, families are often left feeling they must navigate crises alone. Yet the women who showed up during those LA fires showed us that’s not always true.

Research consistently shows that women volunteer and engage in community service at higher rates than men. For instance, a 2023 AmeriCorps report found that 30.9% of women formally volunteered, compared to 25.6% of men. Similarly, the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reported that on an average day in 2022, 5.1% of women volunteered, compared to 3.2% of men. Case in point: as the fires ebbed, my older sister was quickly out and braving the smoky air to clean up the ash and debris at a Pasadena community pool where she works as a swim instructor. She isn’t a parent herself, but even without fires raging, she is an active part of her village.

During the wildfires, story after story showed us how all kinds of women, including the same “childless cat women” so derided by our politicians, play indispensable roles in times of crises — from feeding exhausted firefighters to coordinating relief efforts that held communities together.

For example, celebrity chef and social media darling Brooke Baevsky of Chef Bae, and Pizza Girl founder Caroline D’Amore both deployed their culinary skills and kitchens to provide relief, cooking and delivering meals to first responders and displaced families, even as D’Amore herself lost her childhood home. Ann Lee, co-founder of CORE (Community Organized Relief Effort), led efforts to assist nearly 15,000 fire victims, providing shelter and medical aid. Female councilmembers Traci Park and Eunisses Hernandez both fought tirelessly to secure food, housing, and long-term recovery funding for their impacted residents. 

Still other examples include Savannah Boyd, owner of All Power Books, who transformed her store into a relief hub to distribute masks, food, and supplies, particularly to unhoused Angelenos. Baby2Baby co-CEOs, Kelly Sawyer Patricof and Norah Weinstein, distributed more than eight million critical items to children affected by the fires. Meanwhile, certified animal responder Mel Sobolewski risked her safety to rescue pets and livestock who would’ve otherwise been left to suffer. 

Where I live in Indonesia, the word Ibu is added as an honorific for most older women — similar to Miss or Ma’am. The word means mother, and I think its broad use here perfectly illustrates the mothering all women do instinctively, whether they have their own children or not. As we face a future marked by more frequent and severe climate-related events, the role of women in building and strengthening communities will only grow in importance. For me, standing on the threshold of motherhood brings both pride and a touch of melancholy. I am inspired by the examples of the women mentioned here, and so many others who helped keep their communities together in the fire. 

At the same time, I am writing this on International Women’s Day, an annual observance that both Google and Apple decided to quietly erase from their calendars this year. Their erasure is a small but telling symbol of the ways those in power seem insistent on ignoring or dismissing the labor of women — the invisible work of care, the unpaid hours of volunteering, the small, everyday acts that hold families, communities, and societies together in times of trouble. 

Honoring and learning from their examples during these fires and many other disasters can help us better face the challenges of tomorrow. But first we must heed the call to value and invest in The Village, and the women who make it real, knowing that going forward it will not be a nice-to-have, but a need-to-have, if we’re going to survive and thrive, together.