[this is a snippet from an article I wrote on Medium.]
The fantasy is always different from reality
In 2020, I celebrated Christmas for the first time.
Growing up in a strict Muslim household, we’d never really done anything for Christmas. The only time I’d ever been close to celebrating the festivity was during school, where we’d listen to Christmas songs, watch the classic movies like Elf and The Santa Clause and Polo Express, making cute cards, crowns sprinkled with sequins, glitter, gemstones glued on and smeared with paint, to wear during lunch in the canteen, and making various forms of dessert. Sometimes, we’d even make gifts for our favourite teachers or our friends with whatever we could grab first.
The memories are nice, tinged with the innocence of being a child and a stress-free life.
Things I’ve written recently:
Why I cried when my boyfriend bought me Ben & Jerry’s ice cream
The Book that Changed How I See Relationships
2020 in review: the highs, the lows and the in-between
Revenge of the Sluts: on slut shaming, double standards and patriarchy