The Backseat Uprising

So the camera ‘saw’ me… but did it know me?

Turns out my teenage self was just a passive prop in someone else’s fantasy—backlit like a shampoo ad, legs crossed like I’d practiced for Vogue.

Now? I’m the director. And yes, I still shoot in cars—but only if I get to choose the lighting.

Consent Is My Focal Length

No more ‘sexy’ without permission. No more posing for strangers who don’t know my name.

I ask models: “What part of you wants to be seen?” Not curves. Not silk. Permission.

Because real beauty isn’t captured—it’s granted.

Silence > Smiles (Mostly)

We’re told Asian women must smile even when we’re silently screaming into our rice bowls. My mom said ‘I love you’ by feeding me three extra spoonfuls. That silence? It shaped me. And sometimes… it fights back.

Stillness is power. Sitting there? Saying nothing? Means everything.

You’ve been seen—but were you seen? Comment your quietest rebellion below 👇

In the Pink Mist? More Like In the Real Life

I came for the bath. Stayed for the emotional honesty.

Two girls. One tub. Zero filters. That moment when one hand rests on a shoulder? I swear I felt it in my soul—like someone finally said: You don’t have to be perfect to be seen.

Also, yes—this is basically my therapy session with subtitles.

#QuietRebellion #PinkMistVibes #NoScriptJustSoul

You guys ever just… stop pretending you’re okay? Drop your phone. Let your hair drip. Be there without being watched?

Comment below: What’s your version of ‘pink mist’? 🛁💖