20/04/2026
I was cleaning out my storeroom today and found these. Campaign posters with my face on it, circa 1986, 1991, 1992 and 1993. I was the face of Singapore's Speak Mandarin Campaign for four years.
I'll be honest with you, itโs not something I volunteered for. My Chinese drama teacher and my mum had a different take on this, and I was too young to argue. (I even remember indignantly yelling at my mum, โYouโre making me do this just for the money!โ ๐คฃ Oh boy)
At the time, I was just an awkward kid who wanted it to be over.
But today, pulling those old posters out of a dusty box, I felt something unexpected. National pride.
Singapore in the 80s was building a young nation with a generation of Chinese parents speaking only dialects. The government knew if they didnโt do something, we would have a new generation of people lacking proficiency in Mandarin. So they started a campaign. And somehow, I ended up being a small part of that story.
Funny how you don't realise what you're part of until years later.
Has anything from your past surprised you like that?
