The season was a golden time filled with the sticky sweet syrup of childhood idealism. These days were a peculiar transition, the times before I was thrust into womanhood and the brutal expectations that came along with it. The days of childhood were gone, and the welcoming world as I knew it began to change. Unfortunately, my naivety did not change along with it. 

Street food stalls are intimate parts of every bustling city and market in India. One can find everyone from sixteen-year-olds to sixty-year-olds all fervently waiting to get, say a pani puri (hollow puri filled with a mixture of flavored water, tamarind chutney, and chili) before the vendor closes up for the day. Vendors work with dazzling speed and great enthusiasm in dishing food that is intense on the taste-buds and easy on the pockets. 

I’ll be the first to admit that cancel culture has its appeal. There is a certain beauty in speaking up for what’s wrong and holding people accountable. The idea of canceling can seem to empower the voiceless and reinforce that each one of us has the ability to revoke the power we have given to anyone with a platform. But over time, I, and several others, have started to perceive flaws in the phenomenon. Aside from being rendered practically futile from its consistent overuse, and sometimes overblown reactions, a fundamental shortcoming presented itself: cancel culture does not allow for growth.

It was a typical quarantine afternoon, and I was doing what all teenagers do: scroll through TikTok. I came across one video that left me thinking for a while. The video consisted of a person changing their Instagram bio to “Free Palestine.” I was frustrated to see this. To my surprise, I saw the creator of the post write exactly what I didn’t expect: the creator said they support a two-state solution. Wait, what?!

This sense of unity was juxtaposed by a historic religious divide that had been quietly growing: the Hindu-Muslim divide. During the first stage of lockdown, an Islamic seminary was held in New Delhi, in which a large number of individuals gathered. It immediately triggered a wave of hatred in the form of physical assaults, exclusion, and offensive social media activity as Hindus, the dominating religion, blamed Muslims for the exponential growth of cases.

You are inconsiderate if you invalidate the sufferings of People of Color and women. You are inconsiderate if you choose to talk over them and compare their experiences to your own. You are inconsiderate if your first thought when you see people online talking about relevant issues is how to prove them wrong. You are inconsiderate if you use your privilege to remain neutral and stay silent. You are inconsiderate if you give excuses to those who blatantly abuse their power and authority. You are inconsiderate if you choose to blame the victim.

Now here’s what you can do differently:

It was March 8th, 2019.  It seemed like any other typical Thursday afternoon- as normal as they got in Venezuela; and although the country's political situation has been chaotic since the start of the Chavez regime, the tension had only increased exponentially since January. When the clock struck 5 in the afternoon, the whole nation plunged into darkness- disturbing the life of 31 million Venezuelans who had no idea about the hardships they were yet to face.

When I first moved to Hong Kong, move abroad from New York, I was ecstatic to see people who look like me. I was going to be surrounded by Asians! This was going to be so interesting! Despite visiting Korea each summer to visit my grandma, I had never had the chance to be surrounded by Asians. I couldn’t wait to see a country filled with dark hair and brown eyes.

Venezuela is a land of contrasts and disparities of all sorts, where even its citizens have a hard time truly understanding what is going on sometimes. In the midst of a week-long blackout that affected the whole country, you could find Venezuela's higher class playing tennis and relaxing by the pool in country clubs. The difference in realities that Venezuelans face gives way to misconceptions about the situation in the country.

Most people would tell you they have a home. Me? I have homes. Yep, that’s right, plural.

My story tends to confuse a lot of people. The truth is, when someone pegs the classic, “Where are you from?” question, the answer is longer than a couple of sentences. At this point, I’ve almost memorized a speil that plays like a loop in my head.

However, while the country has been working to become a place soon everyone may now about, Singapore has created a layer of “fantasy” when, truly, we should be focusing on reality. Underneath the joyous atmosphere, peaceful nights, and clean streets, there are harsh laws and harmful consequences that enforce the magic and appeal of Singapore–these all hinder our sense of freedom and speech. 

Dubai is often labeled as having no culture: only 15% of the population is native; the other 85% are expatriates who immigrated to Dubai. People from outside Dubai explain that a city’s that when a plethora of cultures come together, a city’s culture can be lost when they clash.

My friends and I were walking one day to a café when a little girl comes and asks for money. I gave her 3,000 pesos (1 USD) while my friend ignored her and walked away. After I caught up to her I asked, “Why didn’t you at least give something little?” She told me how millions of Venezuelans are crossing the border to take all the jobs. She told me the Venezuelans are criminals, stealing and committing crimes for money.

Although Israel was founded in order to give Jews a place of solace and is considered a Jewish country, not everyone is Jewish. In fact, only about 76% of the population is Jewish. This doesn’t mean fully Jewish, either. "76% Jewish” means that those included in that percentage has at least one Jewish grandparent. The rest of Israel is a mixture of Muslims, Christians, Druse, Bedouins and more. Jerusalem is a holy city for Jews as well as Christians and Muslims which attracts many non-Jews to live in Israel. 

I will confess: being Venezuelan is exhausting. It is difficult to say goodbye to friends and family members who are leaving Venezuela forever. Yes, there is corruption, instability, a terrible government, a lack of food and basic resources, and constant blackouts, but I am proud to be Venezuelan. But you should remember all the great things that make Venezuela incredible.

As soon as I say “I am Indian,” a series of stereotypical questions come my way. “Do you speak Indian?” or “How are you so fluent in English?” are asked quite frequently. However, my personal favorite, “Do you ride on elephants?” is easily the best. (By the way, no, we do not ride on elephants).

The land of the snow-capped Alps, Switzerland, is home to Gruyère cheese, delicious chocolate and some of the best watchmakers worldwide. The small country, situated in the heart of Europe, is often somewhat hidden by a mysterious aura: what goes on in the country whose beautiful landscape garnishes chocolate boxes and fills our Instagram feeds? Having lived in Geneva, one of Switzerland’s major cities, since the age of 3, I consider myself to have a strong Swiss identity. 

Mexico and Venezuela. Different in culture, yet so similar in politics. Up until 2018, I lived in Venezuela my whole life. My family decided to move to Mexico City from Caracas due to Nicolas Maduro’s dictatorial rule. That same year, Lopez Obrador was elected to be Mexico’s president. Mexico’s Obrador is now following the steps of Venezuela Maduro’s. The former is slowly letting Mexico fall into a similar crisis as the latter.

From the popular “brown parents” memes to TikTok trends, Indians have a significant involvement on social media platforms. It has empowered global users to broadcast ideas and to share content through forms of communication, creating unique online communities. I perceive it as the inevitable western influence on Indian culture. Having witnessed the development of social media for the majority of my life, the pungent traditional values alongside modernization in India have exposed me to a variety of aspects which allow me to become aware of the social media’s strong and ever-growing influence.

For the majority of my life, I saw my middle names as empty vessels that were probably meant to carry some deeper secret of my personal identity, but every time I saw them written out on my passport or some other official document, all I saw were words on paper. They were a part of me, but in the most superficial way possible.