Who am I
My family, my roots, singing and dancing,
my feet in the ocean waves,
every heartfelt message.
It is simple. I just want to feel at home again.
Eyewear BRANYO by FORGET ME NOT
Photography MEGAN GABRIELLE ONG, LI JIA JIA
Art direction MEGAN GABRIELLE ONG, CAMYLIA AHMAD
Styling CAMYLIA AHMAD, CHLOE KUEK
Graphic design DING RUO XUAN, JIAO HONG YING
Words CHLOE KUEK
Who am I
My family, my roots, singing and dancing,
my feet in the ocean waves,
every heartfelt message.
It is simple. I just want to feel at home again.
“I never felt more beautiful in this heirloom dress that is worn only for our traditional joyous dance — The Branyo dance.”
“Every special occasion, Mama would put on this delicate embroidered frock on me. The colourful floral cross-stitched embroidery scattered prettily throughout my red sleeveless dress. A pristine white blouse, corseted black belt, and a patterned head scarf completed the look.
The dance is a delicate ballet of love and courtship, accompanied with the upbeat and joyous rhythm of the Jinkli Nona. Men and women would sway gracefully towards one another, then retreat like whispers on the breeze, never quite touching.
The dance just felt natural to me.
Every time the song plays, it makes me remember Mama’s warm embrace and the peaceful feeling of home. I wish this feeling lasts forever.”
AS I BEGAN TO DANCE,
I STUMBLED MIDWAY
“Sometimes I feel like I am desperately clutching and holding on to memories. Uncertainty, loss, a distant silhouette.
The rhythmic beat of the music faltered in my ears, replaced by the deafening sound of my own heartbeat. It wasn’t just a misstep; it felt like a fracture in my connection to my heritage, a crack in the vibrant tapestry of my culture.
Losing my culture is like watching a vibrant tapestry unravel, threads of my heritage slipping through my fingers.Undeniably, I feel hurt. It was like losing a piece of myself.”
The rhythmic beat of the music faltered in my ears, replaced by the deafening sound of my own heartbeat. It wasn’t just a misstep; it felt like a fracture in my connection to my heritage, a crack in the vibrant tapestry of my culture.
Losing my culture is like watching a vibrant tapestry unravel, threads of my heritage slipping through my fingers.
Undeniably, I feel hurt. It was like losing a piece of myself.
