As with any self-respecting zillennial, the mantra “you only live once” guides Lim Jia Yi’s decision making.
And it’s this gumption that prompted the 25-year-old to give up her coveted spots in Dunman High’s Integrated Programme (IP) and Temasek Junior College for an uncertain future in her passion – traditional Chinese dance.
Jia Yi is slightly sheepish as she recounts the family drama that resulted when she decided to drop out of junior college just three months into her first term.
‘I Wasn’t Listening to My Heart’s Intuition’
At that point, she’d already gone against her parents’ wishes and opted to take her O-levels instead of riding a through-train to take her A-levels at the end of her six-year IP. She had hoped to give herself more flexibility to pursue dance.
But after going through the motions of being a JC student, she realised the conventional path just wasn’t for her. Instead of going into engineering or law, as her parents would have wanted, all she could think about was dance.
She’d gained a predilection for the art form when her parents enrolled her in ballet at age four and she went on to join her schools’ dance teams. But she never seriously considered it as a career option until she was in JC.
“I felt that I wasn’t listening to my heart’s intuition. So it came to a point that I had more than a month of daily quarrels with my parents, then I decided to drop out of school,” Jia Yi says.
Knowing her parents would object, she decided to forge her father’s signature on the required documents.
That wasn’t the only hurdle to clear — the school still had to call up her dad to verify things.
As luck would have it, he was busy when the call came, and “unknowingly” agreed to her dropping out, Jia Yi says.
“He didn’t really listen correctly to the content. So he was just like, ‘Ah, oh, yeah, yeah.’ So it just went like this. And I dropped out of school.”
Her parents only found out she had left school when her uniform stopped appearing in the laundry basket.
And even with her brother attempting to mediate, her relationship with her parents deteriorated to the point where they stopped speaking for months, she says.
Making It Into One of the World’s Most Prestigious Dance Schools
Left to her own devices, Jia Yi set her sights on studying traditional Chinese dance in China.
But without monetary support from her parents, it was a long shot.
Despite her soft-spoken demeanour, Jia Yi is full of steely resolve as she recalls all the doors she had to knock on to make her dream a reality.
Searching up patrons of the arts on the National Arts Council’s website, Jia Yi compiled a list of over 40 organisations, from banks to temples, and wrote in to every last one.
“At this point, I was desperate. I knew that I could only go if I could secure the funding. I was just too young and, I think, very rash. Passion was the driving force.”
Against all the odds, she managed to secure funding from Sheng Hong Arts Institute and the Trailblazer Foundation, setting her on her path for the next eight years — Beijing Dance Academy.
The prestigious dance school, also the alma mater of stars such as Zhang Ziyi and Liu Shishi, was an “enriching” experience, says Jia Yi.
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There, dance was life. She threw herself into learning all about China’s ethnic and folk dances, performing over 60 to 80 times a year, and watching over 150 shows each year.
It was a “very culturally and artistically vibrant” environment, but taxing at the same time.
Surviving on three hours of sleep a day, she would force herself to go on 5km runs and practise her technique after school.
This was outside of the 500 crunches, jumps and back lifts she and her classmates had to complete each day to be deemed “worthy to be released for lunch”.
But, in a way, the gruelling programme helped her mature, and she began to understand her parents’ perspective as well, says Jia Yi.
Home Is Where the Heart Is
Now, the Beijing Dance Academy graduate is back in Singapore, and while she doesn’t regret the drastic decision to drop out of school, she’s a lot more level-headed now.
“It was a very, very YOLO act. Other than commending myself for the so-called bravery, it’s still a very rash decision,” she says as she considers her journey.
“If you bring me back to that time, I probably would have thought a bit more before making such a decision.”
Nevertheless, things are on the right track, both in her family life and her career.
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While candid conversations and “I love you’s” are still outside her conservative family’s comfort zone, Jia Yi says they’ve all been making more of an effort to show up for each other, be it through video calls or birthday cards.
It also helps that her parents are now assured that she can eke out a living in Singapore’s dance industry, she tells us with a laugh. While she doesn’t reveal how much she’s earning now, she jokes in Hokkien that she tan wu jia, which roughly translates to “makes enough to eat”.
She splits her days between teaching dance and advocating for the traditional arts through giving talks and sharing her experience. And she definitely doesn’t regret not staying on in China, despite the comparatively smaller industry here.
“We have teachers and the older generation that came before us that have already built this community. And I think it is us that have to continue working on the path that they have undertaken to build a stronger, bigger or more united community of practitioners.
“If you were to say this is an old-fashioned thing, then I guess I’m proud to be old-fashioned.”
This article was first published on AsiaOne and republished on theAsianparent with permission.
