Why I’ll Always Love Jackie Cox

Personal Blog

Season 12 of RuPaul’s Drag Race can be easily described in three words – fierce AF! If you’ve been anywhere on the internet in the past couple months, you can spot the buzz from a mile away. From supportive, loving comments under every queens’ posts on Insta, to whole Twitter accounts dedicated to subbing the show incorrectly, fans (me included) have certainly connected more to queens this season. Maybe it’s lockdown, or maybe it’s that something was lacking in the previous two seasons – vulnerability.

No contestant to me has been more vulnerable this season than Jackie Cox, an Iranian-Candian, second generation immigrant queen.

RuPaul's-Drag-Race-Season-12-Episode-9-Choices-2020-VH1-TV-Reviews ...

In the American-themed runway look in episode 10, Jackie took to the stage in an abaya and hijab ensemble, marking her as the first ever queen to wear a hijab on the show. Jackie has been open about her ambigious connection to her Iranian heritage. She is clearly unafraid to celebrate her roots – her pet-name for RuPaul was RuPaul-joon (meaning ‘dear’) and she entered the work room in a Minnie Mouse-style get up with her full name, Jacquline, in Farsi written on the front. But, like many immigrant children, she’s felt the pressure from her mother to push herself through further education and get a ‘proper job’.


So, am I Muslim? No. Am I Iranian? No. Can I speak Persian? No.
I’m Hindu. I’m British-Indian. I speak Hindi.

So – why do I love her? Because for the first time, she made drag race something I could share with my family.

She has paved a path for other queer immigrant-children simply by being her, and has been a tidal wave in a pond, representing bi-culturality and queerness all in one package.

Often immigrant children from the Middle East and South Asian communities share many commanilities, the struggle of being bicultural, an overlap in a food-based culture, and of course, something Jackie’s been clocked for which I empathise with so much BEING HAIRY! So as soon as Jackie started calling RuPaul RuPaul-joon, my first thought was, that’s ‘jaan’ in Hindi. And so, a connection was born.

RuPaul's Drag Race season 12 runway looks ranked | EW.com

One of the loveliest moments for me was in the first episode, when Jackie came out looking like a shining white goddess. My mum walked past the TV, caught her out of the corner of her eye and exclaimed, ‘Wow! She looks like a Bollywood actress’. My parents, although accepting of LGBTQIA+ culture often struggle to understand it. In a moment, Jackie’s cboice in style, be it intentional or not, had broken down those once inpenitrable barriers for me. She became a point of reference for me to be able to explain my love for the show and drag culture – ‘You know that Bollywood-looking drag queen, Mum? Wasn’t she so pretty? Look, this drag queen does stuff like that too’.

bollywood 60s fashion - Google Search | Bollywood hairstyles ...
Nostalgic Trip to B Fashion 60's | Her Fashion Rules

To me, Jackie represents exactly what America’s next drag race superstar should have been. Her looks may not be as polished as other girls, but does that really matter right now? Never in the herstory of RuPaul’s Drag Race has a queen of Asian or Middle Eastern descent won. And of course I’m aware, a queen should be judged holistically in every department and someone’s race should not be their contending factor. However, Jackie is funny, smart, beautiful and, as past episodes have attested to, can give amazing, heartfelt performances. If nothing else, she has paved a path for other queer immigrant-children simply by being her, and been a tidal wave in a pond, representing bi-culturality and queerness all in one package.

Jackie’s comment that “You can be Middle Eastern, you can be Muslim, and you can still be American,” reminded me that I can be Indian, I can be Hindu, and I can still be British in a political climate where immigrants are undervalued and belittled. I should be just as unafraid to show my culture as Jackie.

And so that’s why I, a second generation Indian immigrant, will always love Jackie Cox.

Why Jane the Virgin makes me feel sexy

Personal Blog

Sex – probably one of the most if not the most taboo topics of human history. Like many children of immigrant parents, however, sex was far from taboo for me –  it was literally never mentioned. If you want to see a desi family open up and talk, try sitting them in a room with a slightly sexy Bollywood scene and watch them all avert their gaze and start complaining about their days. It’s like a weird sort of magic spell. 

Hong Kong Diaries – Entry #3 – ‘Growing Up’

Personal Blog

Hello everyone! So for those of you who don’t know I am spending the first half of my final year of university in Hong Kong. I am documenting my travels on my blog and will update as often as possible. Please follow my blog to keep up with this journey and I look forward to seeing you around! ❤️

🎝 I’m feeling just fine, fine, fine
이젠 너의 손을 놓을게 [I’ll let go of your hand now]
I know I’m all mine, mine, mine
Cause I’m just fine
I’m feeling just fine, fine, fine
더 이상은 슬프지 않을래 [I don’t wanna be sad anymore]
I could see the sunshine, shine, shine
Cause I’m just fine, just fine 🎝

When my nails have been gnawed to stubby, bleeding nubs, when my hair is greasy and hidden in a messy ponytail, when my eyes are heavy and my body curls itself into a ball of exhaustion, having been kicked around by life, I know something is wrong.

Hong Kong Diaries – Entry #2

Personal Blog

Day #5

Sundays are for rest, and in my case, it was very much needed. Despite the protests not travelling to our area, I felt the tiny ripples that the protesters left in Causeway Bay reach me. Buildings in Hong Kong (at least on the main island) are very close together, so I can look out of the window of my flat and see into someone else’s. So, at night I was awoken at about 4am by someone yelling, again what I can only assume were the pro-democracy slogans, in Cantonese from one flat and someone responding to them from another. I listened as the waves of rebellion wash over the small corner of this huge city, and felt admiration for their unity. However, this was then undercut by a single loud scream of pain which I ascertained was below my building.

Hong Kong Diaries – Entry #1

Personal Blog, Poetry

Hello everyone! So for those of you who don’t know I am spending the first half of my final year of university in Hong Kong. I am documenting my travels on my blog and will update every week or every few days (or whenever something interesting happens, lol). Please follow my blog to keep up with this journey and I look forward to seeing you around!

PS: Hi to anyone who’s been mentioned and is reading this, and thanks very much for everything you’ve done for me so far! ❤️

Day #1

When I arrived in Hong Kong only two things were familiar to me – the Japanese snacks and the India-level humidity. The rest, completely foreign. After months of hard-work to ensure I was accepted into my study abroad programme, Hong Kong seemed more like an apparition than an actual city. It had been an ideal for so long that when it materialised before me, I was very lost.

Myself and two other girls were dropped off by the Hong Kong University shuttle bus in a location that looked completely different from the directions we had been sent for our accommodation. Were we really meant to be staying in what seemed like a tiny noodle shop? We asked the man at said shop for directions, but got no English response – and I began to panic. Was this really the right decision? I know Hong Kong was listed as one of the English-speaking options for study abroad, but how could I navigate a city by myself where I knew nothing of the language? Luckily, this panic was interrupted by me realising road signs also had English on them, and recognising the road that I had seen opposite ours on Google Maps.

As I crossed the road, with an unfamiliar insistent beeping bursting out of the traffic lights around me, I noticed that the road in front of me was vertical. Something else no-one had warned me about, acclimatisation to inclination. Little did I know what my legs were about to endure. Finally we arrived at our accommodation, a metal door (which to quote my friend ‘looks like a prison’) on the side of a little alleyway. The door was opened and we were met with a bright green staircase. Let’s remember, I am a 5ft person with a 23 kg (50 lb) bag (and another smaller one, and my backpack) faced with God knows how many stairs – I’m sure you can do the math. I prayed that this God would subtract as many stairs as possible from this horrible equation, but they did not. I was given keys to my flat on the 6th floor, which meant carrying everything up 7 flights of stairs. G r e a t. Admittedly, the main reason I decided to come to Hong Kong was to gain more independence and confidence in my abilities of looking after myself. But I felt like the universe was playing a cruel prank on me in giving me such heavy responsibilities so early on in my trip.

Somehow, I did it.

Similarly to the city itself, my accommodation had seemed like a far off thought until I actually saw it before me. I am a small person so size is not an issue to begin with, but regardless I am enjoying being in a smaller space. I was also pleasantly surprised to see that the picture which had been listed as the ‘living room’ on the website was more than just an ominously placed fridge.

Website picture
Our actual living room

But more than the ominous fridge, I was worried about living with a roommate. Luckily, she was very nice. After taking a much needed cold shower (because we still have no idea how to get hot water), we decided to buy some basic necessities and water bottles. Having another person with me usually makes any experience a lot better. I find being on my own a very anxious experience, probably because I’m more on the extroverted side of the spectrum and I am fortunate enough to have family and friends around me more often than not. Hence, coming here to find independence. I felt as if I had failed the first task of my trip by asking my roommate to come with me and settled into my comfort zone of letting another person take the lead.

Lush displays of egg tarts and cream pastries, numerous 7-Elevens, neon signs in the day-time and Cantonese characters swept past me until we came across what appeared to be a small supermarket. I reached for the familiar – Almond Breeze, Special K cereal, Dove soap, not really taking account of what I was buying or how much. Weirdly enough, I saw a lot of Tesco and Waitrose (well-known British supermarkets) brand items. I truly thought, where the heck am I? I took my items to the counter and fumbled for my wallet once the cashier announced the price in Cantonese. This is where my memory fails me slightly since I’m writing this a couple days after arriving. I think I handed her a 20HKD note, not realising that it was only £2 ($2.50), and so a fraction of the price of what I bought. In response, she began getting annoyed but again, in Cantonese. I frantically handed her a 200HKD note (£20 or $25), grabbed my change and left.

I felt the same panic wash over me as I returned to my room. I decided to message my aunt who I knew lived here if she wanted to have dinner and began unpacking my things, pushing away my doubts and worries. But I was alone in the flat, alone in my room, in a new city where my first encounter was being yelled at. I was not Chinese, a curvy British-Indian girl, far from the usual population of the city. My friend who I had arrived with was far away in the other side of town. Everything felt too far. Then, my mum called, and I began to cry. The fear of being alone, the lack of sleep, the heat, it all poured out of me in that moment.

Lesson #1 from Hong Kong – give yourself time to acclimatise.

I explained the situation to my aunt who was kind enough to come to me with dinner, bed-sheets (the reason I couldn’t sleep) and much needed hugs and advice. After she left, I spoke to my Chinese-American flatmates who returned from their day, about mine. They reassured me that they too were overwhelmed when they first arrive.

And that they have also been yelled at by her.

Lesson #2 – appearance and acclimatising well to new environments are not related, you can look the same, speak the same language and still be overwhelmed.

Day #2

The next day, I headed to the Hong Kong University campus for registration. Once again in the morning I found myself alone in the flat on account of everyone else waking up just before me.

But, I went out only to realise:

Lesson #3 – The Internet Is Crucial To Modern Day Survival

I had no internet. And I am not the best at directions to begin with, so I had to attempt to follow an offline map which lagged, a l o t . The hills were cruel and unforgiving, the stairs death-inducing, the rain treacherous and torrential (and of course on the day I decided to not take my umbrella), but somehow I made it to our University’s Main Building.

With a level of pride in myself I thought was hardly possible yesterday, I saw on the map that the building for registration was only 2 minutes away from me. Perfect!

Unfortunately, those 2 minutes turned into 20.

My map was sending me round in circles. I didn’t have a sim card so I couldn’t ring anyone and no internet to look up an alternative route. And again, the panic – was I really capable of being here if I couldn’t even find one building? Was I stupid to even consider doing this? Me, who gets lost in London, my home city, how could I possibly navigate another one?

Fortunately, my friend came to the rescue after she spotted me wandering around from the building above me. While enjoying a peach-jelly green-tea (THE BEST FLAVOUR by the way) in the Starbucks on campus, I noticed around me that there were a lot of Indians. Their Hindi lingo, their mannerisms, their gait – it was finally something I recognised. They didn’t know it, but they were truly doing me a favour by being in that Starbucks. I no longer felt that alone.

The rest of my day was spent being envious of my friend’s accommodation because it had a lift, finding an upgraded version of my favourite food, tofu, which was bean curd skin and realising I could actually read the Cantonese numbers because they were the same in Japanese.

Lesson #4 – I am smarter and more capable than I know.

Day #3
I spent some time on campus for orientation in the morning, most of which was sitting through a lot of talks about Hong Kong University’s module selection process, but also enjoying a performance by their Chinese Orchestra:

In the evening, I had a lovely dinner (more tofu!! 😍 ) with my aunt in her amazing flat!

The view!

Day #4

Today, my flatmates and I took a trip to Causeway Bay. This, like many parts of Hong Kong, is the region best known for its high-fashion shops and great food – but we went to IKEA. The shop was a maze of home appliances with many escalators which lead you to everywhere except the exit. Needless to say, I accidentally took the wrong escalator up when my friends weren’t behind me and had to find my own way out.

However, our trip was shadowed by the oncoming protests. We knew that they were going to take place at 2pm, and so we were constantly checking our watches and keeping an eye out. Just as we were entering the train station to get back home, we heard some yelling and a large crowd began to form. People behind us began yelling in unison with the crowd what I assume were the pro-democracy slogans and we realised we needed to get back home fast. We are all safe and sound now, but many places along our road were shut today since it looked like this:

But this is just a precautionary measure. The protests have remained in the Causeway Bay area at the moment, and we’re still safe and sound in our flat.

But that’s all for now! Remember to follow me or give this post a like if you enjoyed it and I’ll see you next week!

On meeting my idols

Personal Blog

If there was one word I could use to describe my experience of last night it would be humanising.

Seeing Phil Kaye and Sarah Kay perform at EartH was quite possibly the best night of my life. I felt present, I felt grateful, I felt at peace, but I still cried so many tears.

‘Yesterday’: a British-Indian tale?

Personal Blog


Yesterday is a feel-good film starring Nimesh Patel as ‘Jack Malik’, a failing musician whose life is turned around after a freak accident where no-one except him remembers The Beatles. In an expected play-by-play of events, Jack profits from this worldwide amnesia, regrets it and feels guilty. The pop star renounces this lifestyle, where, in the film’s final scene, he admits none of the songs were his at a show at Wembley Stadium, and that he actually loves his best friend/original manager, Ellie Appleton (Lily James).

On paper, the premise of Yesterday’s narrative is predictable yet effective. You know where the film is going and feel alongside the characters, wait for the happy ending and go home.  There is little to no lasting impact, nothing about the film truly lingers with you. But as a British-Indian viewer, there was an extra level to this narrative. I’m not saying that me being Indian and the main lead also being Indian made the film better, rather I felt validated as both British and desi.