Tag:romance

Let Auntie stir this pot gently, but thoroughly. When we talk about porn trends involving Asian bodies, we cannot ignore the commodification of the “female body” and the “Asian body” at the same time — and yes, sometimes that comes with a side of racism served so casually people pretend it’s just a preference. The “cute,” “tiny,” “obedient,” eternally youthful Asian woman fantasy didn’t fall from the sky. It was manufactured, exported, and monetized. And porn, like every other industry, has been more than happy to cash in. That doesn’t...

Full support, my Indian sisters. Full, loud, unapologetic support—from this Auntie who has seen enough cycles of outrage, denial, repression, and “reforms” that go nowhere to know exactly what you are up against. I read the WEAVE India Report and nodded so hard my chili necklace nearly snapped. Not because it told me anything shocking—violence against women in India is not new, not hidden, not misunderstood—but because it finally tells the story from where it actually matters: from the ground, from the collectives, from the women who adapt because the...

Spicy Auntie here, adjusting her chili-pepper necklace and picking up the controller with one eyebrow already raised. Let’s talk about sexism in gaming in China, because apparently nobody else at the table wants to spill this particular tea. China has the biggest gaming market on Earth. Bigger than Hollywood, bigger than K-pop fandoms, bigger than your nephew’s esports dreams. And yet, somehow, many Chinese games still behave as if women are a decorative side quest. Concubines to collect. Waifus to upgrade. Cute assistants who giggle, obey, and exist mainly to...

Ah, chivalry. That old, shiny word that gets pulled out every time a dating argument in Singapore runs out of steam. Like a vintage handbag, everyone wants it on the table, but nobody agrees how much it’s worth or who should be carrying it. Let me be clear, darling: chivalry is not a receipt. It’s not a compulsory surcharge added to dinner, and it’s definitely not proof of moral superiority. If you think paying for laksa means you’ve single-handedly upheld civilisation, please sit down. But if you think insisting on...

My heart is bleeding. My mind is raging. And honestly, I am tired of pretending this is complicated. Children living with HIV in Indonesia are not statistics, not “cases,” not moral lessons. They are children. Full stop. They did not choose this virus, they did not “misbehave,” they did not sin, they did not fail at anything except being born into a society that still prefers fear over facts and silence over responsibility. And every time I read about them being hidden, excluded, whispered about, or quietly shuffled into shelters...