Our Red Tent
Walking along the Nun’s tower in the Old Town of Tallin, last week, I happened to walk past a cafe on a cobbled stone street where a group of girls were seated in one of the outdoor tables. Normally I would have glanced at the medieval facade but even as I passed the girls I felt something palpable. I noticed that three of the girls had extended their arms and were touching and holding onto one of the others whose hand was over her mouth and eyes. Just the energy that emnated from that small soul circle of feminine solidarity swooshed over me in an instant. I had to turn back and take in this vision. The girls were barely out of their teens and their sense of empathy for their friend who perhaps had received some incomprehnsible news was such a touching scene to witness. It was all but a fleeting moment but one I could not get out of my head for the rest of the day. How lucky to be able to have such a support system of sisterhood to hold one up and pull you out of the doldrums of life.
I thought about a book I read a long time ago, The Red Tent where the women of the tribe gathered in the red tent during menstruation and childbirth. In that Red Tent, they shared stories of the importance of female bonds and the transmission of knowledge down the generations continued. The Red Tent symbolised a sacred space of female solidarity and a shared space to find solace in times of difficulties. That circle I witnessed in Tallin in a small street side cafe is our modern day equivalent of the Red Tent - a safe sacred space for women to be their most vulnerable self without fear of judgement. A space for nurturing and healing.
Do you dear reader have a red tent of your own? During covid I too belonged to one such circle of women and we called ourself (and still do!) ‘Wordsmiths’. We came together everyday on zoom during those most difficult and dark days of lockdown and gathered together for an hour or more to channel our creativity in whatever forms we could bring to the table. But it was so much more than that. We laughed, we sang, we shared. We all eventually went on to learn about each other in a way few friendships can because we had the luxury of time and a sacred space in which we all got to hold each other up to in our most vulnerable of moments. It didn’t matter that these were not childhood friendships built over shared experiences. It didn’t matter that we were spread out from as far off as Indonesia to Denmark, from USA to India, Paris to London. What mattered was our shared sisterhood because the stories all women share is a generational one, passed down from our wise ancestors whose histories are intertwined by the inequalities they faced.
Five years on, the Wordsmiths group may not be as active as we were but we are still just one message ping away to hold up our sisters’ in times of need. If I could wish one thing it’s for every girl to find her own circle of friends under a RED TENT of her own.