The Feminine Urge to Choose Between Love and Ambition

Can we truly have both love and ambition?

What I’ve noticed in the media is a persistent message: that in our 20s, we must choose - ambition for a career or ambition for love. Rarely is there space for a true balance between both.

Allow me to explain. On social media, this narrative is amplified through the rise of representations like the self-made man, the lone wolf, the girlboss, or the clean girl. We’re shown that to truly ‘love’ ourselves and reach our goals, we need solitude, hyper-focus, and the relentless ‘grind’.

In the context of romantic love, we’re consistently told that a breakup is the best catalyst for transformation – as though our 20s are meant for building empires. Heartbreak becomes an opportunity to physically ‘glow up’, start a side hustle, throw ourselves into our studies, and redirect all romantic energy into self-improvement.

And to be clear – there is nothing wrong with ambition, or with using a break up as motivation. I am simply asking: why have love and ambition become mutually exclusive? Why should we equate transformation in our 20s with isolation? 

All these messages can lead us to believe that the only route to success is through more isolation. What we’re really being taught is a form of hyper-independence – a mindset that romanticises disconnection from others as the price of success.

From childhood, we’re taught to pick a side: love or ambition. For me, that message came through film.

I absolutely adored the Little Mermaid. The heroine, Ariel, was bold, curious, and desperate to explore the human world. But when she sees Prince Eric, she makes a deal with Ursula, the sea witch, who gives her a choice: her voice, or the chance at love. Ursula sings:

‘You’ll have your looks! Your pretty face! And don’t underestimate the importance of body language! The men up there don’t like a lot of blabber…They dote and swoon and fawn on a lady who’s withdrawn. It’s she who holds her tongue who gets her man.’

Ariel sacrifices her voice – the very medium through which her ambition is expressed – for love. I don’t think the Disney creators meant harm. But looking back, now with more awareness, can’t we see the absurdity? That the heroine must give up a vital part of herself for love?

Later in life, I watched the film Legally Blonde, Elle Woods gets dumped, is heartbroken, and goes to Harvard to win her ex back – but ends up on her own journey of growth and success. Legally Blonde brought to light many important challenges for women. For example, Elle shows us that being feminine and being a serious lawyer are not mutually exclusive. However, once again, we see the same narrative: her ambition only takes shape in isolation from love.

You get one or the other.

But we are allowed to be holistic in our 20s. We don’t have to wait until we are older and wiser to figure this out. We’re allowed to be layered.

Whether someone is sleeping around, not dating at all, falling in love every week, or in a long-term relationship - none of that disqualifies their ambition.

Just because the ghosts of past relationships, or fears of something new, whisper that we can’t balance love and our goals, doesn’t mean we must swear off dating or dim our career dreams. We can approach the intersection between love and ambition with curiosity and compassion.

So much of adulthood is about healing the parts of us that got confused or wounded in childhood. Whether we’re doing that with no partner, one partner, or many – the point is to find our own rhythm for healing, not just through solitude or success, but in whatever way feels real.

So what if we stop seeing romantic feelings of any kind as a distraction from who we are becoming, and started seeing it as part of how we get there? What if love was allowed to be one of our driving forces, not just a reward we earn after the work is done?

This involves interdependence.

Interdependence is the space beyond dependence or independence. It’s a conscious connection, where individuals rely on each other without losing themselves. It’s not about needing someone to survive but choosing to grow together. Mutual support doesn’t weaken you – it strengthens the whole.

Interdependence extends beyond sharing our support with those closest to us. It’s about compassion towards the world at large - strangers on the metro, someone sitting next to you in a café. We live in a structure that rewards competition, but we don’t have to play by those rules.

So how do we create interdependence?

The answer is vulnerability.

The quiet, everyday kind of vulnerability which asks us to be seen. To speak honestly. To risk softness in a world that so often rewards armour.

Vulnerability is how we move toward each other. It’s how we build the foundations of interdependence – by choosing not to hide or re-package our needs, our hopes or our thoughts. Sometimes it’s complimenting a stranger. Other times, it’s asking for more support from a friend or a partner.

When we do that – when we show up without the mask of hyper-independence – we make it possible for others to do the same.

We can see ourselves, our relationships and our worlds like a well-packed handbag – inside, everything has its place: keys, wallet, tissues, lip balm, a snack for later, a book you might not read but feel better carrying. Each item serves its own purpose, but together, they go with you through the day.

In relationships, love and ambition are parts of a system, they don’t have to compete for space – they can sit side by side, like the essentials in that bag, each contributing positively to the version of ourselves we carry into the world.

It’s not about carrying everything perfectly; it’s about knowing what matters to us, what brings us comfort, and understanding that we don’t have to hold it all alone. So, sometimes it starts with the quiet honesty of naming what’s in the bag – what we’re holding, what we need help carrying, and what we might need help making space for.

We are social creatures - built for connection, for growth with others. And it is vulnerability that makes that possible. When we allow ourselves to be seen, we give others permission to do the same.

If we lead with this ambition for love, vulnerability and interdependence, who knows what we might change?

Not just for ourselves, but for everyone around us.