A Journey of Courage, Change and... Custard – Cindy's Story 

I was born and raised in Singapore, a small island city-state at the southern tip of Malaysia. It has no natural resources, yet it is full of energy, culture, and diversity. I grew up in a modest home. My parents separated when I was young, so I lived with my mother, who was a teacher, and we were very close to my maternal grandmother. I was an only child, and life felt comfortable and secure. 

My childhood was quite structured. My mother was strict and closely involved in where I went and what I did. It was not oppressive, but it meant that when I left Singapore at 18 to study in the UK, it was a huge change. It was my first real taste of freedom, and I loved it. 

After my studies, I returned to Singapore, worked for a while, and eventually became a lecturer at a tertiary institute. Then in 2008, something shifted. I wanted to take a chance on a relationship and on a different life. At the time, there was a Working Holiday Visa that allowed people from Commonwealth countries, including Singapore, to live and work in the UK for two years. I was in my late twenties and decided to move to Wales to be with my boyfriend and see where life might take us. 

Uprooting my life was not easy. I left behind a stable job, my family, and everything familiar, and moved 7,000 miles to a place where I knew no one except my boyfriend. I went from living at home to complete independence almost overnight. I had never driven before and did not own a car, which made life in Wales harder, especially coming from Singapore, where public transport is incredibly efficient. I moved from a fast-paced city of high-rise buildings to a quieter, semi-rural place with a much slower rhythm. 

Looking back, I genuinely admire my younger self. It took courage to make that leap. I told myself that if it did not work out, I could always go back. But I knew I had to try, or I would always wonder what might have been. 

Over time, I built a life here. My boyfriend became my husband. We had a son. I found work and put down roots. The journey has not been without its quieter challenges. I have never faced overt racism, but I am always aware of my accent and my appearance. There are things people raised here simply know that I am still learning. Even now, I often feel like I am translating myself. 

Despite that, I am proud. Proud that I carved out a career, a home, a community, and a sense of belonging. Migration is often underestimated. It is not just a change of scenery. You rebuild everything, from habits to identity to support systems. 

What I miss most about Singapore is my family, especially my mum, and the food. I miss speaking Singlish and using phrases only other Singaporeans understand. Here, I adjust my language constantly. I articulate more and soften my tone. Even now, I am aware of how I sound and how I am perceived. My husband understands it, but outside our home I am always, in some way, translating. 

Distance is the hardest part. Singapore is not a short trip away. If something happened back home, it would take a full day to get there. When I first arrived in Wales, there was no WhatsApp or video calling, just email. I never called home because it would have cost too much. I used to write long updates to my mum, hoping she would read between the lines. Technology makes it easier now, but the physical distance remains. 

There are funny memories too. Well into my first year in Wales, someone offered me custard and I had no idea what it was. I stared at this jug of yellow liquid and asked what it was meant to be. Now I laugh about it, but it taught me that sharing a language does not always mean sharing understanding. 

Then there was the hedgehog. One night my husband mistook one for a ball and accidentally kicked it. He brought it home in a box to show me. I had never seen a hedgehog before. That moment led, years later, to me volunteering with the Hedgehog Helpline, first answering calls and later caring for hedgehogs until they could be released. If I had never moved to Wales, that would never have happened. 

Wales does not remind me of Singapore in many ways, but one thing connects them. The sea. Growing up on an island, I have always needed to be near water. Here, I can reach the coast in twenty minutes. It brings the same sense of calm. 

My aspirations have evolved. As a migrant woman of colour and a mother, I know leadership is not always imagined for people like me. But I want to be visible. I want other migrant women to see that they can thrive here and that their story does not have to fit into a narrow box. I do not want to be Prime Minister. I just want to walk into a room and not be the only one who looks like me. 

I believe women are judged more harshly when they step into leadership roles. Confidence is often labelled as being controlling or bossy. I want to challenge that and show that leadership can look many different ways. 

Despite the challenges, I have been lucky. Wales has been welcoming to me. I was worried during COVID that attitudes might change, but for me they did not. People here generally treat me as they would anyone else. Sometimes they get where I am from wrong, but it comes from lack of knowledge rather than hostility. 

If you are thinking of moving to Wales and you like greenery, sheep, and a slower pace of life, this could be the place for you. People are friendly and life feels more human. 

Migration has shaped Wales for generations. Italians, Chinese families, Ukrainians, refugees, and many others have helped shape what Wales is today. Their culture is not separate from Welsh identity. It is part of it. 

That is something worth celebrating.