Catch up on our past issues of our free monthly newsletter, notes from the equator.
Last April, I met a Ukrainian journalist at the International Journalism Festival in Perugia, Italy. I thought my near-20 hours of commute to Rome was long, but she had travelled 24 hours to be there despite hailing from the same continent. What struck me was her steadfastness. Despite how disrupted
Recent calls to boycott have got me thinking about how intricately connected we are to each other. Each day, I depend on my iPhone to get updates on what goes on in the world, and communicate with family and friends miles away. With digital media, I have easy access to
Did you know that military-related emissions aren’t subject to international climate goals? I didn’t, until recently. Countries have been rushing to meet their climate goals. Most of their efforts centre on energy transition, economic re-prioritisation, and sustainable development. But the quest for reduced emissions and clean energy has
The past few weeks have felt incredibly heavy. In Gaza, a genocide against Palestinians is happening in front of our eyes. Heinous war crimes are committed daily without impunity, emboldened by the support of colonial powers past and present. Across the world, many of us scroll through horrors that surpass
A few years back, I had the privilege of meeting other environmental journalists from across Asia at a climate journalism fellowship. Hailing from Indonesia, Kashmir, Bangladesh and the Philippines—places extremely vulnerable to the impacts of climate change—they had spent their career reporting tirelessly from the frontlines of our
August is a month during which Singapore’s patriotism goes into overdrive. Flags sprout across the island like mushrooms after rain. National Day songs are modernised and mild, milked to maximum saccharine effect. The message is one of exceptionalism–there was a time when people said that Singapore won'
Recently I was sitting in an alleyway in George Town, Penang, that smelled gloriously of roasted coffee beans and charcoal-toasted bread. My husband remarked how happy he was to see young people working there, and expressed hope that this streetside stall would stand the test of time (and that we
I’ve been thinking about what it means to return to the land. This was sparked after we published our recent story on land reclamation. To promote it, I posted about it on Instagram, which was when my cousin noted how apt it was that I had written the story
When the pandemic hit Singapore’s shores, there was an outbreak of cases within the dormitories where migrant workers lived. While there were lockdowns for the general public, there was a sense that the migrant worker community was separate from the locals. Their cases became outliers, not counted as part
I was always more of a people person. A friend now jokingly calls me an animal activist because of all the animal content I send her on Instagram (and the occasional rant on the welfare of stray cats). I am far from being an activist, but I can definitely say
I have a confession to make. I am obsessed with true crime. I listen to podcasts about murders and other violent crimes while on the bus, out for my Hot Girl Walks, and even when I’m brushing my teeth. (My Spotify Wrapped was way more macabre than I wish
I was having dinner with my family one day when the topic of ghosts came up. By then, it had been almost two years since I migrated to Dubai to be with my parents. My uncle and aunt were visiting from Singapore, and my dad and his brother found themselves