UPBRINGING
UPBRINGING
Hi! Welcome to Volume 82, Issue 1! Upbringing. Huda, Lincoln, and Adrien are your catalyst editors for this year, and we hope we have enticed you to read and stick with us through 2026. Upbringing is only the beginning of what we have planned for your uni year. We are going to have something to offer anyone, first years, second years, third years, or whatever year you want honestly. We wrote upbringing with students in mind, bringing connection to the forefront of every single piece written by our beautifully talented writers. Upbringing to us isn’t just about words, or even how they are placed together. Upbringing is about bringing people together and educating people that difference is only a reason to learn more about one another. Everyone has an interesting perspective on life, growing up, on becoming the person we are today. Some people aren’t aware of how much that really matters, and how we want to hear about it! All three of us have worked hard on this issue and we hope it shows through in a way some if not all of you can relate to in various ways. Now please, go along; you have some reading to do.
Contributors
Catalyst Volume 82, 2026
Established in 1944
Contact catalyst@rmit.edu.au rmitcatalyst.com
RMIT Building 12, Level 3, Room 9
402 Swanston St, Melbourne
Editors
Huda Shehzad
Lincoln Russell
Adrien Marks
Designers
Amarli Winter
Tanisha Sinha
Alia Daniels
Azra Zahrain
Mahak Vyas
Mariam Erradi
Sanvi Khanna
Nicole Klassmann
RUSU Publications & Communications
Shana Schultz
Photographers
Huda Shehzad
Lincoln Russell
Printer
Printgraphics Pty Ltd
14 Hardner Road, Mount Waverley
Victoria 3149 Australia
P: 9562 9600
Catalyst acknowledges that our publication runs on the unceded lands of the Woiwurrung and Boonwurrung language groups of the Eastern Kulin Nations. We pay our respect to the Elders, past and present. We also acknowledge the Traditional Custodians and their Ancestors of the lands and waters across Australia where creative endeavours are nurtured.
Catalyst is a student-run publication of the RMIT Student Union (RUSU). The views expressed herein are not necessarily those of the Editors, the Printers, or the Student Union.
Writers
Adrien Marks
Keerthi Vijaya Saravanan
Shreya Ganguly
Emily Ojansuu
Lily Dalton
Sri Satya Spandhana Mallela
Sanvi Khanna
Casimir Yiontis
Brenna Ross
Jhil Pancholi
Front and Back Cover
Huda Shehzad
Editorial Committee
Huda Shehzad
Lincoln Russel
Adrien Marks
Shana Schultz
Typeface
Brandon Grotesque by Hannes von Döhren
your inner child
Design by Nicole Klassmann
Photograph by Huda Shehzad
CONTENTS
8. Introduction to Upbringing
10. Raised by the 2000’s
12. President’s Letter
14. My Inner Child is Still Me
18. The Mother Wound
20. On Nature, With Lucianne Tonti
22. Am I Old Enough To Be An Adult?
24. The Colour of Contradiction
26. A Conversation I Wish I Had
28. Doors Opened can be Closed
30. Infrastructure Of Growing Up
32. The Bear My Dad Sent To Melbourne
34. i am made of memories
36. All Because I Believed.
38. The Girl I Choose To Remember
44. graphic design is my passion.
48. A Child Walking Forward on a Path
50. Growth
52. Home
54. Calender
What does it mean to be a person with substance, with colour, with humanity. Ultimately with a self-given purpose. What does it mean to be the person you are? How does who you were change how you see yourself and the world swirling around you. How does loving and growing impact everything you are? You were once a child, once so small you could squeeze into the dryer. You still wish you could. You still wish you could be that little person again. How does our upbringing impact the person we are today? How does what was created us lead to what has made us. Why does it matter as much as it does?
Photograph by Lincoln Russell
raised by the 2000’s
1. Stacy’s Mom - Fountains Of Wayne
2. Kids - MGMT
3. Just Dance - Lady Gaga, Colby O’Donis
4. Party Rock Anthem - LMFAO, Lauren Bennett, GoonRock
5. Stressed Out - Twenty One Pilots
6. Ride - Twenty One Pilots
7. Still into You - Paramore
8. TiK ToK - Kesha
9. Play N Go - Hudson Mohawke
10. One Last Time - Ariana Grande
11. Gotta Go My Own Way - Zac Efron, Vanessa Hudgens, Disney
12. Grow as We Go - Ben Platt
13. Never Grow Up (Taylor’s Version) - Taylor Swift
14. 2001 - FINNEAS
15. Life Of The Party - Shawn Mendes
16. fentanyl and wedding rings - Elli Rowe
17. Older - Lizzy McAlpine
18. Not a Bad Thing - Justin Timberlake
19. Kiss You - One Direction
20. On My Mind - Cody Simpson
21. Safe and Sound - Capital Cities
22. Riptide - Vance Joy
23. Stolen Dance - Milky Chance
24. Fireflies - Owl City
25. Tongue Tied - GROUPLOVE
26. Pompeii - Bastille
27. Tonight Tonight - Hot Chelle Rae
28. Everybody Talks - Neon Trees
29. Troublemaker (feat. Flo Rida) - Olly Murs, Flo Ride
30. Viva La Vida - Coldplay
31. What I’ve Done - Linkin Park
32. Complicated - Avril Lavigne 3:18 5:03 4:02 4:22 3:22 3:35 3:36 3:20 3:52 3:17 3:42 4:09 4:53 3:20 3:35 4:02 3:21 11:32 3:03 3:12 3:13 3:22 5:14 3:48 3:38 3:34 3:20 2:57 3:06 4:02 3:25 4:05
Design by Mariam Erradi
President’s letter
Hi folks! My name’s Samuel Coombs, and I’m really excited to introduce myself as your 2026 RMIT University Student Union (RUSU) President.
A little bit about me, I’m heading into my fourth year at RMIT, I originally started in a Certificate IV in Community Services and I’m now in my second semester of a Bachelor of Youth Work. When I’m not studying, you’ll probably find me at the MCG watching the Hawks, binge-watching something new on Netflix, or swimming at the beach.
When I first started uni in 2023, the transition into university life was exciting but also a little daunting, something I’m sure many of you can relate to. Those first few weeks were challenging, but they also set me up for one of the best experiences of my life.
I built a whole new community at RMIT through RUSU by getting involved in as many events as I could during my first semester, from RUSU’s famous Chill and Grills to Clubs Fest. Every event was a new opportunity to meet people and build friendships that became a huge part of my journey at RMIT.
Getting involved with RUSU opened the door to so many meaningful opportunities. I stepped into leadership roles, became a club executive for my academic club, and eventually a student representative within RUSU. Along the way, I’ve learnt so many valuable skills and had the incredible privilege of representing students as the Disabilities and Carers Officer in 2024 and 2025. Now, as your President, my goal is to make every student’s experience at RMIT the best it can be.
So, what is RUSU? We’re here to make your time at RMIT unforgettable. From hosting amazing events throughout the year to creating spaces where
students can connect and feel part of a community, RUSU is about more than just events, we’re here to support you. Whether it’s protecting your rights, offering mental health and welfare support, or helping address food security, RUSU is here to help you make the most of your time at uni.
If you see me around campus, or spot the purple jacket at a Chill and Grill, don’t hesitate to come say hi!
My inner child is still Me
At a time where I have all the freedom to be who I want, a time I so desperately longed for during my treacherous high school years, I reflect on the person I’m transitioning into. As I try to grow into the person I am and work out what it is I stand for, I see the return of the person I once was. My inner child. And I’m so grateful to see her once again. I’m so glad she stuck around.
When I talk about reconnecting with my inner child, I don’t talk about the act of regression. Wanting to shy away from the world and avoid adult responsibility. I’m talking about my inner child that is unapologetically herself. Who wanted to take up space. Who knew who she was, what she loved, and how she felt. Before it was decided for her.
Your purest form.
We’ve never been further apart in age, but for some reason I’ve never felt closer to her than now.
Highschool was characterised by feelings that there was always “something more” out there, that I couldn’t wait to be a part of. That there was life beyond this surveyed social space I found myself at five days a week in an unflattering uniform. These are feelings I can guarantee that I was not the only person feeling at my regional catholic high school. Particularly at ages where online access to what life could look like were at our disposal. Almost tangible at age 16, when we only had two more years to go.
It was looking on realestate.com with your friends during free periods. The Pinterest boards of a nearby
future that would eventuate themselves in the years to come.
The freedom I was soon going to have.
“This is who I could be,” I thought. “This is who I’m supposed to be.”
High school was just something to “get through”. After that I thought I could come out with the person I was supposed to be. But I already was the person I needed to be, the person I was supposed to be. Just continuing to grow from her.
In a year that sees us confronting online egos (such as the “cool girl”) and striving to combat digital fatigue with offline “analogue” practices, for a rewarding nostalgic experience, it’s no surprise that we find ourselves circling back, face to face with our child selves. Stripped from the carefully curated version of yourself put forth online, that’s who you are left with. Your inner child. Do you still recognise them? Are they happy with who you are, and the space they hold in your life now, if any?
I’m grateful to see her once again.
I’m so glad she stuck around.
I love seeing her show herself in little ways in my life now. I’ve never read more than I do now, an act that filled my days as a child. I love how my love for reading transitioned into a love for writing and telling stories, which now sees me in journalism, telling and sharing the stories of real people. I see myself just as much as I see her in this.
The freedom I have now, I share with her. She knew who she was, she just needed the freedom I can now give us both. She needed space to grow, learn and thrive, that I can now give us both, to understand her place in the world.
I grow with her, and from her. But never straying from her.
Everything you want for the child you once were, you still deserve now. They were a good person, and
Written by Emily Ojansuu
therefore so are you.
Be gentle with them. In turn, be gentle to yourself. Work hard for yourself. Be proud of yourself. You’re learning, just as they are. They need you, as much as you need them.
You are in this together.
Design by Nicole Klassmann
The freedom I have now, I share with her.
Design by Nicole Klassmann
She knew who she was, she just needed the freedom I can give us now.
He sneezed on the candles before they were lit,
he is happy.
he is happy.
he is happy.
he told her people leave, even the ones you love she starts believing it for the rest of her life
She thought that to be loved meant to be lonely to feel yourself completely gone, to be searched meant to be adored I don’t know why he told her that I wonder why he lied
To throw her at the wind would be to catch her quicker than the ones who leave. He gave her a whole world of worry, while she worried the world away he lowered the bar for her, so he could see her for what he made her,
he called it happiness.
She found love through the one who gave love away
as a second-hand toy, he made love seem weak she only wanted love to be capable. He said loved ones leave until they find the ability to love themselves, he lost the ability the minute she realised she could survive without him.
She believed there was a God only the God he made out of her,
she is happy.
she is made.
she is seen.
Written
Adrien Marks
She doesn’t fall in love, she is happy everything set in her, she doesn’t have a child, she’s full of everything without a moment of realisation no allure of man
She has a fortitude without crying in the face of a word, she holds her head above her shrunk body doesn’t smile for the man who made a child grow up doesn’t chisel her jaw in the shape of man
by
Designed by Amarli Winter
Photograph by Huda Shehzad
On Nature, With luciaNne toNti
There is no age at which we stop thinking that we know everything.
I say that with the vague understanding that I actually don’t know everything, but this ounce of selfawareness hasn’t saved me just yet. I am twenty-one years old after all.
This paradox is evidence that humans are forever learning, eternally open to the hands that mould us. We might have all the knowledge that is necessary for our minuscule slice of the universe—individually, in our communities, in our cultures—which feels like we know everything, but if our little terrariums exist, imagine how many more are out there. Each one with knowledge and experiences that we couldn’t have fathomed. We spend our time constantly growing. It’s about meeting life somewhere in the middle. In the morning, we open our eyes, hearts, and minds to meet the golden sun. We meet knowledge and understanding of the world when we step outside. We meet magical people when we’re brave enough.
Speaking of, on the topic of life-long learning through nature and sustainable fashion, I questioned the ethereal Lucianne Tonti.
Lucianne has lived one big, bold, beautiful life filled with extraordinary accomplishments: she is sustainability editor at ELLE Australia, fashion editor at The Saturday Paper, a columnist for The Guardian, and is author of her incredible book Sundressed. These things, however, didn’t happen without discovery. As someone who has lived on opposite ends of the earth, living and breathing sustainable fashion—an industry that is as complex as it is vital—Lucianne has dropped herself into many terrariums. When writing Sundressed, Lucianne visited natural fibre farms across the country to educate herself on the nuances of sustainable agriculture. These experiences revealed the way the farming
industry interacts with the fashion industry: something crucial to her way of living. She and I think about the nature of our clothes in a similar way. She told me about the first time she
saw newly grown merino wool: incredibly soft and white. The contrast between the dirtier outer wool and the new fibres was enlightening. The wool looks like “it comes out of nature ready to be spun into yarn.” On this I wrote, “Once, our clothing grew from seeds. They stretched their arms out of the ground, and free, basked in the heart of the sun.”
As we begin to understand the nature of these fibres, it becomes clear that our clothes mean more than we realise. For Lucianne, they are a lesson within themselves.
My most obvious question was about clothing. I asked if there’s a garment that taught her something about herself. She said, “I have a charcoal grey suit from Emily Nolan that is my favourite thing to wear.” She bought this omnibenevolent suit before an international promotional trip for Sundressed. “It’s a suit that really does make you feel ready for anything… If I had to choose one thing to wear every day, this would be it.” This is a trait that cannot be compromised—in Sundressed Lucianne explains that she uses her clothing as a shield, which is why she gravitates towards “Comfortable”, “sharp” and more “masculine” pieces. Cloth armour for giant, scary, wonderful things. She has learned that while vulnerability is wildly and only human, her clothing cloaks her in familiarity so she can face the world. Her clothing teaches her how to be strong and confident in who she is. The fabric guides her in a way that nothing else can. This is the key to navigating our lives and the things we must learn: finding our north star.
Written by Lily Dalton
Designed by Mariam Erradi
be who you were before the world told you who
youshould be
Am I old enough to be aN adult?
Growing up is interesting. It seems to happen all at once until it slows, retracts a bit then continues again. The cusp between high school and graduating is exciting. It’s free time. The first taste of adulthood. It’s the time of my life where change and growth happened at its most rapid. You know so little, therefore it feels you know so much.
The growth begins to spout quickly. You drive your mums car to your friends house for the first time. That first drive is slow and cautious until one day you realise you’re going five over the limit.
You were scared to talk to boys until you go on a real first date and cry over him a month later.
You finally buy your own first car and are left with only $200 in your bank account.
Growing older seems to be a constant step forward just for a step back.
At five years old I imagined my twenty two year old self to be working at Vogue. Writing columns in a big New York office. Grabbing coffees on the way home. My husband waiting behind the
door.
Yet here I am; single and still living at home with my parents.Working two minimum wage retail jobs. Filling up my cars water every couple of days because it has a leak I don’t want to fix.
But I do own a pair of designer ballet flats. And keep a Mac lipstick on me at all times. At what age will I feel like a woman?
Im a team leader at one of my jobs and although I’ve been there for three years it still feels too adult for me. Im usually the baby wherever I am. I’m not accustomed to holding any kind of authority or responsibility. So when I have to tell a coworker of mine to do something I have to brace myself before doing it. Majority of the time I just do the task myself so I don’t have to ask.
When will I be big enough to ask?
Out of self importance I like to ask the same question; “Would you give up five thousand dollars to spend twenty four hours with me as a child again?”. My dad says no 24 hours just isn’t enough time. But why would you pay for something you already have?
Designed by Nicole Klassmann Written by Brenna Ross
Written by Shreya Ganguly
Designed by Azra Zahrain 25
A COnversAtiOn i Wish i Had
I was going through some old family photos recently and found some of my grandfather on a stage, performing for an audience. I asked my dad about it, and he told me my grandfather was a magician for a little while in his 20s.
I was stunned. My grandfather was a magician.
It's funny because I don't remember him ever doing any magic tricks. See, my grandpa passed away years ago. It's not like I didn't know him well, I'd say I did. But I never imagined him standing on stage, performing feats of magic and dazzling crowds. He just seemed too normal for that.
He was a foreman at an industrial weaver for most of his life. They mostly made seatbelts and elastic for underwear, that kind of thing. I remember he used to have rolls of elastic and hi-vis rope lying around the house that he'd give as gifts to my aunts and uncles every time the holidays came around (he was a crafty man, I knew that much).
His job was to oversee the huge looms that wove countless threads into fabric. He'd watch every thread, making sure they never tangled or snapped. An important job, yes. But to go from being a magician, spinning awe into people's lives, to spinning elastic into the lining of their underwear?
From making doves appear out of thin air to making quotas appear (also out of thin air) on production reports?
From pulling rabbits out of hats to putting highdensity polycarbonate synthetics into the brims of hats?
I’m not trying to be facetious, some people find that kind of work fulfilling—but to me, it feels like somebody who sacrificed a dream to earn a crust in the workaday world.
When I was little, my grandpa had grey, slickedback hair and a big, bushy moustache. He wore tweed suits that smelled of the tobacco he used to smoke in his pipe, and he liked drinking VB in the back garden on sunny days and watching the soccer on TV. Just a totally normal guy.
Now I wonder if he missed being a magician in those days, or if he ever dreamed about going back. I understand why he might’ve had to leave it behind: he had a family, mortgages to pay, bread to put on the table, so to speak. But I wonder if he wanted something different.
I could be wrong, of course. This is all just speculation. But the sad fact is that I’ll never get the chance to ask him now.
It goes to show you — people don’t know people.
What I’m trying to say is, I wish I had talked to him about it before he died. Maybe I could’ve got to know a different side of him. A side that was hiding there the whole time, just a few words away.
Remember to talk to the people in your life. Go out of your way to get to know them. Ask questions and be nosy. Pry a little.
Go on, try it.
People are the most interesting things you’ll ever meet, and everybody has a story to tell.
Written by Casimir Yiontis
Photographs by Huda Shehzad and Lincoln Russell
Design by Alia Daniels
Photograph by Huda Shehzad
infrastructure Of growing up
Hey, do you want to know how to be disciplined? I know the phrases that absolutely worked for me. Those magical words evolve with you just as you grow and stick with you until your grave. Though I can only reveal some of them here, if you want to know some more, you know who to call. Let’s get started, ‘Be a good child’, sounds familiar? This was one of the words that stuck to me when I joined kindergarten, when I was naughty when I am supposed to be, when I had fun when I wanted to, when I expressed feelings when I needed to. This word made sure I was in my invisible cage all the time, not allowing me to explore whatever I wanted. So here I am, standing in a crowd of people who are just like me struggling even to do something as simple as socializing. Patriarchy is not just about the government that creates norms or an institution that imposes its rules or those unspoken policies that are in the community, it's also about the tradition of each household, the protective words that are said for our safety or about following the ‘That’s how it’s always been’ rule.
Growing up for me was all about exploring the ‘Don’t do it’ in every situation. The patriarchy in my family was not loud or aggressive, but it was undeniable. That’s when I came across my second magical word, ‘Listen to your father’. For most of us it's either a male figure or an elder who is always right when it comes to decision making and I am always supposed to rely on them for mostly everything. That slowly taught me that masculine traits are often related with leadership, autonomy and taking risks and the feminine traits are for compliance, emotional labour and caution. Eventually these gender biases shaped my understanding of power and about political conditions even before I was formally introduced to it.
Education was an eye opener that gave me answers for the questions I never wanted to know the answer for. When I joined middle school, I got to know that there were women who shone amidst the male domination. This made me think, “Oh, why can’t I?”. Yet equality was just a theory taught in school while the social dynamics within the classroom clearly reflect social hierarchies. Boys were expected to speak louder, take up space and challenge authority while girls are expected to be organised, polite and responsible. Here comes the third magical word, ‘Behave like a girl’. Both at home and in school, this was the most stressed phrase that I was forced to follow. To sit like a girl, to walk like a girl, to do chores like a girl, to obey everyone’s words like a girl, I came across so many comments that I must follow even though there’s no official strict norm that prompts its immediately following. These comments may seem small but the effect; Low self-confidence, distorted self-perceptions, affected career choice and so much more.
By the end of the previous paragraph, most of you would have thought, ‘Probably a feminist’ well, I can’t help it. I’m just a girl. But I am still there to bring neutrality, because nature is all about being balanced so let’s get going. Although it has visible effects on women, it has invisible yet choking hold on men as well. Men are naturally supposed to be rigid, suppress emotions and hide vulnerability which puts them in a huge disadvantage as well.
Now I see upbringing as both personal journey and political experience. Growing up within this patriarchy taught me it’s not about limitations, it’s about resistance, resilience and power to criticise. Recognising these flaws is the first step towards creating a fairer system for the future generations. This is just another manmade cage, therefore it’s breakable.
Written by Keerthi Vijaya Saravanan
Design
by
Tanisha Sinha
the BeAr My Dad seNt to Melbourne
He was the apple of my eye. The most handsome, cuddly, loyal little guy who patiently listened to my endless toddler yaps. I called him Mr. Teddy, because even at three, I believed my best friend deserved a title. We were inseparable. Wherever I went, Mr. Teddy came too. If you’d asked toddler-me who my favourite person was, I would’ve proudly pointed at him like, obviously. And then one day, I lost him.
Not in a dramatic way. No goodbye. Just….gone. Vanished into the same mysterious black hole where hairclips disappear.
I was three, and I went through what can only be described as ‘toddler grief’. I was anxiously attached to Mr. Teddy, probably because I didn’t have siblings or kids my age around. He was my safe haven. My tiny ‘emotional support bear’ before ‘emotional support bears’ were a thing! The adults around me reacted in two classic categories:
The overly concerned: “OMG, this could be a serious psychological issue.”
And the absolutely unbothered: “It’s just a teddy bear, Sri. Move on.”
Respectfully, I could not get over it. I stopped eating. I had fevers. I isolated myself like I was going through a breakup (except my ex was made of fluff )
Only one person met me exactly where I was: Dad.
More years passed.
A few days later, he came home with a new teddy bear. Honestly, he looked nothing like Mr. Teddy. Not even close. But Dad sat beside
me, pointed to the new bear and spoke as if introducing family: “This is Brownie, Mr. Teddy’s brother.”
I blinked, mid-sob.
Then Dad continued, completely serious: “One day, you’re going to go to a big place full of smart people. You’ll do your own thing. It might make you tremble at first. So someone you trust and love needs to be there already, to guide you, to arrange things for you.”
“So I sent Mr. Teddy ahead,” he said. “He’s gone to that big place to guide you. He’s waiting for you there. Until you’re ready, Brownie will keep you company.”
My tears slowed. “Really?”
“Of course,” Dad said. “But promise me this: don’t give up, no matter what. Things that are lost have a way of coming back if you keep going. Deal?”
“Yeah, Papa. DEAL!”
He smiled. “I’ve got your back, sweetie.” Years passed.
And then, I lost my dad.
This kind of loss doesn’t come with a replacement bear. And unlike childhood, I didn’t get to pause the world and grieve properly. The globe kept spinning, faster and faster, and I had to keep up. So I packed my grief, my dreams, and Brownie into a bag, zipped it up, and switched to survival mode: jobs, responsibilities and the whole act-tough stuff.
One day, I found that old bag again. I opened it, and there was Brownie. Suddenly everything I’d locked away came flooding back: the grief, the dream, the promise. This time, I didn’t pack it away. I went into full-on action mode.
And so, here I am in Melbourne.
Yes, the big place with smart people. Yes, I’m scared. Yes, I’m grieving. And hell yes, I still have big dreams.
I walked into my new home feeling wobbly. I stepped into my room, opened the cupboard, and froze. There was a teddy bear inside.
Not just any teddy bear.
He looked exactly like Mr. Teddy; only bigger, as if he had grown up while I was growing up too. I stood there with my heart pounding, and in that moment my dad’s words snapped into place.
I didn’t just find a teddy bear. I found a gentle proof that my dad had been guiding me all along. Not physically, no. But through the way he raised me; with stories that turned fear into courage, loss into meaning, and dreams into something worth risking for.
Upbringing, I’ve realised, isn’t only what parents give you while they’re here. It’s also what they leave inside you - a voice, a promise, a backbone.
And I’m doing great. One day at a time. Because no matter how fast the world spins, you find your anchor. You keep going.
And sometimes, life quietly returns what you thought you lost; in a new form, in a new place, silently waiting for you in a cupboard in Melbourne.
Photograph by Lincoln Russell
Designed by Mahak Vyas
All Because i believeD.
My mum sent me to the clinic, the one where the cool ones go. Well, that’s what Mum said to get me to go. The friendly giraffe named Jeff sat on the wall with his big googly eyes, they’re so bright and blue. Should have called for a restraining order; Jeff was everywhere. The clinic was where Ariel, from the little mermaid, lived. She just wanted her voice back, or to have the voice she never had.
I was a little chatterbox, I would say words I discovered from all over the place, the place being Clover tree St on the West of Perth, the best side none would say. I spoke with confidence, direct, waiting to wreak havoc on anyone that would glance in my direction. I had a hunger to make my appearance memorable to anyone I was around. Even the lady at the speech pathology clinic. I don’t think there was a connection.
Mum wouldn’t let me speak for hours if I slurred my words too often. I would acquiesce to her commitment to my language, I told her it wouldn’t matter in the end, I would get older, I was smart like all the year 10’s. I would be as tall as them. I would be big and strong so my voice would no longer be an issue. My argument wasn’t quite cogent. But I believed in myself. I believed I had the power within myself to change. I gave it my all, I wanted to do something completely on my own. I was 10 years old. I couldn’t even ride a bike yet. I created impressionist paintings of all the ideas I had. Until I convinced myself, they were all fake. Only because believing wasn’t enough to create change. I still spoke without clarity; I created words to cover for the real ones I couldn’t find in my vocabulary. I lost confidence. I don’t know if I ever got it back. It’s been 12 years.
Being a kid takes a toll, I told you. It matters more than anyone will ever know. This. This is why I am a pessimist. I believed in everything, and everything knew all too well how to flatten my tires in five second’s flat. I don’t think I’ve completely believed in something since that day.
It’s entirely easier to not set expectations for anyone.
Except apparently myself. I expect the world of myself, purely because I want the world for myself. I want to conquer the world. I want to be big and great. I want to be Curious George. Whimsical, compassionate, full of an unbeknownst wonder.
Shifting the tables on myself, I started talking with more veracity soon after speech pathology locked me out (they wish they could). People didn’t want to listen though, my confidence turned into crippling anxiety, I waited by every door until families would leave the lounge room, I sat in hallways, with a clear view of the television to avoid conversation. I didn’t think I had the capacity to be better than who I currently was, I couldn’t be seen as less than, even in the eyes of those who had loved me endlessly. I thought I’d lost that light. I filled myself with envy, with the nail clippings of righteous words people spoke of. I collected words without processing; I looked at boys’ faces without seeing them. I let people glance over me; I let people murmur over me. Everything was better than finding belief again. I built a piece of myself around her, even when she knew nothing of who I am today. It matters so incredibly much who you once were, even when you hate that person. You must be that person to have the magnitude to want to change.
No one ever tells you how much it matters to have someone believe in you.
It took a long time for anyone to fully believe in me with every inkling of themselves; my past belief held a lot of empathy and pity. Full of love, of course, but a love that moves through concern and distress. There comes a time when the only option is to believe in yourself, and that. Well, that folks is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It’s a venerable thing to do, and a truly honest one. I started by creating an understanding with myself that it was okay to want things for me and me only. It was okay to not always be of service to everyone at every waking moment.
THE GIRL I CHOOSE TO REMEMBER
“I was looking for the answers in somebody else, but I had all the answers. I just needed to stop being so scared of who I really was.”
I recently heard this quote, and it perfectly embodies the sentiment of looking back at your childhood photographs; a mixture of grief, nostalgia, and most of all a lot of love. When you are a child, you want to move forward towards a life that’s unknown to you. Then when you finally start living the unknown, you realize that you want to go back to the life you once had; it’s a strange feeling.
I’ve always wondered why that is.
The girl I once knew had a ball in her stomach, one she couldn’t really name yet.
This picture was taken by my dad. We went to a wedding, and I didn’t like what I was wearing and wanted to stay at home. The little ball in my stomach grew that day. It was disorientating. When I show this picture to anyone, they tell me about how cute I look or how beautiful my hair looks. No one knows about that unknown feeling in my gut. Honestly, I’d rather have it that way.
Growing up, the compliments felt desperate, a sham, the little girl, unseen. I choose to remember her for the person she was before she learned to be someone else to love herself. This is a picture from my first ever dance performance. I remember my mom telling me how proud she was. I couldn’t really figure out why.
I was a little proud and really liked the sweet flowers in my hair. There was still something missing, could’ve been due to my friends being in a different dance.
Their absence outweighed the love I had for myself. However, I choose to remember the little girl who didn’t try to edit herself to belong. She is the part of me that never needed fixing. Instead of always chasing something, I just needed to exist.
Now when I look back at pictures of myself, I feel the quiet weight of the things she carried. I remember the little girl who was lost but always found love at places no one else did. The pictures remind me of the sparkle in her eyes from the love she had for people.
I protect the little girl in me by not asking her questions, trusting her enough to let her be.
Because she deserved more than she wanted, and right now, she’s everything I’d want to be.
Written and Designed by Sanvi Khanna
Designed by Adrien Marks
Photograph by Huda Shehzad
graphic design is my passion. graphic design is my passion. graphic design is my passion.
- Some are born leaders, I was born.
- And that’s when I knew.
- I’m 10, Ben 10.
- Except when I hit my watch, I hurt my hand
- My Dad hurt me once. Pain is a choice, not my choice
- I’m 14 wolf
- Deucalion Gideon Emery
- Some aspire to be athletes and scholars, I.
- Some make partners and relationships, mm titanic.
- Some kiss then tumble on pillows, I kiss pillows
- Sometimes I can’t finish,
- Finish Ultimate Plus for an intensive clean in short cycles (1hr, 65°C)
- All through high school I wiped after the toilet.
- I hate the toilet paper at RMIT.
- Wiping is such an inconvenience
- My life has always ben.
- After all, a highlighter can only run for 200 meters.
Photograph by Huda Shehzad
A Child Walking Forward on a
Path
Childhood is a place many people long to return to. Not everyone, though. For some, those early years were marked by struggle, shaped by difficult circumstances and memories they would rather not revisit. For others, childhood holds warmth, laughter and moments so precious that they carry with them for a lifetime. No two childhoods are the same, yet each one leaves a lasting mark on person’s emotions, values and way of seeing the world. This is where the upbringing story begins.
I have often heard and deeply believe that the person we become begins taking shape during our growing years. To me, upbringing is shaped by the environment we grew up in, the experiences we quietly store in our minds, the friends we make and the teachers who influences us, and most importantly, the relationship we share with our family. That relationship often shapes our emotional world and guides the values we choose to carry within ourselves.
Who you are today and how you behave defines upbringing. When we begin to understand the influence of upbringing, we feel the urge to look back at our younger selves. If I could speak to that child today, this is what I would say:
Dear Younger Me,
The years you are living now will become some of the happiest and most meaningful years of your life, even if you do not realize it yet. These are the years that quietly teach you the value of communication and the strange truth that sometimes understanding exists even without words. The innocence you carry will not disappear completely. It may get buried under responsibilities and pressure to succeed. Still a part of that child will always remain within you, keeping your heart gentle as life moves forward with the journey full of ups and downs.
You will learn by watching your family that success is not only about hard work, but about honesty, intention
and giving your best without harming others. Sometimes honesty will make you feel different, even misunderstood, but do not let that change you. No matter how much you grow, you will always remain a learner. People will compare you with others but never overthink on your own capabilities. You will have that confidence to choose what is right for you after reading and listening to others. You will learn to see positive things in every moment of life.
You will see people choose selfish paths and gain temporary advantage, but later you will understand how actions return to the person who creates them. This will quietly teach you what karma means. Growing up in a home where children are valued like a treasure will shape your understanding of care and responsibility, even though you will also witness conflicts and imperfections among people you love.
You will slowly begin to understand what spirituality means and the role it plays in your life. Spirituality is not only about believing in God but also about believing in the power of your own thoughts. You will learn that when you let go, when you allow your emotions and thoughts to flow freely instead of holding them in, your mind begins to feel lighter and calmer. In that quietness, you will discover a deeper connection with yourself.
There will be days when you feel alone, like those quiet lunches at school with your own thoughts for company. Yet, when you return home and speak
with your family, you will trust in something larger than yourself, a quiet strength that never makes you weak. That trust will bring you closer to your own emotions and thoughts. Over time, you will learn to share those thoughts and realise that one idea can hold many different perspectives.
One day, you will understand how fortunate you were to have the freedom to choose your own path, because not everyone receives that opportunity. Life offers choices but understanding what truly matters will always be your responsibility.
With a smile and blissfulness, Your Older Self
In the end, upbringing is about being shaped and nurtured by every part of the world around us. As children, our thoughts are soft, delicate and easily influenced which needs to be handled with care and that’s why young minds can be shaped so deeply by their surroundings. But when life begins to test us, we slowly realize that there were areas in our childhood where we still needed to grow stronger. The difficulties we face
today are not punishments, but lessons life offers to help us learn what we once could not. As year pass, you will still realize that life never stops teaching. Growth does not end with childhood but continues with every step we take.
Designed by Mariam Erradi
Photograph by Huda Shehzad
My house is gone, the roads paved over, but in my dreams it’s bustling, with crowds of people and nights of dancing.
Yet when i awoke; dust, instead of the place I called home.
I moved across the sea, while my old home met its fate.
Made myself a new life in a place closer to my start, yet in my dreams and my heart, It stays.
Alive, loving and in an eternal state.
Photography by Lincoln Russell
VE Smoko
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VE Smoko
