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For Justice, Equality and Change

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Dear Malaysia, Will You Dare to Be Colour Blind?

Dear Malaysia, Will You Dare to Be Colour Blind?

By Sai Tharshini Varathan | A Dark is Beautiful Campaigner I come from the wonderful and multicultural land of Malaysia. Malaysia is filled with diverse people that are generally friendly. But often, I get to hear a lot of painfully discriminatory comments because of my skin colour, I used to feel hurt and wondered what […]

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Who Is The Real Enemy?

Who Is The Real Enemy?

By Kavitha Emmanuel | Founder & Director of Women of Worth Photo Credit: Zippora Madhukar Photography Have you ever wondered where skin colour bias originated from? I have. And frankly speaking, there is no simple answer. Skin colour bias is so much a part of our culture that if we tracked it down to see […]

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Common Clay

A haiku by Stacy Wiebe We’re not fashioned from diamonds or opals, but clay warm with divine breath.  I snapped this photo of my son participating in a hands-on sculpting activity at Government Museum, Chennai.

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An ideal Indian woman?

By Kavitha Emmanuel | Director, WOW We often conclude that our worth is based on what we do or how we look. And for many of us, especially women, what we see in the mirror – or what we think we see in the mirror – shapes much of our identity. Added to these notions […]

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Runner Up poem entry in the 2009 Contest

A Lullaby for Yamini* – By Susan Philip The Sleep Fairy’s coming my little one, She’ll stay for a while, my pretty one, She’ll bring sweet dreams to your jet-bright eyes, And sing you the loveliest lullabies. Sleep, little Yamini, my life, my light, Sleep, little Yamini, queen of the night, The Sleep Fairy’s near, […]

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Winning poem entry in the 2009 contest

Good Mothers by Saudha Kasim Good mothers obey the old crones who hang By the windowsills, staring into low-ceilinged, dark rooms. Toothless and ashen-skinned, they suggest remedies: Rose water, milk, honey, jasmine, powdery sandalwood. Good mothers, pregnant and blooming, bathe in all that and Listen to their mothers echo the interfering old crones. The ones […]

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