Three weeks ago, I came across something that shocked the life right out of me. I saw a cream in the cupboard of a neighbor's place. Never have I come across such despicable promises. As cute as it was- pink with a before/after picture of a woman, I came to hate it as soon as my eyes caught sight of the words on it. The mixture promised the miracle of making women look “shades lighter”.

As a child I was always told that I excelled with a pen in hand. That is who I am, a writer with a pen and pad. One of many attributes that helped to shape my personal identity. But what about the real ‘identity’ I posses?