What My Girlfriends Taught Me About Love and Strength, By Justine Lupe
From drama school to starring in some of TV’s biggest shows to becoming a mother, JUSTINE LUPE has found her greatest source of strength in the friendships that surround her. Here, the Nobody Wants This and Succession star reflects on how those relationships have shaped her
To my girlfriends,
I’ve collected you like sacred relics throughout my life. My secret weapons. One of you came in sixth grade. I found a picture of you and your friendship group on the ground and put it on my dream board. Then I tracked you down in the hallway and begged you to hang out with me.
I collected one of you on our first day of Succession. You came into the room, and your smile was a megawatt sensation. During a 10-day isolation in the pandemic, I asked if you could talk on the phone. I think you thought you were in trouble; I just wanted company while I did a puzzle. We ended up talking for three hours.
One of you came from the internet. You’re a chef and I slid into your DMs and asked you to teach me how to cook while I had some downtime from work. I trailed you for months, rolling out pasta dough and tearing herbs and falling so in love with you.
“People sometimes ask if I lost myself in drama school, and you were a big reason I didn’t
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I found one of you while you were losing someone else. We were just getting close when you went through a bad breakup and I asked you to come to me in California. We drank wine and took barre classes in equal measure. We went to galleries during the day, and smoked cigs at night, talking our way through what you’d just been through, but also just talking. So much talking.
I’ve collected you all, but I also hunted you down, unabashedly, desperately. It’s a bit embarrassing, this brazen pursuit of you, but I knew in my soul that you would be my secret weapons. And you are. I feel safer in life because you are there.
I had you when the girls in my class went on a camping trip without me on the weekend of my birthday party. You came and sang karaoke to me and sat at a table with my grandparents. I had you when I fell in love so hard at 15, and when I was dumped so badly at 18. You called him and read him the riot act, and we did yoga and ate ice cream, and I threw up because we did both of those things at the same time.
You held my hand literally and figuratively through four years of fluorescent lights, and black leotards, and endless rehearsals, and traumatic teacher reviews. People sometimes ask if I lost myself in drama school, and you were a big reason I didn’t. You were there when I felt lonely. You got on planes and visited me in random sublets, in random towns.
You were there when my mom got lung cancer. You were there when I bombed an audition. You were there when I bombed a job. You read me tarot when I didn’t feel fuckable. You were there when I was burning in love. You were there the morning I found out I was pregnant. You were there two months postpartum when I was sleep deprived and questioning everything. You were there when I was weaning and my hormones were going berserk, and I didn’t know what the fuck was happening or if I was OK.
You’ve been there through all the shit and the good. It’s been so fun. You’ve helped me learn who I am. I see all my idiosyncrasies and strangeness and find it compelling when it’s reflected back by you. You told me once in my twenties that I’d be a force of nature if I got over my vanity, and that stuck with me. I’ve loved ditching diets with you, getting tired of the recycled worries about our bodies. I’ve loved getting bored of hating ourselves together. You’ve helped me learn that goof is attractive. That comfort is sexy. And honestly, it’s made me a much better actor, way more fun, and better in bed. And I love that all of you are kind.
“When I got pregnant, I worried that I would lose you. But the opposite has been true. You have become my village
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When I fell in love, I worried I would lose you. I worried things would shift around friendship, but you welcomed him into the fold. And let me say, my husband is the closest thing to a girlfriend I’ve found in a dude. Tyson, you are kind and present and loving and warm and home. Thank you for loving my friends, and thank you my friends, for loving Tyson.
When I got pregnant, I worried that I would lose you. But the opposite has been true. You have become my village. You’ve cradled my daughter, and FaceTimed her, and fed her yogurt. You’ve let her fart on you while she looked you dead in the eye. You’ve dressed her in cool clothes, visited my sets with her, lent her your pack-and-plays, and let her crash our fancy dinners. You’ve invited her into your homes, covered the sockets and padded table edges to keep her from getting hurt. And I know throughout her life, you’ll protect her from getting hurt in other, bigger ways. You are her other mommas.
What a cool thing, to have friendships with longevity. Through all the iterations of life, you rise to the occasion. My secret weapons.
Briana, Audie, Zo, Juliana, Eleonore, Steph, Rosie, Emily, I really do love you. Thank you for being my best friends.
Jus