A Woman We Love
Sarah Lian
In our November Against All Odds Issue, our Woman We Love was TV host and actress Sarah Lian. Three years ago, she landed on our shores and promptly filled magazine covers and our TV screens with her presence. But deep down, there was a dream burning. We sat down with her as she stood on the cusp of something big. Here's an excerpt:
What’s it like to stand at the edge? To drink in the millisecond before you bungee-jump off a bridge, swan-dive off a cliff face, say the words “I do”? You’re the surfer on the Hawaii shoreline, board under your arm, before the biggest wave your squinty eyes has ever seen. It might swallow you whole. Or lead to the ride of your life. You stand sweating. Unsure. But aflame. This is your window of opportunity, your kairos. You step up for a chance to, finally, unleash a primal shout of triumph.
In other news: Sarah burped.
I was warned about this at the start. “I love durian. I try not to eat too much, but my friends, they f***ing tricked me just now, eat la, eat la. I don’t want to be burping durian during our interview.” Half an hour after, it’s too late. She quickly apologises. But we’re in a corner mamak in the middle of Bangsar, surrounded by teens cutting class and old uncles reminiscing about the Mahathir times. Everyone’s letting out their own steam, passing their own gas. She’s excused.
She takes a sip of limau ais. The lips that sparked a career—juicy as a plum, soft, miniaturised plush cushions—fold over the straw, maybe to quench the aftertaste, maybe to fend off the Malaysian sun. She presses her bag against her milky-orange blouse, bear-hugs the contents that include a laptop. K.L. has taught her a lesson. Three years ago, a doe-eyed twenty-five-year-old touched down on our shores from Canada with just two hundred dollars in her bank account, thousands more in debt, and a six-month deadline to break into the entertainment industry. Her pockets were filled with nothing more than sweet fantasies. Three months into her venture, she was robbed by snatch thieves. “I was clearly f***ed. I can’t afford to go back now. So what the f*** do you do? You hustle. You meet people. You make sure every decision and every person you meet, you connect with, and you’re honest and genuine with. And when people see the truth, they’ll want to help you. And I got so much help.”
Close your eyes, and you could be hearing the Sweet Valley High audio book. An American burr tinges her dots of lahs. I learn early on that she absolutely, probably unconsciously, loves breaking into different voices. “You know, when I was twenty-five, I could have been this or that.”—that’s an old grandma with no teeth grovelling about yesteryears. “No! You don’t pay me! I pay. For. Myself!”—the stubborn daughter who wants independence, a reverse-Hilton. “Helloo Jon ...”—she seduces me in a husky baritone. Would have worked, if she didn’t laugh immediately after. And belch.
But there’s something more. When she speaks, her timbre resonates like a fist in the air, real steel permeating every breath. If you’re counting, she does say her fair share of “f***s”. But them are fighting f***s. This one chases after her prize like a ravenous lion roaming the prairie. She eyes her game. Simply wants to win. Last year, the motto was: Dare to dream. In three short years after arriving, she was FHM Malaysia’s Most Wanted Woman, hosted shows on ESPN Star Sports, became “that ah lian girl” in a MyEG ad. She was offered to be the face of Astro HITZ, had emcee jobs and modelling gigs graffitied all over her diary. She was the little gust of wind who turned into a veritable storm, winning jobs and meeting producers like she was touched by an angel and spoken of by Morpheus.
“When I came to Malaysia, I feel like I f***ing rocked the house.” She says this with her eyes funnelled towards mine, unapologetic. “Not because I was doing well, but everybody was so happy in their own place. Suddenly I come in here, and it’s “Why is she taking this job?” “Why is she getting this event?” And it kind of rocks the house a little bit. I’m like, I want to compete for this and get it because I’m the best. Not because you’re sick or you had a connection. I want you to beat me, because you’re better than me. I want that challenge.”
There was backlash. There are only so many deers to go around the forest. Take someone out of her natural Canadian habitat, a land where “people are obnoxious enough to tell you what’s right and what’s wrong”, put her in another jungle, and feathers will ruffle. When she started appearing in magazines, she turned spreads into her own 18SX-rated playground. Nothing indecent. But definitely racier than usual. Her brazenness pissed some off. “I mean, it’s not like I’m oozing sexiness everywhere I go, right?” She pauses for a giggle. “Of course, there were lots of girls saying bad things about me, and conspiracy theories about why I was succeeding. But listen, bitches, three years later I’m still here, so clearly I must have done something... I just made the best of it. Who else dares to be sexy in this market? I found my niche, that’s all.”
Here it is, two cultures colliding, like an asteroid declaring war on dinosaurs. A Taiping-born, Canadian-bred lass armed with a shotgun and a time limit coming face-to-face with decorum. Deep inside though, she wants more. Yearns for more. Life here can be too suffocating for our goals. So, this year, Sarah left. Flew to Toronto, to the howls of friends who thought she was sacrificing too much. She wanted to be an actress. And would work like hell for the privilege. Start from ground zero, get some training, build your name one cynical casting director at a time. And as March rolled around, she took out a piece of paper and penned her new motto.
Naked ambition.
Oh, more than she would know.
Read more about Sarah - why the team at Esquire think it's one of the more heartbreaking stories of the year - in our November Against All Odds Issue, out in newsstands now. Words by Jon Chew. Photographs by Marcus Wong. Styling by Andrea Wong. Hair and makeup by Chot. Location: City Square Shooting Gallery.
November 2nd, 2011