AZALIA SUHAIMI is a Malaysian poet, illustrator, and storyteller whose work delicately intertwines the threads of motherhood, self-compassion, and artistic expression. Her creative journey began with a passion for writing and photography, leading her to establish a blog titled Photopoetry, where she combined visual imagery with poetic narratives.
After earning a degree in accounting from the University of New South Wales, Azalia pursued her artistic inclinations by studying photography at the College of Fine Arts in Sydney and later obtaining a Diploma in English Literature from the University of Cambridge. Her multifaceted education laid the foundation for a unique artistic voice that resonates with many, particularly mothers navigating the complexities of parenthood.
Azalia's work gained prominence through her "Dear Mama" art series, heartfelt illustrations accompanied by poetic affirmations aimed at encouraging self-kindness among mothers. These pieces, widely shared across social media platforms, have become a source of solace and empowerment for many.
Currently based in the United Kingdom, Azalia is further honing her craft by pursuing a Master's degree in Contemporary Creative Writing at Northeastern University London. Her work has been featured in various publications, including HuffPost, Yahoo! News, and Shape Magazine, and she continues to collaborate on projects that align with her mission of spreading love and self-compassion through art.
More of Azalia Suhaimi’s work may be appreciated on her website and her IG Account.
Editor’s Introduction
Azalia Suhaimi practices a quiet art of attention; an art that does not rush to impress, but instead invites the reader inward, gently. Her voice is grounded, luminous, and generous, shaped not by spectacle but by the everyday acts of noticing, of naming, of offering presence to what others might overlook.
There is a particular kind of strength in Suhaimi’s work: one that does not demand space but creates it, patiently. She writes from the threshold where inner life meets outer responsibility, where exhaustion can coexist with clarity, and where self-compassion is not a retreat from the world but a way to remain in it, fully.
Her creative ethos is one of softness without fragility, vulnerability without spectacle. What she offers is not performance, but conversation: a quiet reminder that art can heal not through grand gestures, but through the small, persistent act of showing up for one’s own voice.
In a world that rewards urgency and noise, Suhaimi chooses slowness, reflection, and care. And in that choice, she gives us something rare: a poetics of presence that allows us to breathe, to listen, and perhaps, to begin again.
