#11. A child’s wisdom, a woman’s power

Yesterday, Penelope came up to me with one of her usual bursts of curiosity. Out of the blue, she said, “Mummy, I want my own mobile so I can see my own photos.” I told her gently, “You’re still very little, Penelope. When you're Coco’s age, then we can talk about it.” She got a bit upset and replied, “You’re a bucket dipper, Mummy.”

At first, I thought she was just making up words again, as she often does; her imagination is boundless. But she stood firm: “You’re being a bucket dipper.” I asked her what that meant, and she said, “When you treat someone poorly, you're dipping in their bucket. But when you're kind and generous, you're a bucket filler. Today, you're a bucket dipper.”

I was taken aback, not just by the concept, but by the fact that she’d internalised it so well. Later, I did some research and discovered that this is a known concept often taught in schools. The idea of bucket filling and dipping is a metaphor for how our actions affect others’ emotional well-being. I was impressed and grateful that she’s learning about empathy and emotional awareness so early. Well done to the school. And once again, thank you, Penelope, for teaching me something new.

Her comment brought back an old memory, one I hadn’t revisited in years.

I was preparing to emigrate to Australia, a huge, emotional leap. It took sacrifice, resilience, and relentless belief. I was in a group conversation when someone (who knew about my plans) casually said, “At the end of the day, no matter where you go, you’ll always be an immigrant.” She wasn’t addressing me directly, but the message was clear.

That comment lingered. It hurt. And yet, I’ve carried it all these years, not as a wound, but as a reminder. Because now, I can say it proudly: I am an immigrant.

That comment was a form of bucket dipping, a way to diminish someone’s dream, maybe unintentionally, but still painfully. And yet, here I am, 14 years later, deeply proud of my story, my roots, and the journey I chose.

Being an immigrant has shaped every part of who I am. It’s made me brave. It’s given me perspective. It’s shown me that when you leave everything behind (your country, your family, your safety net), you learn to bet on yourself in ways most people never have to. You build, you fall, and you get up again. You know failure isn’t final, because starting over is something you’ve already done.

So today, I want to raise my voice for every immigrant, especially the ones who’ve been made to feel small. There is no shame in where we come from. In fact, it’s our superpower. We made the brave decision to want more, to give our families a better future, and to believe in something we couldn’t yet see.

To Penelope, thank you for the reminder. And to every immigrant reading this: your story is valid. Your strength is real. You are a bucket filler, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

When was the last time someone dipped into your bucket, and how did you choose to respond?

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