Courage and Survival

We called our maternal grandmother Mama. She was the only grandparent I knew. Mama fled from Indonesia in a motorboat in the 1930s at 18. She lived through the Japanese occupation of Singapore during WWII, narrowly escaping death when her home was hit by an aerial strike. After the war, she sold kueh* to support her family. She never spoke about what it was like to survive the war, or how difficult it must have been to abruptly leave her kampung.*

It wasn’t simply that she never spoke about the war but that I didn’t have the linguistic ability to ask her how she survived. Mama was fluent in 4 languages and understood 2 others. By comparison, I spoke only one fluently.

After the war, she raised her three children almost single-handedly while her husband represented the country coaching football. She baked kueh and lived frugally to make ends meet. She cared for my grandfather when his health worsened and he had to have his leg amputated.

I think of Mama when someone asks me to define courage and resilience.

A few years ago, I worked with some of Vancouver's low income residents, refugees, and vulnerable immigrants. They all had harrowing tales of survival. When I first met them, it was never because they were at an untroubled stage in their lives.

Some had been tortured for their ethnicity or sexuality, others ostracised for their addictions. A significant number were fleeing wars. Yet others were escaping domestic violence. The word “brave” never came up in conversations because surviving the traumas they had was a necessity, and a common experience. It was a given that much of what they went through was cruel and grim.

When we hear tales of courage and overcoming, we laud people for their fearless tenacity. We thank our lucky stars we haven't had to go through what they did. We try to imagine and empathise, often coming to the conclusion that we might not have been able to survive what they had. Yet if you ask those who have overcome great difficulty in life, you often hear responses that downplay their stories. Instead, they focus on the necessity of the moment, not their desire to be heroic.

The people I worked with learnt to move past their experiences. Their resilience was second to none. Many still struggle, but with time and support, struggle less.

Mama lived a long eventful life and was very much loved. She taught me most of what I know about forgiveness, patience, and the importance of family. She didn’t just survive, she flourished.

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*Kueh: Local desserts primarily from Indonesia, Singapore, and Malaysia

*Kampung: Village

Professional Change

I made the decision recently to quit a stable job for one in a completely different industry. I expected to be uncomfortable starting from scratch in a new environment. I wanted to be uncomfortable because I knew this meant challenging myself and growing in the process. I would be increasing my skill set and expanding my marketability. I had been feeling listless in my previous role; I felt that I’d learnt all I could have in my time there. So I quit.

It sounds deceptively simple on paper. But the lead up to that decision did not come easily at all. Change is incredibly difficult even when you know it will serve you well. I was fearful of the unknown. What if the new workplace was discouraging of professional growth, the opposite of what I had wanted? What if I couldn’t relate to my team? What if I remained stagnant or my efforts to excel weren’t recognised?

I thought long and hard about the possibility things would go south. Part of this was accepting that there will always be variables I can’t anticipate or control. Ultimately the decision to accept the job boiled down to the fact I had asked all the questions I could think to ask about my new workplace and its environment and nothing raised a red flag.

Throughout my first day I was in a state of controlled fluster. It had been a few years since I last found myself in a position to start from scratch. I had forgotten much of how it felt to be the new person. Outside of my unfamiliarity with the industry jargon and software tools, one surprise was a few coworkers mentioning how impressed and excited they were with my background experience, having been in both the software and non-profit industries. I was confounded. I thought of my work experience as a bit of a resume of failure. I saw it as a meandering path that weakened my application. They however saw it as a testament to my competency and fit in the organisation. The unexpected perspective was a timely reminder that we are our own worst critics.

The subsequent days were significantly better than that very first one. I truly appreciated the coworker who took the initiative to sit across me at lunch. In such a large organisation and with a remote team, I had felt a bit like the new kid at school figuring out which table to sit at. Another coworker checked in before a large meeting we had to make sure I knew what to expect. My internal team members all work remotely but sent me welcoming emails and messages. Their support was assuring.

Change is necessary and inevitable in life. We get so comfortable in our known ways of doing things that we become complacent. Eventually, we will always find something unsatisfactory that we decide we no longer identify with, prefer, or accept. In a workplace, this doesn’t always come about as a result of an organisational flaw, but may happen due to the layered expectations we develop over time. Whatever the reason, when we feel it’s time to go, it’s usually a good sign to move on. So take a calculated risk and leap into the unknown!