Showing posts from 2018

The woman I want to be is rich

Back in 2007, I worked as a sub-editor at Asian Woman, a monthly fashion and lifestyle magazine. On a particularly manic day, my editor-in-chief, Brianna Ragel, crouched conspiratorially by my desk and asked me to apply for the new deputy editor role at the magazine.

Securing the role would mean leap-frogging two people senior to me and adding a fairly weighty title to my CV.

What I learned buying a house with a white man

I’ve always liked my surname. It’s the name of kings and presidents, scholars and academics. It is stately and distinguished. It set me apart at school as I would be called first for everything: exam results, vaccinations, presentations and, later, graduation. I appear at the top of most lists, be it a guestlist to a busy event, or supporters of an Unbound project.

The lesson I learned from Dr Christine Blasey Ford

Wallflowers aren’t weak; they’re just trying to stay safe

Sometimes I wonder if I’m a bad feminist. I get angry when women act like wallflowers, or claim they’re being ‘oppressed’ by the imagery in magazines, or say that taking off a hoodie in airport security is akin to subjugation by the patriarchy.

You have grit, I want to tell them. Stop being so feeble, so delicate, so goddamn weak. Stop robbing yourself of your own agency.

The bootstrapping myth

My Kindle clippings are a huge great mess of things: information I want to keep, scraps of prose that make me weep, and words I’ve learnt and quickly forgotten. Among my clippings is a quote I added long ago that reads: “when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

You may recognise it as a line from Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist. I didn’t especially enjoy the book, but this line resonated with me. It offered a deep-reaching comfort; an assurance that if I wanted something badly enough and worked hard enough, then karma, serendipity or some mysterious alchemy would help me in securing it.

Something happened at the mall the other day

I knew I’d have to write two versions of this post: the first, a stormy tirade and the second, a more sober analysis of what happened at the mall the other day.

Before I start, I should say that I have seen and experienced much aggression at the hands of men. As a teenager, I had an iron thrown at me by my addict brother. I’ve had my head banged against a radiator and witnessed countless rages, replete with smashed plates and broken furniture.

Let's stop lying about class diversity

My most embarrassing work-related mistake happened not long after graduation. While working on a presentation with eminent epidemiologist Professor Nicholas Wald, I paused on an image of H Pylori, “a bug that lives in the stomach,” he said. I noted its arthropodal shape and sharp pincers and, thinking it was an insect, asked what size it grew to. Professor Wald looked bemused. “It’s not a real bug,” he said. “It’s bacterial.”

Is this thing on?

I recently read an interesting article called I Don’t Know How to Waste Time on the Internet Anymore and it resonated strongly.

I’ve done the exact same thing as the author of the article: sat at my desk and stared at the blank address bar of my web browser, wanting to waste time but not knowing how to do it. Like him, I’ve ended up at a news site, which is why I laughed at the following line.