The day that changed me

Connecting the dots from reclusion to activism

Then

I have never been active in local politics or activism, and I doubt that I will ever be.
– 22nd of April 2009

Now

Or can we pass them a school in the cloud, a better-designed political system or finally, actionable solutions and a more empathetic society to reduce the poverty gap so we can all grow up to be giants and creators?
– 19 of January, 2014

It was 2nd of May, 2009 at Suntec City, Singapore. The hall was filled with more than two thousand people and we had all been there for more than seven hours.

News had originally broken weeks earlier on Facebook and Twitter, that there was a hostile takeover at the Annual General Meeting of AWARE. AWARE, a non-profit organization advocating for gender equality was taken over by a group of women from a church with a very questionable position on the rights of women. It was surreal.

I was apathetic to it for a while. This is what comfort and peace does — we lose sight of how hard the people before us had fought to give us basic rights. I remained unmoved, until the people I respected and followed on Twitter started to lend their voices.

It was purely out of curiosity at first. What exactly happened? Why is it so important that we take notice? Why is it important to me? There was a certain momentum as the social media movement started to turn its gears. I was taken up by that momentum, as I sought to do my part in disseminating the answers I had found to my questions. I became an armchair activist, doing everything I could on Facebook and Twitter to raise awareness. Our rights have to be fought for, to be protected, to be preserved.

They are there because some of us spend our entire lives protecting them.

An Extraordinary General Meeting was called, set on 2nd of May, 2009. They were hoping to pass a motion of no-confidence in the newly elected board. Our momentum gathered more speed as we tried to rally more possible voters to attend the EOGM.

I didn’t want to attend myself.

I was afraid of crowds. I didn’t like being around people. I disliked human interaction so much, I had made a rule for years while I carved out my self-employment as an independent designer — I would work via email only.

But as the date came closer, I was slowly dying inside.

How can I expect anyone else to fight for my rights, when I refuse to fight for my own because of fear?

In those seven hours I saw a slice of Singapore I had never seen before. I experienced a collective’s desire to rally for a common cause. There were people from all walks of life, young and old, men and women, straight and gay, fathers and mothers, students and professionals.

There was a young student, probably in her late teens. She was shivering, stammering and could not put together coherent sentences as she tried to speak on the floor. Yet she was there, speaking. Making her voice heard.

There was a father, there to speak about the future of his young daughter’s rights. There were old women in wheelchairs. There were expats who have no tangible investment in the outcome of the event, volunteering their time as they passed out flyers and gave flowers.

I had tears in my eyes throughout as I was there to witness what it means to be connected as a collective. I started to comprehend the necessity of having a voice, despite the fear or discomfort. I saw the potential of putting a number of voices together. I felt what it means to stand for something I deeply believe in. That gave me strength as an individual and I experienced a type of love I have never felt before:

That love that stems from a certain faith that your fellow human beings will stand up to be counted when it matters the most.

From 2007 to 2009 I received countless requests from both clients and twitter connections to meet me in person. I said no to all of them. I believed that people will get the best out of me if they do not interact with me in person (and vice versa).

Hiding behind my writing, I did not have to endure someone’s aggression in their body language nor do I have to display my extreme sensitivity to people’s energy. I didn’t have to second guess if what you say is truly what you mean when your facial expressions betray you. I hold you to your word, it was as simple as that. In return, you can hold me to mine. There is no, did you say this, or did I do that, because everything is plainly stated in an email.

Yet the experience from that day made me realize that:

• change for the better is possible
• I want to be part of facilitating change
• change is strengthened through numbers
• technology is immensely powerful as an accelerator for change
• power is given, not taken

It became painfully apparent to me that I have to start meeting people, because the more people I meet, the chances of meeting like-minded people will increase, and therefore maximizing the opportunities for collaborative change.

On 20th May, 2009, I had my first coffee with a British and a Swedish, both connections from Twitter. They promised not to bite. I would avoid their eye contact and sound incoherent while stammering. I didn’t know it yet, but that would be the start of amazing friendships fostered by Twitter.

It would take months before I accepted the second coffee invitation. There would be a lot more coffees with strangers from the internet in the proceeding years. It was a string of coffees from three random connections, all in 2011 which incepted the idea of visiting San Francisco.

Had I not taken the baby step out to drink that first coffee, it would have been very much pointless to be in San Francisco if I was still afraid to talk to strangers. San Francisco is all about talking to strangers.

It was that same trip which I had 3 meetings that would radically change my life — with Patrick who would become my trusted confidante, my ex-bosses whom I would go on to spend two great years working with, and the person whom I am now working for.

It was at Blue Bottle somewhen in 2013 where I met @dustin for a coffee. Four years have gone by since that day in 2009. I shook his hand and looked at him in the eye while I talked animatedly about storytelling and technology. I no longer stammer much during 1:1 conversations, and instead I became overly conscious of my inability to stop talking when things I care about are concerned. I guess he didn’t mind it as he offered to show me the Medium office for the first time. I didn’t know that would be the first of many subsequent times I would be walking through those same doors.

Today, I work to make you tell and read beautiful stories. I write plenty of my own, but I still shudder to tell them verbally to larger groups of people. I remain optimistic, because once upon a time I had been that girl, afraid to look at anybody in the eye.