In 2019, my father was sick and I was helping to manage his care while maintaining a very high-stress, full-time career in publishing. I’d travel back and forth from upstate New York to my media job in downtown Manhattan, where the work pressures were intense. I’d be forcing smiles in meetings while checking my phone about my father’s status; sitting in his hospital room with my laptop open, fielding emails and calls.
A colleague became my confidante. The bridge between my personal and professional lives, and having that person who understood both worlds felt like a salve. It was a relief to have someone who knew why I needed a little extra time to get things done. One week, an Instant Pot showed up, a gift she sent to help make cooking bulk meals for my family easier. When I opened the package, I started sobbing. She was one of the reasons I was able to make it through that time; what many people would call a work wife.
The term is derived from “office wife,” a phrase once used by men to describe their particularly industrious assistants and secretaries. Since then, the term has evolved. In their book Work Wife, authors Erica Cerulo and Claire Mazur describe them as women in the office with whom we develop “a combination of personal and professional bondedness.” Those who we share an “in-this-together attitude."
But since the pandemic has shifted the way we show up at work—physically and mentally—the relationship has seemed to fizzle. In talking to friends, one told me that her view of work changed after the pandemic and she prefers to keep to herself. Another said working from home has been a solace because she doesn’t want to build connections, she just wants to get her work done.
When you don’t share a cubicle, an office, or even the same state in some cases, the organic avenues for establishing a relationship don’t exist.
There are the obvious reasons why we’ve become divorced from the idea. Remote, hybrid, and communicating-mostly-on-Slack work make for tough bond-building. When you don’t share a cubicle, an office, or even the same state in some cases, the organic avenues for establishing a relationship don’t exist. There are no midday runs for coffee or post-work happy hours. Scheduled syncs online just don’t have the same effect.
The disappearance of the work wife may not seem like a dilemma, but their decline comes at a time when perhaps we need them the most. According to a 2023 study from the American Psychological Association, one in five workers say their workplace has harmed their mental health. Meanwhile, loneliness is reaching epidemic levels, exacerbated by remote work: A 2023 State of Remote Work report found that 23 percent of workers struggled with isolation and loneliness. Missing out the most is perhaps Gen Z, who entered the workforce right before or during the global Covid lockdowns, and are hungry for connection. Of the newest generation of workers, research shows only half feel they have someone in their corporate orbit who is there for them.
As I know from personal experience, work wives are a wonderful lifeline, especially in environments that can be overwhelming or difficult to navigate. Or for people who need an ally in spaces they don’t always feel seen or supported: mothers, women, people of color. Several friends told me that before the pandemic, these relationships were pivotal; they helped with everything from decision making to team building to advocating for raises to working through management issues. I’ve had many a work wife talk me off a ledge after a bad review or a project gone awry, reminding me of my worth, my value, and what I’m bringing to the table.
Not only are they the harbor we seek out to vent about work woes...they are often the person who can step in and aid in the fight to make things better.
Work wives function as a type of invisible support system, filling in the gaps where The Man lets us down. They are the informal networks we create to resist the polarization that many workplaces may engender, especially among women. Not only are they the harbor we seek out to vent about work woes, like untenable expectations, low pay, abysmal family leave policies and the like, they are often the person who can step in and aid in the fight to make things better—or to cover for us when we need to take care of a sick dad or kid. Of course, companies should be doing this work themselves and not relying on the unpaid labor of women, but it feels good to have someone there for you anyway.
Professionally, I’ve built massive platforms and campaigns with other women, ideated inspiring stories, and executed important events. We’ve mentored each other through promotions and job and career changes. But as work has changed, our beliefs have, too. Forty five percent of adults think that having a work spouse is not appropriate, according to a 2023 Newsweek poll. Perhaps, in part, because there’s been a move away from the familial tone that work took on. Referring to colleagues as “family,” let alone suggesting they are people you shared vows with, isn't only cringe, but unhealthy when it comes to setting strong boundaries. We see that now. Looking back, I can say for myself, in almost every case, the relationship was rooted in a type of trauma-bonding due to working in competitive and unstable environments.
Sometimes, you end up dwelling on problems or alienating others with your exclusivity (it is a wife, after all), making it harder to meet colleagues and build networks that could be just as supportive. One friend who manages a younger team told me that these days she notices work relationships are less about support and moving things forward and more about complaining to one another.
As with any relationship, perhaps the answer isn’t to end it, but to work on it. We have an opportunity to consider what a workplace looks like where we don’t so desperately need a “wife” to get by. But the drive to forge meaningful connections, even at work, is not overblown; it’s a human need. Which may mean being more intentional about creating moments for small talk. Not to find a wife, but the women who will root for you, lift you up, cover for you, commiserate with you, advocate for you, and if you’re really lucky, show up with an Instant Pot. Call that whatever you want.
This story originally appeared in the 2024 Changemakers Issue.
