Speech therapist Evelyn Khoo paints a vivid picture of the social isolation faced by those with aphasia, a condition that impairs language after a brain injury.
“Imagine having to live in a country where you don’t speak the language at all, say, Poland,” she explains. “Everyone around you speaks only Polish. You step into a cafe and want to order food but the menu is entirely in Polish, with no visuals to guide you. You want to talk to someone but they only look at you, unable to understand you.”
For someone with aphasia, this is not just an occasional struggle – it is their everyday reality.
“Aphasia can occur after a stroke, brain trauma, infection or as a result of progressive neurological causes, making communication difficult. Although it often manifests as a speech problem, a person with aphasia may find it difficult reading, writing and understanding language,” says Ms Khoo.
The disability affects at least 3,000 Singaporeans each year, yet remains widely misunderstood. For Ms Khoo, 47, bridging this gap between patients and society is not just a profession – it is a calling.
That is why she founded Aphasia Sg in 2018, creating Singapore’s first support network for people navigating the isolating maze of language loss.
Ms Khoo’s journey to becoming a speech therapist and aphasia advocate was far from linear.
The elder of two children, she grew up in Bedok where she still lives. Her father was a technical officer and her mother worked for a long time at an NTUC supermarket, first selling 4D and Toto before becoming a cashier.
A former student of Tanjong Katong Girls’ School and Tampines Junior College, she excelled academically without much effort.
“But I was totally ill-disciplined,” she says with a laugh. “My friends knew me as someone who just wanted to have fun.”
Her passion for words and language was evident from a young age.
“I’ve always been very interested in words,” she shares. “As a child, I would receive gifts like Scrabble and I loved it. Even now, for recreation I’ll flip open my Scrabble app and play.”
She reckons that is why she has an affinity with those suffering from aphasia. Losing the ability to use or understand words is “a big, big loss”.
Initially thinking she might become a reporter, she enrolled for a bachelor’s degree programme in communication and media studies at Nanyang Technological University in 1996.
But she quickly realised she was not kaypoh (Hokkien for nosy) enough and did not have the “bloodhound instinct” required for journalism, so opted to major in public relations instead.
During this time, she also experienced a social awakening and developed a passion for volunteer work. She participated in Youth Expedition Projects – service-learning initiatives by Youth Corps Singapore – where she helped, among other things, to build schools in developing countries like Sri Lanka.
“Those were formative years, and these experiences made me realise that I come from a position of privilege. And when you’re in a position to help others, you should. The world is big, and we are just a small part of it,” says Ms Khoo, who also took part in community rebuilding efforts after the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami.
She pauses, then adds with a wry smile: “It also made me question a lot of human constructs – like hierarchy in organisations. Many of them feel unnecessary and, frankly, a little lame. These thoughts have shaped a lot of the choices I’ve made.”
Her desire to make a meaningful impact initially led her to try teaching, but she admits with a sheepish laugh that the early mornings were a dealbreaker. Instead, she spent a couple of years working as a senior youth officer at the People’s Association, organising community events.
Eventually, she decided to take a break to backpack across Asia, pausing her travels for volunteer stints as an English teacher in places like Krabi in Thailand, and Xining in Qinghai, China.
Her initial plan to spend at least two years travelling and volunteering, however, was curtailed after six months when her father was diagnosed with stomach cancer and had to undergo surgery in 2004.
Entrepreneurship was her next stop after her return to Singapore. Together with a friend, she set up a shop, The Peep Hole, selling women’s wear at the Beach Road Army Market.
“We were the first shop at the market to sell womenswear. We saw a gap. The army boys would go there with their girlfriends, who would look so bored,” she says.
The shop did well, breaking even in just a few months. Encouraged, they moved to a bigger shop at Dhoby Xchange mall but this proved to be a misstep. Footfall was low and she and her partner eventually sold the business.
Ms Evelyn Khoo’s journey to becoming a speech therapist and aphasia advocate was far from linear.ST PHOTO: KEVIN LIM
The early 2000s also marked another pivotal chapter in her life. She began dragon-boating with a vengeance, and started a club team called PLK Paddlers, under the Paya Lebar Kovan Youth Executive Committee.
“My coach Kim Hwa was a mentor who taught me a lot of life lessons – the importance of discipline, hard work and fostering camaraderie,” says Ms Khoo, who “retired” from the competitive sport in 2017 to focus on her professional life.
It was not until she was in her late 20s that Ms Khoo discovered speech therapy as a potential career path. While working at a dyslexia centre for children, she became intrigued by the speech therapists she encountered there.
Though she initially joined as a marketing executive, she soon found herself drawn to working directly with the children, sparking a deeper interest in the field.
“I did some research and found that the National University of Singapore (NUS) offers a master’s programme in speech therapy,” she says. “I went for several observations in a few hospitals and it opened up this whole new world.”
“I realised that speech therapists don’t just work with children – they work with adults too. And it’s quite medical as well. There were so many possibilities.”
Drawn to the combination of linguistics, working with people and medical knowledge, Ms Khoo took up a Singapore General Hospital (SGH) scholarship and enrolled in the master’s programme in 2010.
After graduating in 2012, she worked for several years as a speech therapist at SGH, primarily with stroke and brain injury patients in the rehabilitation ward. It was rewarding work but she felt there was a gap in support once patients were discharged.
A turning point in her journey came during a session with a patient that made her realise the need to go beyond one-on-one therapy.
She had been working with an elderly man in the rehabilitation ward, helping him practise ordering food for weeks. However, during a community outing to a hawker centre, he froze when trying to place an order. The impatient stall owner only added to his distress, and he turned to her with a helpless expression.
That moment reinforced a crucial lesson for Ms Khoo – therapy alone was not enough. There was a pressing need to educate the public and foster a more supportive environment for people with aphasia.
In 2018, after leaving the hospital to work in various community settings, Ms Khoo finally had the time and headspace to launch Aphasia Sg. It started simply as a monthly Chit Chat Cafe, where patients and caregivers could gather in a supportive environment.
“It’s very easy to find patients – you just invite your own patients, I invite mine, we ask them to bring family members, and, voila, you have a group of 30 people.”
Ms Khoo encouraging Aphasia Sg member Helen Tan, 70, to sing at a Chit Chat Cafe event in December 2024. PHOTO: COURTESY OF EVELYN KHOO
The initiative quickly grew as word spread among speech therapists and doctors. By 2019, it had formally incorporated as a non-profit organisation to better manage donations and expand its programmes.
However, the Covid-19 pandemic forced them to quickly pivot to online programming. While this created new obstacles, especially for patients who struggle with auditory processing, it also opened up opportunities to reach more people.
Today, Aphasia Sg runs both online and in-person events. Its signature in-person Chit Chat Cafes – held once every couple of months – now draw 80 to 90 participants and feature activities like group games, crafts and music therapy. They intentionally separate patients and caregivers for part of the session to encourage independent communication.
“We want them to be in a group setting with other patients and facilitators and have a conversation,” she explains. “Many times, the caregiver might be over-helpful and talk over them, so we create that space for them to practise.”
Running Aphasia Sg as a volunteer-led organisation comes with significant challenges, says Ms Khoo. Her core team comprises 15 to 20 volunteers, all of whom have full-time jobs as clinicians.
Although she has scores of “loose” volunteers, running the outfit is very labour-intensive.
“We don’t have an office, so things are stored at different people’s homes. There’s a lot of planning involved to create structure within the events.”
Ms Khoo (back row, fourth from left) with volunteers and Aphasia Sg members at a Chit Chat Cafe event in December 2024 PHOTO: COURTESY OF EVELYN KHOO
But she is proud of the strides the non-profit has made.
“Over the years, one of the things we have done well is to get our members to step up and share their experiences via social media and mainstream media. After all, they are the ones going through this every day,” says Ms Khoo who hopes to attract more dedicated long-term volunteers and eventually hire full-time staff to take Aphasia Sg to the next level.
Three years ago, Ms Khoo became the clinical director of The Gentle Group, a social enterprise which provides pureed meals and care services for individuals with swallowing difficulties. She now leads GentleCare, the group’s service arm. The unit supports adults affected by illnesses including stroke, dementia, and head and neck cancer through home visits, consultations and workshops.
She finds both her job and her volunteer work deeply fulfilling, saying that they allow her to directly help patients while also advocating for broader societal change.
“Aphasia is an invisible disability. Some patients have no physical impairment and seem totally normal until they speak. We need to raise awareness so that when someone encounters a person struggling to communicate, they’ll be more patient and understanding.”
