My best friend in high school was Shong.
We would sit together every day at lunch.
Skip classes on Friday's to go on a weekend adventure and surround
ourselves with way too many snacks when we were collaborating on our homework.
Shawn was caring, mathematically gifted and super cute,
I've all the girls who would ask me to deliver a love letters and cards him.
However, deep in his heart, he was depressed.
He was deeply upset by his parent's long time fights.
He was feeling suffocated by the unrealistically high
expectations of his parents.
And I, was the only person that he trusted to share his true feelings with.
One day after school, I bumped into Shong's mom,
I really wanted to alert her, to Shong's suffering.
But I was afraid that speaking the truth would embarrassed her and
shame Shong, so I remained silent.
After high school, Shong and I went to different colleges, but
we stayed in touch.
Then, one cold winter night, the second night after 2014 Chinese New Year,
I received a picture message from Shong.
He had written, happy new year to me on a frost covered window.
Then I received a call from him.
I picked up and said, thank you so much Shong, this is so sweet.
Happy new year to you as well.
But what I heard was Shong crying uncontrollably.
He said that he didn't know how to be happy in the new year.
He told me that he couldn't see a way out of his pain, and
he wanted to terminate his suffering.
Before I could respond, I heard some weird noises.
And then just silence.
My heart froze and my mind went blank.
Shong had jumped out the window of his dorm.
I remember how painful it was waiting outside of Shong's ICU.
When I heard Shong's parents condemn themselves for not recognizing his fragile
mental state, I realized that he had never spoken to his parents about his suffering.
And neither had I.
When I had the opportunity, fear and doubt kept me silent.
For three days, I fixed my eyes on Shong's heart monitor screen.
All of a sudden, the heartbeat pattern came to a free fall,
and turned into a flat line.
I will always remember that moment of silence when I felt so
devastated when I realized what the cost of silence could be.
I know this is an extreme case but perhaps, you can relate,
perhaps there is being a time in your life that you
being silent because of your fear of speaking up.
I work with friends in a relationship,
because silence seem like the safer choice.
But silence has costs.
When you fail to stand up for your beliefs,
you may later feel like you've lost a part of yourself and
missed out on giving a voice to others who may feel the same.
When you hide a part of your identity for the fear of not being accepted,
you may suffer from never living fully and lack a true sense of belonging.
When you choose not to share your true feelings with someone you really
care about, you may miss out on a potentially beautiful relationship.
We tend to think that maintaining status quo is safe while making changes is risky.
So we often focus on analyzing the cost of speaking up
without even considering the cost of silence.
Even I, who have paid such a high price to understand the cost,
still found myself being silent about things that mattered.
Two years ago, on the outside, I seemed to have it all.
I was on a promising career track with the boyfriend who checked all the boxes.
>> [LAUGH] >> And I was living in Hong Kong,
an exciting new city.
But the truth was, I was very unhappy in my job.
My boyfriend's critical comments always made me feel inferior and
never good enough.
And for the first time in my life,
I was living by myself with no support group around me.
On the inside I felt sad and alone.
Whenever my parents asked me how I was doing,
I wanted to tell them the truth but I couldn't.
I couldn't, because I was afraid to shutter the illusion of my perfect life.
I was afraid that something better didn't exist for me.
So for nearly a year, l silenced myself, and it was painful.
One night, l lay in bed in complete darkness, l felt hopeless.
l couldn't see a way out.
Then suddenly all my memories of Shong flooding my mind.
I thought about his suffering in silence and
the moment when I lost him forever.
And I was reminded of the ultimate cost of silence.
It was at this moment that I decided to honor Shong's memory by
breaking my own silence, by taking the steps that he was not able to take.
I shared my frustrations and my fears with my parents.
And I was surprised to find that my being real in front of them felt so
much better than my trying to be the perfect child.
And instead of feeling insecure, I felt a stronger sense of love and
belonging by sharing my truth, rather than hiding it and
struggling to maintain a illusion.
With my parents' support, I end the relationship and
applied to business school.
>> [LAUGH] >> And look at me now.
>> [LAUGH] >> This isn't to say that things
are always perfect.
But trust me, they are so much better.
I have found my voice.
I'm embracing new possibilities and deeper, more meaningful relationships.
If I had remained silent two years ago,
I will have shut myself off from everything I'm experiencing now.
Acknowledging the cost of silence was a wake up call for me.
I learned it the hard way and
l don't want you to have to go through anything similar.
My greatest hope is that you can recognize those
moments when the cost of speaking up may seem high,
but the cost of silence is even greater.
And that you'll use your voice to prevent yourself
from never knowing what might happen.
How to just spoken up.
What are you currently being silent about?
What are you not expressing that might open up new possibilities for you?
Your relationship with others.
And perhaps, more importantly,
in your relationship with yourself.
I encourage you to find your voice.
Thank you.
>> [APPLAUSE]
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