Everywhere he went, his white hair and pale skin would attract stares and comments. Labels too.
Decades later, Levan Wee, who has albinism, would recall how his secondary school teacher had told him – before the entire class – that he would be lucky to achieve half of what everyone does because he was “not like other people”.
From an early age, Levan, now 39, bought into a certain lie: Normal people do not want him around and so he has to rely on his own strength to fight his battles and prove himself.
From an early age, Levan bought into a lie: He has to rely on his own strength to prove himself.
After graduating from polytechnic with a diploma in Information Technology, he applied for a temp job as a cashier at a convenience store.
He was rejected.
The interviewer was concerned that issues with his vision, associated with albinism, would affect his work performance.
“It was such a basic job yet I couldn’t even get it,” recalled Levan.
Eventually, he got a job in the IT department of a start-up. But he ended up not being paid for three months. He later found out that the company was a sham.
Furious, his father confronted the boss. The man retorted that he had only hired Levan out of pity.
Levan at age one. Everywhere Levan (pictured at age 1) went, his white hair and pale skin attracted stares, comments and labels.
“Again, I felt like I was a disappointment,” he said.
“I began to have a fear of applying for jobs because my options seemed to be getting smaller and smaller.”
Little did Levan guess that the trajectory of his life would swing to the other extreme: From despised and discriminated to having thousands of adoring fans pay to see him sing and queue for his autograph.
It started with a former secondary school friend pestering Levan to join their rock band.
“He had not heard me sing. But for some reason, he strongly believed that I was the person to front the band,” said Levan.
“It was ridiculous. Here I was, already attracting unnecessary attention. I did not need to be on stage to be even more scrutinised by others.”
Levan spent his primary school years at the Singapore School for the Visually Handicapped, now known as Lighthouse School.
After a year of badgering, Levan joined his friend at a jam session in an old, dusty and hot house in Katong.
The band members believed that they were going to make it big in Singapore. Levan thought that they were delusional.
Though he had no interest in singing, Levan enjoyed that first session with them.
The music was loud and the lyrics were streaked with rebellion. It was an outlet for him to vent the anger and other emotions within him.
I did not need to be on stage to be even more scrutinised by others.
The band, Ronin, played its first gig at a bar in Boat Quay in 2003. There were 10 people in the audience – six were parents of the band members.
“When I went on stage for the first time, it felt natural,” said Levan.
“Facing the people, the other side of me came out. I could express everything I was feeling and that was energising.
“We were not very good players but something happened along the way when we began writing original music,” he said.
Ronin went on to become a top local rock band.
It released its debut album Do or Die in 2005. Two songs – Black Maria and One More Moment – hit Number 1 on local radio.
Ronin performed live to up to 50,000 people at one time. They played at the National Stadium, Indoor Stadium, Zoukout and the Esplanade. Motorola signed them on to endorse their cell phones.
“We were not very good players but something happened along the way when we began writing original music,” said Levan. Ronin’s debut album, Do or Die, was distributed by Universal Music.
Ronin was also first band to do an extensive tour of schools in Singapore. It performed for over 50 schools and 30,000 students in secondary and tertiary educational institutions.
“People were singing our sings, cheering for us,” recalled Levan, who co-wrote most of the songs.
“It was a complete flip to the other end of the spectrum. I bought into the hype and thrived on the attention because I was searching for acceptance.”
Inciting disobedience, Ronin was banned from returning to one third of the venues they performed in.
He added: “Though I am introverted, I played up my rebellious side and amplified it in my shows.”
Their shows were rowdy.
Led by Levan, the band members often spewed vulgarities on stage. Antagonistic in nature, they also incited disobedience. They were banned from returning to one third of the venues that they performed in.
When Levan performed in convent schools, he would take the opportunity to make fun of the nuns.
He would enter a room, sniff out a Christian, and question their belief because he felt like it.
“I bought into the hype and thrived on the attention because I was searching for acceptance.”
The atheist and self-labelled “hardcore agnostic” would do in-depth research to dismantle their beliefs and weaken their faith. He would not hold back even if it hurt friendships.
Levan had a bone to pick with Christians. He could not stand their “goody two shoes” image and thought they were self-righteous.
At times, he would run into a Christian bookshop or a church service and shout “Satan!” at the people present.
“I took delight in doing that because I was so angry at them saying things like ‘God has a plan’ and ‘God is good’.
Said Levan: “I was born different and these beliefs were so out of sync with my life experiences.”
After five years with Ronin, Levan left the band at the height of his music career in 2007. By then, Ronin was also doing collaborations such as writing the theme song and title soundtrack, Memories, for the film, Singapore Dreaming.
“From not being accepted, my situation swung to hyper-acceptance that showed in terms of the fame, money and attention that I was getting. But I just didn’t want to do it anymore,” he said.
“I did prove people wrong in showing that I could be successful. So I was supposed to feel better. But instead I felt that something was missing.
“I was feeling worse – as if my soul was dying – even though I was the personality of the band.
“What’s the point of recognition when I felt miserable?” he reasoned.
Levan became a journalist in a music magazine for a short while before heading to Australia to study sociology.
He reckoned that educational qualifications may fill that void in his life that success in music did not.
He also wanted to prove his secondary school teacher – and others who thought he was not able to study – wrong.
“I was feeling worse – as if my soul was dying – even though I was the personality of the band.”
He studied manically and got a perfect GPA score, emerging top of his cohort. He got a scholarship to do his PhD in anthropology and a stipend from the Australian government.
When he eventually got his PhD after nine years, the University of Melbourne offered him a teaching appointment.
“I didn’t take it up because I did not feel like it.
“After the high of graduation, I still didn’t get the satisfaction I was looking for,” said Levan, who was studying in Australia when his dad passed away.
“I still had the feeling that something was missing.”
Peeping out from Levan’s PhD graduation robe was a t-shirt featuring horror film antagonists Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees.
He returned to Singapore in 2019 and joined an organisation that promoted Singapore bands to the region.
The work was fulfilling but not enough of a distraction to keep depression at bay.
“The seeds of my depression were planted in my teenage years through mindsets of inadequacy and the need to outperform others. Everything I chased, I chased with zest,” said Levan.
“But when I no longer had a consuming project at hand, there was nothing left to do but to face myself … and I was still not okay with myself.”
He studied maniacally and got a perfect GPA score.
He had achieved success in career and education that others strive for.
“Yet I was still not seeing myself in a loving way,” he said.
He sought help from a psychologist, and also a psychotherapist who prescribed medication.
But his depression spiralled downward and he began Googling how to die painlessly.
One afternoon in July, his family gathered at home for lunch. Levan felt miserable and terrible.
“I felt that I was such a letdown and that it was better for me not to be around. It was such a strong feeling,” he said.
“Everything I chased, I chased with zest … There was nothing left to do but to face myself.”
He went into his study room and faced the window.
Feeling helpless and desperate, he uttered his first prayer to the Christian God, even though he had previously disparaged the faith.
While studying the texts and beliefs of different faiths, he could not deny that Christianity has a coherent doctrine that is clear and consistent.
Levan prayed, “Dear God, I don’t even know if you are real. I don’t even know if I am speaking to air. But God if you are real, please show me. Show me that you care. Because I don’t even care for myself now. If you are there, help me because I can’t do this on my own.”
He ended the prayer weeping. “In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.”
Almost immediately, he saw in his mind’s eye, a green plastic bag and a green reusable bag.
Levan recalled thinking, “This is so random. You’re the Creator of the universe and I don’t know if You’re there. And here I am thinking of plastic bags and reusable bags. This is crazy.”
He thought nothing more of it and went to the void deck of his block where he spied a green plastic bag on a table. It resembled the one he had seen after his prayer.
Well, a green plastic bag is not that uncommon, he reasoned.
When he went back to his flat, he saw that his girlfriend, Olivia Choong, had left a green reusable bag on the beanbag.
Levan and his girlfriend, Olivia Choong, who is known for championing eco causes in Singapore.
“I thought that was interesting. But it takes a lot to break me down,” said Levan. “So I prayed again and told God I didn’t know what was going on and if He would show me another sign.”
He then saw a vision of a little bird that he had never seen before. It looked like a penguin, with black wings and a white chest.
The next day, he saw three uncles hanging up bird cages. He had been walking down that very path for the last two decades and had not encountered these men before. The bird in the centre cage was what he had pictured in his mind the day before.
Levan continued to ask God for more signs of rarer and rarer items.
“Would you show me in a way that defies all probability or coincidence so that I can get past my rational hurdles?”
In one such vision, Levan saw a four-leaf branch that felt “out of place”. Later on the same day, he saw in real life, a similar branch looking very “out of place” inside the lift at his HDB block.
Subsequently, Levan had a vision of a supermarket trolley and thought, “Wow, so strange, a trolley in the middle of nowhere.”
Hours later, when he went to meet his friend at the void deck, he saw a trolley that had not there earlier. Levan’s friend uttered the very same words Levan heard in his vision: “Wow, so strange, a trolley in the middle of nowhere”.
Said Levan: “These odd events happened seven or eight times in a row and it got harder and harder for me to live as an atheist or agnostic. I’m not the kind of person that creates fantastical things out of nothing.”
He asked God, “Maybe You are real but why show me all these weird items? Would You show me in a way that defies all probability or coincidence so that I can get past my rational hurdles?”
What happened next challenged all his logical notions of reality.
As Levan was walking to get coffee one day, he saw a small orb floating and pulsating in the air. Then it exploded, bursting forth beams of green iridescent light in broad daylight at the void deck.
A shocked and shaken Levan did not know what to make of what he saw.
A few days later, while walking to the same coffee shop, Levan suddenly felt “electric rain” fall on him. He looked up at the ceiling, realising that it was impossible to rain under shelter.
“I started crying because I also felt this outpouring of love. It was so distinct,” he said.
“I knew then that all these signs were not of me grasping at straws nor of my imagination. God knew I needed such explicit supernatural signs because my heart was so hardened and there were decades of cynicism He had to undo.”
Levan ran home and fell to his knees, praying. Out of the blue, he saw a vision of Jesus in a white robe, standing in an open cave. Levan reached out to touch His hand, where he felt the same “electric rain” physically run through his hands, into his body.
Levan felt his spirit lift, and he came upon a giant silhouette of an angel. In that moment, Levan felt God speak straight to his heart, “I love you”.
He finally found the truth he had been searching for: God is undeniably real.
God had responded to his desperate prayers.
“I kept thanking God and asking God what I should do next. Or what to read or study since I am new to the faith,” said Levan.
“I reached a place of surrender where I wanted to give my life to Him and do what He wants.”
He was surprised that his prayer request was answered that day.
He had arranged to meet the only Christian friend he knew for dinner. That friend brought along other members from his cell group. At the end of the dinner, one said to Levan: “I don’t know why but God told me to tell you to attend the school at Youth With A Mission (YWAM).”
Later, an aunt texted Levan with the same suggestion. He got a third confirmation via a friend’s message on social media
With these three confirmations, Levan left his job to prepare for the course which starts in 2021.
Levan with friends of the same faith who are encouraging him along the way.
The five-month-young Christian has been reading and growing in the Word, and learning to hear God more and more clearly.
Lately, he has received several confirmations and prophetic words prompting him to return to music, in the form of an online ministry.
“I’ve been running away from music for a long time,” said Levan. “I didn’t want to return to it because I felt that music did not bring out the best side in me.”
He was also not keen to do the mainstream Christian music, which he felt did not suit his style.
“I asked God if He was sure He wanted me to go back to music. Because my style would be rock or heavy metal with costumes and facepaint.
God said: ‘You do you and I will do the rest.’”
Levan is currently waiting on God to provide the people and resources to form a Christian heavy metal band.
Levan during his punk-rock days.
“God can use anything for His kingdom and doing Christian heavy music will reach a different segment of people – a group which needs God the most,” he said.
Levan who turns 40 next year now has only one mission – to help others know and experience how much God loves them.
“If you don’t feel loved, valued or accepted, know that God doesn’t see you that way. You don’t have to keep fighting on your own.
“If anyone is wondering whether God loves you, go into your closet and ask God,” he urged.
“Give it a try. He will respond.”
This is an excerpt of an article that first appeared in Salt&Light.
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