The Gods Kneel At My Feet; I Beckon My Friends

The gods live among us. No, not the gods. The goddesses, they stir in our bones. Men look down on me, on women; they undermine our intelligence, interrupt our sentences, laugh at our supposed naivety, and I feel Athena arouse from slumber, ready to cut tongues out of mouths. She is here now, cracking open the spines of books in the depths of the library in my mind, preparing for battle. My words are daggers and my knowledge is the ultimate armor. Yes, the goddesses are not dead! I know because they dwell in me! They inhabit the bodies of all the women in my life. 

When I feel undesirable, when I look in the mirror and am vexed by the sight, that the face staring back at me is not what is deemed beautiful by the masses, I can feel Aphrodite’s hand on my shoulder. When I can’t seem to see anything but horror in the world we live in, the destruction and the ugliness of it all, I turn my head and see that she has taken on the image of my best friend. And there it is, the undeniable beauty of it all. Not just a pretty face, but the passion she can summon, the power she can hold beyond a physical feature. She exists when we dance, unabashed and unashamed, a reminder that beauty is not defined by the size of my body and the way men look at me. My friend smiles at me, and Aphrodite says hello. 

I interlock fingers with Artemis as she resides in another friend of mine. She is the voice in the back of my head, a calm but steady presence, quiet but filled with rage. Rage, it is not a bad thing, she is always quick to reminisce. As women, we are taught to hold our tongue, remain meek and humble, do not raise our voices, submit, and practice obedience. But how can I do all this when there is so much anger in my limbs and my bones threaten to crack under the weight of the rage I harbor? It is Artemis, speaking through the mouth of my best friend, who reminds me that I do not have to keep it in. We hunt those who hurt our sisters. She teaches us that it’s okay for us to speak loudly, to release our animosity into the world, and to break the chains that bind us to expectations set upon us since the beginning of time. Artemis, I adore you. 

I find the goddesses everywhere I look. They take my hand and guide me through girlhood. They’ve taught me that becoming a woman is a voyeuristic act, a beautiful suffering. Is my anger lovable? Is my hatred lovable? My violence, my pain, my grief, are they lovable? The goddesses stroke my hair and hold me to their breast like a mother, whispering in my ear: yes. And I know they are telling the truth because I see them in my sister and my mother, in strangers smiling at me in the streets, and in women fighting for the freedom of their kin on the other side of the world. I know they exist because they are rooted in my female friendships. 

Who am I without the women in my life? Who would I be today without their love, their loyalty, their undying support? They have taught me that friendship can span decades, despite the distance, and despite any lack of communication, our bond can overcome any barrier. They’ve shown me that love knows no obstacles. Another has taught me that friendship is honesty and that there is no relationship without the presence of sincerity, even when it can hurt. She is my truth, unfailing always. One friend has shown me the power of platonic love, that there is more to life than a romantic partner. She has picked up the pieces of my heart, kneeling beside me as I scraped up my knees trying to put the shards back together. She is the hand that pulled me up.  

I have a friend who is Mother Earth, a moral compass even on her darkest days. She remains grounded even when the world quakes with massacre and carnage. I have another whose smile can light up any dark space. She is headstrong, always the first to see the best in others. She reminds me of all the good in the world. I have a friend who is the human embodiment of kindness, of altruism and benevolence. When all I feel is hatred towards the world, her touch is a cool breeze on my blazing skin. Another friend of mine, she has shown me courage and the joys of being unafraid to be unique, to be outstanding. Even in her pain, she can make my belly ache from laughter and still manage to catch my tears. 

I have a friend in my sister. Though blood does not always equate to friendship, she is my rock, my lighthouse, my beacon of confidence. My mother is my best friend, undeniable in the sacrifices she has made for me and the space she has given me to grow. Even in the moments when I think I don’t need her, when I push her away, she is still right beside me, always. 

The goddesses, oh, how I love them. They are my friends, my family. They are where women may know, may understand, and may receive lasting love. They have built me up on shaky grounds, they are my salvation. I am overjoyed, I am blessed. I shout it into the sky every day; they are here! The goddesses, they live! They live!