by Aria Ridzuan

My body is not my own. Growing up in a Malay Muslim household, it took me a while before I realized that my body was not my own. Since young, my body has been policed by everyone around me; my self-worth reduced to my physical appearance as though I had nothing else to offer. That’s not true – as much as I am reminded of my intelligence (a trait identified by my kindergarten teacher who told my mother: “Wow, your daughter is different. She’s gifted.”), I am also reminded of my fair skin and my beautiful hair. And, how I have it so much better than other Malay girls.

 

 

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