My mother always said that Malay was a simple language - it reads and sounds phonetically, without all of the complicated and frankly illogical spelling sprinkled through many English words. This is the same approach I like to have with life, with my community. I simply want to bring people together to have a good time. Visiting Malaysia was always an interesting experience; my sister and I were shuttled around to different relatives whose names and faces, more often than not, felt distant to me. I would get asked whether I was dating anyone, why I looked a certain way, whether I would become a teacher with my English degree. Yet every evening, without fail, everyone would gather around the table for dinner. Multitudes of dishes cooked by my grandmother were placed on the lazy Susan, and we’d all stuff ourselves until we could no longer move. Any indignation from interactions throughout the day would dissolve, replaced by delicious and fragrant flavours.
In the words of Prince: we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life. The world is a little overwhelming, a little difficult to navigate. But when we’re brought to sit down and enjoy a meal, something about that experience touches us a little bit deeper. Perhaps it’s the sense of belonging, of being a part of something a bit bigger than ourselves.
Finding a sense of belonging was a challenge. In all honesty, it’s only something I recently discovered. Growing up as a mixed-race kid, you’re engrained with the sense of never belonging. Belonging to what - now, this varies. For me, I would never be Asian enough, never white enough. I don’t think poorly of this at all. In fact, I spun it to my advantage from an early age; I made it my duty to stand out in whatever I did. I already looked different, so I might as well run with it. Throughout this, I struggled to pinpoint a sense of comfort and confidence, and felt I missed out in cultivating a social community. I rarely went out in high school and university, opting to work longer rather than spend time with friends and explore new experiences.
While I didn’t mesh well with college party culture (I simply could not keep up with the pace), what I did love were the dinners I would have with friends. It was during these dinners that I felt surrounded by so much love and care. At a dinner, I felt none of the imposter syndrome and anxiety that I would get at most house parties. At a dinner, everyone gave and shared a warmth that made me nostalgic for something I couldn’t quite define. This is the feeling that I seek to recreate with MEJA.
A table is a gathering place. A table is a structure that facilitates community by the mere act of surrounding it. A table is the foundation for conversations, memories, and experiences - hopefully delicious ones! It is with love and gratitude that I present MEJA, a newsletter project dedicated to this humble structure that draws good people together. Each month I will present what I’m thinking about, what I’m doing, what I’m cooking. It’s this personal perspective that I hope allows you to glimpse a bit more into my life and feel as though we are having a dinner party conversation together.
