Moving Abroad: One Year On

Moving Abroad: One Year On

Monday, March 17, 2025

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The Before // 

Before one moves overseas, well-meaning folks would offer well-wishes and advice, words of wisdom they may or may not have tried and tested themselves. You would've had the time to psych yourself for the big move, preparing logistics, mapping out the most efficient route to an unfamiliar address which you'll soon commit to memory and which you'll later grow accustomed to calling "home", at least to your new friends. 

And as much as possible, you would've mentally prepped yourself. You get to prepare yourself for the unknown, and somehow expecting the unknown makes the actual unknown a bit easier to deal with. 

The First Return Home //

But no one can prepare you for the sense of uncanny familiarity that greets you when you return back home, especially when you've built a second one somewhere else. While it feels like a warm hug, it feels like one from a stranger–incredibly unnerving. 

It's unnerving because it's the familiarity despite. Despite how different I feel, it's so easy to fall back into the same routines–knowing how to cut across the road before the green man comes on because you can predict the traffic light's timing, diving straight into the snacks aisle of your local supermarket (the one you used to spend most of your post-work evenings in) and going back to volunteering on Friday evenings helping to write letters to government bodies on issues plaguing the average Singaporean, issues that feel so far from my own reality (and this time, not referring to it in a privileged way, though I hundred percent am). 

The most unnerving of it all? The immediate realization coming back from abroad that there's now a part of me that'll never feel familiar to the folks back home. And the fact that they don't see it. To them, 'you haven't changed!', 'wah thank goodness no accent', 'no European air eh!' While I'm glad I didn't seem foreign to my friends and loved ones, it was quite a bit to deal with on my own, feeling like I needed to reconcile these two 'versions' of me. 

The Invisible Growth //

It was also a strange phenomenon because in Dublin, I didn't feel like I'd changed at all. In fact, there were moments in the past year where I questioned my decision to uproot myself completely from a place where I had everything going for me, and it wasn't because things got challenging. Instead, it all felt too easy–so much so that I wondered if I was truly going to get the dramatic "personal growth" I'd envisioned getting by moving abroad. 

Yet, returning back to Singapore made Dublin feel like a complete dream. Not in a rainbows-and-butterflies-kinda-way, but in a 'did that even happen?' way, because that version of myself felt so far away. That version of myself felt different: the one that had a newfound sense of independence, the one that takes control of her social life and not let it be dictated by obligations, the one that has a decent work-life balance. 

These were changes or little growth areas I'd never noticed till I relegated back to my other self in Singapore–and I'd argue not because of a lack of responsibility, but a shift back to old circumstances. At least, moving has shown me what's possible. 

The Leaving Home Again //

And with visiting home, comes the need to leave it again. This time I left really knowing what to expect–there no longer was that sense of adventure or novelty anymore. Because I moved abroad for work, it also felt like I was returning to the place I associated with back-to-back meetings, sending emails, and a good amount of workplace shenanigans. 

As much as I do enjoy aspects of my job, there's no denying that sense of dread that comes with settling into the plane seat you'd be trapped in for the next fourteen hours and knowing you'd have to to go into the office jet-lagged the next day. That's not even counting the emotional aspect of it all: it gets even harder to leave home the second time, not knowing when's the next time you'll be seeing the people you left behind. 

At some point, I'll be back home for good. When that happens, I can't wait for my two selves to merge into one best self–obviously not a given, but I'm prepared to put in the work. Till then, I'll continue to chase all the growth I can get, in every aspect of my life but particularly in my personal sense of self. 

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Taipei, Taiwan (Solo)

Taipei, Taiwan (Solo)

Thursday, July 11, 2024

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I'd describe my trip to Taipei end-2022 as a series of unfortunate events where everything that could go wrong, went wrong. Hilarious in hindsight, but pretty miserable in the moment. Perhaps it was the impromptu nature of the trip, where I booked it without much thought simply to utilize my company's "work from anywhere" policy, leading to all sorts of disasters. Think: booking the wrong hotel, realizing that the hotel you ended up in was a Covid-19 isolation facility, falling sick alone overseas, and feeling the tremors of the earthquake in that said hotel while nursing my illness. 

Yet, these moments made me discover a side of Taipei that I wouldn't have otherwise explored, which made my visit feel more authentically local. 

The wrong hotel gave me a peek into local life 

The hotel I was supposed to book, 'York Hotel' was centrally located, near the Taipei Main Station and the office, where I was meant to work from for a couple of days. However, the 'York Hotel' I ended up booking (yes they literally had the same name) was located in Banqiao District, and a ~40 mins commute to the city. 

This slight inconvenience necessitated a long, early stroll to the metro every day I was there, passing by local eateries and homes, ones I wouldn't have gotten to see otherwise. The morning rush hour commute was memorable and as real as it gets–squished up in between sliding doors and the warm human bodies who gave no hoots about personal space. 

These were the little things that gave me a taste of what working and living in Taipei felt like, and I did end up still having a lovely time meeting my Greater China colleagues and touring our office situated within the Taipei 101 building. 

With Z, whom I'd been working with for a year at that point.

Of course, we had to have my favourite drink in its birthplace.

Always fun visiting the offices abroad.

A cozy nook, and the snacks in the Taipei office are elite. 

Dinner on one of the nights post-working in the office with Z.

Covid-19 isolation facility, but so very homely 

So how did I realize this god-forsaken hotel was moonlighting as an isolation facility for the pandemic? Well, there were some signs. I first arrived in the early morning of 11 December (yes, I only had an 8 hour "stopover" in Singapore in between my Hanoi and Taipei trips). As I wanted to make sure I had a room to shower in prior to starting my day instead of waiting till the usual check-in time, I had booked my stay from the night before, expecting the room to be ready once I arrived. However, when I stepped into the hotel, the lights of the lobby were switched off, and a lone lady at the counter was clearly not expecting me. The booking confirmation from my inbox was scrutinized, before she informed me my room wasn't ready and instructed me to take a seat and wait–not before turning on the lights though. 

When I got to my room, it was cozy, nothing amiss yet. I did notice that every other room in the corridor apart from mine had some sort of two-tiered trolley rack near the door, and it seemed like standardized meals were being delivered to the guests, left on their trolleys. These meals were soon replaced by trash bags, to be picked up by the staff. I put two and two together, and it all made sense when I saw that the staff running these errands were dressed in PPE (personal protective equipment) from head to toe.  

Throughout the five days I spent there, I didn't see any other hotel guest. At least, none who could leave their rooms. This made me the most identifiable person for whoever was on duty at the lobby each day. At first, service was not given with a smile–alas, this was no luxury hotel. However, it seemed like word spread amongst hotel staff about this random Singaporean girl, and I was greeted one night when I returned with an "哦!是妳啊?" (translation: "Oh! It's you!"), by someone I'd never seen before. I suppose, yes, it's me, the girl who paid for a room in this isolation facility. By the last day though, the staff were all talking to me, making sure I knew how to turn up the temperature in my room as the weather was getting colder, and making sure I was putting on enough layers before I left their doors. It was very sweet. 

The hotel lift that only serviced a single hotel guest–me, post surviving an earthquake.

Valuing health, and time

Falling sick overseas, especially when you're alone, seriously sucks. I probably spent a good two out of the five days trying to nurse myself back to health, made easier with the wonders of Asia's 7-11/ Family Mart stores and apple milk, a beverage I waited 6 years since my last Taiwan trip to drink again. 

Heaven sometimes takes the form of a convenience storefront serving up tasty hot, microwaveable meals.

 

Yes, I was sick, but I clearly still had quite the appetite. 

I only had about 50% of my taste, but this still hit. 

Yet, the limited time I had left to explore the city made the hours feel so much more valuable and special. Instead of relying on myself, I enlisted the help of my Taiwan-crazed friend who's practically a local. She happened to be there at the same time I was, and I knew I could count on her to give me the right Taipei experience. It also helped that this was my third time in the city and I've already been to all the tourist must-do's, so no pressure there. 

And when it mattered, plans worked in my favour. Receiving this very message on the day I was due to fly was such a gift: 

A flight delay when I most needed it!

Instead of moping around feeling frustrated about why I fell sick in the first place, I dragged my sorry nearly-recovered ass out the door and properly begun my trip, with about eight hours left to spare. The first stop was a quaint cafe-and-bookstore near my hotel, literally called 'eslite me-time', exactly what I needed. 

Tea for one. 

I couldn't resist a strawberry pon de ring from Mister Donut at the metro station, while waiting for my friend RN. 

Dinner was a place called 燈籠滷味, serving up a dish called '滷味' which I can only describe as a braised version of mala xiang guo/ yong tau foo. 

I enjoyed it, didn't taste like anything I had before. 

The next stop was 師園鹽酥雞 (translation: Shi Yun Crispy Fried Chicken).

This is popular with locals, it's not your usual over-seasoned Taiwanese fried chicken cutlet (Shilin-style), but served in a variety of batters and cuts you could pick and choose from. 

And we ended the night on a sweet note with mango shaved ice, of course. 

Thank you for readily showing me around your favourite city, and jam-packing the few hours I had with everything I was craving, and undeniably the best versions of each one. 

Just like that, my trip to Taipei came to an end. Quite a banger of an end, if I may say so myself. 

Sure, there were a couple, or loads, of bumps along the way, but everything could've been a lot worst. The series of unfortunate events turned around to become some of the greatest blessings, due mainly to the unique experience I ended up with. Being the only hotel guest and having some of the cutest conversations with the staff, nursing myself back to health and understanding the importance of rest, surviving the earthquake tremors, and having an absolute adrenaline-packed speed-run of delicious Taiwanese cuisine; what more could I have asked for?

If this is what an impromptu trip results in, count me in for the next one. 

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Quarter-life

Quarter-life

Sunday, June 5, 2022

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I just reached my quarter-life checkpoint a little less than four months ago. Of course, that's assuming I'd live till 100, which is a tad of a stretch, I know, considering my current lifestyle habits. 

Somehow, phrases like 'quarter-life' or 'mid-life' are usually accompanied with 'crisis', as though the coming of age signals an impending doom. In some ways, I get it. The act of turning a year older serves as the most obvious reminder that that there is a finite resource and limitation all of us grapple with—time—which is a potential impediment stopping us from achieving what we set out to do in this life, whatever that might be.  

Admittedly, upon graduating and entering the workforce almost 2 years ago, I've gone through periods of burnout and over-exertion. Not sleeping adequately to complete work that's not even expected of me, mindless worrying about things I have no absolutely control over, and procrastinating because of a deep-seated insecurity that I am not good enough to even complete the task—even though I'd end up still pulling through at the last minute, usually at the expense of even heavier eyebags and an accelerated heartbeat. And doing all of the above without a clear direction of what I am even trying to attain in the long run, and being blinded chasing short-term and superficial "wins" like a good performance rating or an early promotion. 

The way I see it, this form of age-based crisis is a result of a future-looking anxiety. A worry that our future selves may not live up to expectations of ourselves or others, or a fear that we're not spending our time in the most meaningful way, the latter of which is usually compounded with the reality that such a huge chunk of our lives has already passed. In some senses, it is a bit of a first-world problem, where one can still technically survive in their day-to-day as long as the status quo continues. 

A huge part of this feeling could be due to my supposed "perfectionist" nature, a title that I'd honestly hesitate to claim because I could never see my output being anything close to perfection. Yet, by pushing myself to the limit, I am giving myself the opportunity to rest easy (when I finally do rest) knowing that I've done whatever I could and outcomes would be left up to chance. Definitely easier said than done, especially when the voice inside my head is my harshest critic. I don't think I've ever given myself credit for "doing my best" and I do actually berate myself with actual profanities. I would never say any of such words to anyone else, so I don't know why I do that to myself. 

Considering I don't know what I'm working towards (which is not a bad thing, may I add), I probably need to do a better job at living in the moment, and accepting the fact that in this life, there is only so much I can do. One of my favourite Pixar movies, 'Soul', illustrates this heaps better than I ever will. Without giving away much of its plot, it challenges typical notions of "success" and "failure", bringing to life the beautiful but also harsh truth that attaining our achievements may not even bring us the happiness we'd expected, so it's even more important to express gratitude for your current state. 

And truly, in spite of it all, there is so much to be thankful for. 

This weekend, I'm thankful for the company of friends (old and new) who embrace all of my quirks, the luxury of spending time with my family over Saturday's really filling lunch, my boyfriend for travelling all the way to Punggol with me only to find that the pasar malam (night market) we had travelled for was postponed, and McDonald's for bringing in smoky nacho cheese sauce to pair with their most consistent nuggets. 

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Graduation: One Year On

Graduation: One Year On

Sunday, October 24, 2021

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My earliest memory of the concepts of "graduation" and "university" was my mother telling me - back when I could barely even understand - that she'd do whatever it takes to make sure I graduated from one, even it if meant selling away our house. Trading my bedroom for the opportunity to study didn't make sense at all to me, but it sure drove home the message that this was something important to her, her life goal almost.  

Thankfully, many years later, we still have a roof over our heads, and I've achieved what she set out to do when she had my brother and I: producing two first generation graduates in the family. 

Interestingly enough, I genuinely never saw graduating to be a momentous occasion, or something that even required celebrating. As best as I can put this across without sounding presumptuous, it wasn't a difficult journey, at least not the actual "university" bit. Sure, I've faced little bumps along the road throughout my academic life, but those can mostly be attributed to the sky-high expectations set by being amongst some of the most academically inclined youth in my growing up years. I'm fortunate that getting into a local university was never a question of 'whether', but 'which course', and I daresay completing the required modules for graduating was smoother than preparing for A Levels, save for a couple of insane weeks due to overcommitting to too many things at once - but I'd always knew I'd get through those. 

To me, this relative ease was all thanks to these two people here. 

If I could say so myself, they aren't the most involved parents ever during my university days, but it wasn't what they did then, but rather what they did leading up to it that helped set me up for success, which I'll always be immensely grateful for. 

Foundations are one of the most critical pieces of a kid's developmental process, and my parents spared no expense in that regard. No, it wasn't expensive tuition or enrichment classes, though to be fair I did get piano lessons and art classes at the nearby community centre. But it was the pure sacrifice of time and effort ensuring we did well in our early years. Weekly library visits were a must, which helped me cultivate that insatiable love for reading and writing, and developing a curiosity for topics outside what my parents even had knowledge about (compared to if my parents were the ones picking and curating the books we read). 

Mummy quit her job to make sure she had the time to learn the names of our favourite Sesame Street characters (she only knew Big Bird as a kid), which progressed to learning the school curriculum alongside us so she could play the role of our 24/7 always-on tutor, at least up till Primary 6. While not all memories were positive - lots of crying due to the pressure of not being able to write the right Chinese characters when she went through my 听写 with me - I'll always remember the sight of her reading out words from my English spelling list as she multi-tasked and mopped the kitchen floor of our Serangoon North home, while I stood outside and spelled them aloud. 

While we weren't the most financially-secure family, my parents made sure that we didn't have to worry about anything else apart from doing our "job" as students. We were not showered with frivolous wants, but had everything we needed to grow up comfortably. It was only when I grew older did I realize how much of a toll it probably took on them, especially sending us to independent schools, rather than the subsidised government ones. I'll never forget how Papa had to go to the financial aid office in my school to submit a form to ask for financial help because his daughter was too embarrassed to do it herself. 

So this one's for my parents. Thanks Papa and Mummy for all that you've done for me to achieve this milestone, and for coming down for both my commencement ceremonies. I'm really glad NUS pulled through to hold these physical graduations despite it being more than a year late, because I know how much it means to you to see me walk across a physical stage, rather than the slideshow we had a couple months ago. 

Oh, and thanks mum for sneaking Mr Ducky Wacky and Ah Mun (my favourite childhood chou chous) into the University Cultural Centre to watch me graduate - other than my parents, these are my two biggest supporters who've seen me through all the good, the bad and the (very) ugly times. I've probably used them multiple times in place of tissue paper to clean away tears, thus explaining their faded and dirty appearances. 

Symbolism aside, I did actually enjoy having the physical ceremonies too, despite flippantly writing them off initially as 'something-I'm-going-for-only-for-my-parents'. It was a nice pause amidst the usual hustle and bustle of working life to reflect and take stock of the four years that flew by. 

Admittedly, in the past 1.5 years since I graduated, I never gave NUS any credit for shaping who I am as a person. Perhaps this stems from my own insecurity, as I never saw this place as a brand-name institution, at least compared to so many of my friends who've gone on to study at top-tier universities abroad. This feeling was exacerbated because my selected courses of study (Communications & New Media; and Business Administration) did not fall into the widely accepted buckets of law and medicine. To me, attaining a Bachelor's Degree (or two) was merely a rite of passage I had to go through which wasn't going to change me dramatically, at least not as much as I had grown during my pre-university days due to this flawed mindset that I was amongst the best then - and not anymore. Oh, how ridiculous and wrong I am, projecting my insecurities onto others. 

Meeting and catching up with the friends I've made during my time at NUS during the recent commencement ceremonies was such a poignant reminder that I've met some of the best people here, with whom I formed some of the best memories of my life here. Here are a couple of them I managed to catch (pity I didn't meet everyone); 

With Beverly - my CNM & BBA & Straits Times buddy! You're someone so special to me, considering the circumstances by which we met, struggling through our journalism internship together, and then going on to work on case competitions and countless modules together. Undoubtedly one of the most humble yet talented people I've gotten to know. 

With Priya, one of the OGs whom I've gotten through eight years of formal education with! Always grateful to have you by my side, going through similar experiences, right from OBS in secondary three, to an honestly traumatic NUS Business School Camp in year one, and now graduation. So many dips and turns along the way, but you're so inspiring and I can't wait to see how many more lives you'll touch.

With the three girls I've gotten to spend majority of my university life with, at first by circumstance due to our double degree combinations but afterwards by choice! Thank you all for being there right from Orientation Week. You three kept me sane during the Business School modules we had to go through in Year 1 and 2, and though our paths diverged throughout the years, especially when Huiting and I changed home faculties to FASS together, I'm always thankful to have this solid support system to rely on. 

With Vanessa, my roomie for life! Honestly I still can't quite figure out how or why we even decided to embark on the Hong Kong journey together without even knowing each other well, but I'm so glad I decided to experience that with you and wouldn't have it any other way. Thank you for being such a dependable and supportive friend, always.

With Gerard and Ping, my first proper FASS friends, whom I only got to know in my final semester. But as they say, better late than never! I'll always be counting my blessings that you guys decided to talk to me on the NUS bus from UTown after our Political Communications module, and provided much-needed entertainment and insights.

With Christal, one of my favourite juniors - though I see her as a friend, the senior-junior status from JC somehow is still ingrained. I'm always in awe of the amount of kindness and care you show to the people around you, and while it was surprising to me that you ended up in the exact same university courses as me, you've managed to chart out an entirely different and more amazing path for yourself, and I'm so proud of you. 

And of course, how can I forget the best takeaway from university? ♥ Thank you for inviting me to a ramen "catch-up" (to which I showed up in spectacles and pyjama pants), and for taking a chance on me even though I was a journalism-crazy, most non-Business girl you could've ever met. 

After my second commencement ceremony, JX and I decided to take a walk around NUS to relive some memories, take photographs and pay a visit to the spaces and people that made the place so meaningful to us. We spent a slow afternoon people-watching at Starbucks, a luxury that we never got to do as students, since we would be constantly rushing around from tutorial to tutorial, and getting caffeine was done not for enjoyment but to keep ourselves awake. My "fondest" memory of the University Town Bux was spending an all-nighter rushing out slides for a case competition - where my team placed third. This kickstarted my journey competing in case competitions for NUS, which honestly shaped me immensely (reflected about it here).  

Later in the afternoon, we took the NUS bus to Business School, and visited my favourite Milo bro at the snack stall! 

Sustenance like no other, especially when rushing from Biz to FASS. 

"Iced milo?" he would never fail to ask, with the brightest smile, whenever he saw me appear at the counter. It wasn't that I was special, as he could literally remember the orders of most of the students from Business/ Computing/ Kent Ridge, but that made him even more special to all of us. And even when I stopped drinking iced milo as regularly in Year 3 and 4, he would ask me how I was instead, especially when I headed back on the weekends to train for case competitions. His reaction when he spotted me again this week after 1.5 years was amazing, and I only wish for the best for him. 

With the richest and most "gao" iced milo in hand, JX and I hopped back on the bus, back to University Town to sit by Town Green to reminisce about our time in NUS, and of snap a couple more pictures before the sun set. 

A very nice stranger took this lovely photo of us. 

And I took this very nice photo of JX. 

As it started getting dark, JX and I decided to make one last stop, to the rooftop of ERC, where we used to hang out quite a lot studying together. NUS is honestly breathtaking at night, and as I stared out into the infinity pool (which I never got a chance to use), my heart was filled with immense gratitude of my time here, especially when I think back on all the people I've gotten to meet and the experiences I've gained. 

We ended our day at Star Vista, heading back to the ramen shop which we went to for our first "date" (although he still insists it was a 'catch-up') for dinner. Alas, the original shop has since been replaced by another ramen shop under another name - though we suspect it's the same management. However, as we slurped our noodles, it felt just as comforting as it was the first time, in his company. A poignant reminder that even as material things and spaces change, the memories and people wouldn't. Heart has never felt more full in a long, long time. I'm thankful for this closure which I didn't even know I needed. 

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Stream of Consciousness: 2020

Stream of Consciousness: 2020

Saturday, December 26, 2020

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Well, it's been a good couple of months feebly attempting to act all "business-as-usual" as I experienced fleeting moments of feeling like I'm a protagonist in a dystopian sci-fi novel, and feeling broken when I realize that I'm in fact not in one.

I oscillated between caring about how I was going to get my next bubbletea or McDonald's fix (still can't quite believe there existed a moment in time where these comfort foods were not available to us), and thinking about how best I could help communities falling through the cracks especially during this pandemic (these thoughts typically result in me making a monetary donation, though that is undoubtedly the easiest, most low-involvement way to pacify my own guilt more than anything). Yet somehow, all these concerns seemed to take up equal headspace in my consciousness despite their supposed differences in relative importance, which was a tad unnerving—but I guess that happens when one is confined in their room and every situation is reduced to words at a corner of a newspaper. Your sense of prioritization gets all warped and everything's ends up being the next big thing that requires your attention. 

I reached a point where I could no longer care about the next headline. 

Of course, to have the biggest source of anxiety come from merely reading the text on a page describing a situation far removed from my own life, I'm privileged. I'm not severely impacted by the Covid-19 pandemic, and I'm living in a country that is managing the situation in a reasonably controlled manner. Free vaccines for all would be unheard of in so many other places where basic healthcare rights is already a huge debate in itself. 

But I do want to acknowledge 2020 for it's rough patches. It's been a hella bumpy ride. This isn't meant to be a recap of all the terrible things that have happened, but neither do I want future me to look back upon this year with rose-tinted glasses. There'll come a point where the world gets pass this, when people look back and start sharing about how much they've "grown" from this monumental year. I forsee a bunch of advocates touting their new sustainable and mindful practices which they've made into habits throughout this year, which is honestly awesome, but it isn't always healthy to only have role models who emerge from this pandemic with a newfound skill or a "better" way of living. These are badges of honour given out to those who've somehow figured out how to be productive when the world was trying ot put out its multiple fires. 

It's OK to not have these things figured out, I know I haven't. 

Chasing productivity has been such a daunting task, particularly in a remote work setting. Starting a new job in the middle of a pandemic has made it challenging to behave how I would in a "business-as-usual" situation because I wasn't even sure what that entailed. In my first couple of weeks on the job, I recall attending an internal session conducted on managing 'work-from-home' stress and one of the ways which we could self-identify if we needed professional help was by comparing our current levels of work activity with that in a pre-Covid universe. Unfortunately, that didn't end up being useful for me since I didn't have that benchmark to start with—what now? This feeling of unease wasn't something I immediately resolved and I still don't know what my "normal" levels of function are supposed to be, but over time, I've come to terms with my work performance, and words of affirmation from my supportive team mates do help to soothe my jumpy state of mind.  

Above all, this year proved to me that academic or career achievements don't equate to emotional well-being at all. Professional accolades-wise, I'm on an all-time high for sure—officially becoming a graduate and starting a full-time job. Yet, this year also marked the lowest I've ever felt in my entire life from a mental-health perspective. It's been a year of transitions and not feeling in control, so I finally let my emotions get the better of me, something I've been conditioned to take pride in not doing. Despite the fear of sounding cliché, it has really been an ongoing journey of discovering a side of myself that I usually suppress, and I'm grateful to also have avenues to seek help from. 

There are only four more sleeps till 2021 and as much as we're all hoping for the world to magically heal overnight as the clock strikes midnight, it's unrealistic. The impact of this pandemic is going to be far-reaching, affecting us deeply even in the year ahead and beyond, so here's wishing for the best and sending strength to anyone out there who might need it. 

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Normalcy

Normalcy

Tuesday, June 2, 2020

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"When will things go back to normal?" 

For many of us, we desire a return to normalcy in our lives as soon as possible. Afterall, that's for the best... right? Isn't it a sure sign that everything's falling back into place again? Yet, we have failed to realize, perhaps only until recently, that for so many people, the previous reality we lived in evidently did not work. A return to the old norms means going back to the same systems that did not view everyone as equal, that oppressed certain groups. A revert to the "status quo" should not be what we should strive for. We need to change.  

Undeniably, this pandemic has exposed the problems which have existed for a long time, but have failed to garner mainstream attention - till now. Yes, I'm referring to racism against the blacks in America. And yes, closer to home, I'm also talking about migrant workers (not the most respectful identifier, but I am referring to them as such for clarity and comprehensibility) and how they have been treated on our shores. Of course, racism in Singapore is also an issue, and while I am not discounting its importance, it will not be discussed at length in this post. 

Sometime in late January this year, when news of the coronavirus started picking up around the world, I was in New Zealand and found myself having slurs directed at me because of my East-Asian appearance and the race I was perceived to be. A car drove past us as we were taking a leisurely stroll, and its passengers rolled down their windows and shouted "Corona!" in our faces before driving away. Initially shocked, I later brushed it off as pure ignorance, laughing about it with my friends who shared the experience.

I was privileged then, and I still am privileged now. I was given the choice to decide how to a single racial taunt was going to affect me. I didn't let it affect me, though at its worst, it was probably only going to be temporal anger or frustration. So many others don't even have that choice. These options are unjustly stripped away from them, mostly by people in power or authority, simply because of the colour of their skin. Countless black people in the US have been held at gun-point, or restrained and suppressed, having to fight for their lives even without having done anything to warrant such treatment. They are automatically placed on the losing end of having to prove their innocence. Of course, police brutality against black lives are just one increasingly visible example of racism - there's so many more instances that should be eradicated as well (and I am also in no way stating that all police are racist).

I mentioned earlier that we need to change. Indeed, it's a bold statement to make, with close to nothing offered by me to move towards this "ideal" reality. How exactly can we help from more than 15,000km away? I don't know, but taking the lead from some people I look up to, deepening my knowledge on black history and their lived experiences through research is one. Understanding what the #blacklivesmatter movement stands for is also a great place to start. Donating is another, though I acknowledge that this one feels a lot far removed and I personally have not done that.

In Singapore, we've lived through the news cycle spotlighting the terrible conditions and treatment received by migrant workers, triggered by the spikes in Covid-19 infection rates amongst those living in dormitories. This invisible group of people was suddenly made visible, and views towards them were largely polarized into those who blamed them for tarnishing the little red dot's squeaky clean track record, and those who sympathized with their plight.

I fell in the latter camp, and donated to several organisations that were doing something to make the lives of migrant workers a little better in the short-term, be it providing meals, purchasing SIM cards for them to contact their families, or coming up with entertainment resources. I donated but did so very silently. While I considered sharing my reasons for donating on my social media pages, in hopes of inspiring others to do the same, I held back for several reasons.

As someone who used to be actively involved in community service, and subsequently completely dropped out for the most part of my university life, it felt almost criminal to act like I was trying to do something to help (and announcing it to the whole world). If I haven't been contributing to causes in a sustainable manner, why was I suddenly doing something one-off, from the comfort of my home, no less?

It was also difficult to admit that media coverage played a huge part in influencing my decision to donate. I didn't know how to reconcile the feeling that my actions did not stem from the goodness of my own heart, but rather being swayed by what the media was spotlighting. And if that's the case, should I be donating to migrant workers or were there other communities that were falling through the cracks of mainstream attention? I wouldn't be able to defend my choice well if someone were to be question me.

In hindsight though, donating was the easiest way out. I probably donated out of the guilt I felt while reading accounts of migrant workers, and simply wanted to stamp these bad feelings out for my own well-being. By not actively engaging in any of the discussions that were happening online on this issue, I was escaping from the the labour that comes with advocating for a cause. Again, this was and still is a sure sign of my privilege. I could choose whether or not I wanted to fight for a cause because it wasn't something that affected me directly.

Where am I going with this? For someone who believes strongly in the power of the written word, I've fallen short in so many ways. On multiple occasions, I should have spoken up for the things that mattered, but I was completely inhibited by a fear of backlash, of saying the "wrong" thing, of not being able to defend my stance if probed. As such, I sincerely urge anyone reading this to think about what's happening in the world right now (though unlikely that you aren't already doing so), and put in some time to think about how you can best help any undeserved group within society, if you aren't already at capacity. More importantly, figure out how you can do it in a sustainable manner especially after the pandemic blows over (hopefully).

With all that said, change does not stop with advocacy. I'll be continuously re-evaluating how I can be part of the solution, instead of part of the problem. We should not return to normalcy. I will not revert to my old ways. 

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Graduating into a Pandemic

Graduating into a Pandemic

Thursday, March 26, 2020

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Fear, anxiety, and a general state of stress over the thought of 'adulting'. 

These are the typical feelings of new graduates, most of whom fall into the age range of 22 to 26 years old and are just starting to find their place in the world. These feelings would usually be accompanied with a sense of joy - and perhaps a touch of apprehension - but joy, nonetheless. 

At risk of sounding dramatic, the class of 2020 would likely experience only the former three emotions. Graduating into a pandemic is scary, especially when so many moving parts are happening all at once, most not in the favour of a bunch of fresh-faced inexperienced workers with a bunch of idealistic dreams and expectations of how a 'first job' should be like. 

But to hell with that, because this pandemic isn't about us (though it sometimes does feel like so, due in part to the echo chambers we live in). 

This pandemic is not good for anybody, though we may even very well be one of the least vulnerable groups around (of course, pending actual scientific evidence). I'm not encouraging everyone to start going around doing crazy things, but it's about damn time we stopped moping around feeling sorry ourselves.

Yes, the economy is on the brink of recession (and probably actually already in the middle of one). Those with jobs are anxious about job security, while those still searching for one are getting turned away due to virus-related hiring freezes. Listening to a lecture over a video-conferencing call, across time zones for some, is not the most effective way to learn. And while all that is going on, we still... have to graduate. However, so many of us are demanding for things that can only be described as complete privileges (yes I'm talking about the ability to classify modules as pass-fail instead of having the letter-grade reflected), and complaining about their limitations after they've been bestowed upon us. 

Sure, I can't speak for every single one of us. There are people who are genuinely affected by the Covid-19 situation, such as international students separated from their families, or students who need to help supplement their family's income in these trying times, just to name a few. My heart goes out to them, and I hope that the measures put in place in the respective universities do help lighten their loads in some way. 

But if a majority of us are well enough to be creating memes about a video-conferencing software, or at least, sharing them, we're probably in a privileged-enough position to be level-headed about decisions put in place by school management, or even the government (yes, I'm also talking about not going out to party in crowded areas). If we're in school for an education, maybe we should just put in our best to get a degree that isn't undermined with a transcript half-filled with pass-fail grades? 

To put things into perspective, people all over the world are fighting for their last breaths, hospitals are getting over-crowded, and so many doctors are living the reality of dealing with our favourite ethical problem we'd joke about but never thought we'd ever confront in real life i.e. the trolley dilemma but think "elderly, vulnerable people" on one side and "younger people with more potential" on the other. And here we are, trying to skirt around academic systems and take advantage of the whole situation. 

Graduating into a pandemic is not the most ideal situation, it really isn't. But no one asked for this to happen. Let's celebrate that we're actually achieving a life milestone amidst all these, whether or not it'll be accompanied with an actual physical convocation. And when that's done, let's get back to living in this pandemic together with the rest of the world. Because people are actually dying in this pandemic, and we should be counting our blessings we're living, much less graduating. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not proposing all of us start doing charity work and helping vulnerable groups or anything of that sort. However, I do think that with our literacy and processing capabilities, the least we can do is to help quell fears and stamp out the sharing of fake news especially amongst our parents' generation. Also perhaps, not add to unproductive conversations that only stack up on the stresses of others. 

Of course, with all that said, compassion and news fatigue are also incredibly real issues. Let's all please take care of ourselves in this period, and know when to stop reading the news when it gets overwhelming. We got this. I'm confident the world will pull through, but it's really on us to determine how fast or slow we do. 

(On a sidenote, I did not expect this to be my first-ever post of 2020, but I knew I had to write this as I've never felt this strongly about a topic in a long while. Hopefully I didn't unknowingly conceal a long rant of my frustrations into a deluge of fake-positivity, because I genuinely feel this way, but I apologize if I did.)

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