Yulianna Frederika on shaping a third space where Malay/Muslim issues can be expressed with respect and reverence

At 27, Yulianna Frederika speaks of respect with a gravity that feels rare in an age of disruption. She reaches for adab — a Malay principle of etiquette and morality — and holds it up as both anchor and compass.

“I regard respect highly — respect for tradition, people and the land,” she says. The concept is not a hollow remnant but a living guide for how to build community and nurture dissent without fracture.

That tension — between reverence and rupture — has defined her journey as founder of Lepak Conversations. This independent non-profit creates safe and inclusive spaces to discuss Malay/Muslim social issues in Singapore.

Since its founding, the platform has become a third space where people from all walks of life can learn, unlearn, and confront entrenched stereotypes.

The pervading sentiment she often has to face is that Lepak Conversations only talks about ‘controversial issues’. “It’s only perceived as controversial because people aren’t ready or comfortable to talk about the issue publicly. Or simply because they’re not the ones facing the challenges. Mental health isn’t controversial to someone with depression, nor is polygamy controversial to the child of a polygamous marriage who isn’t getting maintenance from their father.” 

Her sense of responsibility is deeply generational. “As a Zillennial, I think it’s important that I carry on the legacy of those before me,” she reflects. For Yulianna, progress cannot mean discarding the lessons of earlier changemakers, many of whom were “just as innovative or better, way ahead of their time.”

Yet, she also names the suffocating expectation of subservience as a rule she refuses to obey. “Subservience becomes a great tension point between generations and a barrier to change. But in a time when change is more rapid than you can spell ‘status quo’, change is but a necessary skill needed to survive.”

From journalism to justice

Lepak Conversations grew out of this dual commitment: to respect and to resist. The organisation now runs panels, discussions, and community gatherings on more than a dozen Malay/Muslim social issues, always with care embedded in its design.

She describes ensuring that a “buddy” — a peer well-being officer — is present during difficult conversations, that meals are provided, and that community members feel held even as they challenge or are challenged.

Yet, beneath the logistics lies a sharper critique: the community’s internalised resignation. She lists familiar refrains — “What’s the point of trying? Nothing will change”. “Malays all go to ITE or become a delivery rider.” These voices echo what sociologist Syed Hussein Alattas once called the “myth of the lazy native”, a colonial stereotype that has hardened into self-limiting belief. “This then leads ultimately to a resignation to being inherently unworthy, though it is, of course, untrue.”

The decision to pursue this path was not inevitable. Yulianna began her career in journalism, but the pull of Lepak Conversations grew stronger until she left full-time employment to dedicate herself to it. “When I finally received the approval for Lepak Conversation’s registration as a non-profit, I felt assured,” she recalls. “Even though it was a completely new path, I felt this was what I was meant to do.” 

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Making space

It’s why success, for her, has little to do with scale. She lights up when recalling a supporter who once considered himself indifferent to Singapore’s public life until Lepak Conversations changed his perspective. “He remembers reading Lepak Conversations’ posts and feeling so incredibly seen and heard,” she says.

That spark pushed him to volunteer, and he later became the programme director for a career mentoring initiative in the Malay/Muslim community. For Yulianna, stories like his embody the true metric of impact: “new friendships made, the confidence built to have open and brave conversations, and instilling the desire to be an active community member.”

What keeps her rooted amid expectation and fatigue is the reminder that the work is not about her. “It’s really about the community that needs a space to feel belonged and heard. A meaningful advice I heard recently was: Make it not about yourself, without reducing yourself.: The line resonates because it gestures toward balance — one that refuses self-erasure yet foregrounds collective need.

The future, as she sees it, will only demand more of such spaces. “In an increasingly polarising world, having open discussions to bridge different perspectives will become more important than ever.”

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