We know the story. The one about a female Singaporean Chinese going apeshit on a Malay Go-Jek driver. The one where the Internet conveniently discounts cyberbullying by hiding behind a sense of righteousness with her memes. The one where brands saw an opportunity to increase vanity metrics by taking down the same individual.

Even the Republic of Singapore Air Force couldn’t resist jumping on the bandwagon.

Grownass men who are supposed to protect my country, could not resist an opportunistic Facebook post over a personal squabble between an unreasonable (and perhaps unstable) customer and a private-hire driver. …

It was my birthday three days ago. I have clothes in my wardrobe older than my colleagues. I am at that age where I get annoyed with old people who think that just because I’m the boss of my company, I have the most amount of free time (mum, you losing your Facebook password is not a matter of life or death) and I find it appalling how young people could leave half-eaten lunch on the table expecting it to magically find itself in the trash can.

I am basically a grumpy middle-age woman.

I entered the Advertising industry at…

Hey ma, I can’t quite feel the left side of my body, gonna check myself into A&E now.

The year was 2015. My mum brought the entire village of aunties with her to the hospital. The old man behaved like I already had one foot in the grave.

You see, the last time a body went numb in the family, it was my dad’s. We discovered a tumour in his brain.

As it turned out, I didn’t have a tumour. “Walking would be quite impossible,”, the neurologist rolled his eyes. “You won’t be able to stroll into A&E on your…

A decade ago I had my own column called The P Spot, on Australian’s national lesbian magazine, LOTL. For over a couple of years, I penned a library of frivolous articles about being a lesbian, from outing myself to my mum, to eating fur pies (sorry to all my colleagues reading this), to sex toys.

I wish I could say my words made a difference for the lesbian community, but nah, it was pure masturbation. I mean, I am documented in Singapore’s lesbian wikipedia (yeah, there is such a thing) with the following statement:

In March 2008, LOTL columnist and…

Dad carrying me to my grandma’s for Chinese New Year. He lost his right to my wardrobe as soon as I hit puberty.

“Go help your mum in the kitchen,”

In a single sentence, my dad unknowingly triggered off my ruthless ambition for success. At the age of 15, I was woke.

Every Chinese New Year without fail, the Law family gathers at my eldest aunt’s house in the East. A boisterous affair always, with 80-something relatives (grandma was real productive) cramped up in a 5,000 square feet house and everyone seemingly hard of hearing.

We had just arrived at my aunt’s when my dad instructed me to join mum in the kitchen. Looking back, dad had mum’s welfare in mind but at…

GOODSTUPH 2017. Photography by Jayden Tan

Hello. To introduce, I am Pat, the founder of GOODSTUPH — Southeast Asia Social Media Agency of the Year 2017. I did not sleep with any of the judges.

When GOODSTUPH was born in March 2010, she was a humble one-woman shop, with an Ikea desk for an office housed by my good friend K at his digital production house.

“You can’t work from home. You need company for ideation.”

He reasoned with me on why I should bunk in with him and his people. I wasn’t financially capable of paying rent and I was planning to work from my…

Mum in Gong 2013 Call for Entries video.

You won’t ever get to read this for firstly, we are decidedly Chinese, and we have the emotional investment of a robot. Secondly, I remain the scumbag daughter whose primary mission in Life is to annoy the shits out of you. Yes, I agree with you that karma shall strike me one day. For now, I shall gleefully enjoy every moment being your biggest troll.

“What the fuck would you know, you’re fucking uneducated.”

Ma, I’m not sure if you remember these cutting words I hissed, but I do. I was seventeen…

Mum at the duck rice stall

“You better study hard. Wait you end up like Papa.”

Being born to hawkers for parents, I was relieved from the pressure one may have felt from needing to live up to one’s family legacy. Standards were pretty low: don’t get knocked up, don’t get locked up, and don’t be me.

Before hipsters and their Tart Optical Arnel 55 glasses came along and made Hawker a job title worth printing on 300gsm organic paper, the profession itself was a means to an end for the Uneducated. My parents are the Uneducated.

12 hours a day. 6 days a week. 30…

I’m the one looking at you.

No, not “How are you?” but “Have you eaten?”

Have you noticed the practicality of the common greeting by the older generation of Asians? The baby boomers. The I-ate-restaurant-leftovers-my-father-picked-from-the-trash older lady (mum). The I-had-porridge-for-ten-years-with-no-chicken older man (dad).

I started noticing the practicality from my first pang of hunger. I was seven. A dorky growing girl with an appetite of a freaking elephant.

Oblivious to the angry growls of my stomach, my mother decided all I needed for recess wasn’t pocket money, but a couple of miserable packets of seasoned seaweed. My mother wasn’t a bad parent… she was oblivious. And…

Pat Law

Chief Everything Officer at GOODSTUPH

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