"Children love secret club houses. They love secrecy even when there's no need for secrecy"

Children are drawn to the creation of secret clubhouses and the rituals of secrecy, regardless of whether there is a practical need for hiding away. There’s a fundamental delight in carving out hidden spaces, under tables draped with blankets, behind thick hedges, inside treehouses marked by cryptic signs, and in marking these domains as off-limits to outsiders. This impulse isn’t simply about exclusion; it is about cultivating an inner world that belongs entirely to the inhabitants. The act of having a “secret” creates an exhilarating sense of importance and autonomy for a child, making the mundane world suddenly urgent and enchanted.

Secrecy, in these contexts, is a performative joy. Children invent passwords, coded messages, and elaborate entry rituals, often more complex than their actual secrets warrant. The pleasure lies not just in the content being concealed, but in the expectation and ceremony built around it. By sharing a secret, children affirm their friendships and construct communities of trust that stand apart from the adult-monitored sphere. The secrecy becomes an end in itself, a spark of mystery, a scaffold for imaginative play, and a test of loyalty among peers.

There is also an underlying element of agency. In a world largely controlled by adults, secret clubs offer children a rare chance to exercise ownership, to make rules and decide who is allowed to enter. The secrecy is frequently more valuable than the secret; it offers a sense of control and empowerment. In this way, the love of secret clubhouses and rituals of secrecy is less about hiding something tangible and more about the desire for independence, privacy, and adventure. Childhood, threaded with hidden forts and whispered passwords, is a territory of unclaimed wilds where the act of keeping a “secret” is thrilling because it is a child’s to invent, keep, and share as she wishes.