Monday Matter: Bollywood, body boundaries and a birthday

Your biweekly Foreign Bodies roundup

Every other Monday, I send subscribers and gift recipients of immigrant mental health and storytelling newsletter Foreign Bodies stories I recently inhaled and adored. This is also a chance to do some housekeeping and give shout-outs and all that jazz.

First things first

A little housekeeping

I’m 31.

Though turning 31 on Friday was as anticlimactic as most birthdays, there’s something to be said about beginning to get comfortable in your new decade. It’s still early on, but I feel my thirties will be especially memorable if not simply because I’m getting in the habit of documenting every little moment. Sure, there’s the pressure to hit certain milestones or make tangible progress in my career now that I’ve pushed through the young adult phase of life, but I’m much more likely to laugh in the face of societal expectations now than I’d ever been before, and, well, I think that’s something to celebrate.

A musical start to your Mondays 🎧

One song to groove to, cry to, drive to and share

Cackling at myself for picking this gem from Colombian musician Juanes this week. A major throwback to the high school Spanish days.

Resource(s) of the week

Something helpful and interesting and cool (*storytelling opportunity)

• Celeste Ng’s Top 5 Writing Tips: Everything I Never Told You and Little Fires Everywhere author Celeste Ng shares five essential writing tips you’ll want to bookmark.

• *Longreads is open to pitches for “essay submissions, feature pitches, reading list ideas, and other queries.” Rates are competitive. Please email hello@longreads.com and add a bit of detail and context in your subject line to help make your message stand out. More submission info here.

Read this!

Personal stories and poetry I’m loving

• Body Boundaries, Indian Culture, and Healing Enough to Be Mothers to Our Mothers (Madhuri Sastry, Catapult): “The breeze was briny and felt delicious on my legs. I fixed my gaze on the horizon, delighting in the way the dolphins jumped like excited commas through the air. Suddenly, I felt someone’s eyes on my body. I turned and saw that my mother wasn’t squinting at the ocean, but at me. ‘What?’ I asked. She pursed her lips. ‘You need to lose some weight, Madhura.’ I gawped, ripped out of the idyllic moment.” A 2019 essay from the lovely Madhuri Sastry that I know many in my life will connect with. Read here.