The Backbone

Females: fated at birth to the second sex

Raging against discrimination and

Ignorance about our existence. We painted

Every part of ourselves in the power of

No. There was laughter, parties; you women

Dressed up in inched-heels and shiny garms,

Stepping out into the grey smog of the

Hanging Northern line. South of the River,

In-between Clapham and suburbia, we found

Places to knit our secrets selves over Neros,

Imbibing coffee, dancing bottles of prosecco,

Slipping wine glasses that weren’t always half-full.

Together, we found the magic of existing in a

Heaven of our own making. Not every night

Eager and thrilled, sometimes broken-howling,

Languid, as we searched for connections

In all kinds of the wrong places –

Gyms, Tinder, stifled offices, those with

‘Hers’ already waiting at home. But like

To time we formed the spine of

Women who were the backbone of our

Existence. The ones you could call

Crying, at any hour. The ones who

Lived in your pockets, in your voice-notes

In your WhatsApps. Who offered you

Nothing but love, who never judged but

Grew with you, learning each new shape

To form. Growing alongside like an

Old Banyan tree, curled roots stretching

In every direction, crafting a protective shield.

Nothing could stop us pouring love into the

Darkest of nights. Skeletons are found dressed

As anxiety and depression in closets when

Rape, abuse, gaslighting, and manipulation are

Kept free to roam streets without recourse. We

Needed each other to keep buoyant buoys

Even - bring laughter, supply silliness and ease,

Sexual acceptance, light-hearted release.

So yes, friendship is the light we cling to in darkness.

7 January 2023

Brockley, London