by Ang Kia Yee

I see how indifference is performed to mask the inner face, which is scrunched up in confusion, in grief, in pain. I saw it in a loved one, and then I saw it in myself. The two of us play this in turns, each trying to being more chill and unbothered than the other about what’s happening. This is how we cope and grip our dignity.

And then two nights ago, witnessing an outpouring of grief from people I don’t know well. I practiced listening that night. I said nothing and was thankful for it. Still, I was moved to tears by everyone present, all of whom were so attentive and sincere. I’m lucky to have been amongst them, and I hope to sit with them again.