My sister told me yesterday that Tan Jee Say’s Facebook page has got more “likes” than Tony Tan’s.  Does this mean he’s more likely to win the Presidential Elections?  Hardly.  I’m quite certain Tony Tan will become our next President, but with a slim majority.  And the middle classes and business leaders who vote for him won’t care if he’s Tony Tan or George Yeo – they just want someone who represents the status quo.  To them, Facebook is an instrument of the effete and powerless.  They subscribe to the belief that economic progress sometimes comes at the cost of democracy.  They don’t want Singapore to go down the road of the tired Western democracies, mired in debt.  Neither do they want our country to slide into chaos Indonesia-style, post-Suharto.  Profile wise, they don’t understand the fuss over the dolphins at RWS and some of them may even have a mainland Chinese mistress or two.

At the opposite end of the spectrum are Tan Jee Say’s supporters.  They have coalesced around his campaign not so much because they truly believe in his economic manifesto or have even read it, but because he is perceived as campaigning on an anti-PAP platform.  Roping the charismatic Nicole Seah into his team has further boosted his credentials.  Tan Jee Say’s supporters are not necessarily thinking people, but they are definitely very angry people.  Some of them see the world in black and white, and will not tolerate those who disagree with them, which is why they are also very frightening to moderate Singaporeans.  I’m not saying their grievances are not legitimate – to a large extent I share their grievances too. It’s just that angry people don’t make good decisions.  I know.  I used to be terribly angry myself.

Which brings us to Tan Cheng Bock, the guitar strumming son of the earth.  I believe he will appeal to the middle classes who wish to flaunt some liberal credentials.  His supporters believe Singapore can afford to be more democratic like Taiwan, South Korea and Hong Kong, without compromising our economic progress.  They are annoyed at the perceived arrogance of the PAP, but they believe the transition to a two-party system should be gradual, very gradual. And provided the Workers’ Party can field more Chen Show Maos, they are likely to give both parties equal consideration at the next General Elections. Leaning slightly left of centre, they distrust the inherent radicalism of the SDP. Believe me, this is perhaps the most conflicted demographic.  They would like RWS to free the dolphins, but they want the casinos to succeed too.  Nicole Seah’s youthful candor appeals to them, but they know Sim Ann’s the real Hilary Clinton.

Now, I just want to have some good old-fashioned curry.

The same extremism runs deep in the Presidential Elections.  Never before has our society been so divided.  If you thought the healing would begin after the General Elections, think again.  For one group, everything the PAP does is wrong.  Every PAP candidate is tainted by association.  Meanwhile, PAP supporters have taken the moral high ground, expressing disappointment with the heckling of the opposition party supporters.

I’ve never been a PAP supporter, but neither am I blind to the fanaticism of some Opposition supporters.  I’ve had friends trying to foist their choice of Presidential candidates on me on Facebook, thus proving themselves to be as fascist as the very authoritarian regime they despise.

I don’t trust any of the current four Presidential candidates.  If Chen Show Mao were standing, it would be a different story.

What I trust are my instincts – that somehow we are hurtling down the slippery slope of partisan politics.  I’m not saying hand our country to the PAP on a silver platter.  I’m not saying a one-Party system’s the best.  All I’m saying is these are troubling times indeed.  Both sides have to back down – PAP, from its condescending know-it-all stance; Opposition supporters, from their stubborn resistance to all things PAP.

Who genuinely cares about Singapore?

- 84-year old actress Millicent Bolton talking about African American maids in the early 1960s

“Recent history is witness that when religious fanatics feel their authority challenged, their impotence finds expression in a fatwa.”

- Hiren K Bose in her profile of Taslima Nasreen, author of Lajja

A Chinese Singaporean man married with kids recently wrote in to Singapore’s flagship English daily The Straits Times to complain about cross-dressing on national TV, in conjunction with the National Day Parade celebrations.  He opined that if the the TV station wanted to show transgender and transsexual characters, it should have given the programme a NC-16 rating, so he could stop his kids from watching the show.

I was stunned by his deliberate meanness and inhumanity.  I wonder what it’s like for a child to grow up with a father who treats transgender women like untouchables meant to be tucked away from society’s view.  Consider the backlash if he had called for the rating to be applied to programmes featuring certain races and religious groups.

Unlike in the 1960s when African American helps had to take “all the punishment and unfairness and everything”, we don’t have to bend our backs anymore.  The circumstances haven’t changed – society at large still discriminates against us, but our mindsets must change.  We cannot continue to accept “all the punishment and unfairness and everything.”  We must fight for fairness, freedom and the right to live life on an equal footing with everyone else.  We must call out those who deny us the basic human right of an equal opportunity, those who seek to censor us from public view.

I have not shared this before, but my voice today is largely shaped by heroines of the civil rights movement, namely, Sojourner Truth and Rosa Parks.  I often joke that my education at York did not bring me any practical benefits.  That’s only half true.  Without reading the writings of Sojourner Truth, Rosa Parks, Alice Walker and Maya Angelou, and Taslima Nasreen’s Lajja, I would not have found the courage and words to challenge Singapore society’s relentless defamation and subjugation of transsexual women.  They empowered me not to just take “all the punishment and unfairness and everything.”

I owe these women a tremendous debt of gratitude.

MR IVAN Lau suggested MediaCorp should have given the National Day Parade segment on racial harmony and nation building an NC-16 rating as it featured cross-dressing actors Gurmit Singh and Chua Enlai (“Drag wrong, guys”; Thursday).

I wrote a letter to Straits Times to highlight transgender and transsexual women are not cross-dressers. Neither do we enjoy being spoofed on national television. Rather than give us an NC-16 rating so as to keep us out of his children’s sight, we would advise the writer to give them a lesson in respect and tolerance instead.

You can read the letter here.

Life is sometimes like that.  We are born with so many hopes and dreams.  And life deals us different cards.  It’s got nothing to do with our race, religion, sexual orientation, gender identity…I don’t know how God chooses to deal the cards.  Because even as I write about life’s ironies, I also know that my emotional life has always followed a certain pattern, leading up to where I am today.  I can distinguish a common thread running through all my past experiences, as if they were cumulative lessons.  This makes me believe that my life’s trajectory is not random.

And then sometimes I think of her and I question again.

Sorry it has taken me so long to write this letter.  The thing is, I write only when I’m inspired to write, and right now I’m on a religious rant (if you read my two previous posts, you would know what I mean).

I know it sounds disingenuous for me to say these things; if it helps, I really believe them to be true.  First, looking beautiful isn’t everything.  It’s something, but not everything.  When I was in school, Secondary school to be exact, everyone called me “lizard face” because I looked like a reptile with my high cheekbones, angular jawline and bushy eyebrows.  And in some ways I still resemble a reptile, except my chiseled facial structure has been somewhat mitigated by shoulder-length hair and plucked eyebrows.  The thing is, I sought to be beautiful.  And it was a very long-drawn-out process, and by the time I came close to looking beautiful (but never quite there), I became tired of it all.  The first, second, third and whatever flushes of adolescent anticipation were over.  I just wanted to get on with the business of living.  Sure, along the years I’ve received more than my fair share of appreciative glances, but the truth is any woman  - fat, thin, hairy, busty, flat chested – who’s willing to put on a short skirt and unbutton her blouse will gain more than her fair share of appreciative glances.  I have had more than my fair share of tall, dark and handsome men who helped me live out my fantasy of a blissfully occupied Saturday evening of fine food and wine, but now I can only remember the pasta and rich, velvety red wine.  The men were like gusts of wind that blew into my hollow life whenever they fancied an evening with an exotic creature like me.  There was always some reason why I couldn’t be their girlfriend.  Then this too became boring.  There was an overwhelming emptiness within me I couldn’t stifle.

The problem was in my blind pursuit of beauty, I didn’t make an effort to cultivate my real life interests.  And good grief – at the age of 36, I really regret the things I didn’t do, such as planning what I wanted out of my life (the way ambitious young people do these days) apart from “being a woman”.  I fled to England at the first opportunity to pursue a degree in English Literature.  I read and read and read, and make mistake after mistake as a “fledgling” woman.  Boy was it lonely. There was absolutely nobody to guide me.  I couldn’t share my “secret” with many people.  I was probably the only one “like that” on campus.  But to my credit, I attacked “becoming a woman” with vigor while not losing sight of the “Holy Grail” of an Honours degree.  I was badly beaten up by my experiences, with men especially, but I managed to graduate with a First.  Not that a degree in English Literature means anything these days.  But it helped me secure my first job with the civil service, and my next job as a PR consultant, etc.  It helped me put food on the table.

I don’t regret putting my lizard face out there and getting scarred by my experiences with men and friends.  My only regret is I should I learnt more languages, gained a technical skill (such as computer programming or carpentry), rather than plonk the bulk of my efforts into looking good…or good “enough” to be accurate.  In case you get the wrong idea, it wasn’t all that bad – along the way, I met some really wonderful, magical people, some of whom I wrote about in my mangled autobiography (I really shouldn’t have edited it myself!).

So this is what I’m saying: don’t squander your life behind four walls.  There’s a life to be lived.  You can’t magically transform into a beautiful, desirable woman.  You need to put yourself out there, get an education, think about what you would like to do for a career, graduate, find a job, get hurt (relationships hurt whether you’re beautiful or not!  Just ask Jennifer Aniston!), achieve closure, learn to deal with nonsense people (lots of them in the corporate world by the way), be the subject of watercooler gossip, cry, laugh, meet some rare gems who will restore your faith in the human race…just put yourself out there and live.

And in so doing, you will also give your mum a chance to have a life of her own.  At the very least she needs to work, otherwise, she won’t be able to put food on the table and support your education.  You’re so, so lucky to have a mother who supports you.  For heaven’s sake, we live in Singapore.  I haven’t seen such a loving, supportive mum before.  And my heart breaks for her, for you.

Now that the identity struggles of my youth – including the endless obsession over breast size – are over (I chose not to go for implants), now that I’ve quietened down a lot, I’ve had some time to think about what I love to do best.

I love to write.  I don’t mean writing press releases (good grief!  Don’t go into PR if you can help it), but just writing whenever I’m inspired to write, like now.  I hope some day that I would be able to run a cafe and serve delicious Earl Grey tea, hot chocolate and scones along Australia’s Deception Bay.  I hope I will be able to sit down with my customers and ask them what’s going on in their lives.  I hope my writings will be published occasionally (every writer wants to be recognised). Most of all I hope my words would have an impact on the lives of those who read them.

And if that’s the case with you, if I can inspire you to open the door, go outside and experience life, then I would be immensely gratified.

Thank you Jen, for inspiring me to write this short note today.

I wish you happiness and joy.

Leona

Try to understand that the Church, whether Catholic or Protestant, continues to exert significant control over our destinies today as it did 2000 years ago.  And it exercises this power through biblical exegesis, also known as biblical interpretation.  For example, the continued persecution of homosexuals by some Christian groups is the result of one out of many possible interpretations of the bible.  There are scholars who argue that some of the apostles spoke out against homosexuals because they had a social agenda – they were afraid that homosexual practices would curb population growth.  These fears still have much traction in many societies today.

I don’t believe in universal truths.  The truth is a matter of interpretation, and until scholars have read all the books in the Vatican library (and beyond!), they and the Church can only grasp at a version of the truth.  And even if it were possible to read and understand every single text, we would merely be closer to a version of a version of the truth.

In the meantime, I would advise you to live your best life because our lives cannot hang in the balance while religious leaders grapple with whether Scripture really, and I mean really, means to condemn us.

Watch the video here.