They’re bold and they aren’t afraid to take matters into their own hands, whether it’s effecting change for others or in their own lives.
They’re bold and they aren’t afraid to take matters into their own hands, whether it’s effecting change for others or in their own lives. Hoe I Yune and Chia Ying Na meet the women who make amazing things happen.
SHE TAKES DOWN THE REGION’S BEST IN THE RING
Nurshahidah Roslie, Singapore’s first professional female boxer
Drawn to combat sports as a child, Shahidah would look on in envy when she saw other kids practicing silat and taekwondo. “My family wasn’t very open to the idea of girls joining sports, especially martial arts,” she says.
Ironic, then, that the 29-year-old now makes a living from sports as Singapore’s first professional female boxer. Since her debut in February last year at the Singapore Fighting Championship (SFC) – where she emerged tops, she’s chalked up six professional wins at other competitions, beating out more established boxers from around the region.
Shahidah first picked up boxing as a student at the Institute of Technical Education. The discipline and technical skill the sport demanded made her fall in love with it.
As the only woman boxer in the national team and one of the few local women in the sport, going pro was never going to be easy. Having to train alongside male boxers, she admits it was tough proving she had the mettle. It also didn’t help that fights were few and far between – simply due to the lack of female competition on the scene. Shahidah recalls working hard to lose weight to make the cut for a particular weight class in a competition, only to be told on weigh-in day that there wasn’t going to be a fight for her. Without regular opponents to go up against, she couldn’t hone her skill.
She almost gave up. It would have been easier to look for a well-paying job instead, but Shahidah’s hunger to compete eventually won.
However, boxers have bad days too, and Shahidah says a devastating loss requires a strong mind to bounce back from. It was a long time before she got back on her feet after her first professional loss.
Part of the process required her to watch videos of that failed fight, and admit that a less-than-stellar diet had contributed to her loss. “Right after weigh-in, I had ice cream and cake,” she says. But she’s gained perspective. “I don’t believe that there are any failures, only learning points.”
Shahidah wants to inspire more women to pick up competitive boxing, and has started a programme for them at Juggernaut Fight Club. Her classes emphasise perfecting basic techniques. “I want to help women build their self-confidence. It’s what I want to focus on after retiring from professional boxing – it’s my way of giving back.”
SHE PROVIDES LEGAL HELP FOR THOSE WHO FALL THROUGH THE CRACKS
June Lim, managing director, Eden Law Corporation
For June Lim, law was always going to be a way for her to give back to those who needed help the most.
After five years at various law firms, the 31-year-old realised pro bono cases would always take a back seat to other obligations. And she wasn’t going to stand idly by and watch that happen. In 2014, she set up “low bono” firm, Eden Law Corporation.
The company operates on a fixed-fee model – unlike most law firms, which charge according to the amount of work put in. When needier clients are involved, June even works out fees based on their monthly salaries. To keep costs manageable, June has leveraged legal technology, which means operations are largely paperless, and her staff can work from anywhere – at a hospital, a shelter, or even overseas.
All this comes from June’s desire to find a sustainable way to help those who need it most. This was first kindled during an internship in Kenya in 2006, when she visited the criminal courts in the country’s largest slum, Kibera. What stayed with her was the fact that these people in the docks were poor, and were facing long jail terms for stealing necessities like a bag of rice or a pack of batteries.
She realised things were not so different back home. “We have pockets of society in Singapore – including abused women or migrant workers – who can’t tap into legal resources,” she points out. In Singapore, civil legal aid is only for Singaporeans and Singapore PRs with an annual disposable income of $10,000 and below. This, June feels, creates a “sandwiched class” – a group of people who fail to meet the criteria for legal aid, but aren’t able to afford a lawyer.
She cites a recent example of a client who wanted the court to appoint him as his mother’s deputy – meaning that he would make decisions on her behalf if she should become mentally incapacitated. Although he was assessed to have an annual disposable income of $11,000 because of the size of his flat (which disqualified him from getting legal aid), he had six siblings with schizophrenia to care for, and was only taking home $1,300 a month working in pest control. Just to file an application in court would have cost him a month’s salary. June took on his case and ended up waiving the legal fees.
June always knew that striking out on her own would come with risks, and was prepared to go back to a bigger law firm if things didn’t work out. But after a year, Eden Law had turned a profit. June now has four people working for her, and her gamble has paid off.
“I was a commercial litigator, and I suppose I could have stayed on in a bigger firm and earned more money, but ultimately it’s about having a career that fits you.”
SHE SHELTERS HOMELESS TRANSGENDER INDIVIDUALS
June Chua, founder, The T Project
“The transgender community is visible, yet invisible at the same time. Our presence is known but not much support is given to us,” says June Chua, 44. It’s one reason she was inspired to set up The T Project, a shelter for transgender women who are estranged from their families, and don’t have a place to stay.
Herself a transgender woman, June has benefited from the support of a loving family, and wants the same for others like her. “Hopefully, with emotional support, they’ll start to believe in a future,” she says. She started The T Project in 2014 after realising many workshops and focus groups did not have enough emphasis on the issues transgender people face, such as being perceived as deviant. Things get worse if they aren’t accepted by their families. “Employment is a challenge as some transgender people drop out of school when they’re chased out of their homes by their families. This means they have limited skills and qualifications to find a good job later in life,” she adds.
Beyond a physical safe space, The T Project provides the peace of mind that comes with not having to worry about rent or where a meal will come from. The group also links transgender people up with social workers so they can get financial aid, advice on housing, and medical help.
June’s full-time job is as a volunteer coordinator in the health-care sector, and she relies on donations to keep her passion project going. The T Project began in an attic space in a shophouse in Little India. Through a fund-raising campaign which raised close to $140,000, June was able to get a bigger space to house more people at any time. She declines to reveal the location of the new shelter to protect the privacy of those who live there. To date, she’s sheltered 11 individuals, some of whom have made the adjustment back to the “real world”. June says seeing them get back on their feet and begin to look for jobs is the one of the most rewarding aspects of her work.
SHE DRIVES CONVERSATION ABOUT TOUGH ISSUES
Sangeeta Nambiar, director, Play Acting Performance Centre
“I have heard many stories of women who stay quiet about injustices they face because silence is seen as a virtue,” shares Pakistan International Women’s Film Festival award winner Sangeeta Nambiar, who spent years working in television and film production in India before moving to Singapore.
The 47-year-old is the creator of Finally She Spoke – a platform to raise awareness about the injustices real women face every day. Gathering stories from women that are centred on gritty issues like paedophilia, she recreates them on stage, and plays them out through actors several times a year. “You have to put the spotlight on it, highlight the issue, and say it’s not okay. I want to reach a point where the silence can be broken and the women themselves will actually walk on stage and tell us their own stories,” she says.
Among those she invites to her productions are women’s organisations, who are aware of the kinds of stories she wants to tell, and help link her up with women who are willing to talk about their experiences. “One of these organisations put me in touch with a domestic-violence victim who had undergone 12 years of abuse. It can be cathartic [for a victim] to see her story being played out.”
Still, Sangeeta says it can be challenging to convince other women to watch her work. “Many would rather shun dark stories and see theatre as entertainment. But these stories are real. Burying your head in the sand won’t do service to anyone,” she adds. Sangeeta hopes her work will inspire audiences to effect change within their communities.
Part of the proceeds from her productions also go to a halfway house in Johor, which works to get prostitutes off the street.
Beyond Singapore, Sangeeta spoke at the Women Economic Forum in Amsterdam in January, a conference that aims to drive conversation to effect constructive change.
SHE SPENDS SIX MONTHS A YEAR LIVING WITH A FEMINIST TRIBE
Choo Waihong, author
For the past seven years, Choo Waihong has spent six months a year living with a matriarchal tribe at the foothills of the Himalayas. For the Mosuo, marriage traditionally doesn’t exist, and men are mere studs to impregnate the women. Women head the household, and men only own land that’s passed down to them.
For Waihong, it was a refreshing departure from the life she had led as a corporate lawyer, always having to work harder than the male colleagues to prove herself.
The tribe’s glacial pace of life also taught her some important life lessons. “With the tribe, time is measured by the seasons, and the chores they have to do,” says Waihong, adding that this way of living taught her to stop watching the clock. “When work piles up, anxiety builds up. It took real effort to drop what I experienced every day.”
So charmed was she by her time with the tribe, she decided to build a traditional Mosuo house to stay in whenever she visits. When she’s there, she helps out during harvest season, and sometimes waits tables at a friend’s restaurant.
Waihong has since chronicled her experiences in a book called The Kingdom of Women, documenting the tribe’s distinct culture, and her personal journey with them.
She says she’s had no regrets giving up corporate life, as she now has time to give back. Waihong currently volunteers with a group that helps foreign workers here, and one day hopes to build a vocational school for the Mosuo.
SHE CHANGED UP HER OFFICE’S CORPORATE CULTURE
Chua Leng Leng, director of marketing, Bosch Singapore
When Chua Leng Leng was appointed to Bosch’s new South Korean subsidiary in 2011, she noticed a troubling trend. Staff were staying late in the office, way past their knock-off time. She later found out that subordinates leave the office only after their superiors do.
This seemed both unnecessary and unproductive to Leng Leng. She knew what incessant overtime could do to you – long hours at work had resulted in her suffering from gastric problems, and not having time for friends and family.
So she allowed her team to leave the office as soon as they had finished for the day. But when other department heads found out, they began questioning her team.
Leng Leng knew she had to do something to effect change across the board. The work culture in Korea is highly patriarchal, she points out, so she couldn’t just approach the other directors and assert her point of view. The only way to do this would be from the top down, she decided. So she approached the managing director of the firm and stated her case. After he spoke with the department heads, change soon followed.
That episode sealed her reputation as someone who dared push for change. But for Leng Leng, who is now back in Singapore, being a manager has always been about putting others first. “I see myself as a coach. I want to effect change by empowering my staff, so they can gain confidence to stand on their own feet,” she says.
