Foxzysmile

When we say, “I am a man,” we are not just asserting identity—we are also, often unconsciously, implying what we are not . By identifying as a man, we place women in the category of “other,” and vice versa. But what does it mean to know that someone is a man, or a woman? How do we even decide? Are there specific things that men do, or things that women do? And who decides which actions belong to which gender?  These questions are not abstract—they exist in the spaces we live, study, and work in. On campus, in classrooms, or even in cafés, gendered expectations appear in subtle ways. For example, certain areas of the library or lab feel more “occupied” by one gender than the other. The type of bags people carry, the notebooks they use, even the way they decorate their desks or lockers—these objects silently communicate identity and belonging. A colourful planner with doodles may be perceived as feminine, while a rugged backpack might be read as masculine. These are material cues , s...

  During my pilot study at the University, the theme “Things of Otherness” slowly shifted from an abstract idea into something I could feel, see, and sometimes struggle to interpret. The first and most grounding tool I used was observation —not just looking, but watching closely how spaces, people, and behaviours carried their own stories. Observation; looking vs watching I still remember my first morning on campus. I sat near the cafeteria, pretending to organize my notes, but really observing how students formed small circles, design students, engineering groups, architecture clusters, each with their own rhythm. At first, these groups felt like small islands. Their laughter, gestures, and even slang sounded foreign to me. That moment became my first lesson in otherness: belonging is something you see before you feel. The Unseen Rhythm of Campus But the most unexpected learning came from observing the cleaning staff members on campus. Every morning around 7.30, while most stude...