Cover Singaporean Taiwanese actor Grace Chow shares how self-declaration and hustle go a long way (Photo: Derec Ethan; Glam: Hendra; Style: Luke Meakins)
Singaporean Taiwanese actor Grace Chow shares how self-declaration and hustle go a long way (Photo: Derec Ethan; Glam: Hendra; Style: Luke Meakins)
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Singaporean Taiwanese actor and writer Grace Chow, who stars alongside Leighton Meester and Clancy Brown in the comedy-drama series ‘Good Cop/Bad Cop’, discusses creating her own luck and not siloing herself
Long before landing an international role alongside Leighton Meester and Clancy Brown in dramedy TV series Good Cop/Bad Cop, Grace Chow stood alone on a stage performing a one-woman show—no agent, no PR push, just raw drive and talent. That performance changed everything.
Little did she know, in the audience was an artist who would be pivotal to her first professional credit. “He walked into the State Theatre Company’s office and said, ‘I don’t care what you cast her in, just cast her now,’” Chow recalls about landing her role in Anton Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard by Australia-based Black Swan State Theatre Company.
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The Singaporean Taiwanese actress and writer didn’t get there by accident. She made a decision early on—long before the accolades, before being cast in operas, musicals and TV shows—to name herself an artist. “If you don’t start calling yourself an artist, no one will,” she says on Gen.T’s Crazy Smart Asia podcast that one of her mentors once told her. That act of self-declaration, she adds, took her further than talent alone ever could.
Tiny town, big dreams
Above Singaporean Taiwanese actor Grace Chow shares how self-declaration and hustle go a long way (Photo: Derec Ethan; Glam: Hendra; Style: Luke Meakins)
Singaporean Taiwanese actor Grace Chow shares how self-declaration and hustle go a long way (Photo: Derec Ethan; Glam: Hendra; Style: Luke Meakins)
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Born to Singaporean and Taiwanese parents who moved to rural Australia, Chow’s childhood was marked by isolation—and, as it turns out, imagination. “I was in a tiny town,” she recalls. “There were maybe five other kids my age. It gives you a lot of time to explore hobbies.”
With a dial-up internet connection, in a landscape of farmland and isolation, she spent her hours painting, reenacting movie scenes in front of the mirror and writing surprisingly mature stories—like the domestic violence-themed novella she began at eight years old.
“My mom read it and said, ‘Wow, this is really well written,’” Chow shares. “That was really affirming for me. I was just doing it for fun, but it made me think maybe there’s something here.”
Despite her early creative impulses, Chow initially planned to pursue a more traditional path. “I think like many Asian parents, mine wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor,” she says. “I picked law because it was kind of arts-adjacent. But I realised that being a lawyer is a lot of reading—and I wanted to write.”
Her life took a dramatic turn when, on a whim, she auditioned for a prestigious drama school. “It’s incredibly competitive,” she says, “I didn’t think I’d get in. But I got the acceptance email, and I knew I had to take the opportunity or I’d regret it.”
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Accidental breakout
Drama school, and later youth theatre, became her proving ground. Mentors, whom she fondly calls her “drama shepherds”, saw her potential and steered her toward the right opportunities. “I had a mentor who pulled me aside and said, ‘If you don’t start calling yourself an artist, no one will.’”
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The turning point was getting the role of Varya in Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard without an audition. “I cried when I got the role,” she recalls. “I remember the relief, especially as someone who had been struggling to prove myself for so long. I realised my skills have value and people are seeing my hard work.”
What followed was a whirlwind. In the year after graduating from drama school, Chow booked three shows back-to-back, each drastically different from the last. “I played a hippie in a musical, led an opera and became a 15,000-year-old intergalactic space warrior,” she says.
“My face was on fire; I felt alive.”
The magic of creating
Though she’s worked on other people’s projects like Good Cop/Bad Cop, The Twelve and Mystery Road: Origin, Chow says nothing compares to making her own work. “It’s your brain baby. There’s nothing more satisfying.” She’s currently working on a commission with the Black Swan State Theatre Company, building on a relationship that began with her breakout moment years earlier.
Her process is guided by fascination and creative hunger. “If I’m curious about something, that alone can sustain me for months. Curiosity is what feeds me creatively.”
Her writing—ranging from narrative plays to post-dramatic experiments—is as core to her identity as her acting. “I started off in narrative work, moved into more experimental stuff, and now I’m returning to narrative again. It’s all a part of the same journey.”
She describes herself as a multidisciplinary artist, someone who resists being boxed in. “I’ve moved between theatre, opera, TV, musical theatre and experimental storytelling,” she explains. “The world already limits us enough. I don’t need to do that to myself.”
Making her own luck
In an industry that has long stereotyped Asian women, Chow has witnessed change and helped push for it. Early in her career, roles offered to Asian actresses were painfully limited. “Prostitute 1, Restaurant Worker 2,” she recalls. “There’s nothing wrong with that, but it could be limiting and problematic. Now we’re seeing leading roles in global franchises going to Asian women. That excites me.”
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Her ambition, however, has never been about optics; it’s rooted in her craft. “I’ve never been afraid to admit that I’m ambitious,” she says. “I’m motivated by good things. I want to create good work, and I want good things for the world. I want to tell stories that make someone feel seen, understood, or less alone.”
A self-professed hustler, she doesn’t believe in overnight success. “Talent alone isn’t enough. You have to put in the hours—the reading, the training, the writing—so that when the opportunity comes, you’re ready.”
“Luck is opportunity meets preparation,” Chow says, reflecting the confidence of someone who knows exactly what she wants. “Preparation sustains you.”
No matter where her world takes her next, Chow remains fiercely self-directed and open. “I reserve the right to pursue whatever fascinates me,” she muses. “The world is full of complexity. I’m not interested in shrinking myself to fit someone else’s idea of what I should be.”
Listen to more crazy-smart insights from film industry players across Asia in the latest season of Gen.T’s Crazy Smart Asia podcast.
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Syrah is Tatler Philippines’ Power & Purpose editor, where she spotlights extraordinary journeys shaping the Philippines and Asia. She covers business, innovation, impact, and culture—chasing the people, ideas and forces shaping how we live and think today.
