5am

The honk of a car horn, a word shouted from a passing lorry, or the old men outside the pub

The slap of a hand on my thigh or arse or tits that somehow you get away with, get away with wholly, completely, as the establishment turns a blind eye as your friends laugh it off as "you being you"

While I walk for the next week, two weeks, month, year with the searing, red hot burn of that illicit palm on my skin like the cartoon outline of a dead body a constant reminder contributing consistently to the growing feeling of panic, grief

Worthlessness, the worthlessness we try to keep down, buried deep down inside us so to keep on, to keep on going, surviving thriving while all the time we know that we are trapped, trapped like rats

In a system built, designed with the sole purpose to chip away, chip away until even the strongest of us all, even those with the best and brightest of lights are reduced to the shadows

I dream of a world in which the word slut is a hate crime, in which any unwanted touch will mean jail, will mean one quick phone call to a person who understands who rings another person who sends a car with sirens to package up the offender for the grotesque invasion committed

I dream of a world in which rape means rape and no means no and anyone who disagrees will be put in the stocks, shamed by the world, the only villain in the scenario

The conversation must change, the linguistics the lexis the phrasing must change. We are Amazonians, strong so strong, bright so bright. Not to be pitied not there to be fucked, milked, ensnared

We are unique, and in our uniqueness we are exquisite, and in our exquisiteness we are alight, alight with the power of our foremothers and sisters, the women who knew that we were destined for more, the women who carved out a path through sheer granite to ensure that the world knows that we are great and that we are equal, equal,

We are the equal sex not the other sex. We are fires burning in a world of pissing rain desperately glowing on and on. We will not lose track of our path and we will not forget until the time has come for us to walk in the night with our heads held high knowing we are safe.

We will not stop until the world opens its eyes to the putrid hate of child marriage, FGM, sex trafficking, the hundreds of thousands of terrifying cultural traditions which see us locked in the dirt because we bleed, which see mothers die from infections and cancers because the law forbids them the right to an abortion.

We will not stop until the time has come that we can bring children into this world knowing they will not be stunted or corrupted by misogyny.

Until the time has come when I can lie on my death bed as an old, old woman and know in my heart that nothing could have stopped me, not even you, not even though you wanted to so, very, very badly.

Until we can stand hand in hand free of the bitter competition bred woman to woman by the very system we hate.

Until our names are written in gold on the pages of history, rich and numerous and endless and worthy, so worthy, of your respect.

Take your hands off me, unchain my wrists, I will walk free and tall and glorious.