As the title suggests, I am a third culture kid, a TCK, or a TCI (I for individual), the phrase literally translates to “people who were raised in a culture other than their parents’ or the culture of their country of nationality, and also those who live in a different environment during a significant part of their child development years”.
We Bangalees demonstrate love to our close ones quite differently from the globally affirmed love languages.
After eight years of being an active mother, I have finally come to terms with acknowledging the identity of motherhood.
Is Elizabeth a feminist icon? I would have to go with a hard no.
To say that Roe v Wade does not affect us is untrue. It jeopardises women's right to choose all over the world.
I often wonder if I would be any different, feel any different, if I were a mother to a son, rather than a daughter.
One year goes by in the blink of an eye But the memories remain as livid as ever.
A few months ago, before the coronavirus outbreak, I attended a talk in Dhaka by a well-known internationally acclaimed feminist. The house was full, the air thick with expectation. I had heard of her aplenty, seen many talks of her online, and was eagerly waiting to hear her speak.
As the title suggests, I am a third culture kid, a TCK, or a TCI (I for individual), the phrase literally translates to “people who were raised in a culture other than their parents’ or the culture of their country of nationality, and also those who live in a different environment during a significant part of their child development years”.
We Bangalees demonstrate love to our close ones quite differently from the globally affirmed love languages.
After eight years of being an active mother, I have finally come to terms with acknowledging the identity of motherhood.
Is Elizabeth a feminist icon? I would have to go with a hard no.
To say that Roe v Wade does not affect us is untrue. It jeopardises women's right to choose all over the world.
I often wonder if I would be any different, feel any different, if I were a mother to a son, rather than a daughter.
One year goes by in the blink of an eye But the memories remain as livid as ever.
A few months ago, before the coronavirus outbreak, I attended a talk in Dhaka by a well-known internationally acclaimed feminist. The house was full, the air thick with expectation. I had heard of her aplenty, seen many talks of her online, and was eagerly waiting to hear her speak.
We think of death as the great equaliser. We come to this world alone—as the saying goes—and so we take part of it alone too. The grief that consumes the deceased’s loved ones also seems like a universal experience, and so we console each other with words of
For centuries now, the bulk of childcare has been resting on the somewhat “weak” shoulders of women. And while statistics differ contextually, worldwide, an estimated 66 percent of caregivers are female