By Shirl Hubbard

“It takes a village to raise a child” has been making its way through Black communities for decades. Grandmamas kept babies while their mamas worked. Aunties made pickups. Sisters stepped in. There has always been something powerful about knowing that raising your children doesn’t have to begin and end with you.

When my children were growing up, my mama was pretty much my village. She watched them while I worked, so I knew they were with somebody who loved them. But my mama didn’t drive. If the school called at 11:15 while I was at work, I had to go. If somebody had a doctor’s appointment, I had to take off. There wasn’t another number to call after Mama’s.

At the time, I didn’t think of any of that as being unsupported. I was raising my children and doing what needed to be done. Looking back, I can see that the limits of my village shaped what was possible for me. My mama was helping me in a huge way, and she was still one woman with limits of her own.

That’s the part I think we skip when we talk about the village. We count people. Mama lives nearby. She has sisters, cousins, friends. But a list of people doesn’t tell us what a Black mother can actually access when something happens. The real measure is who can leave work, who has transportation, who can keep the kids when plans change, and who has enough room in their own life to step into yours.

That gap between love and capacity has consequences. Black parents with small or limited family networks in a 2024 Child Trends study described isolation, mental stress, and missed educational and professional opportunities. Sometimes everybody in the village has their own 11:15 to figure out. Your sister has children too. Your auntie is caring for an aging parent. Your friend can’t leave her job any easier than you can leave yours. People can love you and still not have what you need when you need it.

That gap can have a price tag too. The Federal Reserve reported in 2026 that 44 percent of parents with children under 13 used some form of unpaid childcare, typically provided by a relative, usually a grandparent. Families who paid for childcare spent a median of $1,083 a month. I know what that unpaid care can make possible because my mama made it possible for me to work. I also know what happened when what I needed fell outside what she could do. The responsibility came right back to me.

Years later, when I developed Support Languages™, I understood that 11:15 differently. The work is centered on identifying the kind of support a Black woman actually needs in a particular season. But motherhood had already taught me something important. Knowing what you need doesn’t mean the people around you can give it. I could have explained exactly what I needed at 11:15. My mama still couldn’t drive.

None of this diminishes the way Black families have shown up for one another. My mama showed up for me. So have generations of grandmothers, aunties, sisters, cousins and friends. But honoring that history shouldn’t require us to pretend every Black mother has the same access to it, or that love automatically makes a village usable.

And yes, there will be people who say mothers just need to ask for help. That people can’t show up if they don’t know what you need. Sometimes that’s true. But asking doesn’t create time, money, transportation or flexibility where there isn’t any. A group text full of people who love you can’t pick up your sick child from school if everybody in that group is clocked in at work. Wanting to help and being able to help are not the same thing.

Employers, schools and communities have a role too. Affordable childcare, transportation and work flexibility help make support possible. 

My mama was my village. I’m grateful she was. But I also remember knowing there was no second call. We leave that out when we talk about “the village,” like having people around you automatically means having people you can depend on.

So before we tell a Black mother to lean on her village, we need to know what that village can actually do. And if we are part of somebody’s village, “call me if you need anything” is less useful than naming what we can offer. Make the pickup. Bring dinner. Keep the kids for two hours. Send the grocery money. Be specific.

Before we assume a Black mother is supported because we can see people around her, we need to know whether there is somewhere for the call to go.