Where Speaking Begins

03 Aug 2026

6 Min Read

Teh Zhao Xiang (Student Writer), The Taylor’s Team (Editor)

IN THIS ARTICLE

Two hours before showtime in Niigata, Japan, I stood at the back of the contest room, trying to steady my breathing.

Around me were rows of chairs, delegates in formal suits, and voices moving between languages I recognised only from a distance. In front of the room were the other contestants, each carrying their own rhythm of confidence, nerves, silence, or last-minute preparation. There were 12 speakers from across the Asia-Pacific region, and for a moment, it felt as if we were all in the same room but living in different worlds.

On the screen was the topic that had followed me for days: ‘Are we more connected or more alone?’

I had written around that question, practised with it, and carried it with me into the room. Still, standing there before the final round, it felt less like a topic to answer and more like a question I had to live through on stage.

The 2026 JCI Asia-Pacific Conference was held in Niigata from 11 to 14 June 2026. I had arrived there representing Malaysia after winning the JCI Malaysia National Public Speaking Competition, and I would later be crowned JCI Asia Pacific Public Speaking Champion on 14 June 2026.

But when the result was announced, I was not thinking only about the trophy. My mind went back to a much smaller stage, years before, when my journey with public speaking almost did not begin at all.

Where My Voice Began

I was still in school when a teacher first encouraged me to join a public-speaking contest. She saw something in me that I was not ready to see in myself. I wanted to say yes, but fear answered first. I gave an excuse and walked away from the opportunity.

That decision stayed with me longer than I expected. It was not just about missing one competition. It was the feeling of rejecting myself before anyone else had the chance to. For a while, I wondered whether I had missed my moment.

When the opportunity returned in my final year of school, I signed up. This time, I did not want to hide behind fear. I practised, recorded, revised, and tried to find a way of speaking that sounded like me. I did not want to borrow a script that felt polished but empty. I wanted to understand what it meant to stand in front of people and offer something honest.

That experience gave me my first taste of what connection could feel like. Winning mattered, of course, but what stayed with me was the realisation that a speech could reach people when it came from a place I truly understood.

Learning to Reach People

At 19, I joined Toastmasters. Later, as a Bachelor of Business student specialising in Digital Marketing and Analytics at Taylor's University, I continued to find myself in environments that challenged me to communicate, present ideas, and think about audiences with more care.

Studying business and digital marketing made me more aware that every message has a receiver. Whether we are reading data, shaping a campaign, or presenting an idea, communication depends on understanding who we are speaking to and why it should matter to them.

That lesson became even clearer when I joined Junior Chamber International. Through JCI, I entered the national public-speaking competition. At first, I expected public-speaking preparation to be mostly technical: stronger gestures, sharper delivery, better words. Instead, one of the most important lessons I received was much simpler and much harder.

Look at the people around you. Understand how they speak. Understand what they care about. If you do not know them, you cannot reach them.

That changed the way I approached the national stage. The room was filled with delegates, participants, and more than 50 contestants from across Malaysia. I could have treated it as a performance, but I tried to treat it as a conversation. I focused less on sounding impressive and more on reaching the people in front of me.

When my name was announced as champion, it felt like confirmation that communication is ultimately about understanding others. The result gave me the chance to represent Malaysia at the Asia-Pacific stage, but the deeper lesson was already forming: connection on stage begins with connection off stage.

Rewriting for Connection

I carried that lesson with me to Niigata.

The Asia-Pacific stage demanded more from me than any competition before it. I had to prepare two speeches in 14 days, including the preliminary speech on connection and the finalist speech, ‘Connection is the Most Powerful Tool of Leadership’. Every round raised the pressure. Every speaker brought a different style, background, and presence. It was easy to look around and wonder whether I belonged among them.

When I reached the finals, the excitement lasted only a few minutes before the next question arrived: how could I make the second speech strong enough?

The answer was not to add more. It was to strip the speech back.

I had to let go of lines that sounded good but did not feel true. I had to remove words I was not connected to. I had to stop asking how to impress the judges and start asking what I actually wanted the audience to feel, understand, and carry with them. The rewriting process was uncomfortable because it forced me to face the difference between a speech that performs and a speech that belongs to you.

By the time I stepped onto the stage for the final, something had shifted. The judges were still there. The contestants were still there. The pressure was still there. But for those few minutes, they were no longer the centre of the room.

The centre was the connection between me and the audience.

That was the moment I had been searching for. I was not speaking at people. I was speaking with them, even in silence. I was sharing something I believed in, and for the first time in the competition, I felt less like I was trying to win and more like I was trying to reach.

What Speaking Taught Me About Leadership

Looking back, I realise that I had misunderstood public speaking for a long time. I used to think the most important word was ‘speaking’. Now, I think the most important word is ‘public’.

Who are the people in front of us? What have we learned from them? What can we offer them that is honest, useful, or meaningful?

Those questions became especially important because my final speech was not only about connection, but about leadership. I did not want leadership to remain a big, abstract word. On that stage, it became practical: before I could guide an audience anywhere, I first had to understand them.

A speaker who does not listen may still deliver every line correctly, but may not truly reach anyone. A leader who does not listen faces the same problem. That was when the connection between speaking and leadership began to make sense to me.

This journey has never been mine alone. It was shaped by teachers who saw possibility, mentors who challenged me to understand people, speakers who reminded me to trust myself, and communities that gave me space to grow. Behind every speech were people who helped me find my voice before I fully believed it was there.

Winning in Niigata gave me a title, but the journey gave me something I will carry much longer. It taught me that the strongest voices are not built in isolation. They are built through people, practice, listening, and the courage to connect.

In November, I will represent Asia Pacific at the World Championship finals of public speaking. That next stage is exciting, and it is also daunting. But wherever this journey takes me, I will return to the lesson that brought me here.

Public speaking begins before the stage.

It begins with the people in front of us, the communities around us, and the connection we are willing to build before we ever speak.

Like Zhao Xiang, you may find that the ability to understand people can take you beyond the classroom and into spaces you did not expect. If you are drawn to business, audiences, and the stories behind how people connect, discover where Taylor's Bachelor of Business (Honours) can take you.

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