Writings

by Faisal M. Lalani How do we relate to our sufferings? Any attempt at answering this eternal question must reckon with the hypocrisy of identity and its fundamental controversy in defining not only who we are at the present moment but who we must appear to be in any given

By Faisal M. Lalani Have you ever eaten dinner with a Southasian family? The fathers, sons, and uncles are usually the first seated, either huddled around a cramped table or criss-cross on a dingy bedsheet draped across the floor. In a dramatic and righteous tone, they urge their wives and

by Faisal M. Lalani When we conceptualize the universe, many of us still think of it in terms of three fundamental particles. This isn’t entirely incorrect, it’s just that it’s often the wrong three. Electrons, protons, and neutrons are the ones that may come to your mind,

by Faisal M. Lalani I write this not only to rally, for I know your spirits are already at their fiercest. Your aspirations to fight for a better world are powerful, which is why instead I hope to inspire a preliminary motivation: a reason to fight for yourselves first. Specifically,

by Phill Minns Best Foot Music is a Brighton based non profit that collaborates with musicians who have moved to the UK from around the World. It’s a play on ‘best foot forward’, a way to generate positive stories on the topic of migration, situated around music and the

by an overthinking professional woman trying to make women’s experiences heard The hardest part of being a woman is trying so hard not to be angry. I work at a white shoe law firm in New York City, the type of law firm that people typically call “Big Law.

by Azhagu Meena I didn’t know who you were! You looked weird! I was terrified by your sight! I tried both fight and flight! You showed me all your might! Helpless, I pushed myself into a pathetic plight! I continued to run, you continued to chase! Terrified and exhausted, I

by Uditha Devapriya You are putting me in a hole. No, I am taking you out of it! Somewhere in 2016, I lost my first job. I had been working at my old school for two months, and had been led to assume that I would be retained to help

by Uthpala Wijesuriya It was a quiet evening. I was lying on the couch, watching TV. The phone rang. I picked it up. I was the only one home on that particular day. “Is this Uthpala?” the voice on the other side asked. “Yes,” I replied. “Congratulations son, you got