We are

none of us

either

black or white.

Nor even

the colour

we each

profess

the other

to be.

Look past the

Tempting tinsel

Avoid the

Brightly coloured

Ripples of ribbon

Don Ray-Bans

To block out

Exquisitely pleated

Satin bows

Incandescent with rage. That's what I would normally have been on hearing Yoshiro Mori's stupid thoughts jump out of his mouth. Instead, I hardly blinked and skipped blithely on to the next news item. Scary in itself, because such a thing failing to upset me usually means I've lost interest in the topic altogether…

A recent social media chat

Examined sexism

In the workplace

Everyone in high spirits

Reliving and exchanging

A ton of personal stories

Some hilarious

Others horrifying

Each worthy of their own

SNL sketch.

I'm told

There was a time that

Speaking Yoruba

Or any of our

'Native tongues'

Was a tad unfashionable;

Along with the

Honourable names

Bestowed upon us

To reflect

Our worth.

Just to be clear

We are all called

To lives

Of service

Albeit

Not necessarily

In the public eye.