25th Birthday Reflection.

(Birthday reflections is a series on my blog.)

My year of being twenty four has rendered me speechless. It has been tough in all of the ways that I did not expect it to be, so I’m entering the age of twenty five with low expectations. I do not mean this in a negative way; I’m just more concerned with protecting my own peace than believing in false promises. I would say that I am ready to welcome my quarter life crisis with open arms, but I feel as though I’ve already been experiencing it.

This year entailed an insurmountable amount of change and it scared me. I spent a lot of time thinking about the concept of impermanence, but I think that humans usually cope with that by depending on the few things in their lives that remain constant. I feel as though I do not have a lot of constants right now, and I have not had them for a while. I, once again, am no longer a student, I moved countries, moved back, ended a long-term relationship, explored the Boston dating scene, ran my first 10K, moved apartments, met new people, grew apart from some of the old people, started a job, resigned from a job, and traded in my Minnesota license for a Massachusetts one. I even drove several cars throughout the state of Massachusetts for a couple of my jobs and none of these cars were mine. This does not even cover all of it as I am choosing to omit some other, more personal details.

I am writing this post in Boston. As most know, I moved to Boston at the end of August 2021 (to think that I was twenty two at the time is mind blowing!) to pursue my Master’s Degree in Public Health at Boston University. I am proud to say that I completed my degree this past December 2022. I managed to swing graduating a semester early, and my bank account thanks me for it. I’ll write more about the job application process in following paragraphs, but I wanted to say that I feel as though I haven’t really celebrated this accomplishment, or at least do not feel thrilled about it, with how tough the job process has been for so many of my peers and me.

In the fall of 2022, I had the absolute honor of working on a statewide campaign in Massachusetts for the general election. This campaign was called the Fair Share Amendment Campaign or Yes on 1. I was an Organizing Fellow for the Metro West region of Boston as well as college campuses (specifically Boston University). I was tasked with planning and scheduling canvassing (door-knocking, walking up to people, phone banking, etc) events and training our volunteers. I also reached out to community organizations and built relationships with them while also sharing why Yes on 1 would benefit their goals. Those who have worked on campaigns know that they are sporadic, unpredictable, tiring, emotional, and so much more. I was so nervous to knock on doors of Massachusetts residents as the people here can be a bit ~abrasive,~ but campaigns (and living in Boston) require thick skin. We ended up winning by maybe a percentage or two and I am so glad that all of our labor produced great results. I took my friends, Deepa and Nikil, to the campaign after party, and we ended up meeting Elizabeth Warren and taking a picture with her. I was honored to receive very touching reviews of my work from my supervisors, and one of my supervisors told me that I am a “true organizer.” Moments like these make the rough days worth it.

At this time last year, I was in a long-term relationship, and we were planning on living together after I completed my degree as long distance is not optimal. At the time, I was pretty sure that I was not going to stay in Boston. In a turn of events, the relationship ended after 2.5 years and we went our separate ways. While breakups are always sad, things ended as well as they could have, and I will always treasure our time together. We envisioned different lives and did not mesh in the ways that we desired. Since then, I’ve jumped into the Boston dating scene, and it’s been ~interesting.~ I’ve always been resilient when it comes to love/heartbreak/dating/romance/relationships, but this past year has been quite challenging; dating is a cycle of being excited and disappointed, breaking down walls and building them back up again. All I can say is that we will see what happens.

People always tell me to advocate for myself, and I’ve noticed how comfortable people are with taking advantage of me. Interestingly, I feel like I’ve upset more people this past year, or created more momentary tension, because I’ve chosen to fight for myself more. The friends who pushed me to show up for myself are the same ones who are upset when I actually do so and set boundaries. I’ve also been hurt by a lot of friends whom I regarded as close over the past several months, and I just keep reminding myself to choose people who choose me. I have always been so open and prefer having a large circle with friends in different places, but I have been pushed to curl into myself more this year. I am indebted to the people who continuously choose to be present for me and this became so clear during my low points as well as my move across the pond. My best friend, Harmanpreet, has done so much for me despite her own obligations (she is in the thick of medical school), and I just love how, despite all of it, we actively choose each other.

I have already written about my time in London, and I probably will do so in other posts, so I will not say too much about it here. I tried to cultivate a life there, but found difficulty (which I expected!) in securing a job as a non-UK citizen. I spent 1.5 months in London and I miss it dearly. I was worried that people would view me as a failure because I was unable to make it happen, but I have been surprised by the amount of support and praise that people have given me for even trying. I encourage everyone to pursue their dreams as it is better to live with an attempt rather than a regret. Please listen to my podcast episode on my time in London here.

As a music connoisseur, I attended many concerts as a twenty four year old! These artists include Jacob Banks, Novo Amor, Matt Maeson, and Noah Kahan. I would highly recommend all of their shows. Jacob Banks is truly one of the most talented singers I’ve ever heard and I wish that more people knew about him. Matt Maeson did an acoustic tour (no band – just him and his guitar/piano) and I was blown away by the entire night. I attended his show at a cool venue while I was in Orlando visiting my friend, Kaitlyn. She also said that his concert was one of the best she’s ever seen. Interestingly, I started listening to Noah Kahan years ago, and I am so happy that he has grown such a large fanbase. His pen game is phenomenal and I do not think I have ever related to a song more than “No Complaints.” I hope to attend more concerts this fall and I listen to almost every genre, so if anyone is looking for a concert buddy, I am your girl!

In addition to the wild cards that I threw into the deck over the past year, I was also dealt a fair amount as well. I was out to lunch for my mother’s birthday this past spring, and I received a text from my friend, Christina. She had a favor to ask of me, and this favor happened to be me officiating her wedding to her fiance (and my friend), Ben. I never, ever, ever thought that someone would ask me to marry them, and it was the honor of a lifetime. I completed the ordination process online and made it official by getting my certificate notarized at our hometown’s government center. We then went to work at crafting the perfect and personal script for the wedding, and I am happy to say that the ceremony went smoothly. I elicited a few laughs from the audience and had the opportunity to say “by the power vested in me.” I can now officiate any wedding within the state of Minnesota.

Twenty five is a stark reminder of how random our twenties are. I have friends who are engaged or married and buying houses. I have friends who are in school. I have friends who are making six figures. People are constantly moving and traveling. I try to avoid thinking about the conventional timeline or the fact that my mother got married when she was twenty five. I am so incredibly stressed about jobs especially after shelling out a good portion of money for my Master’s degree and paying rent in Boston. I have not had a moment to breathe this entire year, and I look forward to having a truly peaceful sleep once I am employed full-time. Every day is just a series of me asking, “what am I doing wrong?” “am I living in the right place?” “what would make me happy?” and more. I know that a lot of my peers are in the same boat right now, but I’m ready for the boat ride to end for all of us. The cost of living rises while wages remain stagnant or fall, and I am just so exhausted and sad. I think that I probably feel more lost now than I did at twenty three. I am hoping that September will be different, and I look forward to updating everyone when that time comes. I look forward to feeling found and settled and being employed and falling in love and having fun.

As many know, I started a podcast (both on Apple & Spotify) in the spring! I never thought that I would, but I decided to do so after some requests and encouragement from friends. The podcast is called Lots of Love, and I talk about anything and everything relating to my personal life and my relationship with the world around me. I am also planning on having guests on the pod, so stay tuned for that! I am at about 1,000 listens right now, and I really appreciate everyone’s support.

I can certainly say that my happy places are bookstores and libraries, and I have visited so many new bookstores over the past year! I would love to make a list of my favorite bookstores (organized by state, country, etc), so keep an eye out for this project. these are the books that I read while being twenty four, in no particular order (asterisk = definitely recommend!):
– Writers and Lovers by Lily King
– Peach Blossom Spring by Melissa Fu
– Every Summer After by Carley Fortune
– I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy*
– Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner
– Love and Other Words by Christina Lauren
– Malibu Rising by Taylor Jenkins Reid
– The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah
– Beautiful World, Where Are You by Sally Rooney*
– Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo*
– Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys
– Tigress by Jessica Mookherjee
– Love Marriage by Monica Ali
– The Guest List by Lucy Foley
– The American Roommate Experiment by Elena Armas
– The Christie Affair by Nina de Gramont
– The Girl with the Louding Voice by Abi DarĂ©*
– The Widows of Malabar Hill by Sujata Massey*
– The Satapur Moonstone by Sujata Massey
– The Bombay Prince by Sujata Massey
– A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman*
– Dawn by Octavia Butler
– Happy Place by Emily Henry*
– The Beautiful Struggle by Ta-Nehisi Coates
– Meet Me at the Lake by Carley Fortune
– The Book of Lost and Found by Lucy Foley
– Black Cake by Charmaine Wilkerson*
– Independence by Chitra Banerjee Divakurni
– The Flatshare by Beth O’Leary*
– Songbirds by Christy Lefteri
– Looking for Alaska by John Green
– Conversations with Friends by Sally Rooney (this was very triggering)
– The Husband’s Secret by Liane Moriarty
– Daisy Jones & The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid
– My Past is a Foreign Country by Zeba Talkhani*
– currently reading: The Golden Couple by Greer Hendricks & Sarah Pekkanen

After returning from London, I spent about 1.75 months at home with my parents as I had sublet my Boston apartment until May. I had not spent this amount of time at home since the summer after freshman year of undergrad, and it was very grounding. While I was itching to get back to my own space in Boston, I was also sad to leave my home. I spent every night watching Wheel of Fortune with my parents followed by Gilmore Girls, The Voice, or other game shows with my mom. After a tumultuous start to the year and so much time spent alone in a different country, experiencing a sense of familiarity and comfort was very nice. I am so grateful that I always have a place to which I can return and a family who will welcome me. I know that I have probably caused a lot of stress for my parents over this past year, but they never fail to show up for me. My brother, Neil, has been an amazing sibling and friend to me, and I appreciate all of the funny, puppy, and baby TikToks that he sends me.

I have compiled a lot of “what not to do” lessons from this year as well as learned how to protect myself. I know that choosing myself will upset some people, but I am learning to be okay with it. As you’re reading this, I am likely on my way to Cape Cod for the day, and I am so excited to kick off twenty five with a visit to a new place and autumn right around the corner. I am desperately hoping that twenty five will be good to me because I honestly need it to be. Here’s to falling in love with life.

sending you all hugs & smiles ❤

my fall 2023 playlist (still in progress but great so far imo)
my podcast

DONATE HERE:
– helping victims of violence
– MA Coalition for the Homeless
– Cradles to Crayons

False Promises.

tw for body image/dysmorphia, eating disorder — this is a raw, honest combination of thoughts that I have had & I, in no way, condone them or fatphobia — part of dismantling is admitting & some days are great and some days are not

every day, I pinch the fat on my body hoping that it will magically disappear
my bra never seems to fit properly and my jeans are either too loose or too tight
I blame the fashion industry for its inconsistent sizing, yet I gaslight myself into believing that this is just a poor excuse for my failure in achieving the perfect body
I still find myself in Zara, crying in the fitting room, pushing myself to skip dessert so I can fit into these pants that I am going to buy even though they are too small

I feel conscious of my body when someone takes a picture of me while I am sitting, but I feel conscious of my body when someone takes a picture of me while I am standing
meanwhile, my friends post thirst traps with their jaws snatched and their stomachs flat and I am not sure if I am happy for them
I wish that I did not feel like a monster
I wish that I did not care about the male gaze or the white gaze
I wish that I had a flawless Instagram presence

staring at myself in the mirror, obliterating every part of me, is exhausting and I promise myself that I will not do it anymore
the next day comes, and I repeat these actions
maybe I will stop if I guasha my face away or squat until my butt is a shelf
if I run five miles in 100 degree weather or do one more crunch

I mourn the body that I had three years ago even though I hated it at the time
I am upset with myself for not being kinder to myself back then, but I struggle to believe that I deserve kindness now
even though I am the same person

For the Eldest Daughters of Immigrants.

I know that literature regarding the experiences of the diaspora kid is oversaturated, but here I am writing about it. I hope to address the parts of the child of immigrants experience that are not as widely discussed, and I am going to do so from the eldest daughter perspective throughout the following paragraphs. I am sure that even eldest daughters, or eldest children, of parents who are not immigrants will relate to some of these points, but overall, I write this for those mentioned in the title of this blog post, including myself.

My younger brother has told me many times that he is so thankful to be the younger sibling. The older, or oldest, child has to experience everything first, and this is only exacerbated if you are now a woman who was raised in the United States by immigrant parents. In many ways, I believe that my experiences were easier compared to my friends as my parents had a less traditional (as compared to other Indian families) approach to raising children and all of the aspects that come along with it, and they had also resided in the United States for quite some time before having me. That being said, I still struggle with the pressures of being the eldest daughter and the feeling of being frequently misunderstood.

Certain aspects of growing up such as having playdates or sleepovers with friends, fashion, puberty, mental health, and dating are viewed very differently here in the United States than they are in India. While the lines are a little bit more blurred now, and commonalities do exist, I am sure that raising a daughter in the 2000s after moving countries was a different ball game. Not only do all young people experience these things, but as an immigrant daughter, I was navigating the pressures of building community within predominantly white spaces. Aeropostale, Hollister, and Abercrombie were trending, and I had to nervously and gradually float the idea to my mom that I wanted to shop at these stores. The white girls in middle school were obsessed with straightening their hair, and while I felt as though I needed to do the same, I could not muster up the courage to ask my mom for a flat iron until I was in high school and could get one myself (by this point, my appreciation for my hair had grown, and I rarely straightened it).

The way that periods are discussed in the US is likely very different than how it was discussed in India, and I did not know how to have these conversations with my parents when I reached that age of development. I had to test the waters myself and proceed accordingly. I have always been transparent with my parents regarding dating, and I was one of the few immigrant daughters who was allowed to have boys over, but every day was not smooth sailing. Despite the permission, I would butt heads with my parents over spending time with a boy, and where the boundaries lay within that. I was the first child with whom my parents had to go Homecoming and Prom dress shopping, and as a girl, the (now minuscule and silly) stressors that came along with these events were even more stressful.

My (white) friends would get upset if I could not spontaneously leave to spend time with them because I had obligations to my family and my own community. I had trouble determining how much of my culture and my family I should show to others because I did not have guidance from an older sibling. I was the guinea pig regarding social situations and my parents had to decide whether to enforce curfews or groundings, which are uniquely white, American concepts.

On top of the social pressures, a weight is also placed on eldest daughters to take advantage of every opportunity and succeed in a way that is deemed acceptable. We are representations of our parents cultivating better lives in unfamiliar places, and we have to prove that we are deserving. I think that I have disrupted convention a fair amount of times in my life so far, and I know that my parents have struggled to understand me, or know me, in these moments. As the older sibling, I feel pressure to ensure security in my life as quickly as possible and my loved ones would feel helpless if I expressed any vulnerability. Everyone is watching every move I make so that they can determine whether they should follow in my footsteps or keep me in mind as a “what not to do” lesson.

You’re experiencing everything first not only as a child and sibling, but also as the first person to go through K-12 schooling in a different country. Your classmates are different, your homework assignments are different, and your extra-curricular activities are different from what your parents knew. I held the answers to questions that my parents, or anyone who has immigrated here as an adult, did not, and I hold myself accountable for my brother’s success in this country both professionally and socially.

I also know that despite all of this, my parents still know best, and as much as I have tried to defy them as an eldest daughter who claims to be an expert in how American kids should be raised, I have learned to accept this. I still carry the weight and the pressures with me, and attempt to do whatever I want because I believe that I am right, but I no longer feel the need to conform as I did when I was a tween.

The eldest daughter of immigrant parents has to carry a lot on her shoulders. The mental exhaustion that comes with this role may seem trivial and dramatic (and maybe it is), but we cannot help how we feel. The expectations placed on us are great. I have many friends who have expressed similar stressors and I urge younger siblings to check in with their older siblings from time to time. I absolutely love being the older sibling, and would not trade it for anything, but this does not mean that I am not afraid when I am the first one to experience a new situation. The balance of fitting in with your peers (and being influenced by them) while also pleasing your parents is a delicate one, and I still feel as though, at the age of twenty four, that I have not mastered it. I find peace within this because I would rather give my brother a realistic view of being a diaspora kid over providing a flawless image that only exists in movies.

Thanks for the Traction.

I know that my identities, upbringing, and experiences yield a certain amount of privilege. I know that a good amount of people dream of having the opportunities that I have had. I know that my success and comfort rests on the shoulders of the work that my parents and ancestors have produced, and I cannot express how grateful I am for this. Sitting here, writing this for the blog that I created on my MacBook years ago, is an ode to all of this in itself.

I also know that I have the opportunity to use the resources available to me to share my values and reflect on my joys and hardships. I know that my hardships are minuscule compared to a lot of the other horrors in the world, and the ability to write about my struggles in London demonstrates this. My experiences still matter to me, though. I have never, ever, ever in my life sought pity or attempted to play victim for the words that I write on this site. I try to be as transparent as possible and write down all of my thoughts because I know that someone, somewhere will resonate with at least parts of what I say. Am I not allowed to reflect and grow?

The same people who hide behind screens and provide criticisms through poorly made assumptions also have privileges. They could also benefit from reflecting on their words. I absolutely love hearing from readers and engaging with people, but I wonder why empathy is often absent in these conversations. Honestly, I feel gross even writing this because I do not want to ask for empathy. This is not about me. Empathy is a courtesy that should be extended to everyone, and I find that life is a lot easier to live without projecting unnecessary, misplaced anger onto others.

It is awfully easy to pick and choose words from a piece rather than digesting the overall message. Yes, I went to London by myself, as an American citizen, and was able to stay there for 1.5 months. Most people cannot do something like this. I used a portion of the little savings that I have to execute a dream of mine, knowing that I would have a roof over my head back in the US regardless of the outcome. I have said, repeatedly (!!!!!!!), that this is an immense privilege, and I hope that this acknowledgement has been clear. My heart swells with the gratitude that I have and I wish I could share a piece of this with everyone. I think that I still have the right to be proud of myself for navigating some hardships while abroad, and random people on the internet (or even in my life) do not need to be privy to all of them to know that I have feelings and emotions just like everyone else.

The wealth (of which I have little as I am a young adult who is currently applying to jobs) that I redistribute to my local and global communities and the advocacy work that I do is not something that I choose to flaunt on social media because it is not performative. It is important and necessary. Activism is for everyone, and my activism means more to me than “optics” or publicity or checking a box. I question the intentions of those who hide behind their keyboards and demand proof of these actions from anyone who has a platform. People are allowed to post on social media and write blog posts and ethically travel and do whatever they’d like because existing itself is a privilege, and if you consume anything in this world (which the people who leave comments online definitely do), you’re likely causing harm to someone else. Importance exists in recognizing the privilege that one has, and I do this every single second of every day.

I know that I do not have to write this and explain myself more than I already do. I just believe that this is an important message for everyone, including myself, to remember, and writing this post was actually therapeutic for me.

I aspire to foster as much love and community as possible in every step that I take, and I hope that you all can join me in this.

Riding Solo.

As an extrovert, existing by myself in a different country has been tough. I have experienced a fair amount of obstacles, and instead of being able to consult with someone else or have a companion as I address certain issues, I have navigated these situations on my own. I know that I am capable, and the past month has demonstrated this, but the emotions are so hard to carry when I only have myself.

I did expect to have someone exploring with me, but things do not always transpire accordingly. This did not stop me from fully immersing myself in a city that I love, and I have learned a lot about myself and my surroundings in the process. As much as I enjoy planning (virgos rise), I was not ready for the difficulty in doing so when the itinerary was entirely my choice. I wake up whenever I want, I sleep whenever I want, and I can visit the places that I want to see in addition to avoiding the ones that do not interest me. I decide the cuisines that I want to consume and how much time should be spent in each place. I could have my entire day planned only to encounter something unexpected or be pulled in a different direction once I am actually in the city’s center. London is truly endless, and many people have told me that even though they have lived here their entire lives, they have not covered every aspect of it. The way that I view the city now is very different from when I have previously visited, and grappling with this realization has also been overwhelming.

Due to my long-term stay, I also focused on establishing a routine here, which is rough when I can only plan so far in advance. I am at a major crossroads in almost every aspect of my life, and I decided to complicate this by buying a one-way ticket across the pond. Arranging my things and hanging my clothes in an Airbnb feels strange, having a UK phone number feels strange, and shopping for groceries to make food at (not my) home feels strange. I had to find the closest health clinic and nail salon, and I needed to have a plan in place for emergencies.

I know that these details are probably similar to ones that people who study abroad also have to address, but the difference is that I have been completely on my own. I do not have a network of classmates or colleagues here, and I’m not living with roommates. I do not have classes or an internship to attend every day, and if I let them, my days can be a lot of nothing (of course, this did NOT happen as I’ll be damned if I waste my time in this fantastic city!). I have never experienced such an intense lack of human interaction, and while this may seem dramatic, anyone who knows me knows that I am very outgoing, so solitude is not my cup of tea. I value my independence and do need alone time as an adult, but my mind becomes a little bit darker as days pass without genuine conversation.

The following paragraphs are some points that I have noted during my solo time in the UK.

Shame does not exist in eating at restaurants alone, but I found myself humbled by asking for a table for one at sit-down restaurants. I know that many people dine alone, but I still do not think that it’s a request made often, and hosts do not know how to react to it. On the bright side, I was always accommodated without a reservation because I was the only person who needed to be seated. I could eat and pay at my leisure, and I was able to eavesdrop on some interesting conversations.

I have made some amazing friends, but they are all still new friends. They do not know me in the ways that my friends in the US do, and I feel a bit awkward inserting myself into their already established lives. I have to share my story with new people while also navigating my life in a new city. To that end, importance exists in residing outside of the comfort zone, so I am proud of myself for taking the initiative to meet people. For example, I entered a small boutique in the Shoreditch area and the two girls working there seemed very cool. I literally walked up to the check-out counter and asked them if they wanted to be friends, and now we are! I have also taken advantage of mutual connections, and I am grateful for everyone who has connected me with someone they know here in London.

My parents encouraged me to register for a tour of Stonehenge, Bath, a drive through the Cotswolds, and Stratford-upon-Avon. These are definitely areas that I have always wanted to cover, but I did feel a bit wary prior to the twelve hour excursion. I woke up at 5:15 am and only returned home at 9:15 pm. The day was long, but time seemed to pass quickly. I was actually sad when it ended as I had so much fun. I am obsessed with the city of Bath and cannot wait to visit again. I was nervous to join a tour group as a singular person, but the guide was so welcoming and I felt comfortable. I had some good conversations and it was honestly one of my favorite days that I have had here in the UK.

Rest is essential. I do not have the energy or money to be living large in London every single day, and I embraced the days that I stayed inside, catching up on job applications, watching movies, or reading books. I made sure that the spaces in which I stayed every night were comfortable enough for me to do this, and I value my time spent traipsing around the city much more because of it.

I know that I have extremely high standards for myself, but only having my own company in another country showcases just how extreme these standards are. I physically feel the weight of the pressure that I have placed on my back with the amount of to-do lists that I have and lists of places that I want to cover. I grow frustrated with myself when I delay my departure into the city because I get so tangled in planning my routes and what order of business is most logical. If I buy something, how inconvenient will it be to carry? Where can I use the toilet? Can I get back home from wherever I am with a dead phone? On top of the daily routine, I have been navigating loneliness, heartbreak, imposter syndrome, and much more while here. These emotions have accumulated so heavily that I would not even know where to begin to unpack them with someone else now because I have not been able to do so for so long. I am also still trying to be as invested as I can be in my friends’ lives back in the US, but this has been draining me in ways that I have never felt before. I am trying to absorb as much as I can of London while also planning my future.

As thrilling as social media can be, and as exhilarating as solo, long-term stays in other countries are, rough patches are inevitable. I can be here, gallivanting in London, but life does not stop. The world does not stop. My health is still important and my bank account balance is real. The emails still arrive and the text messages do not stop. Romanticizing one’s life is frequently necessary, but the realities of solo traveling and traversing oceans by oneself are still prevalent. I find solace in that even if all else fails, I can count on myself.

thank you to everyone who has reached out to me during this time

xx (as the British say lol)

Chanel Bags or Shelter.

The other day, I was shopping on Oxford Street and found some pieces that I liked in Zara. I stepped into the checkout line, and one of the girls in front of me was telling her friends about a new Chanel purse that she wanted. She also mentioned that her mother “collects Chanel bags” and has been accumulating a purse from every season. This was a small interaction, and I wasn’t even meant to hear it, but I began to spiral. Here I was, standing in line with clothes that I was not even 100% sure I wanted, listening to a white, American girl rant about Chanel.

My spiral was not about this girl specifically as she just happened to be in front of me, but I was thinking about how each of those bags costs thousands of dollars, and collecting them to the point that one, singular person has tens, if not hundreds, of purses could house so many people. Of course, rectifying this poverty stricken world should not rest on the shoulders of an individual, but this exchange was just another example of the inequitable distribution of wealth that plagues us. After standing in the checkout line for about fifteen minutes, I decided to step out of it and put the clothes that I was going to buy back on the racks. Purchasing clothes that I did not even love, from a brand that is far less than admirable, felt so trivial. Admittedly, I have purchased a few clothes since being in London because I love the fashion here, but I was so overwhelmed in this moment by my thoughts and I knew that these items would not serve me. The past few sentences felt silly to write, but bear with me.

This post is not an ode to my moral compass or anything of the sort. These are, genuinely, just the thoughts that crossed my mind in that moment. People can spend their money however they want, and maybe someone who has accomplished a goal of theirs wants to invest in a designer bag — so be it. I love treating myself to new books and vanilla lattes (decaf, of course!) and a nice pair of jeans. I love traveling. We all crave material gratification. I just do not understand the need for dozens of designer bags that will hardly be used. I have seen so many influencers purchase $5,000+ purses and not even use them. Even in an expensive city, $5,000 has the potential to cover at least a few months worth of rent. $5,000 can buy several months worth of groceries.

I truly believe that every single person on this planet can have nice things beyond basic human rights. The only reason this is not the case is because we live in a capitalist world where wealth is unevenly distributed, and this is the kicker. The amount of money wasted on a daily basis has the power to change multiple lives, but we are so afraid of how alternatives to the status quo will impact us that no one has the capacity to do otherwise. While larger systemic changes are slowly forming, I recommend asking oneself if they need yet another designer purse. If they do not (shocker – they don’t), those thousands of dollars should probably be spent elsewhere.

Human Beings Are Not Trash Cans.

This post only scratches the surface of all of the topics mentioned. I just hope that it encourages everyone to be more mindful.

A couple of days ago, I was scrolling through Twitter, and I came across a few images of the items that Americans were donating to the earthquake survivors in Syria and Turkey. I have not stopped thinking about the sheer disrespect and disgust laced within these images. “Donating” used makeup, cotton swabs, and torn clothing to people, who are ultimately victims of Western consumerism, is beyond distasteful. This post is a reminder to not lose sight of our values despite the hoarding of material items to which we all succumb.

As with any issue that does not impact the West, many friends and fellow organizers have taken to social media to hold people accountable for ignoring disasters happening in the Middle East or other Eastern areas. As another tweet mentioned, the Notre Dame fire received a flood of monetary donations while humans are being buried under cement and rubble in Syria. People were willing to make noise about a building on fire in France, but a small, brown child crushed by an earthquake is meaningless. I do not think that anyone should be surprised by this sort of reaction at this point, but it is disheartening regardless. This horrific event is just another example of how desensitization is a scapegoat for apathy.

I am writing this post because the pictures of those donations angered me deeply. Fully grown, privileged adults in the West thought that placing their literal trash in a bag was an acceptable donation for earthquake victims. In their minds, used, crusty foundation and a pair of torn slippers is going to save lives, and they are probably going to report these valiant deeds on their tax returns. Passing one’s trash onto another does not, somehow, lead to less waste. I would hope that most people would know this, but here we are. I would rather see someone not donate anything at all than indulge in the selfish aspect of altruism.

While I have primarily highlighted this issue from a Westernized lens, I want to take this space to examine the issue from a capitalist, classist lens as well. In the United States itself, the issue of donating trash to those in need is glaring. I am sure that shelters and charities (and probably even places such as Goodwill) are insulted by half of the “items” that they receive, and I urge everyone to think twice about whether something is worthy of donating. If you would not wear it yourself due to holes and rips, why would you assume that someone else would want to do so? A coat without sleeves is not going to keep your unhoused neighbor warm.

tweets referenced in this post:
– https://twitter.com/iremxyd/status/1623898928918990848?s=20&t=uZXjVqvliAlLw2_fQuVQoQ
– https://twitter.com/dialectichiphop/status/1623668291733422081?s=20&t=uZXjVqvliAlLw2_fQuVQoQ

donate here (prioritize mutual aid groups whenever possible):
– SAS Harvard fundraiser
– Turkish Philanthropy Funds
– https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/feb/09/how-to-help-turkey-syria-earthquake-us-donations

Choosing to be Uncomfortable.

I am writing this in England.

My last blog post alluded to some of these thoughts, but I wanted to reflect a bit more on the concept of change and the ability to adapt. I graduated with my Master’s in Public Health from Boston University at the close of the fall semester, and while I am so thrilled to be done with my schooling, I also feel uneasy. Some of this unease is prompted by factors that are outside of my control, but most of it is because of my own actions.

I decided to take the leap and move to London for the foreseeable future, and even though I have been here for about three days now, I feel like I am constantly retying a bow that keeps unraveling. I am experiencing a lot of change at once and truthfully, it has been very isolating. I moved here by myself and am adjusting by myself. I am forever grateful to everyone who has helped me along the way, but emotionally processing this move has been a challenge as I have to do it on my own. I knew that it would be, but one can only prepare themselves so much for things that are not yet tangible.

I am staying in an Airbnb this month and have yet to find a job that suits my career. The roadblock in applying for jobs here in the UK is visa sponsorship. I am a US citizen, so my employer will need to sponsor my visa if they choose to hire me, and many employers will not hire me due to this reason. Obviously, starting a job would allow me to not worry about spending money nearly as much as I do right now, and I would also be able to sign a long-term lease since I would be able to pay rent. This process has been quite stressful for me, but I do want to acknowledge that this was a choice that I made due to privileges that I have. (That being said, if anyone has any connections or leads on organizations/companies that are likely to sponsor visas and are looking to hire people in the public health policy/advocacy/activism realm, please let me know!)

Half of my possessions are residing in boxes in Boston, waiting to be shipped to wherever I ultimately land. Within a few days, the phone number that I have had for the past fifteen years will no longer be used as I will be messaging with a new UK SIM card. I need to build new relationships, and while I enjoy chatting with people and have already done so a bit since arriving here, creating a local support system is going to be a large feat. I feel homesick and uncomfortable and uncertain, but I keep reminding myself that I chose to do this. I chose to feel these feelings, and I knew that they were coming.

A lot has changed for me over the past six months. I am no longer in a relationship that lasted 2.5 years, I am no longer a student, and my last semester of graduate school was one of the most chaotic semesters that I have ever experienced. On top of all of this, I decided to book a one-way ticket to London and leave everyone whom I love. I know that everyone is only a phone call away, and I could easily hop onto a plane and visit home at any point, but I am cultivating my life in a new country on my own. Dollars are now pounds, Fahrenheit is now Celsius, American accents are now British, and I cannot walk into a Target and buy unnecessary things.

I think about everything that I have mentioned in this post and feel overwhelmed, but I also feel ready. I love walking through London and interacting with people from all over the world. I love the fashion and the plethora of areas to explore. I love that even when I am sobbing, my tears are falling in London.

I know that I do not know anything and I do not know what the future holds. I know that I am doing something that not many people would ever do, but I have never been someone who does what everyone else does. Changemakers go against the grain, not with it. If things do not work in my favor, I can always move back. If things do work in my favor, I might be the happiest version of myself. I deserve to have faith in myself and I deserve to give it a try.

This post very much so screams privilege, and I am certainly counting my blessings. Many are not in a position to do anything like this, and I do not take that lightly. This is a huge risk, and I was granted the opportunity to take it. I would not be here without my friends rooting for me, and I definitely would not be here without the love and support of my family. I hope that you all will give me a little bit of grace as I try to piece together my life, and just know that I am well aware of how unnerving this decision is. Stay tuned for more London content!

starting my London playlist: listen here

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But Sometimes I Don’t Want to Be.

If I am anything, I am brave, but sometimes I don’t want to be. I want to crawl into the comfort of the thumb holes in my sweatshirts and the arms of my stuffed animals. I want to ease the pains of my favorite book and television show characters instead of focusing on my own. I want to sit on the shower floor and eat Eggo waffles and ask “are we there yet?” every ten seconds of the family road trip.

The feeling of driving through the quiet streets of my hometown at 9 pm is comfortable while strolling 3 suitcases through the airport by myself is not. The occupation of “student” is second nature, but I can no longer claim it. I crave change and my mind is engulfed in the idea of the next chapter, but I’m trying to hold onto the familiar at the same time. 

The days only become more complex and the sleepless nights become tradition. I should know how to handle discomfort and growth and change, and I probably do. If I am anything, I am brave, but sometimes I don’t want to be. 

I Refuse to Give into It.

I find difficulty in avoiding “uncomfortable” topics and the discussion of social issues in any setting. I think that these values are central to the pleasures that we all enjoy, and I would rather cease to exist than live in ignorance. I have been made to feel small when I mention something serious while everyone else is having fun, but I simply cannot unsee the things that I know to be true.

This world depends on the ignorance of its inhabitants. People in power, within these systems of power, do not want us to know the truth. We become comfortable with this because the truth is hard to stomach, but I urge all of us to value our integrity more than having fun as a product of someone else’s suffering. We cannot depend on the history lessons taught in schools to inform our perceptions of right and wrong. We must question, read, and research as much as possible outside of this. I’ve learned more about human rights atrocities and systemic issues from my own reading and (well-resourced) social media consumption than I have inside the classroom. We made cornucopias and hand turkeys instead of acknowledging Thanksgiving for what it really is: genocide. We were pushed to assume that slavery ended with Lincoln’s presidency and the year 1865 when the suffering and trauma is still seen within the Black community today. We were taught about the world from an Americanized, westernized viewpoint as though “winning” wars makes the killing of Black and brown people valid.

We blame each other instead of blaming agents of the state. We gaslight ourselves into believing that our opinions are “extreme” and “radical” and “too woke” because the white man laughed away our concerns. Having basic human rights is too large of an ask. It inconveniences those in power, and everyone who isn’t in power did not work hard enough to get there.

I recognize the frustration in constantly having to think about hard things. We cannot avoid every problematic brand or be 100% progressive in our language, but acknowledging the history and the current actions of ourselves and those around us is an important step. Avoiding Amazon purchases as much as possible or boycotting an abuser’s music may seem minuscule, but human apathy perpetuates violence. For every problematic artist, plenty of unproblematic ones exist who are just as talented, if not more. I recognize that one may not want to discuss systemic issues at the pregame or while watching a television show, but I refuse to laugh away my thoughts. I refuse to give into exactly what this world wants. I have the privileges of having fun with my friends and taking time away from my stressors, so it is my responsibility to do my part in moving us toward a world in which everyone can have these privileges.

As I’ve said in previous blog posts, the state of the world does not rest on any one person’s shoulders, and we all deserve to have fun and smile and love as much as we can. I do think that this idea can coexist with being as cognizant and critical as possible of the systems in which we participate.