Slightly over a month ago, I watched as he walked down the aisle with his bride. 12 years ago, it was me whose hands he held. But when I saw him holding up his bride’s gown train and guiding her up the stage, it was joy I felt and not jealousy. I was, in fact, proud of him for finally moving on to the next stage in life: getting married. It was a strange feeling, because he was my first love. What makes it even more bizarre is that he had cheated on me twice. Yet, he is now someone I consider a BFF (Best Friend Forever).

“What! Why/How are you still friends with him?”

Is something that I get all the time whenever anyone learns about this unlikely friendship of mine, and understandably so. Most of us are sceptical of being friends with exes or anyone we had a romantic endeavour with, let alone exes who have done us wrong. And cheating is right up there on the list of wrongs together with murder, for the stab to our heart is like a murder of our soul. I exaggerate, but anyone who has had their heart broken would know that awful feeling too well. Even if the relationship hadn’t ended on such a bad note, it is hard to go from lovers to friends without the awkwardness of having to deal with the remnants of any unresolved feelings of love (or hate) from either party. Chemistry can be a wonky bitch and the flame could be reignited at any moment. Who’s to say either party wouldn’t fall prey to that? Afterall, when one has shared such an intimate part of one’s self with someone else, it can be hard to maintain a relationship with that person with no romantic attachments. Any feelings of love, lust, hope, or anticipation would tip the scales of a platonic friendship. Furthermore, remaining as friends with an ex is only going to make things complicated. Regardless of how mutual a breakup is, there will always be wounds from a failed relationship. Contrarily, it’s easy to use the guise of friendship to mask the hope one has on patching up. Just like how a cut will never heal if one were to keep poking at the wound, remaining in constant contact with someone we’ve fallen out with or even stalking their social media accounts is just going to make it harder to fully move on. It is the same even with a close friend or family member. At some point, we’ve all had that someone whom we’ve fallen out with, a tie that we’ve lost due to a multitude of reasons and wished things hadn’t panned out so badly. It could have been a silly spat or a major miscommunication, but it’s a common belief that once one has gone down that road, there is no return. But there is, because I’ve been through it.

The Painful But Worthy Transition From Lovers To Friends

Calling him as an ‘ex’ doesn’t even quite cut it. It is as vague as sketching out the outline to an elaborate painting. He was the one who taught me the meaning of romance. He wooed the diehard romantic in me. As cliche as it sounds, he was to me what Prince Charming was to Cinderella - someone I had never expected to fall for, but swept me away and gave me the fairytale I always dreamt of as a young and innocent teenage girl. I knew what it meant to have butterflies in my stomach because of him, to smile like a fool whenever I reread every corny text he sent, to lie to my parents so I can go out on dates, and I was so ready to spend the rest of my life with him - naive, I know. Then again, some say the first love is always the most beautiful, and it was for me. Yet, he was also the one who taught me the meaning of heartbreak in the worst possible way. When he confessed to kissing another girl a year into our relationship, I was perplexed and hurt, but still too smitten to see the red flags. Then, when I found out that he had been seeing another girl a little later, I was shattered. It was the first time I truly understood what it means to feel like ‘my spirit has left the body’. I remember having to study for O levels in tears from the regular breakdowns recalling how he couldn’t make the decision between me and the other girl. “I need more time. Wait for me, I’ll settle this. I promise,” he left me hanging with a glimmer of hope as I struggled to stay sane while juggling the stress of such major exam papers. Eventually, he chose her. It was hard to come to terms with the end. I knew it was going to hurt, but the other part of heartbreak that no one told me about was the embarrassment that came with having to ‘disappoint’ his brother and cousin, both of whom I had grown close to, and the regret that I will never be able to fulfill that role that they had accorded me for: family. Breaking up was only the start because ironically, he would go on to seek my help to woo the girl he had broken up with me for. And I did what he asked of me because if I couldn’t make him happy, I hoped that he could at least find happiness with someone else who can. He would go on to chase that same girl for the next 10 years, only to give up after reaching the limit he had set for himself before settling down with someone else. As much as the guilt he felt for having been a bastard to me, I’ve always felt guilty towards him - that girl never accepted him for she couldn’t get over the fact that she was a third party back then. Looking back, though I had loved him deeply, I feel like I was the third party instead, that I was that barrier that prevented him from being with his One. I was the one who caused him unrequited love for 10 years. And it pained me whenever I saw him drift in and out of relationships, because we both knew about his love for that one girl. Through it all, he taught me the meaning of truly loving someone. Granted, it could have stemmed from my romantic love for him back then and it did take a long time before I can say,  without a doubt, that ours is a friendship void of any romantic feelings. A year of self-deceit and one last ‘hook up that shouldn’t have happened’ with him which culminated in more than an hour-long cry in a school toilet before I honestly had closure.

People ask me why I bothered to be so noble as to enduring my heartbreak back then and even blaming myself for his unrequited love. I’d say it’s a mix of my stupid innocence and the value I saw in that relationship, even if it was reduced from romantic to platonic. After having co-owned a part of your life with someone, that person becomes almost like an extension of you. They will always know a part of you that no one else does, just like you know of them. Finding someone else with the same dynamics and whom you know inside out like an ex does is extremely difficult, and almost impossible once work becomes your life. Of course, that isn’t to say that I am friends with all my exes or that all of my relationships, platonic or romantic, are perfect. There are friends I’ve fought with and exes whom I vowed to never see again for the rest of my life, but that doesn’t mean that every relationship, especially romantic ones, have to end badly. It doesn’t matter if the whole world dictates that you cannot be in contact with an ex or an ex-friend because ultimately, you are the one who will face the consequences of your actions. For me, keeping this particular friendship is only possible because of the mutual understanding between my BFF and me. A big contributor is the respect we we both give our own partners to be completely honest and transparent with our histories, and the acceptance and understanding they give in return. Having accepted that our romantic chapters are closed, I see this friendship as an invaluable one that I will never be able to find anywhere else. The maturity and openness we have towards each other is one that is only possible because of all the shit that we’ve weathered through as a couple and then as BFFs. He is the one person whom I would never feel shy or grossed out sharing or hearing explicit details about sexual experiences with and from, and the one person I know I can turn to even if I needed help to cover up a murder (which, I proclaim, is very unlikely to happen). And if I had to do it all over again, heartbreak and all, I would. Also read: I Bared It All For You, But It Was Barely Love. (Header Image Credit: Sarandy Westfall)

The first thing my parents said when they found out about my boyfriend was, “why a Chinese?” Tim* and I have been together for four years, of which three-and-a-half years were spent hiding our relationship from my parents. For that long and agonising three-and-a-half years, my parents had no clue that I was even dating. Or perhaps they had suspected and just didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that their Indian daughter was dating a Chinese boy. Whenever my boyfriend and I hung out, we would avoid going to places where my parents could be at. I would lie to my mom almost everyday. She'd ask, "where are you going?" and I would say, "to meet a friend." Lie. "Which friend? What's their name?". Another lie. Not only was it exhausting to lie, I hated myself for doing so. I felt guilty for keeping such a big secret from the people I should be the closest to. Many times, I considered telling them the truth. My friends kept encouraging me to come clean with them too. It's not like I didn't have a choice that I had to resort to lying, but I was just too afraid. My parents have never been super strict, but they are what you would call "typical Indian parents", which if you've heard anything about, you would know they can be pretty scary when enforcing their beliefs. So it was lies upon lies, upon lies. We were cautious, careful, as we should be as an under-the-radar couple. Until one day, Tim sent me home only for us to bump into my dad at the void deck.

F**K.

My dad wasn’t supposed to come home at that time, but there he was, and he saw Tim. What followed was an awkward conversation in the lift with my dad. "Who is that boy?" "He's just a friend." He obviously didn’t buy that. I mean, which guy friend would send a girl home without any particular reason right? When we reached home, his exact words to my mom were, “you should ask your daughter to bring her boyfriend home next time.” I sighed as I shut myself in my room, ignoring whatever conversation my parents were going to have. Well, shit. That was it. There was no point trying to hide it anymore. A million thoughts ran through my mind. On one hand, I was relieved, but there were so many worries that came after: Were my parents going to disown me? Were they going to tell every living relative about how I've brought shame to their family name? Were they going to force me to break up with Tim?

THE TRUTH IS OUT

No one spoke about the incident until the following night's dinner, and it was a conversation I hoped never came. My parents asked about 'the boy that dropped me home'. They wanted to know how old he was, what he does, what his parents do - the usual stuff. But they also asked me the one dreaded question, "why a Chinese?" How was I supposed to answer that?

I didn’t look at his race when I fell in love, I fell in love with the person he is.

I tried to convince them that it didn’t matter that he was Chinese. But they were adamant on the same thing – “He’s not a Hindu”. They refused to see him for who he is as a person. They only saw him as not Hindu. I was frustrated and hurt. They hadn't even met him and they were already dismissing him and our relationship. They wouldn't even give him a chance just because of his race. It was illogical, but at the same time, expected. My family has always been conservative. My parents never outrightly forbade me from dating a Chinese but it was heavily implied that bringing home a boy of a different race was frowned upon. On the other hand, Tim's parents knew about our relationship and have accepted me as part of the family a long time ago. I had found a second family in them, joining them for significant family gatherings like Chinese New Year dinner and birthday parties. I love my parents, but even I have to admit they can be pretty racist. Over the years, my mother would make comments on how Indians are better than other races, how we are more "elite". I'm not entirely sure where this racism stems from. Having known Hindus who converted out of their faith, she might have feared that her children will do that too. Perhaps that's why she would always tell my brother and I, “no matter what, don’t tarnish my religion.”

THE ULTIMATUM

Which is why when I tried to persuade them to meet him before blatantly disapproving our relationship, they gave me an ultimatum instead:

“I’m giving you two years to think about it. We’ll talk about this then.”

They wanted me to to think about a relationship that they didn't see a future in. Me being me, I told her to think about it too. It might have felt like a 'power move' when she dished that out but the two-year ultimatum seems like a joke now. To me, it felt like an excuse for my parents to not deal with it. Because I had thought about it, about everything that could possibly cause a conflict between us, and race and religion were the last things on that list. Because of this ultimatum, my life and relationship with Tim have come to a standstill for the next two years. While my friends are applying for a BTO, getting engaged, or making wedding plans, all I’ll be able to do is look at my Facebook feed and sigh over the predicament my parents had put me in.

LOVE VS FAMILY

I'm afraid of where I will be in two years. I don't want to be in a position where I'll have to eventually choose between my boyfriend and my parents.

"How am I to choose between my partner and my parents?"

How is anyone to choose between the person you want to spend your future with and the people who brought you into this world and to the person you are today? I owe my parents everything and I can't possibly build a future without them in it. Neither can I picture a future without my current partner. I don't mean to sound melodramatic but let's face it, many of us do things just for our parents. It could be something like going to a school our parents preferred or having children because our parents want us to. We do these things out of filial piety, even though it may not be what we really want. Sometimes I wonder, "why can't my parents just be happy in the fact that I'm happy?" In a world where it's difficult to find someone you are committed to love and whom is committed to love you back, it's a wonder I had found it at all. It's been 6 months since they gave me the ultimatum, which means I have another 1.5 years to hope for my parents to have a change of heart. For them to realise that when it comes down to it, race or religion does not and should not define us or our relationship. And I really pray that I will not have to choose between a 6 year relationship with a partner I see my future with and family. *Name has been changed to protect the identity of the individuals. Also read: It’s 2018 – Why Are We Still Paying Wedding Dowries?.

Dear Minister Ng, Thank you for your <a href=" letter to all working Singaporeans. I am glad to hear that you’ve been going around to visit Singaporeans at their workplaces. You are right to point out that we are living in a fast-changing world and we have to constantly learn on the job. I have a friend who kept encouraging us to second-skill in case robots take over our jobs one day. We laughed and didn’t think much of it but hey, in all seriousness, she actually made a good point. Technology is already replacing some mundane jobs today. Redmart for example, used to have quality assurance managers who would manually record temperature readings in the warehouse and input the data in an Excel spreadsheet. Today, that entire process has been cleverly automated by a forecasting tool. Unless the quality assurance managers had equipped themselves with other skills or found other ways to provide value to their company, they would have been made obsolete. I see many of our generation expecting ideal working conditions from employers. We value finding a job that we are passionate about and at the same time, pays well enough for us to enjoy the occasional luxuries of travel and have leftovers to give back to our parents and fund our savings. As a millennial myself, I admit that many of us need to understand that nobody owes us a living. We have to be versatile and adaptable in venturing into roles that aren’t our main strengths. We have to be more prepared to take on higher-value jobs to make ourselves indispensable. This is the future of work. But what if the pioneers of Singapore have no place in this future? It cannot be the future of a select few. It has to be a future for all Singaporeans. While our millennial generation embrace digital disruptions, we know that the middle-aged and seniors will be hit the hardest. Thank you for remembering our pioneers because in time to come, we will become pioneers ourselves and we definitely don’t want a precedence where seniors are forgotten.

The middle-aged group will already be earning a comfortable sum every month, enough to support their growing children and aging parents. If they lose their jobs, they have more to lose than the people of our generation who adopt the “YOLO” mantra of living. Furthermore, they have to once again contend for a new job with the pool of younger generation workers. So you are right to point out the imperative need for everyone to never stop learning, upgrade our skills and train. If people are willing to second-skill, it will help them stay nimble in the face of disruptions. I’m glad that you are also emphasising the need for employers to play their part in embracing the “plug, train and play” mindset. If employers are only hiring workers who have the relevant skills of today, they are ignoring workers who have the potential and possibilities of tomorrow. Senior workers who want to work face a different kind of challenge. How do we nudge them along and not leave them behind as the society progresses? I mean, have you seen that 70-year-old granny who has been delivering food on foot? She is a great example of why we should rethink and redesign jobs for elderly. If they find learning a chore - how can we change the way they view learning? How can we help them take on less mundane jobs yet more value-adding jobs? It’s certainly not easy looking after all segments of working people – the young, the not so young, the middle-aged and seniors. As our labour workforce evolves and matures, the needs of each working group will differ as well. It is heartening to know that you are looking into all these concerns that Singaporeans have been lamenting for years. I commend your promise on being more progressive to improve our livelihoods, and I do hope that you continue to commit on making this real with us. We look forward to seeing you around! - From a hopeful millennial This article is contributed by a guest writer, Ling. (Header Image Credit: Minister Ng Chee Meng's Facebook page) Also read, A Letter To The Singapore Government, From A Young Singaporean.

Long-time fans of Crazy Rich Asians squealed in delight when the trailer was released last month and people were excited to see Singapore on an international theatre screen. I mean, the last time I saw our city being featured in a Hollywood movie, it was a village on stilts. However, not everyone received the trailer quite so positively and swiftly came the controversy surrounding different peoples’ ideas of representation. The backlash hit social media hard, with some calling the movie ‘racist’ or accusing it of ‘lacking diversity’. Others felt that the movie was a poor portrayal of Singapore.

Where is the Singlish? Why all Chinese people?

Before we come to our hasty conclusions, it is important to note that the movie is actually based on the 2013 novel written by Kevin Kwan. Having read it last year, I feel that much of the criticism directed at the movie is undeserved and it would do to delve into the story. Frankly, I read the book intending to hate it. Literally judging it by the cover, I assumed it was some kind of lame chick-flick story but ended up really enjoying it for its strangely nuanced approach to satirising the Singaporean-Chinese elite. Hyperbole is the name of the game and the book takes on a generally mocking tone about the absurdly decadent lifestyles of the super-rich, the obnoxious snobbery of this insular class, and the superficiality of the various characters. Plenty of people have criticised the trailer but don’t seem to have grasped this concept - that the book, and by extension, the movie is poking fun at a very particular slice of society: the filthy rich in Singapore. American Asians have lauded the movie for it is the first movie with an all-Asian cast in <a href=" years. Historically, Asian portrayals in Hollywood have at best been problematic and Asian actors have often been relegated to play denigrating stereotypes. What’s worse is the rampant white washing of characters that could have easily been played by Asians. From this angle, it’s true that Crazy Rich Asians is a <a href=" step forward towards a diverse Hollywood and is definitely something worth celebrating.

Not Singaporean Enough

What about in the context of Singapore? Notably, when I used the term ‘Asian’ earlier, it lumped together various ethnic groups and is currently used as an umbrella term for small populations in the United States to rally and take shelter under. Race is a contentious term in and of itself and naturally, representation takes on a different flavour when we turn our heads to vibrant, vivacious Singapore. Singaporeans have criticised the lack of any other races making an appearance. They ask, “where are the non-Chinese people?” Or, “all the non-Chinese characters are servants.” Again, a major plot point is that these rich families are absurdly parochial about protecting their bloodlines. In fact, the second book features a character who is stopped from marrying ‘a girl whose skin tone was one shade too dark’ and because ‘for eleven generations the blood will never be pure’. Essentially, the story portrays how these families fervently keep people deemed unsavoury out of their dynasties. To me, the lack of minority representation is a point implicitly made by the writer and not some kind of explicit insult or a result of racist, wilful ignorance. In some ways, the story is a snapshot of Singaporean culture. One interesting idea is the undertone of ‘colonial hangover’ that gilds the opulent backdrop of the story. A trope used regularly in the story is how the filthy rich families subvert the old colonial masters with their vast money – a point of irony that I greatly appreciated. I especially liked that one bit when the family instantly buys out an expensive hotel in London because the hotel manager was being a typical snobby ‘ang mor gou sai’ (literally translates to mean ‘red-haired dog shit’). Even the juxtaposition of the Singlish accents of new money Goh Family against the British accents of old money Young Family is intriguing given how many Singaporean families became prosperous by the fidelity of their colonial likeness. Even now, we as Singaporeans glorify certain attributes such as British accented English or general Caucasian-ness. Think of that girl you know who only has a thing for white guys and there you have the whole potentially problematic culture that is the Sarong Party Girls (SPGs). These are some of the aspects of Singaporean society that deserve greater inspection and thought. In the story, the main family spurns a mainland Chinese character who takes on the stereotypical role of the gold digger wanting in on the inheritance. Some may take offence at this but the idea is hardly unfamiliar to us. What, then, does that say about our own issues and prejudiced views? How often do we see racist comments online about foreign workers of any race? Singaporeans can be remarkably xenophobic too. Sadly, I’m quite disappointed by the Goh family’s (Actor Ken Jeong and Actress Awkwafina) accent. I would love to have heard a strong Singaporean accent in a mainstream Hollywood movie. Instead, they spoke this strange mix of American accents. Well, at least we got Michelle Yeoh, the Malaysian actress. She had the kind of ‘atas’ accent that we imagine tai-tais to speak in as they sit at high tea discussing their children’s grades. Another question we might ask ourselves is whether this movie should even be used as a platform for discourse. Many have made the point that how Singapore and Asia is presented to the international community is important; that movies should be an accurate portrayal of what we are truly like instead of perpetuating further stereotypes. With regard to authenticity, one of the main characters from the book recommended the food at Lau Pa Sat. When I read it, I was like, “LMAO bro, no. (Lau Pa Sat is) so overpriced.” We can see that ‘representation’ is an intricate issue that can be difficult to capture and present satisfactorily. Yet, I still think Crazy Rich Asians (or at least the book) remains within reasonable taste and find the accusations of racism to be unfounded. Having considered all these things, I don’t think many Singaporeans will find the movie particularly relatable. At least, not any less than how an average New Yorker would relate to ‘The Wolf Of Wall Street’. Ultimately, the author is still mocking how ridiculously homogenous and xenophobic this very specific part of Singaporean society can be. I think the book and movie should just be understood as works of satire and to denounce a piece of caricature for its unattractive, mocking features is largely missing the point. This hardly claims to be a comprehensive picture of what Singapore is truly like. Regardless, Crazy Rich Asians is bound to bring more attention to our Little Red Dot and I believe it won’t be much longer before we get a movie, properly Singaporean, hitting the international silver screen. This article is contributed by a guest writer, Low Tze An. Also Read, Singaporeans Get Triggered So Easily – And Lately It Seems To Be All About Race Cover image credit: Warner Brothers 

There were always thoughts of changing my face, my identity, and becoming somebody else entirely. I thought of myself as a female a lot and all through my teenage years, I wished that I would wake up in the right body one day. It took me a long time before I realised that I may be transgender.

Battling My Inner Conflicts

Looking back, I’ve always known. I just couldn’t put the words to the undercurrent of discomfort, couldn’t make sense of the thoughts and feelings I had. There were so many previous beliefs and assumptions that I had to discard before I could understand what it all meant. For one, a highly heteronormative view we all have is that your gender must be concretely tied to your sexual orientation, that a man must be sexually attracted to a woman and vice versa. However, I’ve learnt that your gender (male or female) does not have any bearing on your sexual attraction. I may be biologically a male who identifies as a female, yet still primarily attracted to women. For me, it doesn’t exclude an attraction to men as well.

“I would spend my entire life trying to suppress these feelings of being in the wrong body.”

Then, there’s religion. If I had accepted the religion I was brought up with, I would spend my entire life trying to suppress these feelings of being in the wrong body. As the Good Book says in Deuteronomy 22:5, "The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman's garment: for all that do so are abomination unto the Lord thy God." Having brought up to internalise these beliefs as the norm, it was that much harder to accept myself and my thoughts.

Coming Out

“I confessed... to my fiancee.”

Coming out was a long and hard process. I spent a year thinking about how much harder life would be, about getting accepted by society, presenting as female, and what all of that would entail. In the end, I knew that I had to at least try to become the person I wanted to be, even if it’s an uphill struggle. I finally came out as a transgender woman four years ago, at 21. While I have been fortunate to not face much discrimination from the public, it wasn’t that easy back at home. Firstly, I was engaged to my girlfriend. She was the first person I came out to as transgender. And as difficult as it was for me to come to terms with myself, it was equally hard for her to acknowledge that her long-time boyfriend is coming out as a female. The only thing she said back then was something like, "I'll... do my best to understand." After a challenging 6 months, she accepted me as transgender. We eventually made a commitment to support each other, be it emotionally, financially, or physically – even if it meant scrutiny from others. We are now adjusting to this ‘new reality’ and also continuing with our plans to get married. For all of that, I am grateful. With her support, I came out to some of my closer friends as well.

The Hardest Hit

However, I never intended to come out to my parents, unless I had absolutely no choice. I had already been treated with scorn when I told my highly religious parents that I am an Atheist, and sat through three hours of a pastor (a friend of my mother’s) explaining to me why I ought to give God a chance. I had already been called a disgrace and the family disappointment when I left junior college to study theatre arts at LASELLE. I had already been called ‘disgusting’ when I confessed to them about being bisexual. What other painful remarks would they make if I told them I am transgender? I didn’t want to know.

"In my mother’s eyes, I was a rebellion against God. In my father’s eyes, I was a rebellion against him."

The truth came out when my mum discovered that I was taking estrogen pills. Needless to say, they didn’t take it well at all. My father constantly reminds me that my "life choices" will eventually ruin me and almost daily, my parents will remind me that because I am born a male, I will always be a male. My father also loves to say that I'd end up, in his own words, "不像人，不像鬼", which loosely translates to mean that I’d end up neither a human nor a ghost – implying that I’d never truly be female and never fully a male. They don't seem to understand that all those words are extremely hurtful, furthermore so as they come from family. And (I think) they sincerely believe that they are leading me back to the path of righteousness.

Living An Authentic Life

It was a long time and many nights of crying alone before I finally accepted the fact that my family would never be able to accept me wholeheartedly. Eventually, I stopped bothering.

“I’d just smile and agree with them instead of arguing because it’s so much easier than fighting, and far less painful.”

Today, I’m not living as female as yet because I'm not fully comfortable with the way people may respond. To strangers, I'm still entirely male. However, being transgender for me has mainly been about living the most authentic life I can under the circumstances of Singapore’s extremely anti-LGBT laws. Learning to accept my own body, and coming to terms with the fact that it will never be an idealised female form was the most difficult, but I am so much better as a person now. I am calmer and have a clearer sense of who I am. Most importantly, I feel so much more comfortable with being my true and authentic self in front of my loved ones. Life is not about pain, suffering, and renunciation, and it should never have to be seen as such. Despite all the obstacles I’ve faced and am still facing, these words from my favourite author, Ayn Rand, pushes me to live a fuller life every day: “Learn to value yourself, which means: fight for your happiness.” – Clara, 24 Also read, “I Kept Hearing Voices Of People Criticising Me, And I Could No Longer Tell What Was Real”.

It all started when I was at a university camp in year 2. I could hear voices in my head—voices that didn’t exist. Voices of family and friends criticising me behind my back even though I didn’t physically see or hear them. Then, paranoia would set in. At some points, I could even hear the lecturer speaking to me directly even though he was talking to the whole student body.

I Couldn’t Even Trust Myself Anymore

I had all these thoughts about my friends and family shaming me and being out to get me. But the logical side of me knew that they wouldn’t because we were very close. It’s as if there was a war going on in my head. Negative thoughts kept creeping in while I kept fighting to make sense of reality. It was distressing and I started to feel abnormal. It frightened me so much that I couldn’t even trust myself to differentiate between what’s real and what's not anymore.

I could hear two voices when there was only one person talking to me.

Despite all these, I continued with school and extra-curricular activities thinking it would eventually go away with enough rest, but that did not happen. Things got worse and at one point, I would even be hearing two voices when there was only one person talking to me. I eventually told my parents about it and we went to the nearest polyclinic for treatment.

Learning That I Was ‘Sick’

I was referred to the Institute of Mental Health (IMH), where I was assessed and eventually diagnosed with Psychosis, a mental illness where a person experiences hallucinations, paranoia, and delusions. Most people would associate IMH with ‘crazy people’ and shun the institution like it’s a disease. But I was relieved to be there and to find out that what I had been going through was real, that there was an explanation for it and I could get proper treatments for it.

Hitting Breaking Point

However, initial feelings of relief turned into fear. The fear of what people around me would think when they find out that I have a mental illness. The fear of going for treatments because if someone I know saw me, I wouldn’t know what to say. Most importantly, I feared that I wasn’t going to be able to recover. I could not even feel safe at home. I’d have nightmares and wake up with panic attacks. I was constantly on high alert, was very stressed and anxious all the time, and everything I did was a challenge. Even daily functions like bathing, brushing my teeth, and getting out of the house for lunch were a struggle. The breaking point came when I realised that I could not even trust myself about what I have heard and had to rely on others to verify the facts. It was so humiliating having to depend on others for something so basic. I started to binge-eat and suffered from insomnia. There were also periods where I felt completely numb and disassociated from everyone and everything. I felt like life was worthless and I became suicidal.

How was I supposed to keep up with everything when I was struggling so hard to even be alive?

Soon after, the doctor diagnosed me with depression. The fight against depression was long and difficult. It was especially tough when I had to go back to school. I hadn’t attended class for more than a month, my attendance was slipping, and I was often faulted for not contributing to group projects because I couldn’t turn up. How was I to keep up when I was struggling so hard to even be alive?

The Road To Recovery

My turning point came when my sister brought me to church. It was there that I found a community who loved and cared for me for who I am and not what I have. I was trained, taught, and given opportunities to rise up and do things I'd never thought I’d been able to do. These pushed me to progress in my recovery.

They were the reasons I held on a little longer each week.

My spirituality and relationship with God were what kept me going. I stopped feeling suicidal after having my own revelation that regardless of how tough life is, I’ll always cherish this life I have. My family played an important role as well, for supporting me in every decision I made and ensuring that I was taking the steps I needed to get me through every day. I was also in this mental health community called the Early Psychosis Intervention Programme (EPIP), where a caseworker will check on me frequently to ensure that I was doing fine. Being in Club EPIP allowed me to hone and strengthen my cognitive abilities which had deteriorated over time. It opened my eyes to the fact that I was not alone in battling my inner demons. The Peer Support Specialists there inspired me to believe that recovery is possible.

Getting A New Lease Of Life

It’s been 4 years since I was first diagnosed and I’m very grateful that today, I can say that I’ve recovered and no longer depend on any medications. Today, I have a purpose in life. I’m thankful and grateful for all the guidance I received from church and EPIP, and now that I’ve completed my degree and also graduated from the Peer Support Specialist course offered by the National Council of Social Service, I want to work in the mental health sector. Additionally, I’ve continued to serve in two ministries in my church (since my school days), and am volunteering at mental health organisations like Silver Ribbon and Institute of Mental Health.

Recovery Is A Journey, Not A Destination

This experience has changed my family and my mindset of mental illnesses. And it was through the trials that we grew closer as a family. My journey to recovery also taught us the importance of communication and ensuring that everyone in the family was doing okay in their lives. This journey has also taught me to love myself more, to take care of myself first before I can help others. It has taught me patience and trust especially in times of unknown and of distress. More than ever, I value health as an important part of my life today, and I take concerted steps to sustain my recovery. Recovery is a journey and not a destination. The process of recovery is far more valuable than the destination.

Spread Awareness Of Mental Health

Never judge a book by its cover. People suffering from mental illness don’t look any different from someone who does not. Do your part to spread love and kindness to everyone because a suicidal person could be smiling on the outside, but is actually waiting for someone to stop them from dying.

Don't think that you aren't able to help someone suffering from a mental illness.

Don’t compare mental illnesses because every symptom experienced by someone with a mental illness is very real. And if you think that you are not able to help someone with psychosis, depression, or any mental illness, know that this isn’t true. Your very presence in times of difficulty and distress means a lot to the person. A genuine “how are you feeling?” and listening to them sharing their deepest thoughts is perhaps all they need. Why should we treat mental illness as a taboo when mental illness is as important as our physical health? With World Mental Health Day round the corner, join us at the Voice Out concert at Singapore Botanic Gardens on Saturday, 7 October, to learn about mental illness and spread love. Also read, My Sexuality, My Right: “A Stranger Wanted Me To Apologise For My ‘Lesbian Appearance'”.

Figuring out my sexuality was a struggle. As most LGBTQ will attest, there are no surefire signs, no criteria, no checkboxes you can go through to determine whether or not you’re it. The only way to figure it out is to live your life, feel what you feel, and eventually, piece it all together—at least that’s how it happened for me.

Just A Phase?

Growing up, I was always a tomboy. I went to an all girls’ primary school and my schoolmates would often tease me and make fun of me for it. At the time, I thought nothing of it. When I was 10, I became really close to a girl. We were best friends in school and would hang out together all the time. I felt like I liked her more than just a friend. But of course, at that age, I didn’t understand it. Thereafter, I had some innocent crushes on girls as a pre-teen and teenager, but I didn’t think too much of that either. As I was trying to understand why I had such feelings, I spoke to my mum and siblings about these girl crushes. We all believed it was a phase I would eventually grow out of. As I grew older, I had my fair share of guy friends, but I never liked them as more than just bros. And as time went by, I gradually realized that I was different.

Keeping A Part Of Me A Secret

It was a very different time back when I thought I might be gay. It wasn’t a big social issue. There was very little talk about sexuality in the media and in society, and not many people were gay—at least, not that I was aware of. I didn’t personally know anyone who was gay. Because it seemed so rare back then, I worried constantly about how people would perceive me and treat me if they found out I was gay. I was also afraid of how it would affect the people around me; I was scared that people would treat the ones close to me differently because of their friendship with me. As a teenager, whenever I went to church, I felt like I had to change. I tried to change, tried to feel differently. And when I couldn’t, I buried my feelings and kept them to myself. When nothing worked, I got upset with myself. I was angry that I didn’t change. Now, I realise it’s because I couldn’t. This is just the way I am. Being gay and having no one to talk to about it, it was tough, trying to make sense of how I felt and why I felt that way. I avoided thinking about it, and when I did share my struggles with those who accepted me for who I am, it felt like no one truly understood. For a long time, I felt alone and wished I knew someone who shared the same difficulties and challenges as me. Eventually, after a long and hard struggle with myself, I came to terms with the fact that I was “different”. I knew there was no running away from me.

Loved, Supported, And It Meant Everything

My mum and siblings were the first few people I came out to. It wasn’t a complete surprise to them, considering that I spoke to them about the girl crushes I had in the past. It was my dad I was more afraid to tell, because he’s a bit sterner. It took me a while longer, but eventually, I summoned up the courage to come out to him when I was 24 or 25. I still remember how scared and nervous I was up to the point I actually said the words to him. In the weeks that followed, I could tell that he was trying his best to understand it – to understand why I was this way. I felt bad that I, too, couldn’t explain how this happened.

Not Everyone Understands

Even though the people that matter most to me accepted me for who I was, not everyone received the news well. I’ve had my fair share of nasty reactions from friends and even complete strangers on the street. In fact, just recently, when I was out shopping at a mall, the mother of a little girl followed me just to tell me how offensive and gross it was that I didn’t ‘dress like a girl’ or have long hair. She wanted me to apologise for scaring her daughter with my ‘lesbian appearance’. Apparently, the little girl had asked her mum why my hair was so short. It wasn’t about how I looked or how I behaved; my hair alone was enough reason for her to come up to me to confront me. I ignored her remarks and tried to get away, but she followed me and made harsh remarks about my lifestyle, saying things like, “I don't care about how you choose to live your life but say sorry for confusing my daughter and making her scared.” Dirty looks from strangers are normal for me. So are harsh words from the people around. Even though I’m proud of who I am, things like these sometimes still get to me.

Still The Same Person, Regardless Of My Sexuality

Accepted or not, it was good to get everything off my chest; coming to terms with who I was and being able to say it out loud to the people I love liberated me. Those who stuck around realised that beyond the label of ‘lesbian’, I was still the same person with the same heart and character. I am still the same Sam Koh, regardless of who I fall in love with. I’m 29 years old, a barista at my own café and I’m also happily attached to my partner Roslyn. We’ve been together for about 8 months now, and I’ve never been happier. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for some of the people I know who have been forced to stay in the closet and to put up a front all their lives because their families do not approve. Everyday, I know how fortunate I am to have people around me who accept me exactly as I am. I am more than grateful for a family who lets me figure out my life on my own.

LGBT In Singapore

Being lesbian has definitely left me feeling lonely and excluded at times. Still, I wouldn’t wish away the things I’ve experienced and the fact that I’m gay. I, and the LGBTQ community, are not gay just because we want to be different. We’re not here to challenge heterosexuality. We’re not asking anyone to be gay. We just want to be accepted for who we are. At the end of the day, we are just regular human beings who want to be able to love who we love, free of condemnation. To have people frown upon your relationship is just like having parents who don’t approve of who you're dating, but worse. We have total strangers disapproving of our choices too. It’s frustrating. Thankfully, times are changing and so are attitudes. Still, there is more to be done. I hope one day, people will be more open and accepting. I hope one day, people will see beyond the labels and the prejudice, and realise that all we want is the freedom to love. - To show our support for the freedom to love, we will be publishing stories under our new series My Sexuality, My Right. In it, we share the journeys of Singaporeans who are fighting for their right to love, and who embrace their LGBTQ identity. Also read, Sexual Harassment Not That Unusual – S’porean Girls Reveal Their Nasty Encounters With Perverts.

As we edge into our twenties, we begin to accept the fact that we are really no longer kids. Most of us would be either completing our studies or building up a career. It’s scary to even think of having a baby ourselves. Being a parent is no easy feat. It's even tougher when you're young and hadn't planned to be one yet. We often hear about the trials and tribulations from girls who went through teenage pregnancy, or from being a young mother. However, rarely do we get to hear from the dads who’ve stuck by the ladies through such situations. This Father’s Day, we reached out to 29-year-old Charles John (CJ). This is his story of being a young father to a child out of wedlock.

Getting 'Caught In A Situation'

Back then, I had been dating my girlfriend, Mieko, for 2 years. We both used to smoke and drink a lot, but one day she just couldn’t stand the smell of smoke anymore. That was when we suspected that she could be pregnant. Furthermore, she had missed her period for one and a half months. It was only after a pregnancy test kit from 7-11 and a visit to polyclinic later that our suspicions were confirmed. Mieko was pregnant. I was going to be a father.

Her Parents Gave An Ultimatum

I was shocked, of course. A part of me was in panic mode because we were young and not married. But at the same time, I was happy and excited that we were going to have our own flesh and blood. We didn't have big doubts on keeping the baby because we felt it was only right to, but our parents didn’t take it very well. When Mieko told her parents, they gave her an ultimatum to abort the baby or be thrown out of the house. We both struggled with the decision to abort after that. But after seeing the first ultrasound at the hospital – we just couldn’t bear to abort. Even after Mieko told her parents, I struggled to break the news to mine. Mieko eventually texted my mother about it and my mother was shocked. She reasoned that life would be difficult as we were financially very unstable. To add on to the stress we were facing, she is also a practicing Catholic so she wanted Mieko and I to get married before our baby was born. However, Mieko was only 18 and considered a minor so she needed consent from her parents for marriage. Her parents did not approve since Mieko was still very young. We eventually waited till she was 21 and got married.

Harsh Realities

Mieko was only 18 then and working part-time while doing her diploma. I was 22 and just started my first full-time job at Keppel shipyard. Reality hit that we weren’t financially stable to support ourselves, much less bring a child up. My worries were mainly the financial aspects, but this can be worked on. On the negative thoughts people may have of me, I think nobody dared to say negative things to me directly. But I can’t deny that there were sentiments that bothered me slightly. I just ignored it and concentrated on our happiness.

Making The Decision

Despite everything, Mieko and I decided to keep the baby. We are Roman Catholics and it is against our religion to abort a baby because we believe that every child is a gift from God. We also felt that this would be a new and interesting chapter of our lives together that will better us in our lifestyles, making us more responsible adults.

No Longer Young And Wild

There were definitely many things that we had to change. Before, we would spend freely without thinking. I’d spend a lot on things like cigarettes and alcohol, and go clubbing every week. When Dayna happened, I stayed home more often so I could save more money. I told myself that I’d never allow myself to go ‘bankrupt’ ever again. We've been thriftier. We don’t go clubbing often anymore. Even when we do, it’s probably once in a few months. Our entire paycheck now goes towards daily necessities, bills, and our kids. Compared to our younger, wilder days, we now meet up with friends over meals or they would come over to our place. We’d just chill at night after the girls have gone to sleep and maybe have a few drinks to relax. As a person, I became much more patient. Instead of letting my temper get the better of me, I’ve learnt to take a breath and keep my cool.

Being A Father Is Rewarding

Becoming a father in an unplanned pregnancy and before marriage has its challenges. There were many things that I had to change – it’s no longer a care-free lifestyle where I can do whatever I wanted. If my baby girls cried for food in the middle of the night, I'd wake up to feed them. My priority is now my girls. And it’s all worth it when I see them smiling and laughing back at me. As a father, that’s also the most rewarding part – to see your children happy.

Don’t Regret Your Decisions

If there are friends who find themselves in the same position as I was, I’d say, “Whatever it is, if you have a strong feeling on a decision and feel that it’s right, just go for it. Don’t follow people’s decisions and regret on it later.” Also read These 14 Heartwarming Stories Show That A Mother’s Love Is Like No Other.

An article has been making its rounds on the Internet, and this time, it has to do with the use of the words ‘bro’, ‘dude’, and ‘mate’. And no, it’s not being shared for commendable reasons. Straightforwardly titled ‘Guys, please stop saying ‘bro’, ‘dude’, and ‘mate’’, writer John Lui condemned the use of these terms that are commonplace in our everyday conversations. In what reads like an open letter to Singaporeans, he called out users of these terms for doing so to “act superior [without wanting to] to sound like a prat, even when he is being a gigantic prat”, also implying that people tend to use terms like ‘bro’ when asking for a favour. We’re not sure if the article drew inspiration from Mr Tan Kin Lian’s famous Facebook comment from a while back: “I find the word dude to be rather rude.”

A statement that was made innocently enough, it attracted a mob of troll commenters poking fun at him. The post has since been taken down, but as we all know, once you do something remotely embarrassing online, the trail never disappears. You would think one would know better than to make such a remark from this example. It therefore comes as no surprise that this particular #justsaying opinion piece drew the ire of Singapore’s netizens. We broke down the article in all its thoughtful observations, and here’s what we have to say:

This Is Our Social Fabric, Mate

1. To “Bro” Is To Ask For A Favour

"Bro" is often followed by "can I get a discount?" after a deal is set. It is invoking the bro code at the last minute, which is strictly brohibited unless there has been a brolific and brogressive display of broactive behaviour. Get with the brogramme, guys.

The writer suggests the word ‘bro’ is often used in the context of asking a favour. The truth is the word appears in far more varied contexts. We use ‘bro’ to start a conversation amicably with people. “Bro, long time no see!” creates a sense of friendship that's not strictly restricted to people blood-related to you. When you forget someone’s name, ‘bro’ is your savior. You don’t want to come across as indifferent. Be polite. When you are feeling paiseh or are talking about something that might be slightly embarrassing, ‘bro’ helps to tone it down. “Bro, your fly is open.” When you are giving advice or are trying to calm a friend down, ‘bro’ helps keep the conversation cordial and relaxed. “Eh bro, don’t angry lah!” versus “Oi, don’t angry lah!” While the first may be annoying, the second will surely fuel your rage.

2. Punctuating your sentences with "Bro"

Another thing about "bro" - it is the favourite of drive-time deejays. It is used in the sorts of ways - as punctuation, as a punchline, as a time-filler - that make me want to punch the car radio.

One thing the writer does get right is that ‘bro’ is often used as a sort of punctuation. While ‘dude’ and ‘mate’ aren’t as common (who says ‘mate’ in Singapore, anyway?), ‘bro’ is so widely used in Singapore, it is a part of our social fabric. Just like we use Singlish terms such as ‘lah’ and ‘lor’ to express things no other words can, ‘bro’ has come to be a way we ‘prefix’ our conversations. What other word carries the same meaning and essence as 'bro'? None that I can think of.

3. To “Bro” is to give a false sense of closeness

For women, I've been told their equivalent of "mate" or "bro" is "babe". Like "bro", "babe" is meant to flatter, implying that the speaker has granted the other the wonderful gift of closeness, thus giving the user of the word the right to be a total donkey.

What’s wrong with using ‘mate’, ‘bro’, or ‘babe’ to “grant the other party the wonderful gift of closeness”? Is it such a terrible thing to build rapport in conversations? Should we instead be keeping our conversational partners at arm's length? Last I checked, no one benefits from that. No one enjoys that interaction, no new relationships can bud from there... And really, that would be an awkward interaction.

To Bro Or Not To Bro 

So what do you think? Passionately believe the word 'bro' should be abolished? Don't really care? To bro or not to bro? You decide. Also read The Breakup Reasons These 10 S’poreans Gave Their Ex-es Will Make You Say ‘WTF’

Since 21 January 2017, in response to Donald Trump’s inauguration as President of the United States, a series of political rallies known as Women’s Marches occurred around the world to promote women’s rights. The movement began in Washington, D.C. and spread to 673 marches in 34 countries worldwide, including Asian countries Japan, South Korea, and India, with global attendance numbering in the millions. Singapore, however, is not on that list of countries. Of course, one could be content with the explanation that the Trump issue is too far removed from our shores for us to care enough. However, as one of Asia’s most developed nations alongside Japan and South Korea, and one with a large American expatriate and student population, Singapore’s absence from such a major global movement should surely raise the glaring issue of free expression and the right to dissent in Singapore. As many of you should know, protesting is illegal in Singapore outside of licensed protests in Hong Lim Park’s Speakers’ Corner. If that sentence made you frown in confusion or laugh out loud, you’re probably not Singaporean. “Protesting is illegal”, “licensed protests”, “Speakers’ Corner” – it all sounds like a bad comedy – one that Singaporeans have grown numb to. Around the world, Singapore is known as an Orwellian dystopia of silent obedience, where almost all dissent is effectively repressed by the law, draconian punishments are meted out in disproportionate spades, and everyone is so used to the oppression that the country actually operates rather peacefully; it’s almost like a North Korea done right. Ask any citizen of almost any other “first-world” nation if protesting is legal in their country, and the answer will almost invariably be, “Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” The right to dissent is seen elsewhere as a basic human right. Not here, though. Some would argue that the restricting of protests is necessary for socioeconomic stability in a country, but as all the developed nations of the world that afford their citizens the freedom to protest highlight, that is all a crock of shit. Stability and freedom of expression are not mutually exclusive. One needs simply to be equipped with the maturity and open mind required to handle discourse and dissenting opinion. In any discussion about protests in Singapore, many would point to the race riots of 1964 and 1969, Hock Lee bus riots of 1955, and Chinese middle school riots of 1956, and go, “See? That’s what happens when people protest.” This argument, however, fails to consider that these events happened over 50 years ago. A lot can change in 50 years; our society is now more educated than ever, and well-informed of events around the world. To assume that we would simply devolve into the same horrible behaviour of our forefathers given the opportunity would be incredibly pessimistic and insulting to the intelligence of modern Singaporeans as a whole. We are not rabid animals waiting to tear each other apart at the slightest provocation. Give us a chance to voice our grievances and concerns freely, and you might find a populace living with a far more robust sense of genuine belonging and purpose. How could we possibly develop a personal stake in a place whose government operates so far above the silent voices of the people, knowing that nothing we ever do or say will make any difference? To be fair, though, things are showing signs of getting better. In 2008, the government ruled that events held at the Speakers’ Corner would no longer require police permits, or be banned from using audio amplification devices, although organizers still had to register with the government-controlled National Parks Board. Peaceful demonstrations such as Pink Dot continue to be held there annually, attracting more attendees with each passing year. It is still comically ridiculous that protests must be restricted to one small area, but it admittedly is better than nothing. Do I wish to see a protest happening every other day in Singapore? Of course not. I like peace and quiet. I do, however, want to know that anyone with a grievance and a desire to make his/her voice heard in a public capacity has the right to do so without fear of being thrown in prison and caned on the backside. Because any country that forces its residents to internalize all their problems instead of freely expressing themselves in a peaceful way is forcing peace and stability upon its people rather than earning it. <a href=" Image Credit