I am learning to back myself after all these years.

Hi guys, this is a draft for my latest podcast so if you prefer to listen to it, please click on this link. I am  going to share with you two stories from the 1990s, two separate events that happened in two different countries, a few years apart but they share the same theme and point to the same moral of the story, one which I am trying to apply to my life today. So for the first story, let's go all the way back to 1991, in my secondary school, there was an annual event called the Drama Fest where all the five houses would present an original play at a theatre, the plays would be judged by a jury of teachers and there will be awards given out. I played one of the leads in the play presented by Buckley House, it was a controversial play about coming out - it got everyone talking about it, remember this was 1991 in Singapore and for us to present a gay play, well some even thought we were going to be banned and not allowed to even take part or at least be subject to a lot of censorship. But no, the big day came, we presented the play, we felt like we made a massive statement and we were proud of what we had achieved. I then sat back and watched the other four plays, two of the plays were mediocre, one was dreadful - then came the play by Hullett house which was something really abstract about the theme of birth. I remember watching it and thinking, oh damn they're really good. It was bold, original, experimental and even I had to admit, I really liked it. I wish I had been able to come up with something that interesting. So what usually happens is that after all the plays have been presented, there's a long interval - the audience will go and get some drinks, some refreshments, have a toilet break as we await the judges' verdict. At that point, I had already conceded defeat, I knew we were good but I just didn't think we matched the brilliance of Hullet's play about birth. I was positively sulking, thinking we came so close but we just weren't good enough to win. I remember my friend coming round. he saw my expression, he asked if I was okay, I just shook my head and buried my face in my hands. He put his hand on my shoulder and just sat with me for a while as we awaited the results. Oh I was totally inconsolable at that stage, I just wanted to go home. 

Then finally, it was time for the results. There were six judges that year and the jury was split 3-3, so there was a long discussion and finally they decided to award a joint first place to Buckley and Hullett that year which was why they had kept us waiting that long for the results. Suddenly, I went from dejection to such joy, we all ran up on stage to collect our award together and my friend who had consoled me told me, I told you not to worry, I told you to believe in yourself. Yeah, luckily for me, even though I didn't believe in myself, the judges liked me. The second story is from 1998 - this time, I was already in London at university and I took part in a university gymnastics competition. There was this other gymnast there, is name was Sam. I thought he was such a brilliant gymnast, his routines were very different from mine and when I saw him  warm up, immediately I was intimidated and I already conceded defeat, I thought, the silver medal is good enough, this was my first competition in the UK and getting a medal of any colour would be an achievement. Anyway, we did the competition and to my surprise, we tied for the gold medal. Sam was the first to come over and congratulate me and I was shocked - I had already accepted in my head that I was never going to beat him unless he fell on his face or made some kind of major error; ironically that never happened. He was perfect and so was I, hence we tied for the gold medal. In both cases, we see a similar theme, I didn't believe in myself, I didn't back myself. Why did I behave like that though despite the fact in both cases, I was good enough to win? Why didn't I believe in myself?

I suppose it had a lot to do with my upbringing and my culture - I had always been afraid of getting my hopes up because there was nobody there to comfort me when I ended up disappointed. My parents are so Chinese that they have no social skills, no empathy, they don't know how to express any kind of sympathy or say something kind. I know a lot of you might say, oh that's completely normal - it's so common for Chinese parents to be like that. But I want to point out that two wrongs don't make a right and even a million, a billion wrongs don't make a right. Yes this is a common problem amongst Chinese people but it doesn't stop being a problem just because it has become common. I have a memory from my childhood to illustrate this point. This was during my sister's university application process - her first choice was to study law but you needed excellent grades and get through a very rigorous interview process to even stand a chance. She didn't make it, she fell at the final hurdle and had to settle for her second choice. Was she disappointed? Yes she was, but she brushed it off as if it was no big deal - like she wasn't that interested in law at the end of the day and it didn't bother her that much so she was totally okay with that outcome. That kind of reaction is very Chinese because I knew deep down inside, yes she was deeply disappointed by that outcome but unfortunately she simply didn't have the support mechanism in place for her to express that kind of profound disappointment. So to avoid being left in the lurch, she simply pretended that it was no big deal, that she wasn't that disappointed and she was ready to move on. Now in hindsight, I don't feel that was fair on her at all. She deserved to be emotionally supported at that point in her life. 

I want to now talk about something I saw on Instagram to help put things in perspective for you. There is a Korean-American doctor called Dr Michael Park who posted a two-part series, in the first part he described an incident where he was racially abused by another passenger when getting off a United flight and the staff stood by and just let it happen, did nothing. In the second part, he assured us that he followed up with United, they did respond and they are launching a full investigation. What I found most disappointing and disturbing about this whole story though was what I stumbled upon in the comments section. A lot of other Asians said they also suffered this kind of racist abuse but just didn't respond, they sat there like dummies taking the abuse as if they deserved to be racially abused. Dr Park described these comments as "welcome to the club, you think you got it bad, wait till you hear what I had to suffer." This isn't a competition as it is a race to the bottom. I got upset about this because two wrongs don't make a right, a million wrongs still don't make a right - just because these Asian people didn't know how to stand up for themselves doesn't justify their reaction to the abuse. These people should say, I reacted wrongly, I was wrong, I should have spoken up like Dr Park and followed through, I now realized that I should have stood up for myself like Dr Park. Dr Park is right, I was wrong and I need to change my ways, I need to stop doing what I have been doing and be like Dr Park. Why is it so incredibly hard for some people to say the words "I was wrong"? After all, what do we have to lose when we admit that we are wrong? A bit of humility goes a long way as it allows us to grow as human beings, to learn from our mistakes. But if you adamantly refuse to admit that what you did was wrong, then that kind of arrogance means that you are not even willing to try to give yourself the chance to reflect on what you could have done better, if you go down that road then you will never ever grow. I'm afraid some Asian people are very much like that, they will never admit that they are wrong because they think it would mean losing face, losing status and losing respect when really, I see that as a hideously stupid mistake on their part and hence they are just making fools of themselves in the process by insisting on defending the indefensible. 

So let me be the first to admit that the way I conceded defeat in advance to avoid disappointment was wrong, I was wrong and I can do so much better. I am not giving any excuses, I'm using my cultural background to explain why it happened this way but it is not an excuse, I was wrong and I know I can do so much better. It does feel immensely liberating and empowering to say that actually. Anyway, so I have resolved to want to back myself, believe in myself and become my own best friend - so here's the situation. Some of you may know that I've done an Austrian film this year - it is called The Train and it will be released in September this year in cinemas across Europe. Is it a good film? Well, I think it has its moments and it is entertaining enough, it has an interesting cast and it is shot in 9 countries, so it is a visual feast for the eyes. Is it perfect? No, but then again, is any film perfect? Of course not. I suppose I did just this film rather harshly because as an actor, I get a script and I try my best with my scenes, but I don't have any control over anything beyond that. No, that's down to the director and the producer. So here we are, I have seen an early edit of the film, I have made some several suggestions about what I liked and didn't like about the film and that's all I can do. There is certainly one scene which I think is absolutely brilliant and my favourite in the whole film - and yes, I'm the star in that scene of course, I'm oh so totally biased. But I am not going to do what I did in the past by admitting defeating and conceding even before anyone has seen this film. To be fair, yes there are other film and TV programmes that I do like very much but none of them are such masterpieces that they are 100% perfect. Even if you were to give me any one of the James Bond films and say, how would you edit it to make it better? Oh I would savagely edit them, I totally would and I don't think such films should be treated like the Mona Lisa, to be preserved in a museum in Paris behind a protective, alarmed glass wall surrounded by security guards. Such is the nature of art. Some people may like the film, some may hate it, but I do believe it has enough merits to appeal to enough people out there when it does get released this autumn. 

So allow me to compare this back to the situation at Drama Fest in 1991 or that gymnastics competition in 1998, was I perfect in this film? No, there was one scene where I really didn't like the way I said one of the lines and I nervously hope no one else picks up on that when they watch the film, but so what? Is my nature to be a perfectionist stopping me from appreciating the fact that I have achieved so much that I can genuinely be proud of as I step out onto the red carpets all over Europe this autumn? There's a part of me that craves fame and success of course, I want that validation but I'm also scared when I don't get it. Just last year, when my last big project came out, I was immortalized in a James Bond production when I took part in 007: Road to a Million S2, there was a part of me that wanted to become famous overnight as a result of that. But that never happened, the show wasn't a hit and it was forgotten pretty quickly as the world moved on. I was disappointed of course but I took it on the chin, my attitude was, I don't want to be the guy who did this one programme and wants to be remembered for it for the rest of his life. Look, I'm already busy with my next project and like the rest of the world, I've moved on. There is a difference though between giving up on yourself before even trying and making the best of an outcome that is not ideal - the moral of the story is that I don't believe we have anything to lose by backing ourselves, by believing in ourselves and being our own cheerleaders. Of course it would be nice if we had people cheering for us but if not, no worries - I'll gladly cheer for myself. So there you go, what do you think? Are you prepared to be your own best friend? Are you willing to be your own cheerleader in life? Thank you so much for reading.