Tag:socil media

I laughed when I first read it. I really did. That sharp, involuntary laugh you make when the absurdity is almost elegant in its stupidity. Work stress makes you gay? Darling, if that were true, half of Asia’s middle management would be marching in Pride parades by now, waving rainbow lanyards and asking HR for trauma leave. The joke practically writes itself, and judging by Malaysian social media, the public got there very fast. But once the laughter fades, what’s left is not funny at all. I’m not surprised —...

I have met this auntie everywhere in Asia. In Jakarta, she wears batik and pretends not to understand why a young woman “needs” to live alone, while quietly wiring her rent money every month. In Seoul, she clicks her tongue at an unmarried niece, then slips her a business card for a lawyer, a gynecologist, or a therapist she knows “just in case.” In Bangkok, she laughs loudly about farang men and loose morals, then watches the door while a girl packs her bags to leave a bad marriage. In...

I have always been fascinated—not by the idols who “made it,” but by the thousands of girls who didn’t, and who were quietly taught that this was their fault. In Japan, the idol dream was sold to girls as something gentle and hopeful. No rebellion required. No broken rules. Just effort, smiles, and patience. Be cute, be grateful, be improving. Someone will notice. Someone will choose you. It was ambition without sharp edges, desire without teeth. And that, of course, is why it was allowed. What strikes me most, looking...

I’m going to say something mildly controversial, which is Auntie’s brand anyway: modern dating in India isn’t collapsing—it’s maturing. Quietly. Unevenly. Sometimes awkwardly. But very clearly. What fascinates me most is not the apps, the jargon, or the endless think-pieces about Gen Z “killing romance.” It’s the emotional recalibration happening under the surface. Indian women, in particular, seem tired of carrying the emotional backpack for everyone else. The listening. The forgiving. The waiting. The “let’s see where this goes” that mysteriously goes nowhere. I see far less desperation now, and...

I love a singing people. Truly. And every time I visit friends in the Philippines, I am reminded—within about fifteen minutes—why I never schedule early mornings after dinner. Someone will point to a corner, someone else will already be plugging in cables, and before you know it, the microphone has been passed to me with the gentle but firm insistence that defines Filipino hospitality. Videoke waits for no one. Filipinos have beautiful voices. This is not a stereotype, this is an empirical fact established over decades of auntie fieldwork. Warm...