The 27th of August, 2024, is a day I’ll never forget. On that day, at the National University of Singapore, I was honored to receive the Prime Minister’s Book Prize for bilingual excellence from the Minister of Education, Mr. Chan Chun Sing. It still feels surreal even as I write this: the award isn’t just a reflection of my personal journey with bilingualism, but a testament to the people who have shaped and supported me along the way.
It all began with the essays, which were, in many ways, the heart of this process. Writing them meant revisiting my own story and reflecting deeply on what bilingualism has meant to me. The essays weren’t just about linguistic skills; they were about communication, connection, and culture. Through them, I explored how language is more than a tool—it’s a bridge between people, a way of seeing the world.
It was a transformative experience to really sit down and have the opportunity to reflect upon why, exactly, my mother tongue—Chinese—meant so much to me. I wrote this in one of my essays:
I found myself unconsciously moving away from Pride and Prejudice and admiring the unrestrained boldness of Li Bai’s poems. The previously anglophilic little girl had begun exploring her unique identity, understanding both the East and the West—and spending equal parts of time on Instagram and Xiaohongshu.
I think one of the biggest revelations coming out of this was that in the moments which defined my teenage years and helped shape who I am today, I found myself gravitating towards my heritage and culture more and more—in acknowledging my privileged, unique position as a Chinese Singaporean girl, I embraced the centuries of culture I carry with me, and gear up for the future I can help to build.
After submitting the essays, I was invited to the Ministry of Education headquarters for an interview. Walking into the building, I couldn’t ignore the weight of it all—this was the final step before the award. But once the interview began, the nervousness melted away.
The panel was kind but thorough, asking thoughtful questions about my essays and my thoughts on bilingualism. We talked about the delicate balance of preserving heritage languages while embracing English as a global lingua franca. I shared how, for me, bilingualism isn’t just an academic pursuit but a way to honor my heritage and contribute to my community. Leaving the interview, I felt proud to have been given the chance to articulate these ideas, just as I had done at conferences national and international — words and languages remain one of my favourite topics.
The evening of the ceremony felt magical. Held at the National University of Singapore, the event was attended by students, parents, educators, and dignitaries. My principal, Mr. Bird, even took time out of his busy schedule to attend—something I’m incredibly grateful for.
When my name was called, I felt a rush of emotions—excitement, gratitude, disbelief. As I walked onto the stage to receive the award from Mr. Chan Chun Sing, I thought about everything that had led to this moment: the nights spent poring over books, the encouragement of my family and teachers, and the many conversations that shaped my understanding of the world through language.
This award isn’t something I earned on my own. I owe so much to the people who have guided and supported me throughout this journey. My parents, teachers, and grandparents created an environment where I could flourish linguistically, nurturing my curiosity and love for learning.
Personally, winning the Prime Minister’s Book Prize isn’t just about celebrating bilingual excellence—it’s about celebrating the people, experiences, and opportunities that make bilingualism possible. Language is how we connect, how we understand, how we grow.
As I look ahead, I hope to honor this award by continuing to use language to build bridges, tell stories, and create understanding. To everyone who has been part of this journey—thank you. This achievement is as much yours as it is mine.
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