Tag:ambiance

Every time I go to Phnom Penh, I see them. They are not hiding. They are not statistics buried in a UN report. They are right there, under the blinding noon sun and the flickering neon of evening markets. A little boy trailing behind his disheveled mother as she balances a plastic sack of recyclables. A girl, no older than eight, pushing one side of a garbage cart while her skinny father strains at the handles. Two brothers playing barefoot near a gasoline station, inventing a football out of a...

Let me confess something mildly scandalous: I have lost money at mahjong. Not dramatic, life-ruining money. Just enough to sting. Enough to feel that sharp little cocktail of shame and adrenaline that keeps people coming back to the table. So when people talk about “Chinese women gamblers” as if they are some exotic sociological curiosity, I roll my eyes. Please. Chinese women have always gambled. We just didn’t call it that. We called it tradition. We called it New Year fun. We called it “just small stakes.” We called it...

I have to confess something: I have a soft spot for the ajusshi. Yes, yes — I know. For years we rolled our eyes at them. The loud office uncles marinating in soju (소주), lecturing juniors, hogging subway seats, explaining the world to women who never asked. Patriarchy in a gray suit. I’ve written about them. I’ve complained about them. I’ve avoided sitting next to them. And yet. Put that same man behind a wooden counter, hand him a kettle and a vinyl playlist, and something shifts. In these little...

Twenty-one thousand girls. When I read that number in the parliamentary reply, I did not see a statistic. I saw classrooms with one empty chair. I saw WhatsApp messages deleted in panic. I saw a 16-year-old staring at two pink lines in a bathroom, whispering ya Allah under her breath and wondering who she can tell without bringing malu (shame) upon her keluarga (family). Malaysia is not unique. Teenage desire does not stop at national borders, nor does curiosity obey hukum syarak (Islamic law). What is unique is how fiercely...

Ah, the mucikari. The man everyone loves to hate. Whenever Indonesian politicians want to look morally decisive, they parade a handcuffed mucikari in front of the cameras. Flashbulbs pop. Headlines scream about “online prostitution syndicates.” The broker becomes the villain of the week — proof that vice has been confronted and virtue restored. Meanwhile, the clients quietly delete their chat histories and go back to work the next morning. Let’s be clear: exploitation exists. Coercion exists. Trafficking exists. And when a mucikari crosses that line — when debt becomes bondage,...