Etc. Magazine

Illustration by @najaame_

On the 3rd of February 2026, Majlis Kanser Nasional (MAKNA) was invited to Taylor’s University by AIESEC, a student-led non-profit organisation, to spread awareness on cancer, and the journey that comes along with coping and overcoming it. The event involved a storytelling circle consisting of two cancer survivors who work closely along with MAKNA, other MAKNA volunteers, and students from both Taylor’s College and University. The representatives from MAKNA shared their own journeys, sharing not only of the challenges they faced, but also the quiet lessons gathered along the path of diagnosis, whether from their own experience or through supporting loved ones in their fight against cancer.

According to Muhammad Firman, one of said representatives, the flower in MAKNA’s official logo is called Periwinkle, locally known as ‘Kemunting Cina’. Despite its beauty, the flower reflects the resilience and perseverance of the cancer fighters in their journey towards healing as the flower produces the two potent alkaloids used in chemotherapy. Hence, the organisation aims to reassure and empower those navigating the trials of cancer to reclaim their lives by advocating for the understanding of this disease to the public, offering a variety of assistance to lower-income groups, providing scholarships to young patients, and facilitating early cancer screening for the community. The survivors called upon to this event were Mrs. Theresa Liew and Puan Azni Ramlan, who shared their journeys, leaving a meaningful impact and inspiration towards the youth in attendance.

Cancer is Different for Everyone
In the beginning of the event, when the volunteers and the courageous survivors were being welcomed by the students, it was almost difficult to believe that they had faced such formidable battles due to the energy, warmth and radiance they carried around them. Witnessing their vibrant presences served as a reminder that resilience often shines in the most unexpected ways.

One of the most moving aspects of the storytelling circle was witnessing Mrs. Theresa and Puan. Azni as they opened their hearts to share their experiences. First and foremost, Mrs. Theresa acknowledged to the circle how various types of cancer affect people differently, and how individuals experience different struggles when facing the disease. For instance, she had been diagnosed with two different types of cancers, and during her trials with the disease, she did not feel any extreme pain in her specified area of cancer growth, but rather sustained harsh impacts from chemotherapy after every session. She recalled how the hours spent staring at the ceiling during her treatment was a silent routine that felt both lonely and endless. Yet, she moved on by reminding the circle that endurance was key to moving closer towards healing.

In a different view, Puan Azni expressed how her world was spinning the moment she was diagnosed. To her, it felt as though life had crumbled down into a point of no return, her emotions similar to other cancer patients alike. However, instead of her life irreversibly falling apart, Puan Azni expressed how she still found the same comforts in her daily life and routine, and explained how cancer does not mean one has to put their entire life on hold.

During the sharing session, a student in attendance bravely revealed that she was fighting cancer herself. In response to a question asked by Mrs. Theresa, the student explained how her diagnosis had come to be; initially, her body was filled with bruises, frequent headaches, and nightly fevers until she eventually received her cancer diagnosis. Her confession opened our eyes to a profound truth: somewhere among us, there is always someone who is fighting this life-changing battle. Mrs. Theresa emphasised to the circle that, “If you don’t get yourself checked, it is going to cost your life.”, denoting a crucial truth on the importance of early detection, and trusting your body’s instincts when it feels like something is not right.

The Role of Mental Health
After sharing their respective experiences, Mrs. Theresa brought up the significance of mental health and surrounding ourselves with positivity during the journey against cancer. The fight against cancer does not only happen between the cancer cells and our bodies, but also in the mental resilience it takes to combat the negative thoughts that come with the gruelling disease. She mentioned how her husband was a pillar of strength during her journey who not only stayed beside her, but managed to instil motivation in her to move forward.

To further emphasise her point on the importance of staying strong mentally while battling this disease, Mrs. Theresa also shared a touching story of how the husband of a patient had seeked MAKNA’s support regarding his wife’s colon cancer. Her story proves how cancer is not a battle one must fight alone, and emphasises on how loved ones can help patients immensely solely by being a strong and reliable support system to them throughout the way.

Following that, a student questioned, “Since everyone fears death, how does one cope with the scary realities of facing cancer?”. In response to that, Puan Azni answered that we should always be strong and maintain courage in adversity, reminding us that cancer does not signal the end of life, just a change in its course. Similarly, Mrs. Theresa replied that what helped her evade the depressing thoughts most was setting her mind on surviving. “I never think of dying. We all have our own goals in life, and during that time, mine was surviving,” she remarked.

Another exchange between the survivors and a student discussed how the stereotype of cancer automatically equating death is an old fashioned mindset that should not be carried forward into modern times. The student shared how medical technology has become far more advanced than it used to be, adding how diagnosis made by the doctor is no longer an end-all be-all. However, Mr. Firman, another MAKNA representative, also added that carrying an optimistic mindset when faced with cancer can be a challenge to lower income households who might face barriers in affording new and advanced treatment.

Survivor’s Advice
During the short break mediated by the AIESEC event coordinators, the large storytelling circle split into smaller circles, each group surrounding different survivors and MAKNA volunteers, facilitating more natural and easy-going conversations. Puan Azni personally advised the students to look after their health, especially in their daily diets: “Reduce your intake of processed food and leave behind the habit of eating food that has been exposed to your surroundings for a long time as it may allow for bacteria to multiply,”. While these factors might not directly cause cancer, she stated how prevention is always better than regret, and that taking care of one’s body in any avenue possible is always a good step to take in protecting one’s health. Furthermore, she also pointed out how regulating stress is a crucial step in cancer prevention, emphasising how, if left unchecked, high levels of cortisol from prolonged stress could effectively erode one's immune system.

Event Overview
All in all, AIESEC’s ‘Conversations that Heal’ event offered more than just stories; it illuminated the true and often overshadowed journeys of actual cancer survivors. Through the voices of Mrs. Theresa Liew and Puan Azni Ramlan along with the students in attendance, the event has successfully spread the notion of how cancer is not a marker of death, but rather a curable disease, instilling hope in cancer patients and loved ones of said patients alike. By listening to these stories, the attendees were reminded to care for their health, to appreciate the mundane moments in life, and to cherish their loved ones as if there is no tomorrow. Most importantly, the event shone light on the real-life experiences of resilient cancer survivors, bridging the gap between the fear of the unknown regarding the disease with enlightenment from those who have successfully beat it. As the event came to an end, the attendees’ perceptions of battling cancer were completely changed, the importance of understanding the disease and learning about all its facets brought to surface.

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Illustration by @muthiahhsh

For as long as sports competitions have existed, so have wild stories of scandals, whether it be accusations of doping or cheating, corruption by event organisers, or unfair and biased judges. These scandals are not unique to the Olympics, as these issues and more are rife across the entire sports scene, no matter the type of sport - as any fan would gladly attest. Admittedly, I tend to view the Olympics through rose coloured glasses, being someone who has tuned in all throughout my life. As it is one of the most watched sporting events on television, there is a level of prestige and glamour associated with the event.

It is easy to forget that everyone involved: the athletes, coaches, even the organisers of the event are only human at the end of the day, and can be just as flawed as any average person. The Olympics gives them a chance to etch their names into history, becoming a legend and inspiration to future generations. This allure of potential fame, fortune and glory on what is widely considered to be the sporting world’s biggest stage has led many to use underhanded methods to try and gain an advantage over their opponents.

Doping

Doping, the act of using performance enhancing substances in sporting activities, has long been a commonly used method of cheating in the Olympics. One of the first cases in the modern Olympics happened all the way back in 1968, where a penathlete named Hans-Gunnar Liljenwall was stripped of his bronze medal after alcohol was discovered in his blood during testing. As techniques to check for doping were refined over the decades, more serious cases involving the use of drugs were uncovered. It has been likened to a constant cat and mouse chase, with new technology or medicinal advancements leading to both more refined drugs and drug tests.

One of the biggest controversies in recent years was the mass banning of Russian athletes from participating in the 2016 Rio Olympics after a whistleblower alleged that many Russian competitors were abusing drugs to improve performance. This accusation from the ex-director of Russia’s anti-doping lab had severe repercussions as it resulted in an investigation that led to the barring of more than 100 athletes from participating in the games. Eventually, Russia was banned from using its team name, flag and national anthem in the Olympics. To this day, Russia has not been able to compete in the Olympics under its own flag due to this doping scandal and subsequent invasion of Ukraine in 2022.

Crime

Olympic competitions have been overshadowed by serious crimes in the past. For example, the story of Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan has been infamous since the 1990s. While leaving a practice session, Kerrigan was attacked by a man with a club, resulting in leg injuries. The assault was later revealed to be a planned attack by Jeff Gillooly, the former husband of her competitor, Tonya Harding. Although the attack on Kerrigan did not happen during the Olympics, this attack clouded the women’s figure skating event that occurred a month later, with media coverage of the incident dominating conversations about the event. As both skaters were representing the US, the controversy attracted a huge media frenzy. Kerrigan’s injuries had recovered and both women competed in the 1994 Olympics. Kerrigan won the silver medal and Harding only managed to finish in eighth place.

Later on, Harding was charged with conspiracy to hinder the prosecution’s case, and banned for life from US Figure Skating Association (USFSA) events. To this day, speculation still exists as to how much Harding knew about the attack before it happened, as she has always maintained the stance that she was not involved in planning the assault. However, she has stated in interviews that she had a hunch her former husband was planning something from overheard conversations. With the benefit of hindsight, many fans of figure skating now mourn the potential she could have had to be one of the greatest female figure skaters in the Olympics. After all, Tonya Harding was the first American woman to land a triple axel in an international figure skating competition.

Cheating

One of the most egregious cases of cheating in the Olympics happened during the 2000 Sydney Paralympics. The Spanish team for the men’s intellectual disability basketball event performed exceptionally well, bagging the gold medal for their country. Unfortunately, what was supposed to be a proud achievement for Spain turned into a disaster as it was revealed by one of the team’s members, an undercover journalist named Carlos Ribagorda, that only 2 of the 12 members were actually disabled - the rest had been faking their disability the whole time. The requirement for the event was an IQ score of less than 75; however, it was unclear how the team managed to falsify their tests, with some reports stating that the men never went through an IQ test, or that some purposely scored low on their tests.

The photos that were released after their win began to spread online, and people began to recognise the men in the photos as people without disabilities. This, in combination with the publication of Ribagorda’s article, led to the entire team’s disqualification. It has been speculated that the President of the Spanish Federation of Sportspeople with Intellectual Disabilities, Fernando Martinez Vicente, intentionally came up with this team to secure long term government grants by winning guaranteed gold medals. The most heartbreaking part of this scandal was the suspension of all intellectual disability events at the Paralympics due to challenges in ensuring the participating athletes were genuinely disabled. This led to countless lost opportunities for many paralympians as the category was only brought back 9 years later. Even so, the category for intellectual disability basketball has still not returned as a permanent Paralympic event since the incident.

The Olympic world is obviously no stranger to scandals and controversy. While the games remain popular, these issues must be addressed as they threaten to erode audience trust and ruin the integrity of the sporting events for hardworking athletes who practice for years on end without using shortcuts, all for a chance on the podium. It is clear that stricter regulations and systemic change must be put into place for the Olympic dream to still be worth something at the end of the day.

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Illustration By @kyliee.y

It usually starts at 1:16AM.
One person replies to a note, “Get some sleep.”
The other replies within seconds.

From there, it unfolds. Playlists shared. Childhood stories confessed. Traumas softened through voice notes. Screenshots of conversations that feel significant. The intimacy feels earned, because it is late, because it is vulnerable, because it feels chosen.

By 3AM, you know their family tree, their attachment style, their ex’s red flags, and the exact way they type when they’re half-asleep. And yet, the next morning, you pass each other on campus and barely wave.

This is digital intimacy. And for many university students, it has become the default language of connection.

On Valentine’s Day, we celebrate love loudly through flowers, posts, captions, soft launches. But beneath the visible rituals is something quieter and more complicated. A generation learning how to feel close through screens, and often unsure what that closeness actually means.

The Architecture of Modern Closeness
Digital intimacy is not fake intimacy. It is real. It feels real because it engages real emotions. You wait for their notification. You reread their messages. You analyse punctuation. You feel relief when they respond, and discomfort when they don’t.

But digital intimacy is structured differently from physical intimacy.
It is asynchronous.
It is curated.
It is editable.

You can delete before sending.
You can draft the perfect vulnerable paragraph.
You can rehearse honesty.

There is power in that. For many of us, especially those who struggle with face-to-face vulnerability, texting provides safety. It lowers the stakes. It allows articulation. Some people express themselves more clearly in writing than in speech. The entirety of some relationships, whether long-distance, queer, cross-cultural, solely survive due to digital spaces.

And yet, something shifts when vulnerability becomes mediated. When closeness is built primarily through screens, we experience a strange phenomenon. An emotional acceleration without structural commitment.

You can confess your fears before you’ve even seen how someone reacts to disappointment.
You can talk about forever before you’ve navigated conflict.
You can know everything about someone, except how they exist right beside you.

The Illusion of Access

Social media has given us unprecedented access to other people’s inner and outer worlds.

We know who they follow.
We know what music they’re listening to.
We know when they’re active.
We know where they went last week.
We know how they take their coffee.

We have information, constantly. But access is not the same as understanding. Seeing someone’s curated feed is not the same as witnessing how they handle stress. Reading someone’s late-night confessions is not the same as seeing how they behave when they’re frustrated, jealous, or bored.

Digital intimacy can create the illusion of depth because it accelerates disclosure. You skip the awkward small talk. You jump straight into “what’s your biggest fear?” and “why did your last relationship end?” It feels intense. It feels meaningful. But intensity is not the same as stability.

The Anxiety of Visibility
Modern intimacy is not just private. It is observable.

Read receipts.
Typing indicators.
Last seen timestamps.
Story views.
Soft launches.

You can measure interest in real time.
If they were online but didn’t reply, what does that mean?
If they viewed your story but didn’t text, is that intentional?
If they post but don’t respond, where do you stand?

Love has always involved uncertainty. But now uncertainty is accompanied by data. We are constantly interpreting micro-signals. A delayed response can spiral into overthinking. A missing heart emoji can feel like emotional withdrawal.

Digital platforms turn intimacy into something trackable. And when something becomes measurable, it becomes comparable. We begin to equate frequency with affection. Consistency with loyalty. Speed with care. And when those metrics fluctuate, so does our sense of security.

The Expectation of Constant Availability
Before dating apps, before labels, before anything becomes official, there is something much quieter shaping modern intimacy which is the expectation that we are always reachable.

You can text someone at 2PM. At 11PM. At 3AM. And unless they are visibly offline, the possibility of a response exists. This constant accessibility changes how we relate to one another. It collapses the natural pauses that once existed between interactions. There are no built-in waiting periods anymore. No landlines that tether conversations to physical spaces. No fixed hours where connection begins and ends.

Now, intimacy flows continuously, so does expectation.
If someone does not reply, the silence feels intentional.
If someone replies late, the delay feels meaningful.
If someone replies instantly to others but not to you, it feels personal.

We are no longer just communicating, we are interpreting patterns. The pressure to respond, to maintain tone, consistency, attentiveness becomes a form of emotional labour. You must decide. Do I reply now? Do I wait? Am I replying too fast? Too slow? Too dry?

Even friendships feel this shift. Group chats must be sustained. Streaks must be maintained. Conversations cannot simply fade without being noticed. In this environment, intimacy becomes less about depth and more about maintenance. We confuse frequency with closeness. We mistake constant contact for emotional security.

But constant availability does not guarantee emotional presence. Someone can reply within seconds and still remain distant. Someone can talk to you every day and still avoid clarity.

Digital intimacy teaches us to equate responsiveness with care. Yet real connection often requires something much harder: intentional absence, boundaries, space to miss one another.

Without space, there is no anticipation.
Without anticipation, there is no tension.
Without tension, intimacy can feel flat, even when it is constant.

The Soft Power of “Low Effort”
There is also a subtle shift in how effort is measured.

A reply is effort.
A meme sent at midnight is effort.
A “drive safe” text is effort.

And in many ways, it is. Digital intimacy allows for these low-friction closeness to feel significant but requires minimal disruption to one’s life. You can sustain emotional ties without rearranging your schedule, without showing up physically, without confronting discomfort face-to-face. It is a connection that fits neatly into your existing routine. This is not laziness. It is efficiency. But when intimacy becomes too efficient, it risks becoming shallow.

University life is already busy. Classes, assignments, clubs, part-time jobs, internships. Digital intimacy feels convenient because it allows us to feel connected without demanding too much time. However, the danger is subtle yet present. We begin to prefer the version of closeness that is easiest to maintain. And ease is not always depth.

The Good We Should Not Ignore
It would be simplistic to condemn digital intimacy entirely. For many students, online spaces are where they first feel seen. Where they explore identity safely. Where they find communities they could not access offline.

Long-distance relationships rely on video calls and shared screens. Mental health support networks exist in group chats. Friendships survive semester breaks because of constant digital presence.

Digital intimacy is not the enemy. It is simply incomplete. It amplifies what is already there. If trust exists, it deepens it. If insecurity exists, it magnifies it. If ambiguity exists, it stretches it.

Valentine’s Day in the Age of Screens
On Valentine’s Day, intimacy may become performative by design.
Couples post. Friends joke. Singles scroll.

But beneath the curated photos are private negotiations happening through messages.
Are we exclusive?
Are we posting each other?
Are we serious or just talking?

In previous generations, intimacy unfolded more slowly, often within physical proximity. Today, intimacy can develop before a first date even happens. You can fall for someone’s words before you understand their presence. And perhaps that is the central tension of digital intimacy, it privileges expression over embodiment.

We know how someone types when they’re tired.
But do we know how they sit in silence?
How they react when plans change?
How they apologise?

Screens can initiate closeness. They cannot complete it.

Are We Building Connection or Rehearsing It?
Maybe digital intimacy is not inherently flawed. Maybe it is a rehearsal space. A place where we practice vulnerability before risking it offline.

But rehearsals are not performances. At some point, connection requires friction. Discomfort. Misunderstandings that cannot be edited before sending. True intimacy demands exposure that cannot be deleted. University is often described as a time of experimentation academically, socially, romantically. It makes sense that our relationships reflect that experimentation. We are figuring out who we are, and digital spaces give us room to try.

The danger lies not in loving through screens. It lies in stopping there.
If digital intimacy is the spark, what completes the flame?
If we can articulate everything in text, why are we sometimes so unsure in person?
If we feel close, why do we still feel uncertain?

On this Valentine’s Day, perhaps the question is not whether digital intimacy is real, but the question of whether we are willing to move beyond its comfort.
To let the typing bubble become a conversation.
To let the streak become a meeting.
To let the curated version soften into something less controlled.

Because physical closeness that survives beyond the screen is not just intense. It is awkward, imperfect, embodied, and durable. In an age of infinite swipes and disappearing messages, it might be the most radical form of intimacy we have left.

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Illustration by Kai Xuan (@charlottekaix)

There is something about the end of the year that loosens time and a silence that feels like the world is loosening its grip. It's that suspended feeling that you are not quite in the old year, not yet in the new one. All year long, we spend it rushing, running on adrenaline, and then we finally slow down. Routines soften, expectations are blurred, and the days finally feel less rigid. As the new year looms before us and we are pressured to once again start the chaos all over, there’s also a pull in the opposite direction to pause and reflect inward.

It's often during this liminal period of time that we find ourselves gravitating towards familiar stories. Not out of boredom, but out of comfort, which is no coincidence that Netflix released the second volume of Stranger Things’s new season on Christmas when we are more receptive to seeking comfort and warmth, and a craving to escape into a familiar world. We remember how it made us feel. The friendships, quiet magic of small-town intimacy, the shared sense of danger with the thrill of adventure and most importantly, about holding onto hope. Hoping for the best, even when the world feels uncertain and shaky. It offers us a shared imagination that we don’t have to build from scratch, a place where belonging isn’t earned but given freely. It's a world we can step into and immediately feel held. Like a seasonal hug for the soul, a sweet and gentle reminder that even in the unknown, friendship, and chosen family can carry us through anything and everything.

Before we are able to move forward into the unknown, we often need grounding proof that we are already anchored. Stranger Things, being a familiar story to us, offers that grounding and holds us when real life feels uncertain. This show isn't just about entertaining us. It reassures, it anchors, it lets us breathe, laugh, and feel seen all at once. And maybe that’s why we keep pressing play. We revisit not with plans of escaping but rather to feel grounded enough to face it honestly. And yet, the new year always seems to whisper: you should be someone different, someone better — a pressure we’ll talk about in the next section.

The unfamiliarity and uncertainty that is repeatedly evident as the year comes to a close breeds the need for an overarching plan and, in other words, ‘rebrand’, to regain some semblance of control. Since we are unable to control what the future has in store for us, the next logical solution is to orchestrate exactly what happens to even the most minute details. This takes the form of setting idyllic new year resolutions that may involve completely changing our diets, achieving 10,000 steps a day and other overzealous expectations. The coming of a new year, another orbit around the Sun, sparks this need of complete reinvention and evaluation for ourselves, without pondering the feasibility of such a change. Due to their unrealistic nature, these resolutions typically don’t make it past the second week of the new year, often leaving us feeling drained, hopeless, and quite frankly, disappointed in ourselves.
This disappointment then poses the question: Should we never aspire for change in our lives if it only breeds failure? Well, that’s not right either. The act of wanting and longing for a change in one’s habits, lifestyle and routine with the coming of a new year is completely natural and still beneficial as it brings about a spark of motivation within us. It brings upon the realization that we are able to pull away from the same, monotonous habits we’ve been complying with throughout the previous year. The problem here does not reside with wanting to achieve new goals in the coming year, but to actually set goals that coincide with our daily lives and routines.

For instance, it is impossible to go cold turkey on addictive habits such as snacking on sugary food. Cutting down screen time extensively and aiming to work out every day of a week when our only prior means of exercise has been walking the dog takes time to completely master. Instead of setting out these highly aspirational goals, the trick of success comes with creating goals that are easily achievable and realistic given our time, routines and responsibilities. Achieving smaller goals and milestones may not look inspiring on paper, but they produce stronger and more sustainable results.

An example of this can be lowering the goal of walking 10,000 steps a day to a meagre number of 5,000. Even though a 5,000 step count is less ambitious than that of a higher number, it is feasible, and can easily be implemented into one’s daily routine in the form of going on short walks after meals or taking the stairs instead of the lift. When we are more likely to achieve our goals because of how manageable they become, it not only satisfies us, but also inspires us to carry on with the act until it becomes built-in as a new habit. Not only that, but constantly being able to achieve the same goal will motivate us to take it a step further, now raising the step count to higher numbers to reach new milestones. Eventually, that 10,000 step goal will be successfully reached within a few months of working on the habit, and we will not have had to face the disappointment we might have felt when initially failing to achieve such an ambitious goal.

Yet, January arrives every year with a quiet confidence that feels almost suspicious. It doesn’t shout, but it expects. It sits across from us, hands folded, and asks what we plan to do with ourselves now. January has a way of making everything feel significant, as if the smallest misstep might ripple through the rest of the year. Suddenly, every habit feels symbolic. Every decision feels like a forecast. There is a subtle sadness to this. January carries the weight of expectation before we have even caught our breath. The decorations are down, the comfort has faded, and the days stretch ahead — long, pale, and undecided. We tell ourselves this is where we must begin again, even though many of us are still standing in the emotional aftermath of the year before.

Perhaps that’s why January feels less like a fresh start and more like an interrogation. It asks us who we are becoming, while we are still figuring out who we were. It urges us forward while we are still looking back. And in that tension, we falter. Not because we lack discipline or ambition, but because becoming takes time. Maybe the gentlest way to move through January is not to treat it as a turning point, but as a threshold. A place to pause, not perform. To listen, not overhaul. Growth does not need to be loud or immediate to be real. Sometimes it begins as quiet endurance — showing up, adjusting slowly, choosing what is manageable over what is impressive.

The year does not hinge on how we start it. It unfolds in the accumulation of ordinary days. And if January insists on watching closely, perhaps all it needs to see is that we are still here, still trying, and still allowing ourselves the grace to grow at our own pace.

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Illustration By Shuen (@yeeeshuen)

If you’ve visited a mall or scrolled through your social media feeds recently, you’ll have likely noticed that advent calendars are popping up everywhere. These days, it feels like everyone participates in this trend whenever the holiday season rolls around at the end of the year. It makes sense: the build up of anticipation and excitement of opening up a new surprise every single day, slowly leading up to the big event of Christmas, sounds like an incredibly fun and engaging concept. It essentially rewards someone for checking in every single day to see what the new day reveals. With the rise of social media and brand websites, even digital advent calendars have risen in popularity. But where did it all start?

While advent calendars were traditionally rumored to originate from a housewife who got tired of answering her children’s questions of when Christmas would arrive, this origin story has been debatable. Others have argued that the advent calendar originated from the practice of Protestant Christians in 19th century Germany marking the days leading down to Christmas through methods such as lighting a candle. This tradition would eventually manifest in commercially created calendars to count the days. The most popular form of advent calendar we recognize in the modern day was created by Gerhard Lang. He added doors that could be opened to his advent calendars sometime in the 1920s. He was inspired by his mother, who would handmake a calendar with 24 candies or cookies for him during the Christmas season in his childhood.

Over time, advent calendars became a highly popular present as they were so versatile, cementing this tradition as an integral part of celebrating the holiday in many countries. While they typically included a piece of chocolate for each day leading to Christmas, modern iterations can include anything from gourmet food to beauty products! Their extremely adaptable concept means there is an advent calendar for anyone out there: art lovers, Lego fans and even stationery enthusiasts can find something that suits their tastes.

These days, unique or popular advent calendars often go viral on social media as the end of the year rolls around, especially as content creators and influencers feature them in their videos. However, the popularity of advent calendars on these platforms has proven to be a double edged sword, as the idea has become highly commercialized over time. Various companies and brands have hopped onto the bandwagon to sell more products during the holiday shopping season through capitalizing on the combined power of social media virality and the advent calendar tradition. Virtually every major brand releases an advent calendar yearly, no matter the quality or worth of the products within. This promotes overspending and chasing trends without care for something deeper and more meaningful, even ignoring practicality as not everything in the calendar would be useful. Even worse, it has been found time and time again that many high end brands are selling their customers short by including items far below the retail value of their advent calendars, essentially using the guise of the unknown surprise to upsell their products. More so, the increasingly elaborate packaging designed solely to market these fancy calendars contributes to loads of plastic pollution as their mass produced contents are more often than not thrown out once the holiday season is over. With all these issues combined, the advent calendar seems to have lost the spirit of its original purpose.

That being said, advent calendars can still be something important to mark the start of the Christmas atmosphere when December rolls around. After all, the holiday season is all about connecting with loved ones and having genuine moments together. Making a homemade advent calendar for a family member or friend could be a way of reclaiming this tradition. Instead of buying a typical advent calendar, making a unique one and adding creative DIY crafts, sweet messages or home baked goods for your loved ones could add a lovely homemade touch, creating a memorable and much appreciated gift. Buying a handmade advent calendar from a small business or artist can also help us to connect to its historical roots of personalized charm.

This holiday season, it’s important to take a step back and figure out how we can celebrate more meaningfully instead of getting caught up in the hustle and bustle of gifting culture. The humble advent calendar can become a way for us to connect meaningfully no matter who we are and how we celebrate. Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

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Illustration by @charlottekaix

Throughout history, blind or visually impaired individuals have had to use alternative ways to read, write, and understand the world around them. They would use their fingers to touch raised letters that made up full words on paper, but this was a very slow and inefficient process that inhibited their reading speed and potential. Writing was even more challenging; one method involved using stamps that contained pins in the shape of a letter, which would be pressed into a sheet of paper one by one to form a word. Clearly, this process was very draining and time-consuming, severely impeding one’s ability to communicate.

You have probably heard of Braille, the landmark invention that enabled widespread communication among blind populations. But before there was Braille, there was its predecessor, Night Writing, created by Charles Barbier. He devised a system of 12 dots clustered into a group called cells, with different combinations of dots in a cell representing a letter. Interestingly, a common myth has persisted around his invention. Many believed he created this system for soldiers to communicate at night, when in reality he simply wanted to devise a new way for the blind to read and write.

Night Writing was used in the Royal Institution for Blind Youth, the school that Louis Braille attended as a student. When he was just three years old, Braille’s eyes were severely injured in an accident, causing an infection that led to lifelong blindness. He was intrigued by the possibilities of Night Writing, but found that it was too inconvenient in practice. Human fingertips could not feel all twelve dots at once, making reading long pages of text inefficient. Inspired by the framework of the system, however, he spent his teenage years refining it carefully. The end result was a much simpler system of 6 dots arranged in a domino pattern, which could easily be understood with a single touch. Reading could be done much more easily since the finger would move from one cell of dots to another quickly. Amazingly, Braille had figured his system out by the age of 15, and while further refinements were made in the following years, the basic framework that is used by millions today remains unchanged.

Braille’s system was initially only accepted by his fellow students, who understood its value and practicality. He later developed additional signs for mathematical symbols and musical notations. It took many decades for Braille to become a widespread tool; Braille died in 1852, two years before his system was declared the official system of communication for blind individuals by the French authorities. In 1932, a standard Braille code for English-speaking countries was set by various agencies for the blind. While he never lived to see just how widespread his invention would become, his legacy lives on as Braille is now used all across the world, having been adapted to almost all languages.

For visually impaired and blind individuals, Braille is more than a communication tool — it has enabled them to learn in school, enjoy reading just as sighted people do, and be able to grow their careers. In addition, Braille was instrumental in standardizing music notations, something incredibly valuable to the blind as music has a heightened importance as a form of self-expression. As technology continues to evolve, Braille has adapted alongside it — digital Braille readers are now frequently used for both work and leisure purposes. While other options for reading have arisen, such as screen readers, audiobooks, or specialized devices that convert text into speech, Braille remains a universal communication method that has stood the test of time for the blind community.

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Illustration by Yee Shuen

Walking into the classroom, beyond the streamer laden doorframe lied a group of giggling girls in a circle, light lofi music filled the air, there was drawings of flowers on the whiteboards and a small table with a vase of pipe cleaner lilies and tulips and a small stuffed bunny. You could feel the girly, light and elegant ambiance the second you stepped in, staying true to their red and white garden party theme. Girls from different ages, courses, circles gathered for a night of meeting others who they have more in common with than they think. The night opened with a poem by the event’s director and opening remarks by the club president, Puteri Naqeesya, basically welcoming the guest and conveying the purpose of the event, which is to build community and spaces that are safe for women.

Photo by Vharshaa

Then came the activities, the first activity for the night was human bingo. Readily made sheets of paper with boxes filled with relatable items like “can sing and dance” or “has slept through a lecture”. Girls scurrying over to others trying to fill as many boxes as possible, unwarrantly finding commonality as they do so. At one point, girls stopped trying to get bingo and instead started trying to fill up every box, trying to talk to as many people as possible. Then for the next game, every girl chose a flower petal at random, petals of pipe cleaner lilies and tulips that were seen on the way in. After choosing, each girl was instructed to find others that had the same type of petal that they did and form small groups. Then it was revealed that each petal belonged to one flower and flower stems were given to each group who then needed to work together to make the flower whole again. It was a lesson in teamwork and being able to rely on your fellow woman. A reminder that maybe we need each other more than ever. After these activities, there was a time break. An assortment of cream puffs, biscuits and doughnuts sat on the table while every girl tucked into the sweet treats. While pouring ice cold tea, girls sat in circles, talking and getting to know each other. There were cream puffs and conversation full of honesty, laughter and bonds being formed.

The next activity was more personal and intimate. Each girl chose a piece of paper, each had a different question. From, what superpower you would want to what motivates you in your life or to describe an act of kindness that impacted you greatly or what you tell your teenage self or even how you recharge after a long day. Girls took turns sharing, being honest and true with their words. Some girls were shy but still spoke, knowing they were in a safe space. Others were sweet and truthful but every answer was accompanied by a round of applause and affirmations from the other girls, a true show of support.

For the last activity to end the night, the girls were divided into groups once again and given a question prompt on current issues regarding the uptick in violence against women. The events director described the recent stabbing case in a local high school where a boy stabbed a girl to death because she had rejected him. The misogyny that every Malaysian girl was now facing in excess had to be combated and this STF’s way of doing so. After internal discussion, one representative from each group presented an answer, given the room to speak freely and express their thoughts, ideas and sometimes frustration at the current world, but still hopeful for the future. The questions bred an in depth discussion on ideas like who really has the most influence when educating young people on these topics or whether or not our education system has proven enough to stop gender based violence, on why individual girls are scared to speak up sometimes. Some girls shared personal experiences with misogyny and others shared their own upset, passionately explaining the things that should be done to better protect every girl. The activity successfully cultivated meaningful discussion and acknowledgment of what has been happening with our community.

Photo by Vharshaa

Later, when asked what the inspiration behind the event was, the events director, Sofiya, explained it was the recent rise in gender based violence in Malaysia, such as the, and since people are actively talking about it it seemed like a good time to have an event catered to creating a safe space for women on campus. The activities sought to find the balance between speaking out and being in your comfort zone, allowing girls the room to speak out without feeling too uncomfortable to do so, linking it back to the theme of the night. She expressed her favourite game was the petal hunt, for which she had handmade all the pipecleaner flowers, a labour of love indeed. The president expressed how she wanted a community that feels like a sanctuary for women, and fostered that community on campus while allowing those same women to feel empowered and know they are not alone. Despite some downfalls during the event, both the president and event’s director are quite pleased that they have managed to cultivate openness and emotionality during the event, and the solidarity and support born from it.

At a time where the world is a scary place for girls, She's The First gave girls a space to use their voices and feel at home. Maya Angelou once said each time a woman stands up for herself, without knowing it possibly, without claiming it, she stands up for all women. When we think of women standing up for themselves or using their voices we always think it's in a protest, in an act of defiance, in rightful rage. But more often than not standing up for yourself as a woman is simpler. It's finding community, having compassion and comforting the women around you.

Every time a woman is being more than what everyone else expects her to be, she is making a difference. The fact that there is a community like She’s The First created and formed just for the sake of women having community and women holding each other, whether it's holding them up for the other’s success or holding them in comfort while the other cries. It's enough. It will always be enough.

Photo by Vharshaa

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