Of course, the Black sisterhood I crave is more than a crux to lean on in the face of adversity. It’s also a joyous mirror to hold up to myself and feel the warm reassurance of belonging. Its other dark-skinned hands entwined with mine as we dance, laugh and cry at the insignificant and the absurd. It’s a specific and necessary brand of togetherness that I’ve never felt more lacking than right now, in our bruised and fragmented society.

So, to the Black women like the ones my friend recently took photos of, hold each other tightly as we muddle our way to the other side of this recent flux of strain and confusion. You’ll need each other more than you may realise, and you’ll be all the more grateful when it’s their beautiful brown faces you’ll see when the dust settles. And to the other Black women who perhaps feel isolated in ways that aren’t easy to articulate to people who don’t look like you: know that you’re seen and loved from a distance. I hope that someday soon we’ll find each other.

“A love letter to the Black sisterhood I never had”