From the editor Emily Simpson

If you were born before 1980 you probably weren’t encouraged to think all that highly of yourself. ‘‘Who do you think you are?’’ was a common question levelled at kids, implying your sense of worth was just a few notches above where it belonged. Maybe you were too big for your boots. Maybe you considered yourself the bee’s knees. Or maybe – the ultimate crime – you thought you were Christmas.

We had a whole language aimed at cutting folk down to size. Then, as the last millennium drew to a close, that changed. Self esteem became the commodity we all wanted to cultivate in our children and ourselves. The self help section of the book store took up an entire wall. Big beauty companies suggested you buy their products ‘‘because you’re worth it...’’ And boom – the connection between self care and commerce was born.

Enter the internet and it wasn’t enough to love and care for ourselves in the privacy of our own homes, it had to be blasted all over Instagram. ‘‘Look everyone, I’m drinking my greens...’’

Of course, today’s story about self-care, which initially read like a gentle ribbing at a social trend, took on a different light after last Friday’s tragedy. It has never felt more clear that love and care are at their most meaningful when channelled directly outward, at others – and not just those closest to us, but to those in our communities who come from half a world away and might, on the outside, appear to be completely unlike ourselves.