Who Even Am I?

As I find myself for the first time living long-term in a white majority country, I try to figure out “Who Even Am I?”

The Thirtieth Year

I’ve done it. I’ve managed to reach the grand old age of thirty by failing at every societal standard laid before me – my index finger is ringless, my hair is fashionably grey, my uterus is rotting to the sound of my spinsterhood and I have dared to have a good time nonetheless. Who would’ve…

I am an Expat

  So this just happened and I know, I know, it isn’t such a big deal. But from being viewed as an immigrant (and all of its unfair connotations) to actually being called an Expat – the joy is understated. And the fact that I didn’t have to go through the drastic/traumatic process of changing…