Bold and Brave

Have y'all ever been to Ireland?

I first learned about Ireland when I was a kid, all thanks to my mum's youngest sister, Auntie H, who has been living there for ages. She is hilarious—maybe because her inner self is permanently stuck at 25, though, to be fair, she still looks incredibly young for someone who's pushing 50. I guess youth just decided to stick around her like an overenthusiastic roommate.

What I love most about her is her attitude toward life. She's free-spirited, a little wild, and always says things like, “Live your life, be bold, and don’t let society’s nonsense tell you otherwise—especially as a woman!” Truly one of a kind.

Now, let me tell y'all her story. I’m not entirely sure whether it’s true—family stories are like fish tales, aren’t they?—but this is what my mum swears happened.

After she finished Form 5 (basically O-Levels for all my Singaporean friends) at 17, she told my grandma she got a scholarship to study in KL. Sounds legit, right? Wrong. She didn’t. She lied—probably with Oscar-worthy confidence—just to get money from my grandparents so she could move to KL and work. Classic Auntie H move.

Looking back, I do wonder why my grandparents didn’t fact-check her. But then again, they were busy running a small grocery stall, so who had time for detective work?

So off she went to KL, and that’s where she met M. Ah, M—the good guy. Apparently, he fell head over heels, and they were so serious that she even brought him home to meet the family. Then one day, M announced he was moving to Ireland and asked her, “Wanna come?” Knowing her, of course, she said, “Pack my bags, I’m in.”

They moved to Ireland together and started working there. But, as life would have it, news of their breakup eventually reached the family. My mum never told me why they broke up, probably because Auntie H never told her either. Maybe one day, I’ll corner her with a cup of tea and say, “Spill. What really happened?” But for now, we’ll let her keep her secrets.

After the breakup, she met another guy—my Uncle A. Apparently, sparks flew, and they clicked. Uncle A is a chef, and Auntie H works as a waitress. Now, in Asian culture, being a waitress can get some serious side-eyes. It’s like, “What? Not a doctor? Not a lawyer? Not even an engineer?” But guess what? Thanks to the glorious Euro currency, she earns more than anyone else in the family. Boom. Plot twist. She even bought a shop floor back in her hometown and rents it out. Who’s laughing now?

She comes back to Malaysia every year and stays from June to August—like a reverse migratory bird—bringing her two kids along for the ride.

Two years ago, when I was a clueless, freshly minted graduate back in my hometown, I drove her out for some shopping. At the time, I was miserable. I hated my job, had no idea what I was doing with my life, and figured I’d just grind it out till retirement at 60. Living life on autopilot sounded easier than facing the unknown.

I think my mum told her how lost I was because, out of nowhere, she turned to me and said, “Wen” (that’s my nickname), “Sometimes, you just need to be brave and go out there. See the world. Then you’ll realize how big it really is. Don’t be afraid to step out of your comfort zone. And don’t let anyone tell you what a girl can or can’t do. You need to come out even stronger because you’re a girl.”

It hit me like a mic drop.

That conversation gave me so much to think about. She, in her funny, carefree, slightly rebellious way, reminded me that life isn’t meant to be lived small. And I’ll always carry that with me.