I'm back, baby.
It took 19 months, a second wave, and the urge to get my fingers typing again. Blogging has always been cathartic, a great way to spill my anxieties into the internet void. Thinking maybe I could write any troubles away, and hoping that it would all be okay in the end.
It's been a process.
I have been blogging on-and-off for six years now. I started when I was sixteen and I just turned twenty-four barely two months ago.
The past six years can only be described as tumultuous as expected. The movies and books I watched as a kid never quite prepared me for what young adulthood would actually be like. I laughed a lot, cried a lot and I grew up. Hopefully for the better. And this little corner of the internet has been with me, through thick and thin.
It's been the corner I have been able to share makeup tips, and fashion inspiration, and complain. Mostly complain if I'm being honest.
Every few months or so, I would read back old blog posts from different eras of my life. My eyes passing through the screen, wondering why I barely recognized myself. I don't look like that anymore. My hair is much longer and dyed brown, I have put on healthy weight and my smiles are real this time. The colours seem more saturated.
I find that good.
It's like an archive of my mental state at that specific moment. I am reminded of nights I would write than study or walks back to my student dorm while I listen to the same Taylor Swift song on repeat. It is the long car rides in silence with people I don't see anymore. It is crying on the bus after a day in London. It is youth captured forever on the internet.
Funny how life passes so fast.
At twenty-four, I know I still got a lot of life to live.
I am not where I thought I would be when I first started Hey Bash. I am much older but still itching to make the silly decisions that sixteen-year-old me would have wanted. Experiencing as much as I can, then a little bit more.
I hope you'll join me.
With love, Bash
instagram: @bashharry | tiktok: @bashharry | twitter: @heybash
It's hard to talk about race.
It feels distant yet so close. Twitter and Instagram flood my feed with black posts on #BlackLivesMatter, which has opened a bigger discussion on race. Everyone has their opinions on what we should care about. Some right, some more right.
Somewhere in the middle of this divide, I'm typing as I tend to do. Away from violence, almost clear of the vitriol, in the comfort of my home. I can donate and sign petitions, but I can also turn off my phone and watch reruns on TV. Trying to bury the uncomfortable truth in my stomach. That I'm terrified and angry - at myself mostly.
Wondering why the world has suddenly gone dark, and if what I'm doing, what I am, is going to be enough.
My cat, Tigger passed away on Sunday. We buried him on Monday.
With everything burning online, and my emotions were running wild, I decided to be selfish for a while. I switched off my phone and watched reruns on TV. But I couldn't sleep any better though. I cried, thoughts rummaging in my head. So I decided to write this, in hopes of making sense of my feelings through all of this.
Particularly how I accumulated such anger, hubris, and loss.
I have lived in two different worlds. In one that doesn't feel I'm Malay enough for them, and another that feels I'm not western enough. Until now, I'm still trying to find a place that lets me be myself. Though I'm not sure what that is yet.
With everything burning online, and my emotions were running wild, I decided to be selfish for a while. I switched off my phone and watched reruns on TV. But I couldn't sleep any better though. I cried, thoughts rummaging in my head. So I decided to write this, in hopes of making sense of my feelings through all of this.
Particularly how I accumulated such anger, hubris, and loss.
I have lived in two different worlds. In one that doesn't feel I'm Malay enough for them, and another that feels I'm not western enough. Until now, I'm still trying to find a place that lets me be myself. Though I'm not sure what that is yet.
When I was in Exeter, I learned how to navigate spaces to accommodate others - even if that meant keeping quiet. Because when I am loud, I become a liberal Muslim feminist who reeks of social justice. Somehow indoctrinated by the left-wing agenda and the Quran. To many, I'm not a real person. That's fine. I've thought that before.
When your being gets called into question so many times, it crumbles and builds up. Over and over again until you forget what your being is at all. But I am, and will always, be a Malay Muslim who should put her foot in her mouth.
Seriously.
I think back to University, and how socially aware I thought I became.
Through the many academic books read for my degree. My essays written on the subtle racial divide in England. The slow realization that no matter what, I will always feel othered. My education and experiences weaved together into three years of depressive outlook on society, but an optimist for the new generation. Yet, bringing this knowledge home is almost impossible. Our two worlds are so different.
It'd be easier to remain ignorant. I can forget the rallies, the events, the pain because I'm safe now. I don't need to speak up anymore, I don't need to care anymore. It is no longer my life. It would have been easier to say nothing at all, but that's not me. I wish it was.
America is entering another week of protests due to the brutal killing of George Floyd.
His last words were; 'I Can't Breathe.'
They echo and reverberate too loudly.
I think about the suffering the black community has always faced. The frustration and disdain that has burst into what it is now. People are angry, they are exhausted. I am too but there is a pang of guilt gnawing in me. Knowing that I am safe when they are not.
I hate myself because all I can do is empathize and be an ally, to donate what money I have and sign petitions online. Though I doubt that will change the systematic racism embedded in the nation, it is the only thing I can do right. That, and evaluate my own behavior.
As I write this at midnight, the self-hatred in my throat is bubbling. It has been for weeks. I cannot help but think that all of this is performative.
I hope I'm not the only one who feels this way.
That perhaps this performance is all show and nothing I have done matters. What I do feels important but I question why it matters so much to me. If it is all for the good or the perception of good. There are days I can comment and retweet with my own ideas. Often haphazardly as I've come to understand.
My words are angry, they are mine. I can post things without thinking too - without intending to hurt but they do. I regret that the most. I can share, and post and call out whatever I feel like. I can get emotional, hollowed-out, and broken down in this fight. But the fact remains; this is not my fight.
My words are angry, they are mine. I can post things without thinking too - without intending to hurt but they do. I regret that the most. I can share, and post and call out whatever I feel like. I can get emotional, hollowed-out, and broken down in this fight. But the fact remains; this is not my fight.
It never was.
I am not black, I am not in America, I will never know the struggles of being black in America. What we are seeing online is only a snippet of the injustice. I am far away from it - that is an uncomfortable privilege. One I am learning to accept.
Even if this world has become much darker, there is still light for me. The worst I've encountered do not weigh in comparison to the many underprivileged communities that deal with discrimination every day. My own experiences of racism don't matter because where I am now, it doesn't matter.
As a Bruneian Muslim, I have privileges that many do not. The implicit biases, racism towards minorities, and anti-blackness in the community are subjects that we are slowly discussing now. I feel that's good. As an ally, what I can do with my privilege is to elevate their voices. Listen and never silence, even if it is born out of anger. Even if it is directed at me.
If it were, the only winners are the oppressors. Asians have encountered an obscene amount of racism during - and before - the pandemic, Muslims are still attacked for their faith. In Brunei, minority groups being treated poorly by the many. All these things can exist at once, and we can still say, Black Lives Matter.
It does not, and cannot invalidate, the Black Lives Matter movement.
It is urgent, it is here and it may change the world.
Saying that #BlackLivesMatter shouldn't be controversial. Saying people with a platform must speak up shouldn't be controversial either. I regret the way I said it but I do not regret the context. Black boxes on a page don't matter if we don't educate ourselves and others too. To reach out and discuss in our lives in any way we can.
I struggle every day with being enough, for a better society. I'm going to make mistakes as an ally and I definitely have. But what I will continue to advocate, for allies across the world, is to assess our own prejudices and internalized racism. An examination of what we are in the dark.
In the dark, I am still a small Malay girl who is afraid of being too much or too little. Navigating new spaces while learning about racism in my own country from friends and others alike. I hope to learn something new every day, even if it's uncomfortable.
Especially if it is uncomfortable.
All I can say now is that we must listen to the black voices that have been silenced for so long. I ask that we, myself included, keep an open mind. I ask we continue to sign petitions, donate, and remember that their pain is not ours to keep.
If you'd like to donate, @AmaninaS is organizing a collective donation from Brunei to BLM protestors in Oakland/Bay Area. She will help distribute the funds to Peoples Breakfast Oakland, a black grassroots organization serving people in Oakland; bailing out Black folks across Alameda County, and Black Earth Farms, grassroots pan African & pan Indigenous farming collective; delivering free food to black folks affected by Oakland uprisings.
For more information, Pieces Project has a google doc filled with petitions, donations, and helpful content to educate ourselves. You can find it here.
I'm tired, I miss my Tigger, and thank you for reading.
If you'd like to donate, @AmaninaS is organizing a collective donation from Brunei to BLM protestors in Oakland/Bay Area. She will help distribute the funds to Peoples Breakfast Oakland, a black grassroots organization serving people in Oakland; bailing out Black folks across Alameda County, and Black Earth Farms, grassroots pan African & pan Indigenous farming collective; delivering free food to black folks affected by Oakland uprisings.
For more information, Pieces Project has a google doc filled with petitions, donations, and helpful content to educate ourselves. You can find it here.
I'm tired, I miss my Tigger, and thank you for reading.
With love,
Bash
#BlackLivesMatter.
Bash
#BlackLivesMatter.
I've been blogging for almost 5 years.
Making YouTube videos for over four. It's a strange experience, to say the least. I make videos sporadically - not enough to be good yet and few to be ever successful. While most of my content has been beauty-related, I've gradually made fewer. Specifically, fewer makeup tutorials and reviews.
Why?
Do you still watch makeup videos?
with love,
with love,
Bash Harry
I've been Bullet Journaling for about two months now.
Methodological? Maybe.
Helpful? Very.
I spent two hours setting up the first few pages of the journal because I wanted to get it just right. Even though there are no such things. Other than that, I still spend at least 15 minutes a day (sometimes more) updating it for the next few days, or just doodling for fun. Not everyone has time for that.
If you're like me, you like going all out. Once I decided to try bullet journaling, I shipped a Leuchtturm 1917 Dotted Notebook from Amazon UK to my sister then asked her to buy double-ended highlighters to match my paints. This is too much of a hassle for journaling. But that's on me.
It's going to be messy and you have to accept that. There are ink stains, bad drawings, and notes scattered everywhere. None of my Monthly pages look similar at all. A part of me is screaming inside cause I want to look perfect. The other part knows it will never be.
But honestly, it mostly inspires me.
And it's fantastic.
My bullet journal is filled with pages upon pages of my 2020 so far. From my time in Sri Lanka to work as a host, it's a nice way to log life as it goes on. And as someone who loves talking about things she's obsessed with, I've compiled some reasons why you should (and should not) start a bullet journal.
Here are my Pros & Cons of Bullet Journaling.
PROS:
1. Organized & Structured
I like that it's organized cause it helps me feel like I'm organized. The pages are where they are supposed to be, titled and notated for future reference. To go even further, I color-coded everything so my eyes are trained.Methodological? Maybe.
Helpful? Very.
2. Customizable & Open for Creativity
As someone who isn't as creative as she wants to be, I consider my bullet journal controlled creativity. I get to draw, color in and add doodles wherever I please. Not only that, how the journal will look like is completely up to me. Something I personally dislike about regular planners is how rigid there are.3. One Place For Everything
It's my place for (almost) everything. This bullet journal is for my notes, plans, ideas, and acts as an occasional moody diary. It keeps everything where it is. I don't have to look through multiple notebooks anymore. Thank God.4. Consistent Writing
It's helped me write daily. When I'm out, I carry it in my bag for the times I'm waiting or a bit bored. I write what's on my mind, or ideas I've been itching to explain. Sometimes it's poetry or potential scripts. Other times, it's just stuff I saw and really want.
5. It Is For Me & Only Me
And just how it should be.CONS:
1. Time-Consuming
I spent two hours setting up the first few pages of the journal because I wanted to get it just right. Even though there are no such things. Other than that, I still spend at least 15 minutes a day (sometimes more) updating it for the next few days, or just doodling for fun. Not everyone has time for that.
2. Expensive & Hard to Get
In theory, it's cheap. All you need is a pen and a blank book. But...If you're like me, you like going all out. Once I decided to try bullet journaling, I shipped a Leuchtturm 1917 Dotted Notebook from Amazon UK to my sister then asked her to buy double-ended highlighters to match my paints. This is too much of a hassle for journaling. But that's on me.
3. Not for a Perfectionist (Me Included)
It's going to be messy and you have to accept that. There are ink stains, bad drawings, and notes scattered everywhere. None of my Monthly pages look similar at all. A part of me is screaming inside cause I want to look perfect. The other part knows it will never be.
4. Comparisons to Others
If you've seen #BuJo on Instagram then you will immediately think your journal is crap. I certainly did. I don't have decent handwriting or any artistry skills. Other than tapping on a keyboard, my hands are useless. So seeing all the amazing journals lets you down sometimes.But honestly, it mostly inspires me.
Would you ever try Bullet Journaling?
with love,
Bash Harry
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with love,
If I have to give any piece of advice, it's to never listen to me. Especially when I'm sad.
When I'm sad, I tend to do silly things like buy last minute tickets and dye my hair. Last week, I got some pretty sad news so I thought I would go back to my many bad habits. Get my hair done to make myself feel better. It went as expected.
with love,
Bash Harry
My February was packed.
As soon as I finished my internship, I jumped into filming almost every day. 7AM Starts for a 10AM Shoot that lasts till the evening sometimes. I'm dolled up daily but rarely do I have photos to prove it. Just hours of footage not released till April.
I'm getting ahead of myself though.
Here's how February went.
1. STARTED FILMING AS A PRESENTER
Since the first week of February, I've been shooting almost every day for RTB's upcoming show. This is my first job as a host and it's so exciting. I meet cool people and chat about their lives. Have I been nervous on camera? Not really, and I thank everyone in the crew for that.
2. P.S I STILL LOVE YOU
John Ambrose deserves better. There, I said it.
My sister and I watched the 'To All The Boys I've Loved Before' sequel, and here's the thing. It's a typical Teen Romance for this generation. I both like it and don't. A Schrodinger's film. I'll probably never watch it again but I'll definitely watch the next one coming one.
Also, #TeamJohnAmbrose
3. I'M IN A NISSAN COMMERCIAL?!
Yes, yes I am.
It's been a while since I've done commercial work, probably very rusty. But when I got the offer to do the shoot, I jumped in excitement. I also jumped cause I don't drive. My first time driving ever is now in cinemas. Oh well...
You can see the Nissan Commercial here!
Yes, yes I am.
It's been a while since I've done commercial work, probably very rusty. But when I got the offer to do the shoot, I jumped in excitement. I also jumped cause I don't drive. My first time driving ever is now in cinemas. Oh well...
You can see the Nissan Commercial here!
4. READING ON MY KINDLE
I was once anti-ebooks but now, I've grown to really enjoy them. Since picking up my Kindle again, I've 3 e-books including Harleen (2019), a graphic novel - which I highly recommend for Harley Quinn fans. For this upcoming long-haul flight, I'm definitely going to bring it as company.
I was once anti-ebooks but now, I've grown to really enjoy them. Since picking up my Kindle again, I've 3 e-books including Harleen (2019), a graphic novel - which I highly recommend for Harley Quinn fans. For this upcoming long-haul flight, I'm definitely going to bring it as company.
5. CONSTELLATIONS: ELEMENTS OF THE NIGHT
Bruneians Read hosted a book club and of course, I went.
Its theme was all about the Starry Night, filled with chats about books, ice-breakers, and my sticky Honey Garlic stained fingers. For the first time in a long time, it felt like I could talk about books with people who liked books too, our opinions clashing only occasionally.
Bruneians Read hosted a book club and of course, I went.
Its theme was all about the Starry Night, filled with chats about books, ice-breakers, and my sticky Honey Garlic stained fingers. For the first time in a long time, it felt like I could talk about books with people who liked books too, our opinions clashing only occasionally.
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