A Letter from Singapore to New York

on writing, womanhood, and our shrinking world

Just over two years ago, I took a twenty hour flight across the Pacific to attend Tin House’s Winter Workshop, with little more than a dream and a vague idea there were people in America who wanted to read my work. It wasn’t an easy trip. We knew nothing about Covid then—it was a scary disease from Wuhan, Chinese-appearing people were getting harassed e…