I remember his sorrowful eyes when I attempted to have a brief conversation with him. The eye contact was brief, to avoid showing his look of embarrassment if it was any longer. It's the eyes of someone who doesn't want to be where he is, yet he had to. He had no choice. There are many hundred thousands like him in the country. I wonder how do we give, while protecting the dignity of the other. It is as if giving, even a little, is a reminder of the state they are in. What more reminders could there be when they are reminded of it everytime - each time the winds, the rain and the coldness of winter get to their bones, the starvation, the loneliness, the millions of faces passing by and them having nowhere to go.
In the midst of joy and celebration today, may we not forget the ones without a home or shelter, the ones travelling and are away from their loved ones, the ones who have lost and are grieving, and those who are struggling a lot more especially during this holiday season.
This is difficult to write, but it's definitely an important one amidst all the conversations we've been having lately. Growing up being brown/Malay wasn't easy, especially when it became ingrained in me that having a darker skin tone by default, is less desired than fairer skin tones. In childhood, I couldn't recall having to endure comments about my skin colour. Thankfully amongst children, these values ascribed to lightness and darkness didn't yet come to the fore. This consciousness became more obvious since secondary school. And it was tough and painful. I've been in a sports CCA since secondary school and I couldn't really avoid not becoming tanned. What hurts the most was even my peers at that time would make comments about my skin colour without even realising the damage caused from these words. These comments I recall, were sometimes made under the guise of humour. I was called 'budak hitam' (literally means 'black child') and even ...
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