Dear first 100 (+1) subscribers
Thank you for being here. Let's build together.
While tracing my history of writing on the Internet, I found a post-interview thank you email from my first journalism job. As a hopeful contender for an editorial internship at AOL.com, I’d shown off my digital prowess by bragging about the number of subscribers I had on my Xanga profile.
Xanga, for those of you who don’t know, is an early iteration of what would later be called a “blog”.
I had some gall sending it to the editor because all I talked about were boys, dating, and for my most cherished subscribers, password-protected posts about all the steamy details of my relationship. To make it even more scandalous, most of my subscribers were South Asian girls who during my time, upheld pretenses of abstinence and prudence (all lies) but they loved reading my titillating Xanga entries.
My Xanga was a rambling "dear diary" of everything that preoccupied my twenty-year-old self. While I have little interest in revisiting those same topics publicly today, one common thread still persists two decades later: how to navigate life as someone who has always felt othered and out of sync with those around her.
Through Port of Entry, I’m attempting to explore the origin stories, social issues, and political policies that shape communities that have been othered throughout history—immigrants, migrants, refugees, and their descendants. Whether by choice or, more often, by circumstance, we have been scattered across the globe, passing through countless ports of entry, fleeing the Global South for the Global North.
What does it mean to be disconnected from our roots, our homelands, and our places of origin? What does it mean to never truly belong to one place? What does it mean to hold multiple identities and narratives while navigating social injustice daily? And what is the weight of constantly having to “humanize” ourselves to the white gaze, all the while living ordinary lives where both heartbreak and joy unfold in broad strokes?
And sometimes, what does it feel like to not even fit in with your "own people"?
A big thank you to my first 101 subscribers for supporting Port of Entry (and a special shoutout to my four paid subscribers) as I experiment and figure out what resonates—and what doesn’t—on this platform. I’m also deeply grateful to those who continue to encourage me and send thoughtful notes of support.
I’m taking the rest of the year to enjoy the holiday season, plan a robust lineup of posts for the new year, and strategize on how to grow Port of Entry and reach more people. Look out for more personal essays, interviews with fascinating folks of color, and hot takes on the political nonsense that impacts marginalized communities.
I’d love to hear your thoughts—what you’ve liked, disliked, or any ideas you have about what I’ve written on Port of Entry so far. Feel free to reply to this email, comment on the posts, or reach out to me on social media.
And please, share Port of Entry with anyone you think would enjoy it. This isn’t just a newsletter; it’s a community.
See you in 2025!