I count myself lucky. Without me ever intentionally setting the goal before myself, my life has realised into an oasis of strong, dignified women. I am surrounded by them. I watch them, I observe how they speak and carry themselves, how they brave challenges in the workspace, how they lovingly care for their families and how they take on everyday life. I see them and I learn from them. And I am very fortunate to call them my friends.
I met these strong women through mutual interest and hobbies, by being work colleagues, because of shared sorrow and naturally also over a few shots of (Gold) Tequila. There are also the unique friendships that form out of nothing, but turn into everything, the unexpected kind. Either way, what I hold dear about every single one of these friendships, formed by whatsoever means, is the moment of raw truth and vulnerability when one soul sees another and thinks, “yeah, me too” or “yeah, I see you”. In those very bare moments, what has come across to me numerous times is the truth that these ladies are not “strong” because they are flawless
and all-capable. It is in that moment when a person is vulnerable enough to show you their true self, broken, unsure, flawed that you realise, “we are the same”. In that moment, all differences that exist between you fade into oblivion and you are on mutual ground. That is where the magic happens.
Every friendship I have ever had has formed me is some way. I have lost two best friends to death, one when I was 12 years old and one when I was 19 years old, and it has taught me that those brief moments and nano-seconds where two souls connect and really see each other should be treasured and appreciated. They are never guaranteed. The beautiful, solid friendships I have in my life today are each one unique in what it brings to the table and how it forms me. Each one strong and meaningful in its own way. Each one embedded deep in my heart.
Maybe I should rethink my opening line.Maybe I should rather count myself blessed.There is a South African Resistance song from the 1956 uprisings that says, “You strike a woman, you strike a rock”. Surely, having these “rocks” as part of my life cannot be attributed to luck, fortune, or coincidence.I would like to believe that there is something deeper at play here. A God who sees who I need to chart the path of a happy and meaningful life. A God who knows who would make me a better me. A God, I trust, who will help me to return the favour.
❤️❤️