10 Signs You Went To An All-Girls Convent School in Singapore

Convent Girl Traits

We may share the hatred for knee-length skirts and the love for communal in-school Valentine’s Day celebrations—including gifts from secret admirers, like the bung from the next class. But even years down the road, there’s just something so significant about ex-convent girls that you can sniff a mile away. When we tell others we came from an all-girls school, “Chey, can tell” is their most common response.

Even though we may sit with one leg up at home and spell great ¾ of the time, here are some traits that potentially define the typical catholic-school-bound chick.

1. No subject is awkward to us

From period talk to our early acceptance of homosexuality through the exposure of lesbian tendencies (yes I said it, call the nuns out on me), we’re as open-minded as can be.

It’s only natural for girls to congregate and talk about their ~ feelings ~. So instead of looking at us like we’re gossip queens, see us as your greatest listeners. And after hearing all the backstabbing crap pubescent girls put each other through, nothing really shocks us anymore.

Born into a culture of debate and discussion, there’s no such thing as oversharing. Because we love to talk—maybe even too much.

2. The jiak kan tang ones suck at Mandarin so bad

Aside from the well-rounded overachievers who can converse with the lao shis of course.

Maybe it’s the unhealthy addiction to witty yet derogatory banter to one another in our native language (English), but our Mother Tongue is more like a distant aunt who criticises our single status during Chinese New Year.

The only Higher Mother Tongue we know is Sarcasm, which we speak fluently. However, come later in life, we wish it wasn’t so hard to order a damn bowl of bak chor mee due to our fear-complex. When high-pitched screeches resemble our Mandarin teachers exclaiming our Chinese names, we still get jumpy.

3. We are THE masters of passive aggression

Being surrounded by the master source of passive aggression really sharpened our shade-throwing skills. Especially since girl-on-girl disputes are frequent occurrences that need to be handled covertly. But contrary to Mean Girl’s beliefs, not everything in girl-world has to be sneaky. We can sure as hell make you feel our wrath with the iciest cold shoulder, backhanded remark, and piercing death-stare. RBFs, salute!

4. We’re buay paiseh

It must be linked to the fact that we spent our most vital teenage years in an open and supportive environment that allowed us to flourish. We didn’t have boys around, so we had the space to develop our identity without being apologetic about it. No judgement, no social construct to dictate the idea of ‘ladylike’.

But it’s not like we’ve never socialised with boys outside the compounds. Just because something isn’t easily accessible, doesn’t mean we won’t find a way. It was just easier for KC girls to hunt males down when they were only one love-bridge away from St Pat’s.

5. We have diva-reflex

Somehow, almost every convent girl you meet will have a melodramatic tendency. Maybe it’s the fact that our cohabitants for up to 10 years included many people from Drama class—which was considered pretty cool in the all-female environment. Or the fact that we thrived amidst the battlefield of girlish catfights, which honed our exaggeration skills.

Even if you weren’t heavily involved in the school’s politics, witnessing  drama alone probably rubbed off on you. You’d know how to flex that drama-queen muscle if provoked. I believe in you.

6. We’re super affectionate

Boob slaps. Hugs upon every interaction. Nothing is misconstrued as flirty among us the way it would be if we were to act the same way around guys. We’re comfortable being excessively touchy with our girlfriends because that’s just how much we love them. So boys, sorry for the misunderstanding.

7. We’re extremely empathetic

I’m pretty sure we all knew of cry-babies in our schools. But in an all girls’ institution, it’s just more common. So we’ve learnt how to handle the superfluous emotion that runs deep within our womanly loins, expertly and efficiently.

Girls cry for an array of reasons, and yes we’ll be the first to admit—that includes shark week. We’re used to young girls overreacting to trivial problems. We don’t judge. We are just sympathetic, sensitive little angels who know where you’re coming from.

8. Although, people might think we’re “exclusive”

Our low-key diva attitude also ensues we might end up a little lost when mixing among people of diverse backgrounds. Not to be confused with acting elitist; we’re just used to being candid without backlash or people easily taking offense. So that may cause some misunderstandings on our (perceived) “don’t talk to me” disposition.

Outside, we might be susceptible to post-convent culture shock, but among our kind the camaraderie is strong. Some label this as clique-y, but it’s just the ease of comfort with those who can tolerate our meanest, rudest, unglam sides.

9. We go 0 to 100 (and back) real quick

We either love with all our heart, or hate with every fibre in our body. We tend to be fiercely loyal, or your presence can be considered non-existent as far as we’re concerned.

We’ve hated girls of opposing convent schools for no apparent reason, then became best friends with them some time later. Guess we all shared the same struggle of feigning skirt length when bending down every time the teachers checked if our knees were covered by the pinafore. Or the pain of getting nagged at for sitting with our legs apart. Even though that was the game plan because we had shorts underneath, obviously.

10. The bonds we forged in our convent years are lifelong

Friends come and go, but there’ll be at least 1 to 2 (or 10) girlfriends who will stick by us through thick and thin even past our convent years.

We’ve pulled one another out of every bathroom episode, PMS-induced rage and every great escape to pon morning assembly. So when that Kanye West song plays, you best believe we’re thinking about them. Because AIN’T NOBODY FRESHER THAN MY M*F*ING CLIQUE.

Convent Girl Antics

I like to think our species is all business in the front, party at the back. We’re just used to having righteous authoritative figures breathe down our necks with their strict rules, dress codes and culture. But that struck a good balance in us and now in hindsight, that’s what bred a bunch of fun-loving, yet proper young ladies. When the time calls for it, at least. -Source

Life Growing Up As An Indian Muslim Girl in Singapore

Indian Muslims in Singapore

When I was younger, I had the makings of a diva—I thought I was hella cute, charming and had the confidence of a rock star. In fact, my signature move to aptly display my disinterest was to dramatically flip my hair/veil over my shoulder before making my exit.

However, this self-esteem gave way the moment I entered primary school. At the impressionable age of seven, I was taught that as an Indian, my hairy arms made me less appealing than my Chinese or even Malay counterparts.

One incident that stuck with me was when two of my group mates loudly whispered to themselves about how “ugly” I was. Although it seemed like an insignificant event, that comment embedded the seed of insecurity and inferiority in me.

Fast forward to my teenage years, I started to obsess over my atypical looks, only to be reminded of how different I was through mainstream media. Beauty advertisements babbled on about whitening creams while and local TV shows mainly featured Chinese actresses. I felt displaced and under-represented.

If the epitome of ‘Asian beauty’ somehow became synonymous with ‘oriental beauty’ at large, where did that leave the rest of us?

Racial slurs/stereotypes 

Being told that you’re ‘black’ every so often is not much fun, even if it’s just a joke—especially if it’s a joke. More importantly, unless you’re colour blind, you should know that I’m brown. What I’m bothered about is the use of ‘black’ as a derogatory term. I don’t get why every slightly tanned Chinese person is nicknamed ‘Indian’ and ‘Black’.

Once, I told my Chinese friends that I’ll only let them call me ‘Black’ if I could call them ‘Yellow’. The fairest of them all vehemently rejected my proposition, saying, “NooOooO I’m not yellow, I’m fair,” to which I replied, “Okay then, we’ll settle for a compromise; you’re pale yellow.” That shut her up all right.

I do admit that stereotypes stem from certain truths but it isn’t nice for people to use it as an insult or to generalise an entire race by it.

More than just a beauty competition

But when I grew older, the illusion that Singapore is a truly racially harmonious country gave way when I realised that racism exists beyond skin deep.

There’s racism present in our housing market where landlords explicitly state their preference for, “No Indians, No PRCs.” There’s even racism in some of our third generation Singaporeans being denied their nationality just because they come from a minority racial group.

Job prospects

Once, I submitted a passport-sized photo of myself after being selected for a job but the employer completely ghosted me after receiving the picture.

I understand that certain jobs require the employees to speak Mandarin. But when the employers confirm me for an English-speaking role, only to ghost on me after they see a picture of me with a piece of fabric over my head? Tell me it was my “skill set” that didn’t make the cut.

The worst part is when the majority won’t even acknowledge the underlying prejudice as they’ve probably never been discriminated against before.

The need to classify/compartmentalise

Despite the number of times I explain that I’m both an Indian and a Muslim, most people seem uncomfortable when they’re unable to ‘classify’ my ethnicity. In fact, many of them don’t even know that being Malay =/= being a Muslim.

As a Hijabi, I’ve been mistaken to be Malay to even Punjabi (what even?!) and although such an issue may seem like a micro-aggression, let us be reminded that it’s 2017 and such issues shouldn’t exist.

So let me explain the difference: Ethnicity is inherited from one’s ancestors and encompasses the cultural aspect of one’s life. Religion, on the other hand, is a belief in God/Gods and is something one chooses to subscribe to.

With that definition, it’s possible for someone to be a person of Indian ancestry and subscribe to Islamic principles. I’ve met Christian Malays, Hindu Chinese, and atheist Indians so it’s not all that hard to figure out if you understand the intricacies with regards to race and religion.

More importantly, it’s okay if someone comes from an ambiguous background. We don’t always have to staunchly hold on to our cultural identities and deny the authenticity of another person’s identity just because we don’t understand it.

Mixed race relationships

When it comes to B/G relationships, if a girl of a minority race gets together with someone of a majority race, sometimes it’s negatively viewed as her “climbing up the social ladder”. This brings about prejudice-fuelled exclamations of, “OMG your boyfriend is Chinese?!”, as though it’s supposed to be an #achievementunlocked.

And it works both ways. Some of my family members who married outside our racial group were labelled  ‘betrayers’ for abandoning their own kind.

Every time I attend an interracial wedding, my mother makes me promise that I’d never do such a thing. Although I respect my mother’s wishes, I believe that love is blind to discrimination and we shouldn’t impose unnecessary judgement on others.

Unacknowledged majority privilege

My favourite quote of late has been,“Privilege is invisible to those who have it.”

Source

I’m not saying that we should abolish “majority privilege”, but we should make an effort to empathise with people who are in a less advantaged state than us.

My journey to take charge of my self-esteem was a difficult one but I learnt that I don’t need external validation to feel confident or beautiful. I based my self-confidence on what my inherent strengths and weaknesses were, and not by looks.

Nonetheless, I’m thankful for how progressive feminists are in Singapore. In order for our society to cohesively progress, certain societal ills must be acknowledged through open discussion.

Be a #Woke Singaporean

Singaporeans have racial harmony ingrained in our DNA since young. Although we’re taught to get along and to ignore the undercurrent tensions, recent incidents have made me a more #woke member of society.

Sweeping such issues under the rug won’t help for long ‘cause over time, maintaining the status quo will only lead to minority people’s dissent. Instead, we should all be more #woke Singaporeans. -Source

13 Things Which Only Happen In Singapore Girls’ Schools

Image source

Girls’ School Culture

When parents think of all-girls schools in Singapore, most would picture a prestigious distraction-free institution, for their daughters to further their studies and blossom into well-groomed young women.

But when actual alumni think of girls’ school, they remember a pretty different picture.

From ratchet catfights to rumours about haunted toilets, life in an all-girls school is… exciting, to say the least.

Whether you were the guai-est nerd or the biggest slacker, here are some real-life stories you can probably relate to if you went to an all-girls school in Singapore.

*Some names were changed to protect identities

1. Boy drama when girls hooked up with church mates

In my girls’ school, I was happily single but incredibly bored. As there were no boys in school, most girls hooked up with guys from church, an affiliated school, or tuition class. And whenever there was boy drama, the gossip turned into lunch topics we lived for.

When my friend was the first girl in class to get a boyfriend from church, she had the juiciest relationship drama. Her first time story had us all shook because we’d never known anyone else who’d ‘done it’.

Girls would also fight over popz guys from the affiliated boys’ school. While I managed to stay out of it, there were girls who fell out with each other because of these crushes.
Chloe, 20

2. Widespread lesbianism

In Sec 1, a rumour about one girl being gay was the most controversial thing we’d ever heard. When she got a girlfriend, they became the most famous couple in school.

But fast forward to Sec 4, 30% of the school had come out as gay or bi, including myself.

No one treated it like a controversy anymore, and it was comforting to be in a community which didn’t discriminate.
Lea, 18

3. Unique school rules

Most schools have strict rules, but girls’ schools take it to another level. Skirt too short? Buy a new one. Hair too long? Cut it off with the pair of scissors in the staff room.

There were several things we could be reprimanded for: coloured bras, wearing a suit to prom, hugging (the school thought we would turn gay), not having a school logo on our socks, having hair too long or too short, etc.

Once, a girl who participated in Hair For Hope was forced to wear a wig to school.

But by Sec 4, many found ourselves criticising juniors for looking unkempt and ruining our public image.

Source

Sabrina, 19

4. Rabak catfights

I think being in a girls’ school makes you more confident, but not always in a good way. Especially with no guys around to impress, many girls had no qualms about going full-ratchet and picking fights with others.

The first time I witnessed a catfight was when someone talked shit about my classmate’s girlfriend. She got defensive and responded by splashing water on the girl’s face.

From there, there was slapping and hair-pulling, and a huge crowd formed. We only dispersed when some prefects showed up and broke up the fight.
Elena, 24

5. Girls supporting girls

My school had a culture of fiercely cheering friends who were on stage, whether for a performance, an award ceremony, or even morning announcements. It would take forever to get the hall to settle down and carry on with the assembly.

Once, I was about to make an announcement about my CCA’s upcoming event, but my anxiety made my voice shake.

From a corner of the hall where my classmates sat, I heard a collective “Go, Melanie!” It was unnecessarily enthusiastic for a short announcement, but I was extremely grateful.
Melanie, 19

6. Getting caught changing in class

Changing in and out of our PE attire in class was the norm because the bathroom queue was always too long.

Initially, we would face the wall or hide under tables to be discreet. But by Sec 4, most girls would be shamelessly flashing their bras in the middle of the classroom.

Once, a male teacher accidentally walked in while we were getting ready. We made him wait outside and started class 15 minutes late, but he didn’t scold us because the whole ordeal was too embarrassing for him.
Jane, 19

7. No shame or boundaries

Without guys around, we were free from patriarchal expectations of women. Some girls flashed their hairy pits, while others sat with their legs opened because they were “wearing shorts anyway”.

The absence of guys also let us openly discuss topics from periods to masturbation.

My no-filter friend once exclaimed in the middle of class “my vagina damn pain sia!” and excused herself to the sick bay.

Source

Amanda, 19

8. Valentine’s Day was lit

Valentine’s Day was a huge event every year, with girls spending hours handcrafting gifts, writing letters, or buying candies for each other.

One year, there was even an external vendor selling roses during recess due to the demand.

In JC1, not realising the tradition was a girls’ school thing, I made the mistake of getting chocolates for all my classmates. Almost everyone, especially the guys, thought I was weird. Or worse, trying to ‘hit’ on them.
Alicia, 19

9. Fangirling over seniors

It was a big thing, especially in the uniform groups, to idolise your seniors or send anonymous gifts to them.

But by the time we outgrew it, we had our own juniors fangirling about us, and so the cycle continued.
Rachel, 21

10. Being shook when boys show up

While we were independent women who could live without a man, we’d still freak out when groups of guys came for joint-school programmes.

We’d gasp and whisper as we watched them from the opposite end of the canteen as if we had discovered a new species of men. Because back in primary school, these guys were scrawny, prepubescent children.

Visits from these more matured boys were an exciting glimpse into our future of EC-ing guys on a regular basis in JC.
Nadia, 18

11. Excessive skinship

I always felt comfortable hugging and snuggling with my girls’ school friends.

It probably stemmed from all the long, boring assemblies where we’d take naps in the laps of the girl behind us. That, and braiding our friends’ hair, always pissed the speakers off.

My best friend and I enjoyed holding each other’s hands and confusing teachers as to whether we were a couple, knowing it wasn’t within their comfort zone to ask.
Meg, 19

12. Crushing on hot teachers

I’m sure many schoolgirls were infatuated with their hot male teachers, but in girls’ schools, it was intense. The lack of boys to crush on made some teachers the unwilling object of many students’ attention, for four whole years.

There was always some young hottie who’d have his mail tray flooded with gifts and flowers from admirers on Teachers’ Day. Some girls would even sign up for remedial to spend more time with their teacher-crushes.

I cringe when I reflect on my angsty teen days, sighing over unrequited love for a man who was twice my age and married.
Becca, 20

13. Angels & Mortals

Angels and Mortals was a big deal in my school. I’d put so much effort into my letters to my Angel, and kept all her letters to me in a special box.

It felt nice to know there was someone supporting and looking out for me.

But apparently, my school banned the game after I graduated, because it was causing trouble among students. It’s a shame current students will never experience this meaningful tradition.
Gwen, 24

Just Girls’ School Things

The girls’ school experience is something many never forget, long after graduation. Despite some bad memories, many old girls admit those were some of the best years of their lives.

And looking back on the weird shit you and your friends used to do, and still do, it’s clear some things never change.

Why People Who Shop Less Are Likely To Be Better Friends

image source

Shopping To Cope With Unhappiness

“Whoever said money can’t buy happiness simply didn’t know where to go shopping,” was a Gertrude Stein quote that was prominently displayed at the old ION Orchard Rubi outlet.

Back then, 18-year-old me agreed wholeheartedly.

Like most girls, I loved shopping, particularly online. But I noticed every time the initial high from shopping wore off, the worst I felt. Spending too much added to my emotional distress and the feel-good effects were quickly replaced by guilt and frustration.

It didn’t help that I wasn’t in a mentally healthy place and didn’t have many friends. Buying things was the easy way out for me to cope with and avoid my unhappiness.

Why shopping addiction ruins friendships

Studies have found those who spend on and overvalue material objects tend not to form meaningful social relationships. Specifically, those who are lonely often fill the void with the adoption of materialistic values.

Looking back, I noticed I shopped when I was feeling bored, anxious, or lonely. Like eating sugar, I got hooked on the euphoric ‘high’ buying things gave me

And because I could ‘manufacture’ happiness by myself, it discouraged me from reaching out to my friends. It made me question why I should maintain relationships if it was too emotionally draining for my introverted self.

I did not realise the temporary happiness I got from shopping was an addiction. While it didn’t turn me into a bad friend per se, it changed my views on what truly mattered.

So whenever my friends invited me for a meal, I’d tell them I was too broke to go out. If they asked me to go shopping, I’d tell them I just bought a whole bunch of clothes. Whenever they reached out and offered their friendship, I rejected them.

Soon enough, they stopped asking because I “wouldn’t come anyway”. I isolated myself, became selfish, turned into a bad friend who would turn to retail therapy for comfort, and the vicious cycle continued.

Dealing With Shopping Addiction

At the end of the day, shopping addicts may be surrounded by things, but find themselves even more alone.

To curb my urge to shop, I learnt to ignore the voice that screamed “TREAT YO SELF”. I questioned if I really needed something thrice. And if I was still thinking about a new bag or dress three days later, I would go back and buy it.

I worked on questioning why I felt lonely and resolved selfish behaviours which made me an unpleasant person to be around.

So instead of entering that promo code when you’re dealing with emotional pain, longing, depression or emptiness, try calling up a couple of friends for dinner. Having someone listen to your problems will do you a whole lot more good and cost you next to nothing.

And deep down, you know that handbag you’ve been thinking of buying can’t help you get your shit together. -Source

Why Millennials Don’t Want Children And It’s Not About Money

Why I Won’t Have Kids

Last year, Singapore’s total fertility rate hit a low of 1.16 births per woman.

If you strain your ears, you can hear screams of “HOW CAN DIS B ALLOW?!” coming from the Ministry of Social and Family Development.

This downward trend persists despite shifts toward affordable and accessible domestic help, increasingly family-friendly workplace environments, and baby bonus measures.

More fathers are also taking the role of caretaker and schools are trying to lessen pressures by removing class rankings and examinations.

The government’s failure to boost birth rates seems like a sad case of “When you try your best but you don’t succeed”.

But personally, I feel why it’s so hard to get Singaporeans to piak piak without condoms and make babies is because the government is only treating the symptoms of the problem.

Perhaps, Singaporean Millennials are scared of having children because we are still children ourselves.

We are educated and broken

Nigerian poet Ijeoma Umebinyuo wrote “so many broken children living in grown bodies mimicking adult lives.” On a certain level, Singaporean Millennials understand this.

We’re the most educated generation in history. We’ve learnt by observing our parents’ relationships that happy families are not the norm. We’re a generation dealing with the pain of separated parents in a time where divorce rates are at a 10-year high.

We experience a quarter-life crisis because we exit Uni as perfect products of the education system, our creativity, dreams, and ambitions removed. We’re terrified to be in a workplace which mockingly laughs “WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD” when we’re in pain.

We are choosing not to rush

Dealing with loneliness, uncertainty, and a troubled economy isn’t new; our parents had to cope with the same issues and they had less money. But what makes this generation so different is we’re choosing to prioritise our mental health, personal growth, and happiness.

We are more informed, connected, and vocal thanks to the internet. We’re having discussions about LGBT, mental health, and race, forming communities to grow and heal together. We’re using body positivity hashtags and learning to speak kindly to ourselves.

And as a generation, we’re choosing not to rush. We’re choosing not to become our parents, and to unintentionally inflict pain on the people we love.

I’ve never confirmed this, but I think my parents got married at 25 and 27 respectively because it was ‘the right time’. Having me and my sister two and four years later was the ‘natural’ next step.

I have no doubt my parents love me. I can see they’ve tried to be better parents for me than my grandparents were for them.

But repairing a broken parent-child relationship in my twenties and dealing with their divorce made me realise my parents were not ready to have kids. 24 years on, my dad is still learning to be a father.

Children are not prizes

This year, I turned 24; an age where it feels appropriate to put a single, perfunctory candle on my birthday cake. This year, I am one year younger than when my dad promised my mum “I do”.

I’m straddling the awkward age where half my friends are testing their body’s ability to prevent alcohol poisoning every weekend, and the other half are getting engaged and married.

Millennials are unafraid of commitment; we’re happy to pledge forever to someone and riddle ourselves with a 30-year BTO-induced financial debt. And it’s not that we don’t want children; we still think “two kids, one boy and one girl” is ideal.

But Millennials know children are not prizes to be won in court custody cases. Children aren’t something to have “because you want to know what they’d look like” or “a nice addition to the family”.

And children definitely shouldn’t be a means to boost the population growth rate.

How Singapore Can Encourage Childbirth Rates

Thriving families are made of loving parents with healthy relationships. To be good partners, we first need to be emotionally-mature individuals. We need good communication and conflict resolution skills to sustain marriages and lower divorce rates in the long run.

We need to focus on ourselves first before we can love others and be a good parent.

Even though laws can be created to ‘encourage’ marriage by dictating who can or cannot afford housing, the government can’t create a one-size-fits-all instruction manual on how to be a decent human being.

So let us learn to find our feet and be better adults for ourselves. Maybe then, we’ll feel we’re fit to parent the next generation.

Why Singaporeans Hate Influencer Celebs More Than Celebs

illustration by Asher Mak

Why Singaporeans Hate Influencers

Ask Singaporeans about ‘influenzas’ and most would picture a pretty, slim, fair-skinned Chinese girl who would gyrate in her panties on Instagram for free fruit juice.

While the world battles disease outbreaks, we battle the internet flu spread by SGInstaBabes, Shutterstock rip-offs for 5-digit ad campaigns, and shoddy work ethics.

But, are local influencers subjected to more vitriol than overseas counterparts?

During a media awards I attended for Southeast Asian influencers, a friend whispered, “Singaporeans don’t support local. So obvious, face so black, unlike the Thais who are so happy for each other even if they lose.”

It was a gross generalisation, but one which carried weight. I’ve felt Singaporean musicians and creatives—JJ Lin, Henry Golding, Joanna Dong, etc.—often have to first make it globally, in order to make it locally. And I wondered why.

Did Nathan Hartono and Joseph Schooling not deserve free Milo Peng before they stepped onto the world stage?

Influencing is not a talent

In apt influencer fashion, I conducted a national research with a sample size equivalent to a mosquito’s brain—over 27k Instagram followers and some influencer friends.

I asked two questions: Are influencers particular hated in Singapore? What makes actors and models different from regular influencers?

8 out of 10 answers reiterated influencers don’t exactly have a talent, while actors and models “work hard through casting calls”. That influencers “don’t use their influence to promote causes”; they’re “materialistic”; they “advertise literally everything” as compared to overseas influencers who are more choosy with campaigns.

Influencers @jaz and @rchlwngxx tell me it’s because “fame gets over their heads” and that “people hate the idea influencers get free shit or are entitled”.

“They are doing it for the fame instead of passion for the craft. Actors, models and entertainers are usually good in their craft before their fame,” adds host-actress @hotcheekylace.

In the fashion industry, people are disheartened when an influencer’s elevated status renders shortcuts to gigs and front row seats that veterans fought hard to attain.

Some are also angered at the lack of minority representation among influencers. This year, a leaked conversation between Miss Singapore Universe 2018 judges revealed only Chinese girls were still in favour of winning.

But, why are models taken more seriously than influencers who essentially do the same work? Why are influencers expected to be more philanthropic to deserve fame?

Meritocracy in Singapore breeds insecurity

In Singapore, meritocracy is a cardinal principle where we believe in ‘work for reward, reward for work.’ Millennials think success is due to their hard work and one’s failure is due to their laziness or incompetence.

Being beautiful is seen as a God-given trait and hence influencers go against the meritocratic principle. We love to hate influencers because we’re envious these influencers get away with so much for doing so little.

Chris (Editor, The Smart Local) agrees we “project our laziness” onto influencers and “wonder why they can get famous for just taking pics” while we can’t.

Perhaps, we are also deeply insecure from being pit against one another in a hypercompetitive Asian society.

Grace (Senior Staff Writer, Rice Media) explains, “We’re a deeply cynical society. With cynicism, there’s always lack of trust and support. Once you’re seen as an influencer, you can’t win. I think it boils down to the privilege paradigm.”

We are irked by privileges that are accessible yet denied, measured by our ‘worth’ that is benchmarked against numbers obtained from our popularity in real life.

In fact, a theory of relative deprivation believes our level of happiness depends on relative deprivation more than on our actual income. Hence, the more we scroll through proposals in Switzerland and Michelin-starred meals in London, the more Crazy Poor we feel.

The advertising industry

In the advertising industry, ROIs have always been a numbers game. We are fed thousands of ads daily, some more subliminal than others. But working in marketing didn’t expose me to a new world; it only shed light on what was already existing for centuries.

Word-of-mouth has long been the most effective sales tool because of authenticity. That’s why home videos go viral for being raw, even if they require 10 drafts to go from draft1.mp4 to finalFinalF**KINGFinal.mp4.

So when the authenticity of an influencer—a real person leading a normal life—is tarnished, we get irked by it far more than by celebrity gossip because we humanise influencers more than traditional celebs.

Yet, the paradox is that everyone still strives for perfection on social media. Everyone is a walking billboard of something to someone, groomed to covet money, looks and achievements. That’s why the fashion, fitness and beauty industries still dominate Instagram.

In fact, we love perfection even in intentional imperfection and marketers and meme creators know this. This year, Los Angeles city released a Graphic Designer job opening with a brilliant viral poster using Comic Sans font.

How can dis b allow?

The cost of fame

I would love pouting my way into Kardashian riches, just as much as I would love teaching English. But if I do so, I know MOE would never take me seriously with my bodycon dress and ‘artistic nakedness’.

Often, a girl has to pick one opportunity cost over the other; she cannot be ‘frivolous’ and ‘professional’ until she does it tastefully and becomes the next billionaire by selling lip kits like Kylie Jenner.

But many young, impressionable influencers do not know the cost of fame. Many agents and advertisers would prefer influencers remain as blind advocators, if it means hitting KPIs.

I once had a facial foam client request for me to post a ‘before-after’ selfie with a digitally brightened ‘after’ shot to show the result of their skin whitening ingredient.

I turned them down not because I was against photo editing (digital manipulation has been an age-old advertising norm), but because they wanted me to highlight how ‘real’ it was on a supposedly authentic, personal platform.

Influencing Standards In Singapore

In the fairytale version of social mobility, everyone rises. But in reality, a meritocratic zero-sum version of social mobility means my child’s one-year supply of free Milo leaves none for yours.

Granted, we can spotlight influencers’ “hard work” to prove they are worthy of being paid to breathe oxygen. But can we demand better content creation if our content consumption is D-cup models, online drama and cat memes on Instagram’s Explore page?

As long as we glorify material wealth, consumerism will always find a way to sell itself, with or without influencers. But if consumption habits change, clients will too. And influencers will be pressured to do more “work” than partying on a yacht for Patreon donors.

Until the industry matures and the barrier of entry is raised, the ‘influenza’ label will blanket every content creator, good or bad.

So, young girls, do not drop out of school for fruit juice, skincare, or a hairdryer. What’s available now might not last in the long-run when the supply of influencers outweigh the demand.

But, of course, it never hurts to have a little fun. -Source