way back when.

Mix bellbottoms with koalas and there is the entry for my beginnings as a wee brown thing growing up in the 70s and 80s in a small town called Surfers Paradise somewhere pretty far south of the equator.

At the time, I didn’t know I was multiracial, or that the White Australia Policy (which restricted immigration of non-white people to Australia) had only recently been abolished. But from early on, I did seem to know that looking how I looked, and having a name like the one I had, were things I had to somehow compensate for so that people would like and accept me. I did this by trying to be the best at everything I did, turning me into an anxious perfectionist, and inevitably backfiring. For as I started to shine brighter, I suffered the wrath of jealous frenemies. I quickly learned how to shrink into a less threatening version of myself. All I wanted was to to be liked, to be accepted.

I spent my childhood reading Roald Dahl, swimming in shark infested waters, choreographing Bollywood dance routines, and covertly sneaking papadams from the kitchen of ‘The Curry Pot’, the restaurant my family owned. Although I adored Indian movies, clothes, dance and food, I would have traded in all that spice and glitter just to look and feel like everyone else and to not have been repeatedly asked the question “where are you from?”

My father, an immigrant and entrepreneur, modelled a can do attitude and a love for connecting with people. My mother showed me the ethic of hard work, consistency, and good listening. Both of my parents set me up to be inclined towards the unconventional.