Her pride shows when she humble brags about us to her friends and her love shows through the incessant nagging at us to sleep earlier and eat on time. Yet these are things that we finding embarrassing and annoying. Then, there’s that one uniquely-Singaporean trait in our mums that we can’t decide whether we hate or love. Being auntie. This Mother's Day, we share our love for our mums by appreciating the super auntie things they do as a Singaporean mum.

1. Gossiping

Even with social media, we can hardly keep up with all our friends getting hitched and having babies. It’s amazing how our mum knows about the neighbour’s sister’s friend’s daughter's migrating overseas. Not forgetting the iconic way they speak when they share such juicy news, “I tell you ah, my ah girl ah…”

2. Taking Or Asking For Free Stuff

Dabaoing the unused utensils and butter spread from airplane meals, keeping the serviettes and wet tissues at restaurants, and eating the free samples at food fares, our mothers do them all, and proudly. As auntie as those behaviours are, some of us do them too. There are also the very thick-skinnd mums who would tell the waiter that it’s her birthday and go, “got anything free or not ah?” At least we get to enjoy free stuff, I guess.

3. Choping Seats

It can be hard to find seats during rush hour on the MRT and at hawker centres, but our mums seem to have eagle eyes. They also have the power of making us want to disown them when they rush to the vacant seats, pat the seat, and shout our name out amidst the crowd of onlookers.

4. Complaining

If you got cheated by the hawker and only got bones in your chicken rice, trust your mum to make a trip to the stall and give them a teaching. You may even get free chicken rice on your next trip. Whether it’s the little things like that or bigger things like being bullied in school or work, your very auntie mother will complain until you get your grievances addressed.

5. Picking Out The Best Of Things

She would remove all the styrofoam netting from the fruit before putting it in the plastic bag because not only can you see if the fruit is good, it weighs lighter and thus, is cheaper. She’d dig into the supermarket shelves to get products that are deeper in because of the expiry date, especially when she’s stocking up during the promotion period. Very auntie and very embarrassing, but very fruitful.

6. Share Fake Or Passé News

Food to eat to defeat cancer, random philosophical quotes from famous people whose names we don’t even recognise, or fake health scares, our mums tend to fall for such stories circulating online and on WhatsApp. What’s more embarrassing is when they share them in the family group chat. Or when they excitedly show us a video they just saw and we realise that it was something that trended more than 5 years ago. Mum, this one long ago see already.

7. Doraemon Bags

Our mums tend to have everything in their bags and can magically whip out anything we need when we need it. Dry tissue, check. Wet tissue, check. Umbrella, check. Some mums even bring medicine everywhere they go, so if we suddenly have a stomach-ache after eating that tom yum hot pot, fret not, momma’s got charcoal pills.

8. Loyalty And Membership Cards For Everything

Besides all the things mentioned above, the auntie-mother starter pack cannot do without an NTUC card or any other equivalent loyalty cards for supermarkets, grocery stores, or pharmacies like Watsons and Guardian. Sometimes, they surprise you with cards to the most random of shops, like a neighbourhood salon card or stamp cards dessert stores.

Love Your Very Auntie Mum

We cringe at our mum’s auntie moments but as we grow older, we start to realise how much such 'annoying' habits of theirs are things we remember them endearingly by. All those little things they do are exactly what make them that irreplaceable woman in our life. What other auntie things do your mum do? Share them with us in the comments! (Header Image Credit: Wheniwasfour) Also read, These 14 Heartwarming Stories Show That A Mother’s Love Is Like No Other.

For as long as I remember, we have always been called sheep. From being called sheep for travelling to ‘mainstream’ places to the many times we were called sheep for ‘blindly following our political leaders’. Singaporeans have been branded sheep on so many occasions that most of us are already numb to the name. And as much as we try to deny it, we really are all sheep. It isn’t because of our education system or the Chinese zodiac as much as it is human nature. The herd behavior is just our intrinsic need to feel harmonious with our fellow human species. It’s the same reason why animals form herds to protect themselves from danger or predators – strength in numbers. It happens in our everyday lives. When we see long queues at shops, we kay poh. When we see the latest trends, we follow. It’s so normal that we hardly think about it anymore. And herd instinct is somewhat beneficial as it acts as a guide to how we lead our lives. We compare, and we use the actions and behaviours of others as a reference. We adopt our favourite idols’ lifestyles. Likewise, we steer away from people we deem less than desirable and remind ourselves not to be like them. Also, there’s the mentality behind rating systems: if 90% voted a movie or restaurant to be 10 out of 10, it must be good. However, blindly following the herd is not always healthy. Sometimes, it can be the exact opposite.

Toxic Herd Behaviour Is All Around Us

All it takes is for a dominant alpha and a prey, and you’ll soon see it grow into a mob bullying situation. In fact, dig deeper behind the reasons for many bullying cases and you’ll see that herd behaviour is a big driving force. Take for example the $10 BMW driver, who was harassed by netizens after being wrongly accused of making an attendant pay for his petrol. And Cherry Tan, who was wrongly identified for bullying an elderly man at a hawker centre.

The $10 BMW driver’s demise started because the original poster told only her side of the story and it tugged enough at our heartstrings for us to immediately hate on the driver. It didn’t matter that the story came from a third party. And all it took for Cherry Tan was one comment wrongly identifying her.

Hardly anyone bothered to do more research or wonder about what really happened, because it is just so much easier to join in the crowd, agree, and hate together. It was only after the whole world condemned them to the depths of hell that they were cleared of the allegations. So many people had already jumped on the hate-wagon by then, and the damages of name calling, harassment, and even calls to boycott their companies were already dealt. More recently, a video of a bus driver seemingly nodding off while driving has been circulating online. While there were people who were genuinely worried about the driver’s well-being, there were also many others who called him out for endangering the lives of people.

SBS Transit has since explained that the driver’s questionable driving was merely because of a neck condition. Even then, I was still seeing people sharing the video and commenting about how reckless or terrible it is for the driver to be sleeping on the job. Even if the driver was really falling asleep, wouldn’t it be wiser to talk to him, keep him awake, and ask if he was facing any problems? I question the poster’s intention of filming the driver and exposing it online instead. Also, if the intention was to call for a more stringent selection of safer bus drivers, is it not more productive to talk to SBS Transit and find out the problem? By posting the video online and insinuating that the driver is falling asleep on the job, one is merely creating opportunities to sow hate. These are all unfortunate cases of internet CSI or internet policing gone wrong, but the underlying issue is an entire toxic, mob bullying culture that’s rampant not just online, but in our everyday lives.

Mob Bullying

It happens in school. The shunning of the ‘fatty bom bom’ when forming teams in PE lessons. The name calling. The spreading of rumours of that ah lian having slept with countless boys. These are things we have all heard or experienced growing up. It happens in the working world. The abusive boss or politics-mongering colleague are perfect examples of bullying. It could even be as simple as gossiping or ostacising. In case it sounds like I am some self-righteous person trying to preach a politically correct stance towards a perfect, everyone loves everyone world, let me declare that I don’t believe in that. Especially when gossiping (or ranting) is one of the ways I destress from a crazy work day. What I find extremely repulsive and disheartening is when idle gossip turns into mob bullying because of the herd mentality. Like the cases online, all it takes is one bully to rally a group of bullies. And such cases are often overlooked because of how common it is. Singapore has even won the title of the third highest rate of bullying globally.

  In my line of work, I have met so many millennials who have experienced a form of bullying growing up. The mocking, the being made fun of, the name calling, and the ostracising may sound trivial, but the impact is significant for the victims and is often the fuel for depression. I’ve also witnessed situations of mob bullying having unfair, negative impact on the victim: where the victim was baited to saying things that would be used for ridicule and where the rallying of hate within the group of bullies eventually contributed to the victim’s departure. And all those because the victim is just a little different from the rest. It didn’t matter that the victim hasn’t done anything to insult of harm anyone or on purpose. It is one thing to idle gossip and another to treat someone like they are not worthy of a presence, even turning it into spiteful curses. While this are just my observations, I am pretty sure that similar cases have been happening in work places or social circles everywhere. After all, nothing like bonding over mutual hate, and herd behaviour to propagate the hate.

Stop Being A Mean Sheep

As someone who is guilty of having been part of a mob bullying before, I know how easy it is to be part of the herd and I know how hard it is not to join in on the laughing. However, such damaging herd behaviour has got to stop. Unless we stop being sheeps, do our research, and form our independent opinions, the mob bullying will continue. Also, my dance teacher once taught me: to tell the quality of a dance troupe, look at the dancer at the last row of the performance. Similarly, I see the way someone treats the ‘most insignificant person to them’ as a reflection of who they really are. So, before you join in on the teasing next time, think about why you are doing it and what it reflects of you. What do you want to be a reflection of? (Header Image Credit: Medium) Also read, Sexual Harassment Not That Unusual - S'porean Girls Reveal Their Nasty Encounters With Perverts.

Long-time fans of Crazy Rich Asians squealed in delight when the trailer was released last month and people were excited to see Singapore on an international theatre screen. I mean, the last time I saw our city being featured in a Hollywood movie, it was a village on stilts. However, not everyone received the trailer quite so positively and swiftly came the controversy surrounding different peoples’ ideas of representation. The backlash hit social media hard, with some calling the movie ‘racist’ or accusing it of ‘lacking diversity’. Others felt that the movie was a poor portrayal of Singapore.

Where is the Singlish? Why all Chinese people?

Before we come to our hasty conclusions, it is important to note that the movie is actually based on the 2013 novel written by Kevin Kwan. Having read it last year, I feel that much of the criticism directed at the movie is undeserved and it would do to delve into the story. Frankly, I read the book intending to hate it. Literally judging it by the cover, I assumed it was some kind of lame chick-flick story but ended up really enjoying it for its strangely nuanced approach to satirising the Singaporean-Chinese elite. Hyperbole is the name of the game and the book takes on a generally mocking tone about the absurdly decadent lifestyles of the super-rich, the obnoxious snobbery of this insular class, and the superficiality of the various characters. Plenty of people have criticised the trailer but don’t seem to have grasped this concept - that the book, and by extension, the movie is poking fun at a very particular slice of society: the filthy rich in Singapore. American Asians have lauded the movie for it is the first movie with an all-Asian cast in <a href=" years. Historically, Asian portrayals in Hollywood have at best been problematic and Asian actors have often been relegated to play denigrating stereotypes. What’s worse is the rampant white washing of characters that could have easily been played by Asians. From this angle, it’s true that Crazy Rich Asians is a <a href=" step forward towards a diverse Hollywood and is definitely something worth celebrating.

Not Singaporean Enough

What about in the context of Singapore? Notably, when I used the term ‘Asian’ earlier, it lumped together various ethnic groups and is currently used as an umbrella term for small populations in the United States to rally and take shelter under. Race is a contentious term in and of itself and naturally, representation takes on a different flavour when we turn our heads to vibrant, vivacious Singapore. Singaporeans have criticised the lack of any other races making an appearance. They ask, “where are the non-Chinese people?” Or, “all the non-Chinese characters are servants.” Again, a major plot point is that these rich families are absurdly parochial about protecting their bloodlines. In fact, the second book features a character who is stopped from marrying ‘a girl whose skin tone was one shade too dark’ and because ‘for eleven generations the blood will never be pure’. Essentially, the story portrays how these families fervently keep people deemed unsavoury out of their dynasties. To me, the lack of minority representation is a point implicitly made by the writer and not some kind of explicit insult or a result of racist, wilful ignorance. In some ways, the story is a snapshot of Singaporean culture. One interesting idea is the undertone of ‘colonial hangover’ that gilds the opulent backdrop of the story. A trope used regularly in the story is how the filthy rich families subvert the old colonial masters with their vast money – a point of irony that I greatly appreciated. I especially liked that one bit when the family instantly buys out an expensive hotel in London because the hotel manager was being a typical snobby ‘ang mor gou sai’ (literally translates to mean ‘red-haired dog shit’). Even the juxtaposition of the Singlish accents of new money Goh Family against the British accents of old money Young Family is intriguing given how many Singaporean families became prosperous by the fidelity of their colonial likeness. Even now, we as Singaporeans glorify certain attributes such as British accented English or general Caucasian-ness. Think of that girl you know who only has a thing for white guys and there you have the whole potentially problematic culture that is the Sarong Party Girls (SPGs). These are some of the aspects of Singaporean society that deserve greater inspection and thought. In the story, the main family spurns a mainland Chinese character who takes on the stereotypical role of the gold digger wanting in on the inheritance. Some may take offence at this but the idea is hardly unfamiliar to us. What, then, does that say about our own issues and prejudiced views? How often do we see racist comments online about foreign workers of any race? Singaporeans can be remarkably xenophobic too. Sadly, I’m quite disappointed by the Goh family’s (Actor Ken Jeong and Actress Awkwafina) accent. I would love to have heard a strong Singaporean accent in a mainstream Hollywood movie. Instead, they spoke this strange mix of American accents. Well, at least we got Michelle Yeoh, the Malaysian actress. She had the kind of ‘atas’ accent that we imagine tai-tais to speak in as they sit at high tea discussing their children’s grades. Another question we might ask ourselves is whether this movie should even be used as a platform for discourse. Many have made the point that how Singapore and Asia is presented to the international community is important; that movies should be an accurate portrayal of what we are truly like instead of perpetuating further stereotypes. With regard to authenticity, one of the main characters from the book recommended the food at Lau Pa Sat. When I read it, I was like, “LMAO bro, no. (Lau Pa Sat is) so overpriced.” We can see that ‘representation’ is an intricate issue that can be difficult to capture and present satisfactorily. Yet, I still think Crazy Rich Asians (or at least the book) remains within reasonable taste and find the accusations of racism to be unfounded. Having considered all these things, I don’t think many Singaporeans will find the movie particularly relatable. At least, not any less than how an average New Yorker would relate to ‘The Wolf Of Wall Street’. Ultimately, the author is still mocking how ridiculously homogenous and xenophobic this very specific part of Singaporean society can be. I think the book and movie should just be understood as works of satire and to denounce a piece of caricature for its unattractive, mocking features is largely missing the point. This hardly claims to be a comprehensive picture of what Singapore is truly like. Regardless, Crazy Rich Asians is bound to bring more attention to our Little Red Dot and I believe it won’t be much longer before we get a movie, properly Singaporean, hitting the international silver screen. This article is contributed by a guest writer, Low Tze An. Also Read, Singaporeans Get Triggered So Easily – And Lately It Seems To Be All About Race Cover image credit: Warner Brothers 

For something that’s reputably fluid, out of the box and slightly out of control, Singapore’s art scene is an oxymoron. Ask any Singaporean artist and they will concur that their creativity is limited to what our government permits. Art isn’t just something that’s easy on the eyes, it is an emotive piece of work. While aesthetics is a point of concern, it is more important that the art stirs up feelings, provoke thought and spark dialogue among its audience. I got a chance to chat with a local youth theatre company, The Second Breakfast Company (2BCo) and was granted access into an almost whimsical world of theatre arts. They shared with me the pain of striking a balance between dreams and reality. Creatives like them are always balancing on the thin line between their artistic direction and the government’s ideals. As an artistic director at 2BCo, Adeeb admits that it is challenging to uphold an artist’s values when the authorities deem that certain topics are too sensitive for the public. However, if one were to censor their script to suit the government's values, it would be muting the messages that really matter. Still visibly disappointed, 2BCo opened up about their unfortunate experience with the authorities last year. It was regarding their play, Lemmings. It explores archetypal religious conflicts through arguments between a staunch Christian girl and a Cynic boy. Their opening night coincided with the investigations of City Harvest’s embezzling scandal. Even though they submitted the applications on time, the IMDA did not grant them the license until 2 days before opening night. As such the team couldn’t execute their marketing effectively or apply for grants. Although they didn't want to assume the worse, it was hard not to draw conclusions: The government was afraid of how Singaporeans would react. It is possible that 2BCo's case is merely bad timing. However, they aren't the only ones facing this inconvenience. I recall how the previous director of Singapore’s International Festival of Arts (Sifa), Ong Keng Sen, expressed his disappointment with strict censorship regulations. There were many thoughtful and provoking pieces that were altered because it was seen as a potential threat to our community. Just like Ong Keng Sen, many of our local artists push forward with little effect; it's like being stuck in a waltz with the government. They are moving but only within the same space. The number of performances has increased and more has been invested to develop the arts. However, there will never be true progress if the arts is not allowed to act without political influences. I was ready to convict the government guilty of murdering the arts, but 2^nd Artistic Director of 2BCo, Mark, reminded me that “if authorities were to allow everything, nothing will get hate.” The intention of arts is to spark a discussion and challenge the audience through offering an alternate perspective. Without stereotypes and a standard narrative set by the state, there will be no boundaries to push. Creatives aren’t trouble makers but going against the grain is an essential part of the arts.

Ultimately, censorship in Singapore is a result of our inability to agree-to-disagree. When we decide that we are for or against a cause, are we able to listen to an opposing view without getting defensive and being offensive? If we pledge ourselves as one united people regardless of race, language and religion, we cannot fear our differences. Our multi-racial and multi-ethnic demographic guarantees a myriad of differing voices. Under-representing opinions that doesn’t support the government’s narrative is only going to cause a greater divide.

It’s Not Just Ah Gong’s Fault

Blaming the government for a lacklustre art culture is almost a birthright. But upon learning about the years of preparation that leads up to a 1-hour performance on stage, guilt began to descend upon me. I have never watched a local theatre production or dance recital. As a local, I have failed to support the local arts. In a battle against my guilty conscience, I comforted myself with the thought that I had supported local artists through festivals like Light to Night. This year, among fellow locals and tourists, I flocked to National Gallery Singapore. I played with the stomp pads, admired the lights, and updated my Insta-stories accordingly. I did my part, I assured myself. Seasonal art festivals aside, the ArtScience Museum and the National Gallery Singapore  have also become a common spot for my friends and I. The interactive exhibitions are great for photos and an even better distraction for awkward first dates. Then again, I knew nothing about the artist’s interpretation. Photos prove my presence at the museums, but I have no recollection of the displays beyond visual aesthetics. I knew nothing about the meaning behind the art installations. In all honesty, visiting museums and attending art festivals had nothing to do with appreciating the arts. I was more absorbed in the fun and Insta-worthy aspects of the interactive exhibits.

Take for example the recent iLight festival. Passage was one of the more popular exhibits. It looked beautiful in photos with the bokeh effect. Little do many of us know that Passage is an impression of the enigmatic moment between life and death (the artist is also not Singaporean). I only just found out myself. Taking a photo with an artist’s work is essentially a compliment. But by focusing only on beauty and interaction, the display has ceased to be art; it is just meaningless street decor.

The Hero Of Our Arts Scene

Recently, Lasalle produced a theatre performance titled The Insiders. It is based on an interview with 21 lesbians. On opening night, the seats were filled with art practitioners, which is good, but not great. As the 2BCo team explained, “the people who should be watching it are other Singaporeans who are still in the closet, people who are trying to discover themselves.” There is a gap between the arts and their target audience because of the red tape involved in marketing an R-rated performance. Then again, even if the government were to give the go-ahead for such topics, are we willing to participate in the conversations? The problem with our local arts scene isn’t the arts itself but the audience, us. Maybe we’re just as uncomfortable as the government when it comes to ‘taboo’ topics. Personally, the thought of sitting through a performance on homosexuality still causes some discomfort; but I believe challenging myself is part of the art appreciation process. I left the chat with 2BCo with a mental note to watch a local theatre production some time soon. I also reminded myself to ponder over the works of art that I take photos of in the future. Much like overprotective parents, the government’s strict control on arts is understandable. Their regulations stem from a fear of disrupting the peace and stability within our country. I know the authorities function just like any other company: an institute with an agenda. Since they fund the arts, it is their right to ensure their purpose is fulfilled – even if it's propaganda. But I hope that one day, the authorities will see that discussing sensitive topics can only help us mature as Singaporeans. As a Singaporean, I also hope we can talk about our differing opinions. What we don't address now is only going to come back and haunt us later. So, does anyone want to watch 2BCo’s upcoming play with me? Also read, In Defense Of My Arts Degree: Why The Arts Are Absolutely Essential.

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According to Wikipedia, millennials are vaguely defined as those born between 1980 to the early 2000’s. Our generation is mostly marked by technology savviness and a lifestyle built around various social media platforms. Our generation is also characterised as a little lost and confused. I don’t deny it. Most of us rarely have any concrete plans for our future. We’re constantly hovering between trying to make ends meet and living it up without really getting to where we want. To the the baby boomers or the generation before them, we are the strawberry babies who are entitled, inconsiderate, too liberal and constantly glued to our phones. However, if you stop to think about it, the frustration and hate directed at this generation stems from a fear of change. The Singaporean millennials represent yet another impending wave of transformation. We are a visual icon of the discomfort that comes with change. Our parents and grandparents have experienced the transformation of our little red dot in a short span of 50 years. They can appreciate our city skyline better; but they are also constantly living in reverie. Their kampongs, homes, shop houses and food have either changed beyond recognition or have simply disappeared. Already Singapore has evolved beyond recognition, it is only natural for our predecessors to feel uncertain about another bout of change. We talk about the millennials having social media as the ultimate tool but we never learnt about it in schools. Computers and codes are the core of our generation, yet writing and counting is the main focus in our curriculum. When millennials push for an overhaul on our school system, Singapore worries about compromising the quality of education. However, millennials have suffered from the disparity in our syllabus and the working world. Changing the curriculum to accommodate relevant topics like basic financial literacy, presentation skills and computer knowledge (beyond the basic use of Microsoft excel) is not a compromise; it’s an improvement from whatever we have now. On top of the education system, millennials have been increasingly involved with matters of the state. Many of our parents and grandparents found comfort in PAP’s leadership. They had blind faith in the government because they trusted Lee Kuan Yew. Many believe that since it has worked so far, why fix something that isn’t broken? With Lee Kuan Yew gone, millennials don’t have the luxury of being passive. The new generation of ministers are a blind bet but we know that new leadership is also an opportunity to address our concerns. Our future in Singapore is at stake and we’re not afraid to talk about it. With the power of social media which grants us an unfiltered voice to challenge the status quo. Our dissatisfaction and suggestions are no longer confined to wet market gossip or meet the people sessions. Equipped with an ability to transform our grievances into Facebook statuses, we don’t need a middle man to talk to our government. Social media is characteristically millennial, but let’s not forget the societal changes we go through. Growing up alongside the pink dot movement, most of us have friends or acquaintances with a different sexual preference. This is the era where homosexuals have a voice. It is also during our time that a safe zone for victims of sexual assault was established. Now they can seek help and support on various platforms regardless of what they were wearing. While we pursue gay rights and campaign for mental health awareness, we come across too liberal and unconcerned with what’s ‘right’. We are accused of having a faulty moral compass. On the contrary, millennials have strong sense right and wrong, but we abide by our own system of values. It is no longer okay to laugh at a limp wrist boy or a girl with a buzz cut. You shouldn’t tell someone who is depressed, “that they just need some rest.” Gone are the days where it’s acceptable to scold a sexual assault victim for dressing promiscuously. Societal norms have evolved just as we’ve aged. Kindness and good deeds were the ultimate point of enlightenment when we were kids, but inclusivity and acceptance form the new moral high ground. Of course it’s a struggle for our elders to accept this new mind set.

In The Years To Come

Our fight for an evolved Singapore will continue to warrant dirty looks from the generations before, but I’m confident in what we’re doing. I can only hope it amounts to something – just as how the baby boomers gave us a clean and modern country to live in. As the butt of everyone’s critics and jokes, we must not subject generation Z to the same fate. Let's stop the generational hatred. No more mocking our juniors for having less of a childhood because of their tablets. We must not fear the change that comes with the upcoming generation of youths. We must be willing to lend them the support when it’s their turn to lead the nation. I am a proud millennial. Are you? Also read, The Silence Of Oppression – Why The Right To Protest Is Essential In Singapore

There was a time where I used to lament how I can never seem to gain weight, much to the envy (and annoyance) of my older friends and colleagues. 10 years later and the roles are reversed. At 27, I am now the one sighing at my 20-year-old friends or interns when they complain about feeling fat. Hello. Wait till you reach my age then you know. It’s funny how PE lessons were once something we look forward to as an enjoyable ‘break’ from classes back in school. Once you start working, the only physical activity you will willingly engage in is running to catch the bus. Once adulting gets real and work becomes life, it becomes harder and harder to stay in shape. Especially when you spend the 8 hours at work glued to a chair. The hustling will leave you so mentally drained that all you want to do after 6pm is laze at home and do nothing. There are so many other distractions more exciting than working out and finding the motivation to even hit the 10,000 steps a day challenge is a challenge as itself. As we grow older, it is only natural that our age and environment change us, be it for better or worse, through our shirt sizes or our mindsets. Curious to see what age, time, and work have done to other millennials, I reached out to 8 millennials. These is what 10 years have done to them and the wisdom they’ve gained in the decade.

1. Being Less Emotional And Laughing More

I grew up fat and got a lot of nicknames. It started with “Eugene Sohfat” in primary school, then “Hugene” in secondary school and “Tub of Lard” in polytechnic, and I used to feel insecure when I go to the beach cause my white tummy felt like a pile of forgotten yoghurt. Now I just laugh at it. I’m a lot more confident and generally less emotional about things now. I think the older you get the more well-shaped your perceptions and opinions are. I find myself being more truthful to strangers and people in general, and not having to worry so much about judgement too.  – Eugene, 27

2. Finding A Purpose In Life

I’m 30kg heavier with stretch marks as far as Jurong to Pasir Ris but instead of running away from it, I choose to embrace it. After I graduated, I starting to find things I could do. I switched many jobs and went from DJing to emceeing to influencer marketing and now, media and advertising. Besides my weight, I’d say the main difference is having found a purpose in life, and that’s more than enough.  – Dew, 26

3. Confidence Opened Many Doors

I used to avoid a lot of physical activities because I felt like everyone was scrutinising my thighs and arms if I wear sportswear or swimwear. I don't think anyone really notices about these things but I can’t help thinking that they're judging me for being fat. When I was around 18, I would work out almost every day and eventually lost 10kg. It was a painful process, but I'm glad that it happened. Although I’m not as fat as I was previously, I still feel it (body insecurity) and am very afraid of putting on any weight, but I am definitely more confident than before. I can definitely see myself ageing (skin not as bright or taut and crown of hair not as thick) at my current age too. But that's just part of life. More importantly, I found ways to deal with my skin problems and became bolder in experimenting with style, eventually finding the type of 'look' that suit me best. All these adds up and really changed the way I carried myself. People always say that it's the inside that should count but you can't deny that a good hair day or a nice outfit makes you feel better about yourself. And when you do, you're braver to try new stuff or engage yourself with people you've always felt intimidated by. And this has opened doors for me in many ways.  – Mel, 28

4. Denying Insecurity From Power

I was teased in secondary school for having a ‘baby moustache’ and was very concerned about my physical appearance. My forehead acne and blackheads bothered me too and it made me feel very insecure about my own body. I didn't really know how to deal with all that back then it got worse when puberty started and hair started growing at my arm pits. I even cried every other day. To make myself feel better, I did things that would make myself look more womanly, like drawing my brows or wearing heels. Even though I am still not completely satisfied with my looks despite knowing how to manage my skin, I've learnt to be contented with what I have. My confidence could be a mash up of maturity and laziness, or it could also be that I simply care more about what I think about myself than what other people think about me. I do worry and do try to prove myself to people still but I don't give these insecurities as much attention or as much power over me as it used to. When I was younger, everything felt like the end of the world because of how unexposed I was. In hindsight, a lot of my worries weren't that big of a deal. That's how I take life nowadays: I try my best but if I suck or if I fail, it isn't that big of a deal.  – Isabel, 21

5. Handling Situations With More Maturity

I was picked on by seniors in secondary school because of my small frame. They would cut my queue during recess or do other mean things. Besides that, being physically unfit meant passing NAFA was a chore. I started bulking up. And I started keeping facial hair as it makes me look fierce. It’s a good deterrence when I want to do my own things without people disturbing me, like when I'm trying to avoid an insurance agent waiting at the foot of an escalator. But partially also because I got too busy and lazy to shave during submission period in university. If I can go back in time, I’d punch the younger me for being a little wuss. I’ve learnt to be tougher, more disciplined, and more focused on what I want to achieve in life. Religion and supportive friends helped, but it was all the experiences I’ve gone through that made me more able to handle situations more maturely now.  – Janielson, 26

6. Your Thoughts Are Your Choice

My high metabolism makes it really hard for me to gain weight since young and I’d always look skinny and fragile. People would point out how skinny I am whenever I wore shorts and that made me feel even more self-conscious, which affected the way I behaved. I was very shy and would hide my true self in social situations because I didn’t want people to think bad about me. I eventually met people whom made me feel comfortable being my authentic, quirky and playful self. It’s your choice whether you want to accept people’s comments and learn from them or carry those negative thoughts with you. I choose to look at the positive side of things.  – Raymond, 21

7. No Need For Constant Affirmation

People often teased me and called me “blackie” because I played hockey a lot and got really tanned. It didn’t help that my fair-skinned cousins made me feel like I'm the odd one out. I never liked to smile with my teeth because I didn’t have very straight teeth. My eyebags were a problem too because people often asked me why I haven't been sleeping when I've had more than enough sleep. And in a time when a lot of us were going through puberty, trying to accept ourselves, and where it was all about fitting in with friends, I felt the constant need to change myself to please others. I was affected by the things people say about me because I didn't want to be an outcast. I’m a lot less tanned now, thankfully, and I grew taller, but I grew bigger sideways too. But now, I have other priorities and don't see the constant need to please others. The insecurities will probably always be there but I’ve learnt to accept and deal with it and not let it affect me as much. Instead of criticising myself and changing myself just so I could fit in to the norms of this materialistic world, I realised that true friends will stay and accept me for who I am and that eventually taught me to love and value myself more.  – Candice, 23

8. Turning Weaknesses Into Opportunities

I had the whole inferiority complex where every little bit of me didn't seem good enough in my own eyes and I didn’t know how to navigate that. For example, I would feel inferior wearing glasses and felt the need to wear contacts so that I look better. And because I was always afraid of wearing contacts, I just didn't bother turning up for social gatherings at all. I am definitely more confident now and care less about what others think of me. It's a much easier life to live. I'd still wear contacts when I want to impress girls or on dates but it's more about boosting my self-confidence than finding a way to feel 'sufficient'. I have other insecurities like having white hair, but I see it as an opportunity to just play with my hair: toss in different colours to make the most out of a perceived weakness. So, it’s a matter of loving yourself and embracing every little bit of your ‘flaws’.  – Andrew, 26

Make The Best Of Change

Growing old is inevitable and the stresses of a job and age will catch up on you but what matters is what you make of it. Today, I avoid body-fitting clothes altogether for fear of looking like Michelin Man. Those clothes are packed into an obscure corner of my wardrobe – testament of the 15KG I’ve gained and the denial in which I will never fit into those tiny pieces of cloth anymore. But like most millennials I spoke to, my personal and emotional growth outweighs the 15KG I’ve gained and are changes I’m proud of. The collective lessons from the experiences through the years gave me invaluable takeaways and formed the mature, confident, and happy-go-lucky personality that is me today. Do you have insecurities growing up? Don’t be being bogged down by them. Embrace them and find your confidence instead! Also read, Then & Now: Photos Of 9 Longtime Singapore Couples That Prove True Love Still Exists.

Were you drunk? What were you wearing? Why didn’t you fight back? Why did you post your story online instead of reporting it to the police? The commotion that follows the sharing of sexual assault stories makes people question the victim's intention – is it the attention you’re looking for? People who ask these questions often assume that sexual assault victims have control over the situation. They assume that the victim could have done something more to protect him or herself. We grew up believing that the good will be rewarded and that the bad would suffer so it is hard to accept that a completely innocent party could have such a terrible thing befall them. However, rape and molest is more than just unwanted sex or an unwanted touch, they are a form of social violence. Sexual assault violates the most private aspect of a person and victims are often rendered helpless, stripped of control. I would know because I’ve been there.

Sexually Assaulted … By A Friend

“Eh, my friend finds you cute. Can give your number?” Maybe I was less apprehensive and cautious back then. I hesitated but the typical line that followed was enough to tip me over the edge – “just make friends only la.” The 13-year-old me didn’t pick up on the red flags that came with being called ‘cute’. How naive. I should have known better, he wanted more than friendship. I turned him down, but we continued to text. When we met up, we were mostly in big groups and always in public. Maybe being in the friend zone was his trigger, maybe it was the way I rejected him. It started with an urgent message. “Can meet at the lab? Urgent.” Isaac was leaning against the pillar and staring into space when I reached. I stood next to him panting, trying to catch my breath. I thought he would open up about his family problems like he normally does, but I was greeted with silence. As I waited for him to find the strength to talk about what happened, we surveyed the school. Suddenly, I felt a tight grip on my wrist. The cold pillar against my back was a stark contrast against Isaac’s body – blood rushing through his veins, he was warm and throbbing as he forced himself on me. I clenched my teeth but I felt his tongue against my gums and his teeth against my lips. Struggling beneath his weight, I tried to look away, to shrug him off, but he made his size and strength known. I slumped my shoulders and squeezed my eyes shut in surrender. Then he finally released his grip. It was going to stop. He was going to stop and apologise. But he didn’t.  His hands found their way under my skirt, brushing against my inner thighs and moving underneath my safety shorts to more private areas.  I froze. Then the bell rang, signifying the end of my break. I had to go back to class but Isaac wasn’t ready to let me go. I spit into his mouth and tried pushing him a bit harder. “Please. I need to go back to class.” Once I pulled myself together, I shuffled back to my classroom. A huge wave of red crashed over me. Why didn’t I try to kick him? Why did I spend so much time with him? What was wrong with me? Normally, I wouldn’t blame the victim in such situations, but now that I am the victim in question, it’s different. After that incident, I isolated myself from all my friends. How could I trust anyone? It wasn’t long before I spiralled into depression. My teachers picked up on the sudden change in my behaviour and my self-mutilation habits landed me in weekly sessions with the counsellor. People tell me I am so damn lucky that it wasn't rape, that my sadness and mental illness was merely my over-thinking. But I won't consider being pinned against the wall and felt up by a trusted friend as 'lucky'. I wasn’t raped but I was equally betrayed and humiliated. He made me dirty. No amount of soap and prayer could erase this stain.

Opening Up

I had promised myself that I'll take this secret to my grave. I knew how these things unfolded. A twist of words could turn me into a harlot. I could easily be labelled a dramatic bitch who ruined Isaac’s life with a jail sentence. My determination to keep mum was met with equal strength from my counsellor. She peeled back my layers and I eventually spilt the dirty secret. With every word I spoke, I felt a little lighter, a little better. The sense of relief was short lived; the end of my story was only the beginning of a chain reaction I wasn’t ready for. My counsellor told the discipline master and he told my parents. Then, the school told the police.

Facing My Parents

I was terrified about how my mother would react. However, my parents didn’t probe me further. In fact, they didn’t say anything at all. Coming from a typical Asian home, we never even discussed kissing. Naturally we wouldn't talk about my ordeal either. I could only guess what their silence meant. Am I lesser of a daughter in their eyes or were they disappointed in me? Did they feel like they failed to protect me? This uncertainty of not knowing how my parents would react prevented me from reporting the incident. I didn't want to disappoint my parents. I didn't want to risk losing their love and support because I had already lost so much of myself. When I have children, I’ll establish a safe space to talk about all aspects of sex. I’ll start by discussing first kisses, relationships and other forms physical intimacy at home. I wouldn’t avoid the topic of sex like it’s an unnatural and uncommon occurrence; if they ever encounter a sexual assault, they'll know they can count on me. When the nation can talk about sex without feeling embarrassed or ashamed, we can talk about rape and molestation without fear.

Held for Questioning

The school was obligated to report the crime but I was reminded that I had a choice in pursuing this matter legally. I chose not to. Even though I was attacked and degraded, it didn’t feel like I was worth defending. I let Isaac go because he had taken something that was of little value to me. Being 13, I didn’t understand the importance of self-love enough to treasure myself and my body. I wanted to put the incident behind me as soon as I could but a few days later, my principal asked to see me after school.

“You’re not the only girl.”

That one line changed my mind. I didn’t see a need to seek justice for what I went through but God forbid he does it to another girl. I just wanted to move on but how could I let him get away with what he did to other girls? It’s difficult to love yourself when you’ve been violated, but I didn’t want anyone else to suffer, hence I agreed to a further investigation. I made 3 separate trips to the police station where they confined me to a small room with a different police woman each time. I had to repeat what happened 3 times to strangers. Each time brought that nightmare back to life and each time felt as invasive as the actual incident. The last questioning session lasted for 2 hours. It was so emotionally tiring by then. My brief description couldn’t satisfy them. When I left out details on purpose, they’d ask questions to fill up the gaps. It was like reliving the experience over and over again.

Life After the Nightmare

People jeer at girls who share their #MeToo stories on social media. They say it's a shout for attention and that girls should just report it to the police instead. Fellow survivors of sexual assault, don't let these people shake your ground. They don't understand how reporting your attack doesn't guarantee justice; many perpetrators just like Isaac only get away with a warning. Even if you were willing to pursue the case, your anxiety will make it impossible to talk about the 15-minute attack for 2 hours in a confined room. These people who call you attention whores don't understand how hard it was to believe it wasn't your fault; by the time you found courage to fight your attacker in court, the incident would have been too long ago to make a case out of it. It's just so much easier to be honest with strangers online than with our kin and kith. Writing this article was easier than hearing my discipline master tell my mother what happened to me. For some of us, sharing the nightmare in a tweet or Instagram post is the only form of justice we will ever get. Keep sharing your stories of survival because it's also how we can empower each other – those who suffered from sexual abuse and those who might suffer the same fate in the future. This month will mark the 4^th year since it happened. It took me a long time to arrive at this conclusion: Not having the strength to fight back isn’t an excuse for someone to attack me. Being friends with him wasn’t an opportunity to touch me. To whoever has been violated, I hope you know that you've already survived the worst. Healing is the easier part.

STORY IS ADAPTED FROM AN ORIGINAL RECOUNT SHARED TO US.

Also read, I Bared It All For You But It Was Barely Love

Opinions expressed in this article are merely opinions of the writer and are not meant to be representative of Singaporeans. 

Dear Government, I love Singapore but I don't see how I can survive here when I'm in my sixties. From a tiny red dot to a thriving nation, Singapore has come a long way. I’m proud to be Singaporean and thankful for the many benefits we enjoy from safety and security to having (largely) equal opportunities and a powerful passport. The nation has built up a playground for a comfortable life, but at times I wonder if we are getting too comfortable. There’s a well-known Chinese saying, “打是疼，骂是爱,” which means to hit or scold is to love. Akin to a naggy mother’s love, Singaporeans complain a lot about our country and government only because we care enough to. We won’t bother voicing out our dissatisfactions if we were nonchalant, and nonchalance isn’t something a country want in their citizens. We hear many stories of Singaporeans migrating overseas for greener pastures, but there are as many Singaporeans who choose to stay. While the grass is always greener on the other side, we also believe in being appreciative of the good things we have here. This tiny island has been our humble abode from the day we were born and we will always see her as home. Which is why even though I am no political writer, I feel it important to speak out on behalf of fellow young Singaporean adults who are disgruntled with our government but can never quite put into words why we feel that way, or who fear treading onto this sensitive territory. Our leaders need to know that we are not complaining merely because we love to complain, but it’s the only way we know how to (and dare to) fight for a home that we can confidently say we are happy with.

We Are Worried For Singapore’s Future, Our Future

As a young Singaporean adult of a ‘lower SES’, I fear that my country is going to be too expensive to live in, to raise a family in and to retire in. Our fertility rate is at a new 7-year low and it is definitely not because there’s no space to bang or that the government isn’t trying hard enough. I am of a fertile and marriageable age but I am not contributing to Singapore’s fertility rate; and it isn’t for my lack of a partner or drive either. The conventional life goals of getting married, buying a house, and having children are milestones I eventually want to reach, but they all seem so daunting and impossible.

Singaporeans may feel emotionally ready for a baby, but we know the vulnerabilities of having a family without being financially solvent. We appreciate perks like the baby bonus and Marriage and Parenthood package but we also know that these one-time assistances aren’t sustainable for a lifetime’s investment. Then, there’s the painful truth of having to prioritise between aging parents and children because we do not have enough emotional, physical, and financial strength to support both parties on top of a housing loan. We also need to address how we don’t see our children for 9 hours a day or more because we will be slogging to save for the family’s healthcare, education, and daily necessities. The government meant well to give $700million worth of our budget surplus back to us as GST rebate. But the $700million could have been better used on reformative programs to encourage young couples to have children instead of the one-time GST rebate. After all, $100 is nothing but spare change to the rich, while $300 is only enough for bills and bare necessities for the poor. We aren’t ignorant to the fact that our decreasing birth rates will come back and haunt us. We recognise the pressing need to raise the fertility rates today. 20 years later, we could either be benefitting from a thriving work force or we could be dealing with later retirement ages and even higher taxes. I fear that the latter is more likely. We might be trapped in a vicious cycle of ever-increasing costs of living and ever-declining fertility rate, because the lesser citizens there are to share the cost of taxes, the more expensive it is for each person, which places more stress on each citizen. I want to marry and have children but I feel the pain and foresee the effects of my partner and my savings being wiped clean for a modest wedding, a 3-Room or 4-Room HDB flat, renovation, and furniture – something almost every Singaporean will go through today. Any prospect of a happy and comfortable future is marred by the six-figure sum that we have to fork out for all those. And that’s just the beginning. Housing grants and CPF do help, but with ever-increasing costs and a somewhat stagnant pay, the future looks worrisome and bleak. How am I to afford a future here?

What Retirement Life?

I look at the hunched back elderly with a head full of white hair, struggling with piles of dirty dishes at coffee shops. I notice the bony limbs, sunken cheeks, and wrinkled skin of this drink stall auntie at my neighbourhood coffee shop and how she would get tutted at for getting drink orders wrong. This elderly auntie messes up often but her sincere, apologetic voice and embarrassed expression is telling of the effort she puts into doing her job as best she could despite her frail body and poor memory. My heart aches.

I remind myself to work hard because my parents will end up like these elderly workers if I don’t provide for them. I tell myself to be prudent or I will really have to work until I die. In case it seems like I despise the old folk or their jobs, let me assure you that I respect their strength and perseverance. I’m not talking about the ones who choose to work out of the pride of self-reliance or those who work to pass time either. It is the ones living in poverty and still toiling away in their sixties or seventies that breaks my heart. Nobody should be resorting to collecting scraps or foraging through rubbish bins just to get through another day. After spending a good 30 to 50 years of their life contributing to the country, our grandmothers and grandfathers should be enjoying retirement sipping coffee, tea, or wine and doing whatever they wish. Why do we still have so many elderly living with severe financial difficulties in our country? Then, there’s always the worry of expensive healthcare. The fear of dying from an illness that one cannot afford is unspoken, but very real. So many times, I have heard of how someone’s life got flipped upside down from hefty hospital fees or from bills incurred by their aging parents. What if, fingers crossed, my parents or I have the misfortune of cancer and insurance wouldn’t cover my treatments and subsequent check-ups? Why can’t we adopt a healthcare system like France’s? Citizens are reimbursed for 70% to 100% of their medical fees and the poorest people are covered 100%. Or Finland? Patient fees are capped at a specific amount to prevent citizens from paying too much for healthcare. Nothing is free of course, and these perks are only possible because of the higher taxes citizens have to pay. So, it’s a matter of finding the right balance between being pragmatic and idealistic – do you want to have to invest more into something that will eventually support you when you need it the most, or get more financial freedom but heavier responsibilities? It is a concept that young Singaporeans understand, but we challenge it because we also know that there must be a way to find the right balance.

Rich Nation, Poor People

Singapore has close to a trillion-dollar reserves but we can't afford to have kids. We have so much money but we still have citizens who fall through the gaps of welfare aids and elderly who continue to live below the poverty line. Our nation is an extremely wealthy one. We have the money but our strict parents place ridiculously tight restrictions to the usage of this wealth, our wealth. I do not expect the government to deplete our reserves. The importance of having savings and the complications of dipping into it is not lost to me. However, as pointed out by Chris Kuan in a Facebook post, IMF’s opinion is that a 27% of our GDP or S$113 billion will be a good enough amount of reserves, and MAS' foreign exchange reserves as of Jan 2018 are already S$369b or 88% of GDP.

https://www.facebook.com/chris.kuan.94/posts/774990799357677

In other words, our reserves are more than 3 times the prudent limit. So what are we saving for? I quote NMP Kuik Shao Yin, “how much surplus is enough?” Idealism VS pragmatism, being excessively prudent VS investing in the people today: how much is enough savings before the children of our extremely wealthy family, can reap the benefits from these savings? I am well aware that there are many complexities to our laws, policies, and schemes. I understand that one action can cause a ripple effect that which will shift the economy and impact us and our livelihood. Being Singapore’s government is not easy and the decisions made thus far are backed by facts and figures. I have faith that the decisions made thus far weighed all possible options and identified the lesser evil. However, I quote NMP Ms Kuik again, "Every tilt towards the side of pragmatism is simultaneously a tilt away from the side of our ideals.” So, dear Government, "when will it ever be the right time to tilt our balance just a little more towards our ideals rather than always towards what’s pragmatic?" Can you let us continue believing that you will lead us to better days?

Among the trending news of sexual harassment, victim blaming, and politics, Naomi Neo has also gotten engaged and married. Weddings are usually a congratulatory affair, but many people were more concerned that Naomi's marriage might be a mistake – after all she's only 22. Even before announcing her pregnancy, “confirm shotgun” were the first thoughts many had upon watching her YouTube videos. Of course the hasty timeline and her wedding dress was a cause for suspicion; but pregnant or not, people would still shame her for being too young to settle down. 50 years ago, it would have been the opposite – getting married at 16 was a norm and those who weren’t married by 25 were shamed. I guess we have higher education and the government’s family planning campaign to thank for this reversal.

Growing up, we were warned not to get into a relationship lest it affects our studies. Most of us teens don’t heed this advice, but we subconsciously buy into the teaching that success and love is mutually exclusive. Anyone who tries to prove this theory wrong is doomed for failure and expected to suffer a painful lesson in divorce. Those who tie the knot too early are labelled as people who lack ambition, wit, self-control, or maturity. We believe only those who abstain from young love can truly find success in life. After all, most teens and young adults are still discovering themselves. We can’t be sure about the person we’re marrying when we aren’t even sure of who we are. Although, 50-year-olds can be equally lost and confused – It’s called a mid-life crisis. Are we suppose to keep marriage on hold until that passes?

“I can afford it and having children was something I wanted to check off my list,” Germaine casually replied when I asked her why she married fresh out of law school instead of working first. This 24-year-old is a mother of two and none were born out of wedlock. That still didn’t stop friends and relatives from gossiping initially.

“You’ll regret it next time.”

“You’re missing out on life.”

 “You’re wasting your youth!”

These are the ‘words of wisdom’ you hear as a young newly wed. Germaine took it in her stride, but my ex-colleague, Ryan, and his wife struggled. Ryan was often forced to defend the ring on his finger whenever he went for social gatherings. Having to explain his choice to marry at 22 caused more anxiety than joy. To avoid the repetitive conversation with strangers, the couple has since decided to keep their rings at home. While many are against marrying marrying young, it seems like it is the most practical option for Singaporeans. There is a 3 to 5 year wait between applying for a BTO and actually getting it. Also, a couple gets a larger grant if the collective income between the two of them is less than $2,500 a month. This is normally possible only if one party is working. However, most still prefer to wait till their late twenties or early thirties before they wed.

Personally, I have always wanted to marry only after building up my career and exploring the world. No matter how serious I was in my previous relationships, marriage was too far in the future to warrant a conversation. Admittedly, marrying young might make me feel a little FOMO. I don’t want to miss out on dinners and spontaneous vacations because of a mortgage loan. Marriage also means being filial to another set of parents – even if I love them, there’s going to be twice the nagging and twice the superstitions to adhere to. So if majority of my friends are saving marriage for later, so will I. Except, I met ‘the one’ last year. He happens to be 6 years older than me and marrying young is definitely in my cards now. I confronted my anxiety about being wifed before 25, stripping the feeling down to its source. The problem is this: when I wed, I will be 'that girl'. The girl who is impulsive, the girl who lacks wisdom, the girl who doesn’t know better, the girl who "confirm pregnant". Or I will stand accused of being a gold digger, settling early for his money. And even though I am happily married, I will bear my wedding ring like a mark of shame.

Are We Just Reckless And Naive?

Getting married isn't a decision made overnight. No matter how young the couple is, a lot of thought would have been put into their future: their first home, the wedding preparation, and family planning. Sometimes, the conclusion derived from discussions and all that 'thought' is simply to marry young. Even with shotgun marriages, there is always an option of aborting the baby or giving it up for adoption. Tying the knot is always a choice and it's not because we don't know any better. (Header image source: @naomineo_)

When we were still children, my sister and I would conjure up evening gowns from blankets, crowns from paper, and diamonds from ring pops, but no matter how extravagant our costumes were, nothing could top being in our mother’s heels. There’s just something about that ‘click clock, click clock’ that really makes a young kindergartener feel like a confident business woman, super model, or a classy mother. No matter the age, high heels continue to be an accessory that empowers women at every phase of their life. Even the heel-haters break out a pair of platforms for special occasions like job interviews or weddings. High heels are like the booze at parties and they deserve the honour of attending your most important events. Most of you are probably wondering if my raging passion for heels stems from the fact that I am really short, which I am, but the strong feels for heels isn’t exclusive to petite girls. Even my model-height girlfriends can't help feeling disappointed when they are stripped off their rights to wear heels around (insecure) shorter boys. What exactly is it about these quintessentially feminine shoes that makes us feel so damn good?

Historical Progression

Heels began with men and a practical purpose to fulfil – horse riding. The little nook that formed between the heel and sole of the shoes hooked onto the stirrup for more stability. Since only the upper class could afford horses, heels were also associated with class and stature. Back in those days, women weren't humans, they were but an accessory to their male counterparts. Hence it was only right that females wore heels to represent their fathers/husbands/sons wealth. Of course it wasn't right for both genders to wear the same type of shoes. The unisex alterations meant that men kept the androgynous wedge while women had feeble looking stalks. Later on, men ditched heels completely as flat shoes were simply more convenient for the working politicians and business men. Women kept the stalks as it was argued that we could afford to waddle around slowly and painfully since we didn't have to do anything.

Keeping this piece of history in mind, going about my modern day job in stilettos feels like a big F U to the patriarch. Who said heels were too frivolous for everyday use? I’ve chased down buses in 4 inch high stalks, danced the night away in 5 inch high heels and executed events in the same pair of killer shoes. If you're not convinced, watch how Bryce Dallas Howard outran dinosaurs in Jurassic World with her stiletto pumps. It’s as if we worked the impracticality of uncomfortable footwear in our favour, showing off our ability to look gorgeously fierce without compromising on productivity and efficiency.

Sexy As Hell

When I entered my teenage phase plagued with puberty, spotted with acne, and sprouting hair in all the weird places, heels gave me a momentary dose of confidence. As my body learnt to accommodate the additional 4 inches under my feet, my hips swayed, my posture improved and so did my self-esteem.

I feel like an absolute stunner in stilettos, and this <a href=" it is more than just a personal opinion – heels make a woman more attractive. These killer shoes accentuate the sex-specific aspects of the female walk and engages the muscles for a perkier looking bum. As a teen back then, heels helped me feel more like a woman than a girl stuck between phases.

No Pain No Gain

We normally call women who value beauty over comfort ‘vain’ without acknowledging the effort that goes behind looking good. While we may be vain, we’re tough too. When I decide to pair my outfit with a pair of heels, I commit to it for the rest of the day – from morning till night, through flights of stairs and uneven roads. Even when it hurts, I grit my teeth and strut on. I may need rest, but I will never kick it off and surrender. If I had the misfortune of having a horrible day, I can relish in the fact that I looked my best despite the circumstances. In spite of the challenges I failed to overcome that day, I can find comfort in the sense of accomplishment for having lasted the whole day in heels without complaining. These killer kicks are encouraging and empowering, you can’t tell me otherwise. Also read, To The Women Who Are Bold, Sassy And Unapologetic About It.