My mum has very few photographs of herself like this
“Takli”: Reflections on being a bald Indian woman
I am a bald South Asian woman. Yes, we exist, but I do not blame you for not knowing that. We are unseen and rendered invisible.
Investigating Memories of Partition: Migrant Memory and the Postcolonial Imagination
Memory matters, but it is something that we too often take for granted.
Coconut Girl: Sunita Thind Brown on the outside White on the inside Sarsee Akal! Said the Coconut Girl. Jewelled doll in a salwar kameez A gemstone bindiya on her forehead. Kiddha! Said the Coconut Girl. All mini skirts, glitter, and cinnamon legs Whiskey Sours and chippy butty Fondled by that Gaura boy. Meera Tika Said... Continue Reading →
