"You shot through my anger and rage,
to show me my prison was an open cage.
There were no keys, no guards,
just one frightened man and old shadows for guards."
- 'Living Proof', by Bruce Springsteen

This will be my last post about this year's by-elections. Also, considering that ever since my recent post on this, the entire by-election has descended into mud-racking, finger-pointing and denial on both sides (ugh, politics), maybe it's best that I leave just four thoughts on this experience.

1.
It's no secret that I lean towards a certain viewpoint, so I've been looking for a kind of devil's advocate to bounce off some thoughts. But despite some of my friend's challenges to my worldview, I find that the more I question, the arguments made to 'move on' and 'change the way Hougang is managed' get more and more ludicrous. If I were to accept that Hougang has been mismanaged and needs some kind of renewal, I'll be admitting that tasteless, baseless claim that Hougang rundown and derelict (which it isn't, and anyone repeating this claim will get a lot of harsh words from residents). It's like some kind of urban myth that Hougang is forever stuck in time.

Secondly, the main thrust of the government's attack is that Hougang has suffered previously for its loyalty to opposition politicians and now, finally, its time to move on and make a fresh start. We are making a fresh start: the parks have been refurbished, the jogging tracks have IPPT stations nearby and many of the blocks within my precinct are getting lift upgrades. So, yeah, we have moved on. Long ago. And-we-are-cool-with-it.

2.
I really feel disappointed with the mainstream media outlets (broadcast, radio but mainly newspaper) over election coverage over the last four days.

After a year handling media writing and editing, selective editing of text, quotes and images is something part of the job and necessary for quality. For example, if I'm writing for the corporate stakeholders of my company, I make sure I prioritise lots of photographs with corporate partners and add a boilerplate of text to put things in context. Editing has a purpose. So why, pray tell, did the press (specifically the Chinese press) completely omit the most dramatic event of the campaign? The heavy rain at the Worker's Party (WP) rally on Tuesday produced some of the most memorable moments and photo-worthy scenes of this whole by-election (see picture below). And the press chose to either write it all up in text or feature a generic people-speaking-crowd-slacking photos. If editors really choose photos for a purpose, then this really makes the press look like it's selectively under-reporting.


Then again, the media is also capable of over-reporting. A minister described the WP candidate as 'dishonest', and that quote got reprinted on the front page of the newspapers as a headline. The candidate's attempt to reply got buried somewhere under several dozen pages of news. 


3.
Singapore politics is probably nothing exciting compared to what goes on the U.S (all those Republican candidates!), U.K (Boris Johnson!) or even Malaysia (Bersih!). But it seems that the government has perfected the art of character assassination. I really, really don't understand how Mr Png's mix-up of words or, at worse, inability to handle the media effectively, is making him dishonest and requires me to "raise a new question about his integrity". Not to mention the constant reference to the ex-MP who vacated the seat.

All this really reminds me of all that fuss over President Obama's birth certificate, Romney's ties with Bain Capital or the daily protests outside Bersih leader Ambiga Sreenevasan's home. How do these things affect these people's ability to connect with the people they represent? And, meanwhile, the government-backed Mr Choo says his campaign is 'still clean'. The irony is pretty striking.


4.
At lunch today, I was talking to an older colleague who asked me who I was going to vote. After I said a very politically correct answer, he told me that he wished he could vote too. In fact, last year's election was his first time voting - ever. Which means I, just past 25 years of age, have voted more times than my 50-year old colleague. So, it really scares me that I might end up participating in my country's future in front of the TV instead of at a ballot box because of the all the walkovers that might or will come, depending on my vote.

After all the revolutions around the world, my first time voting last year helped me empathise with young people places as distant in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Greece and France. It is very liberating to vote (maybe people in more seasoned democracies can disagree with me openly). I'm proud that I can cross the ballot slip and put a piece of paper into a box, because I truly believe that no matter how small the election or how local the polls, every ballot slip that goes into the box makes my country stronger.

And that's why the act of voting is so precious and symbolic - to the point that people will defy logic to make their opinions heard. This is a feeling that a lot of Singaporeans may not share, and which the government doesn't really understand. It's never been about the municipal issues or the enticing upgrades (at least for me). It's about the symbolic act of making a decision about something, making a statement.

Symbolic may not sound like much. But maybe since I studied Literature and write for a living, it matters. (President Obama's statements on gay marriage were highly symbolic, but they were hugely important to a lot of people). A lot of things in Hougang are really symbolic too: the defiant opposition spirit, the endurance (and pride) at making it 20 years without a lot of municipal facilities and the shared identity of place and space.

But don't underestimate the power of symbols. They have their own hands, their own hearts and they are definitely made powerful by the hopes they contain. 

Or: a tale of two facebook profiles.

By-election campaigning is in full swing in my neighbourhood. The volunteers of both parties are covering Hougang up and down, every single day. After the drama of nomination day, the short by-election will turn out to be a straight-fight between two candidates (which seems to be the way all political contests are in Singapore). I'm not sure whether to be proud or slight embarrassed when it appeared the most exciting moment of the entire election thus far is candidates filing their papers.

Before the daily by-election news hit the media, I got a lot of my information from the respective Facebook pages of Desmond Choo and Png Eng Huat (who is now posting updates at Hougang SMC). It's interesting how both guys use social media: Mr Choo, the ruling party candidate, probably has an admin do his photos and maintain his page. It's very PR, individualistic, almost like a friend's page. While Mr Png, from the same party as the incumbent, redirects users to the official district Facebook page, his views form part of a the party's larger statement. Both pages are quite cool, but they are what you expect during elections: a lot of smiling people.


What this by-election lacks is really independent news coverage on the issues both these candidates stand for. In 2011, during the 'big' general election, a lot of foreign news media outlets were talking about Singapore politics. But this by-election is way too small to possibly warrant even regional coverage. It's not that I distrust the local papers and broadcast news - or even the non-aligned social media sites like TOC. It's just that Singapore's style of reporting media events is always biased in favour of the newsworthy and not the human interest. And so, only events that are newsworthy - ministers visits to Hougang HDB units, fiery rally speeches and very outrageous claims - get the spotlight. There's not a lot of middle ground.

But given the way everyone's been so politicized here lately, I hardly count that as surprising.

On Saturday, while the Worker's Party rally was going on, I had a dinner with one of my Hougang friends, and he offered me a 2nd opinion outside of my family. He said something pretty significant (which I've said many times to people who ask me who I'm voting for): it's important that we'll be able to exercise our vote at the next election. We've voted three times in two years already - as many as most Singaporeans - and we're proud of it. Nothing makes us more proud than casting a vote to help a 47-year old republic discover what exactly democracy means. (We're a country that's gone from being a British crown colony to a Malaysian state to an independent nation during the last half a century). People overlook that.

And he also said another thing: there's no such thing as a local election. Which I will agree with. Some politicians have been trying to play down the fact that there are national issues that have yet to be addressed. Given this country's size, every little bit of vote-casting will be a national event. Seen in that light, a lot of the banter on "I'm the real underdog here" doesn't really make much sense. Seen in the light of the huge power differences between parties, it's like comparing a dragon and a dragonfly - to the point that I think casting the vote is a significant national event, however symbolic, on what kind of political future people prefer.

(EDIT: Ugh, I wanted to give a personal spin on things and it ended up sounding like a campaign speech)

"And if she had to live it all over again,
you know she wouldn't change
anything for the world."
- 'Thrash Unreal', by Against Me!

There are some books that are like white clouds of lofty literature, astounding in their language and abstract-ness. There are other books that are so real that they shred your heart into pieces as the protagonist experiences everything. And then there's this third category: neither one of each, but close to the heart and written in a way so intimately that you imagine the characters as friends you know.


Brian Katcher's Almost Perfect is one of the rare books (written and that NLB allows) about a transgender teenager. It's this particular angle that makes the book very different from a lot of the other LGBTQ novels that I've been reading lately. Not that the inclusion of the subject of transgendered individuals and how society views them is a sideshow to a bigger plot, but it is the plot.

The story's told from the perspective of Logan, a secondary school runner who is trying to get over a relationship. He meets Sage, a new student who is a refreshing change from the girls he knows at school. As Logan and Sage grow closer, he eventually decides to act on his feelings. But then he discovers Sage's secret: that Sage was born a boy. After an episode of feeling bitter and betrayed, he slowly learns to accept Sage for who she is.

Some things: that the book's written from a secondary school guy's POV is important. There are times when I want to whack my head against the wall for Logan's insincerity, chee hong-ness or blur sotong approach to girls. But it's precisely this stumbling, sometimes stuttering back-and-forth with feelings, thoughts and intentions that makes this novel so memorable. I think every guy who grapples with his feelings for a girl will be able to identify with Logan. But more importantly, some of the action-bedek stunts and blunt questions that Logan asks about Sage's transition from male to female are the same questions we probably will end up asking - whether with sincerity or out of curiosity - to our transgendered friends. I've asked many of these questions myself (and, in hindsight, feel thankful that some of my friends feel the friendship strong enough to answer them).

A lot of the book deals with the social consequences for someone who identifies as transgender. But even more significantly and interesting to read, is reading about the misconceived notions about social censure that cisgendered people have when they perceive people around them know they are hanging out with someone who's transgendered. There's a short bit on how people tend to conflate homosexuality (sexual orientation) and gender identity. Also, the book elaborates on the challenges of family acceptance: would you still love your son if he decided he wanted to be a girl?

I like the ending, though. There was enough closure, but it wasn't overly sentimental. As a guy, I can exact a lot of unrealistic expectations when a relationship falls through, but in this case, Mr Katcher knows how to write that, in real life, you don't feel 100% satisfied all the time when things come to end.

Even though this book brings to focus a lot of the misguided disgust and fear people have of view transgendered individuals, such reactions doesn't exist in vacuum. In Singapore, mention the word "transgender" and a whole host of slurs and dialect terms get thrown out (I won't rewrite any of them here), plus the thought of ladies in make-up at Changi Village and Bugis Street. Unlike other Asian countries, Singapore doesn't have a specific socio-cultural role for transgendered people (think Hijra in India, Kathoey in Thailand and Waria in Indonesia), and a lot of local anxiety about transgendered identity comes from the fact that such individuals catered to Western servicemen (my parents still can tell me a lot about the old Bugis Street). 

The story's subject of transitioning teenagers isn't common at all here. But add in all the colonial baggage and the government's obsession with maintaining the ideal family, the issues and challenges discussed will be exactly the same.

Last week, when Mr Barack Obama announced his support for gay marriage, it did not register much of a note in local news. Not a lot of Singaporeans said much, the news report got buried somewhere in the world news section and everyone got on with life.

For the record, I think Obama's got guts. But, more importantly, I believe he's making the right move. Even though I probably belong to the demographic that should be quite pissed off with his argument, his symbolic declaration on marriage equality is important.

The importance of this was illustrated in an incident that happened to me this week:

Earlier this week, one of my good friends, a team member on my running team, collapsed at McRitchie during training. He slipped in and out of consciousness, and had no control over his motor senses. My teammates did what anyone would do: they called the ambulance to send him to the nearest hospital. While my friend did regain consciousness when the ambulance arrived, he was not in the correct frame of mind to even identify himself. Without his identity number and even his name, the paramedics said there would be a problem getting him registered at the A&E.

So my teammates called me. I had just finished a very bad run on grass at Nus and was heading home when my team manager and then one of my teammates called me. They asked for my friend's identity number, address and to ask me to contact his next-of-kin. I didn't have all these on hand., But, thank God, my friend and I share a similar insurance agent, so all the necessary biographical data was obtained with the help of a single text message. Then I rushed down to his house to get his siblings and brought them to the hospital.

The A&E at the hospital has some weird rules. It only allows family members to see warded patients the paramedics bring in (I suspect it's the same for most wards). So, despite being the one with all the bio-data and even having my friend's belongings, they wouldn't even admit or tell me his condition. They allowed his family access when they arrived, and even then they required registration. I waited for 30 minutes with my teammates, found it pointless and left. I didn't see or know my friend's condition till the next morning - 12 hours later - when his family told me. And thank God, he's fine, with no serious injuries or internal problems.

Where I live, marriage and family are two sides of a coin. Like all East Asian societies, family is the basic operational unit in the land. Families are the social contract between individuals and the larger society, and marriage is the legal contract that establishes families in the eyes of the state.

That night at the hospital pissed me off, but it got me thinking. I don't want to speak so literally for them, but if any gay, lesbian, trans-sexual, bisexual or genderqueer Singaporean whose significant other had faced the same situation that night, he/she would've faced similar problems getting access. They might have been living as a couple, shared a bank account, or even did their will together - but just because they weren't married, they would've been denied access on the condition they weren't family. 

Hospitals probably have lots of reasons to restrict access to non-family members (reduce risk of infection, patient confidentiality etc), so my frustration is probably misplaced. But this still doesn't mask the fact that a lot of important decision-making events in Singapore are still based around the family. Buying government-subsidized housing is one (unless you're 35 or older, only married couples can make a purchase). Using CPF savings or claiming them after death is another. And because family means you need to married (spousal) or a product of that marriage (familial), if you're LGBTQ, you will definitely have problems making such decisions and accessing certain public services when the time comes.

I don't want this post to sound like I'm talking about something abstract, or that I'm championing something with passionate advocacy. It's just pointing to an experience that has solidified my belief in a certain approach to things. Because waiting outside a hospital A&E without access and without news can be both harrowing - to the point of being avoidable, if certain laws were different.

This post concerns something that was announced on Wednesday just as I was coming home from work. I decided to wait for several days before writing about it because, well, Singapore politics...

The President has announced that my constituency - Hougang (后港) - will be having a by-election on Saturday, 26 May. It's the first major election since the previous year (elections are hard to come by here, more on that later). It's also the first by-election to be held in an opposition-held district since my country's independence. My entire family, including myself, is eligible to vote. This will be my third time voting in two years.

Because Singapore is follows the British parliamentary system, our districts are represented by members of parliament (MPs). To cut a long story short, the MP seat here has been vacant since February, when the previous MP was expelled from his party for his supposed extra-marital affairs. And so, after three months of silence, there'll be some drama when these two fellows compete against each other for votes on 26 May:


There are some reasons why this small, local by-election in a district of just 23,000 people is making everyone here excited. For people who follow Asian politics, Singapore has been ruled by the people's action party (PAP,) since 1959. It's the party of Lee Kuan Yew, Tommy Koh and any famous Singaporean politician you've heard of outside of this country. However, Hougang has the distinction of being an opposition stronghold. When boundaries change every election and not voting the ruling party in sometimes means reduced municipal funding, my neighbours have voted a party called the workers' party (WP) for the last 20 years.

This time around, everyone in the country is wondering if the vote will go to the men in white, or if this small chunk of land by river will stay in the hands of the Opposition. Minus the conspiracy theories about the government's partiality and so-called opinion polls, the mind games have already begun (this morning's papers just showed one of our deputy prime ministers trying to convince us Hougang people to 'vote the underdog' to get the 'best of both world' - a veiled reference to his party's candidate).

I've met Mr Choo before - the neighbourhood is that small - on one of his walkabouts. Typically he's surrounded by grassroots organsiers, although that may have changed. But unfortunately he just shook my hand and went off, probably because he thought I was standing at the bus-stop and eager to leave. The state-owned media has been marketing him as an auntie's darling, listing his achievements like a resume: he gives out free porridge to older residents, started a job centre and is thinking of reopening a market.

I haven't met Mr Png - yet. He's been serving the residents here even before I've moved in. He's the quiet, unassuming type I suppose.

It's clear that this neighbourhood will be in the national media all the way until 26 May. Even though the government claims that this small election isn't a barometer on their performance one year after they took office, it most certainly is. I will try to post updates as I can on what people here think, or if I meet any of the candidates. It will be a welcome distraction from work to see how people play politics here, in a vacuum, within this small estate.

As part of a challenge to broaden my worldview, I've been reading a lot more books with LGBTQ themes or characters. It's not that my reading material didn't include this social segment of the population previously, it's just that only now I'm consciously trying to add some diversity into what I read, watch and (where applicable) listen to.

Just two months into this and I've begun to notice some strange reasoning in Singapore society.

First, let me direct you to this music video by Carly Rae Jepsen. I was introduced to this very catchy song by my youth group friends who mentioned that this talented Canadian singer has been singed on Justin Bieber's label. The song is 'Call me maybe', and it's been getting a lot of airtime on local radio.

The week of Labour Day: every other country in Southeast Asia had labour and union related events. The Malaysians even introduced minimum wage. But here we had our prime minister give a speech which could be summed up as, "Don't worry(!) We will put Singaporeans first in policy-making(!)" Extremely ironic, after he spent the last week working against a proposal on increasing salaries, put forward by some of our brightest economics professors.

On Labour Day, some of the runners from my old varsity team approached me to help in some design. In short, Mok and his friends came up with a very interesting community running platform based on the British runparks model. Their Singaporean version is more based on exercising for a healthy lifestyle, and they have a nifty name for it: the runtowalksg movement. Well, not technically a movement because it needs to gain some traction. But I'm quite ashamed that someone like Mok, who's a national athlete and in the medical profession, has got time to do such non-selfish things, while I lounge around playing with Tumblr and remain stuck to very nonsensical church obligations.

And then at work, I've received official word that I'll possibly be part of my organisation's crisis communications team. Looks like all that blog surfing, Tumblr-jumping and internal memo-writing is working. 

Last week I sat down and wrote a short story, which I've posted on my fiction journal:

 My Heart is a weapon the size of your photograph - Part 1 and Part 2.

I wrote it after the huge debate here about National Service in the media which, for all its intensity and discussion, was quite disappointing. What happened was this: a full-time National Serviceman (NSF), 21 year-old Private Lee, passed away during an army exercise. When the news broke, some people (or more specifically, a girl) made a stray online comment about Singaporean males being weak.

Because all Singaporean guys have to serve a minimum of 22 months of compulsory conscription, the extreme shitstorm that followed was predictable, philosophical and fierce. Everyone had an opinion about everything, which basically boiled down to how much sacrifices Singaporeans make (the best years of their lives, studies and career) to serve NS. Many people who were career officers or who held senior positions during their NS wrote long, insightful Facebook posts on the subject which, if you are interested, you can read here, here, here and here.

(EDIT: The links above only seem to work if you are logged into FB)

(The above selection of experience-sharing is interesting to say the least. Because it includes one female career officer who gave her own perspective of the whole debate)

The girl made an online apology. And then everyone, more specifically the guys who contributed to the debate and some newspaper columnists, believe that this entire ordeal helped to show how Singaporeans will not hesitate to defend something uniquely ours: our shared commitment to defending our nation through NS.

Sadly, I disagree. Reading through those 4 pieces, which were posted around Facebook, I get the sense that this 'shared identity' is an majority club of army reservists patting themselves on the back. I get the sense that these people believe they have sacrificed so much and refuse to give any quarter or allow any discussion on the real issue here: how much is one Singaporean's life is really worth? I get the sense that these people who were quick to cast the first stone are proud of their own experiences, attained ranks and narratives - and needed a opportunity to exhibit it.

Perhaps this is true. Perhaps the majority can speak for itself. But in the whole discussion, there was no acknowledgement of the services, sacrifices and contributions of Police and Civil Defence servicemen. They were given a brief mention, and they were largely glossed over in the jibes about army terms and experiences in Tekong. To me, the slight seemed partly deliberate. After all, the comment (made by a girl) seemed to be a challenge to trademark suck-thumb-chiong-sua character that gives the SAF NSFs and NSmen its core, masculine essence. Police (PNS) and Civil Defence NS (CDNS) have long been considered less than masculine, because it lacks the military element.

And all this airing of perceived hurt missed the whole point: why are young, healthy Singaporean men dying in so many of these 'training accidents'? There have been three deaths this year so far. Definitely accidents happen - they happen at police tactical training and at basic rescue traing centre too - but why are so many armed forces servicemen dying during exercises or at IPPT sessions?

As a PNSman, there are a lot of things I will never understand about the SAF, army NS, Tekong and its institutions. In many ways, I feel emasculated, like the metaphorical girl surrounded by all her male friends who talk about SOC, field camp and handling M-16s/SAR-21s. But I accept that the majority of my fellow NSFs/ NSmen would have that as their default experience. I accept that they have probably sacrificed much more than I have in terms of effort, physical endurance, time and patience. But that does not relegate the significance of some 400,000 current and former NS policemen, paramedics, firefighers, troopers, transport officers, KINS baseguards, K-9 trainers, staff officers and sentries (just to name a few vocations) into the eternal background.

So I sat down and decided to voice out my frustrations in writing. When I wrote, I tried to answer and ask: how much is one Singaporean's life worth, especially if that Singaporean was an NSman, or of a different vocation, even gender compared to what we probably imagine a typical NSman to be like. I came up with most unlikely characters, with relationships that many Singaporeans would scoff at (overly nostalgic, possibly neurotic, split by racial lines and, yes, LGBTQ). I wanted to show that, no matter who she/he is, one Singaporean's life is worth all the trouble - because of the people she/he holds dear, not because of the experiences he has been through.

The Israeli government, when negotiating the release of Gilad Shalit (an NSF too) , believed one of their servicemen was worth 1,027 prisoners. They believed one man was worth all the trouble and fuss. And if there's something two years of NS has taught me is that, for the life of one young person, no matter how different or un-masculine or weird, you must be willing to change your entire worldview and stand  by him because you're in this together as a squad/section/ platoon. Isn't that camaraderie personified?

"I am still living of your ghost,
lonely and dreaming of the west coast."
- Santa Monica, by Everclear


It starts with a suicide and ends with a near-murder. The Shattering is one of those books that is a mixture between psychological thriller, supernatural and slice-of-life (to use the manga term). It’s one of those books where you can sense the plot from the beginning (I made a wild guess after finishing the first chapter and was correct), but has a well-thought out story that makes you guess how the characters end up.

The story unites three protagonists – all those older siblings have committed suicide – as they try to find out how the deaths in their families are related. In the background, linked to how the story turns out but not stated in your face, is the setting the novel is set in: a picturesque, New Zealand vacation town which probably sounds like a good place to migrate to.

Some things about the book that are worth nothing. The Shattering is probably the only book I know that’s all-inclusive, and sincere in its portrayal of people from all walks of life. It could probably win an award for its ethnically diverse cast of characters. The three main characters say it all: Keri (of mixed ethnicity but with who is ethnically Maori from her paternal side), Sione (Samoan, but struggles with being seen as too ‘white’ or being a banana) and Janna (a white New Zealander/ Pakeha). There’s a character named Patrick Tan, who sounds Southeast Asia and - thank goodness – not the template for everything about Asian culture. There’s ample story time devoted to how some of these characters practice their religious faith. One of characters identifies as LGBTQ.

Even though the characters look like they could fit on a National Day Rally poster under the heading ‘moving forward in unity’, there are not trivialised. It’s the biggest redeeming grace this story provides. Not that different cultural backgrounds are just photoshopped in to make things more interesting, but instead read how the author believes people struggle with multiple markers of identity. There's no commentary about ethnicity, but it makes an intelligent read about ethnic relations nonetheless, which is nice extra to the story. So it’s an honest portrayal of a really diverse society, almost sociological that I want to cry with joy.

But I also suspect that the author pulled it off well because of her multiple POVs and the topic of suicide, which bookends the story.

Second, there’s a moral component that’s not really present in the story (i.e characters do a lot of extreme actions but consequence is sidelined for the plot). But the lack of it is actually pretty helpful sometimes, especially when it comes to sympathising with the characters (that Asian guys are not asexual, for one).

And because the book deals with something as heavy as suicide, I’m glad that it ended a bit more complicated than simply ‘everything will get better’. The book essentially sees life-altering events in phases all under the umbrella of age. Things like rediscovering your religion or going to university are as much important to the way life works out as are the tragedies of life - a simple but powerful thought.

"The morning image from the satellites
is all blue and green.
And we've all got wounds to clean -
here's a rag, here's some gasoline."
- 'Green to me', Hum 

When I meet certain people, they have the effect of making me feel small, dirty and childlike.

And I don't know them that well at all. Maybe it's a knee-jerk reaction when people glistening with achievements and dripping with charisma cast their shadow over me. It's a good thing that I can acknowledge this, because it's difficult to talk or get along when - despite my obvious flaws, extremely fragile mindset and history of self-degeneration - I'm made out to be personal competition and a threat.

A runner is so much more than his/her physical body. This is something that I understand. Likewise empty, naked desire (physically apparent) is either a cover or an introduction to something else. I feel that, yes, it's a threat, telling me to go away.

The difference between me and another is that I concede defeat. I do not wish to compete over a person. I just want to run.

Thanks.