AlaricTan001 — Alaric Tan, standing in front of the mini-garden at The Greenhouse.

Alaric Tan (born 1978) is the founder and executive director of The Greenhouse, a substance addiction recovery centre for marginalised and vulnerable communities. He is also a social entrepreneur intensely interested in exploring innovative and integrated solutions to psychosocial challenges faced by communities that are underserved.

Traumatic background[]

When Tan's parents found out in 1992 that he was gay, they sent him for conversion therapy. At just 14 years of age, he was told that he was broken and that they needed to pray the gay away. Even though he never blamed his parents, the effects were horrific. He believed what they told him — that he was so bad and broken that he could never be repaired. He spent 16 years of his life in a drug-fuelled haze, neither able to face the pain or shame he felt when sober, nor able to accept the life that he was leading.

The Greenhouse[]

Main article: The Greenhouse

Today, he is deeply grateful to have recovered and to devote my time to paying it forward. As the founder of a substance addiction recovery centre for marginalised and vulnerable communities, he met people like himself every day. Even though they came from different schools, different faiths, different races, their stories were startlingly the same. All of them had been through some form of rejection, some form of trauma — they drank and used drugs to take the pain and shame away. People who had been traumatised tended to be self-centred. It was a trait that was often mistaken for selfishness, and few had the patience to learn the difference between the two. Traumatised people were not preoccupied with their own needs and wants because they were selfish, but because lived experience had shown them that if they did not prioritise their own survival, nobody would. Choosing to place their welfare above the welfare of others was literally the difference between life or death. This could sometimes make the rooms of recovery uncomfortable places to be in.

Having so many anxious, sensitive and fearful people in the same room was a recipe for disaster, if not for ground rules. There were many different recovery programmes at their centre, but they all had their ground rules. The latter were created from both spiritual and non-spiritual systems of recovery:

Nobody was to be interrupted while they were speaking
One must listen with the assumption of best intentions and say “ouch” when triggered
One must not offer advice, only share experience
One must refrain from imposing one's values on others
One must refrain from any form of judgement

Even though these rules looked simple, some people struggled with them. Those who were anxious, hurt or frightened often felt the need to protect themselves by lashing out, or controlling what others do. At times like these, one learns to hold space for them. Holding space required one to sit with someone else without judgement. This sense of safety allowed people to share what they feel without fear of repercussion. Tan was invariably surprised by how willing people were to treat others well once they felt seen and heard. It affirmed his belief that people were essentially good, wanted good things for themselves and others, and were fully capable of making good decisions as long as they felt safe and valued as a person. It was the nature of all things to thrive, not just survive, given the right conditions.

There is an actual garden in The Greenhouse that he took great pride and joy in, because he learned so much just by looking at it.

Beliefs[]

In 2020, he came across an article in The Straits Times, in which Home Affairs Minister K Shanmugam talked about how the amended Maintenance of Religious Harmony Act would protect both religious and non-religious groups, including the LGBT community. He explained how the approach stemmed from the position that every Singaporean had a place in Singapore. Tan found it hard to describe what a deeply emotional experience reading that article was for him. It felt like something deep within him finally fell into place. Like he could finally stop apologising for existing, like he could finally stand up straight and take up space. It was also the moment that he understood a simple truth — that his feelings were valid, his needs are valid, his life was valid; and that his story, though different from most, was also a Singaporean story. Singapore was one of the most pluralistic societies in the world, and it was natural for her people to hold different beliefs. Living in close quarters, friction was inevitable. But it could not be stressed enough how easy it was for a country like theirs to become embroiled in identity politics. How easy it was for those who felt anxious and fearful to insist that they all be the same in order to feel safe. And when a family bickered, it never mattered who won the argument. Everyone lost.

In recovery, people of different faiths were brought together — as much in their need for love, support and acceptance as their desire to love, support and accept each other. It did not matter where they came from — certain truths were universal. The measure of a society was not in how it treated people who were the same, but in how it treated people who were different; in how its members honoured the experiences of people they did not always agree with, and how they tended to the needs of the least understood among them. He had seen how life-giving, how life-changing it could be when they listened to each other without judgement. He humbly invited them to look at the garden they were creating together, and hold space for each other.

Straits Times article[]

On 9 September 2018, The Straits Times uploaded the following article and accompanying video about Tan to its website[1]:

It Changed My Life: Long, hard road to tame former meth junkie's demons

The Greenhouse is a safe space for recovering drug addicts. Its director, Mr Alaric Tan, is no stranger to the clutches of addiction, an experience he now channels in helping those who seek the place out.

Former meth junkie starts centre to help drug abusers, alcoholics conquer their addictions

Wong Kim Hoh Senior Writer

Still waters run deep.

How true.

Alaric Tan looks bookish.

Soft-spoken and slight of build, with a high forehead and big protruding ears, he dresses neatly, wears Harry Potter glasses and articulates his thoughts cogently in immaculate English.

The placidity he exudes, however, belies a turbulent past.

Up until a year ago, the 40-year-old was a crystal meth junkie with an addiction so intense that he needed to consume 1mm of crystal meth or GHB (gamma hydroxybutyrate) every hour to function.

Also known as the date rape drug, GHB is a central nervous system depressant.

For nearly two decades, Mr Tan took drugs as a form of escape from a life scarred by abuse, depression and guilt - over his sexuality.

Today, he has tamed his demons and is hell-bent on helping other tortured souls battling their pain with drugs.

Last year, he founded The Greenhouse, a centre which offers various recovery programmes to help drug abusers and alcoholics clean up their act.

"Everything I went through has got me to this point where I can be of service to other people.

"I will devote the rest of my life to helping people who want to stop using drugs and find recovery," he says with quiet conviction.

He is the second of three sons from a Catholic family.

His late father was a senior civil servant. His mother, now retired, was a secretary.

Until the age of seven, he was left in the care of a babysitter, returning home only on weekends.

"I felt I didn't belong there, even though they took good care of me. I'd insist on eating porridge with soya sauce; I didn't want to impose on them. My foster family were very confused by my behaviour," he says.

"One of my first memories was holding my mother's hand, walking somewhere and asking her if I was her son."

When he was seven, he moved back home. Sadly, he did not find the stability he craved.

His parents were then going through a rocky patch in their marriage and were fighting all the time.

"I remember often hiding under the dining table and waiting for the shouting to stop. I was frightened all the time and always waiting for something bad to happen."

To make matters worse, he was physically and emotionally abused by a relative.

Declining to go into details, he says he never told his parents about it.

"I was afraid that if I said anything, my parents wouldn't want me anymore and would send me away," says the former student of Westlake Primary School.

Adolescence proved equally painful.

On the surface, he appeared to be doing well. He got his black belt in taekwondo, was president of the students' council at Maris Stella High School and attended many leadership camps.

"I was well liked and my father had high hopes for me. He wanted me to go into the civil service too," he says.

But Mr Tan harboured a secret: he was attracted to boys.

At 15, he took the bold step of coming out to his parents when they went out for dinner one night.

The episode unfolded like a scene from a movie.

"My mother started crying and a waitress who was walking past dropped a pot of hot tea on my father's lap. He was so stunned he didn't even feel the pain."

"Instead, they did something which they thought was in my best interest at that time. They tried to fix and change me."

Mr Tan was sent for conversion therapy with several therapists.

Conversion or reparative therapy is the practice of attempting to change a person's sexual orientation from gay or bisexual to heterosexual.

"I ended up seeing a therapist every week for 10 years," he says quietly. The sessions didn't work.

"Instead, I just felt that there was something dirty, shameful and broken about me which I needed to hide. If not, people wouldn't love and accept me.

"My father even told me not to use my full name in public. So I used Ric. I felt that I didn't even own my name."

Transcript:

"I think for those people who come and see me, they are actually very frightened they know that is illegal to use drugs in Singapore and they are trying to hide the fact that you're gay and ashamed of it all they could already be here shaggy posted so there's a lot of barriers to them coming forward to seek help and I think my job at first when they approached me is really just to be present with them without judgement and listen to them and when they feel heard and understood they trust me and that's when they open and tell me what's happening their lives but over the years I've noticed that my using patterns change someone of that mean meth and that's like a totally different ballgame a lot of people don't understand that meth is specific DFS heroin is not software by the time those arrestors using every day and also using almost every hour I couldn't function without drugs at all it wasn't until I got arrested in the year 2016 that the you know the six months of force incarceration showed me that I could stop using drugs and then I came out and tried different programs and I finally found recovery and so for me I'm doing this simply because I want to pay it forward I firmly believe that I'm able to help those who look for me for help because of the things I come true I wouldn't be able to otherwise I decided to rent a space instead hosting recovery programs cross very clear that the only way I was going to be able to continue staying clean is to have good programs around and I thought that I might might as well be a part of developing them rather than waiting for them to happen I see people in pain and every time I go through their pain with them again reminds me why they came they are the reason I stay clean otherwise I may relapse if not for these people are trying to help you."

Pink Dot video[]

On 17 June 2021, Pink Dot uploaded the following video featuring Tan and The Greenhouse to its YouTube channel:

Credits:

Director: Brenda Er
Director of Photography: Taylor Lau
Special Thanks: Alaric Tan, Shila Naidu, Adrian Tyler, Prince Tan, Marla Bendini, Kelvin Tan, Gravitate, AudioWise

Transcript:

"I'm 42 years old singaporean gay male from a very young age I felt like I was living a double life and I needed my parents to know who I am and when I told my parents my dad was in shock they were really hurt they were very disappointed and after a while they decided that oh let's help him to get better by having his sexual orientation change they sent me for conversion therapy where I was told that it's not okay to be me and I started developing like clinical depression I have attempted suicide before I tried overdosing on medications and after a few years of that I started using drugs I wanted other people who are in my position to have this opportunity to recover as well there's still a lot of stigma and discrimination out there so it felt like the right thing to do 25 years after the conversion therapy for the first time my life I told my mother what she did was not okay I told her that the people that she sent me to were not good people and that what they did to me caused a lot of harm and it took me so long just to speak up for myself that this thing that you did hurt me and my mom let me know that she's sorry and that she knows that i'm in a lot of pain my dad passed away quite a few years ago he didn't live long enough to see me recover but she worked very hard to support us which is why we could take this risk to invest in this place the caregivers group was here like mainly mothers of people struggling with drug use I told my mom during the celebrations look at what we built together don't you think that dad would be so happy I wanted her to feel like she was a part of not just mine but the family's healing I realized that i'm not a victim that i'm actually a trauma survivor i'm way more resilient than I ever imagined the work that I do is meaningful just seeing somebody who came to our center feeling very broken have the light come on in their eyes again we can love and accept and support each other even if we don't always understand you."

Interview by The Majurity Trust[]

Tan initially used his own savings to run The Greenhouse, which had only $10,000 left in the bank by 2021 – enough to operate the drug rehabilitation centre for another three months – when he found out about a new grant which would give him up to $150,000. Tan hesitated to apply for it because there was a catch – he would have to return the amount. However, he finally took a leap of faith which bore fruit when The Greenhouse became one of 17 charities picked to receive the Maybank Momentum Grant. Designed as a pay-it-forward model, the $3 million grant was launched in 2021 by Maybank Singapore and non-profit philanthropic organisation The Majurity Trust. The latter interviewed Tan shortly after he was awarded the grant:

Majurity Trust: Why did you start your organization? What got you started on doing what you do?

Tan: I personally struggled with drug use for many years. I wanted very much to stop but was not able to do it. This was even though I was fortunate enough to afford the best care. It made me realise that the reasons behind drug use aren't always well understood, and that peer support is essential to recovery. It was important to me as someone who managed to get better to create more safe and supportive environments for other to also get better. As someone who faced so more stigma and discrimination during my recovery journey, it was important to me to help ensure that competent and compassion care is always available to those who need it.

Majurity Trust: When you look back on your work so far, what touches you most or what compels you to want to do more?

Tan: I feel privileged to be a part of Singapore's addiction recovery landscape. Even though the work is mentally and emotionally demanding, I get to be a part of helping people reclaim the best lives that they were always meant to lead. There is no greater joy than watching someone learn to love and accept themselves again. To watch them realise that they are good people who want to get better and deserve to get better ' that addiction isn't something that happens because they are bad or weak, that addiction is not a moral failing. Recovery from drug and alcohol addiction is very much a spiritual process in that it requires us to believe in something greater than ourselves, greater than our pain. It requires us to create some kind of meaning or purpose from the often traumatic experiences that we’ve had. Those of us who recover go on to help others do the same. It is deeply meaningful as people who have been empowered to take charge of our narrative and rewrite the ending, to empower other to do the same. It is the gift that keeps on giving.

Majurity Trust: What was one set back you experienced? What do you say to your naysayers?

Tan: Coming out publicly with who I am and my struggle with drug use was a very difficult decision to make. As someone who values my privacy and does not enjoy attention, it has been quite challenging. Setting up and maintaining The Greenhouse also meant that I had to stop driving, move back in with my family and watch my spending I do miss these freedoms occasionally. But it is the unwillingness of people to understand the struggles of those who have been marginalised which is often hurtful and confusing to me. Strangers have sent me death threats and made comments on social media about how I deserve to hang. And even though I’ve learnt to take it in stride it was definitely hard to accept in the beginning. Now I just see it as a sign that more work needs to be done in de-stigmatising addiction and building awareness of recovery, and that is okay. More people are recovering from drug and alcohol addiction every day, and will be ready to carry the message of recovery.

Majurity Trust: What keeps you going?

Tan: I am fortunate to be part of a recovery community. A community of people who firmly believe in the importance of loving, accepting and supporting each other, even though this isn’t always easy. The understanding that I will always have a safe space to return to where I am loved, accepted and supported is very empowering. It helps me speak my truth and be at peace even in challenging situations where people may fundamentally disagree with who I am, what I’ve done or what I do. I don't need their approval to be okay. And I can love and accept them too, even if we disagree.

Majurity Trust: What is one highlight / experience / message you would like to share with the public? Why?

Tan: Addiction is often a maladaptive coping mechanism for pain. People in recovery from drug and alcohol addiction are good people who want to get better. With competent and compassionate care, anyone can recover. It is our duty as a society to help those who wish to stop using drugs and alcohol get better, regardless of our believe about addiction, or about them.

Majurity Trust: Who inspires you and why?

Tan: People in recovery from drug and alcohol addiction beat the odds and get better, despite overwhelming stigma, discrimination, fear and shame, everyday. Every one of our beneficiaries who step through our door wanting to get better is a hero that deserves to be celebrated. They keep me believing in the cause. They keep me going.

Majurity Trust: What does thriving mean to you?

Tan: Thriving means living the best life we can possibly live, with the cards that we've been dealt with. It means coming to terms with the experiences we've had, so we can take control of our narrative and write a better ending.

Featured on CNA's Extraordinary People[]

On Tuesday, 11 March 2025, Channel Newsasia aired an episode of its revived, beloved, iconic series from the 1990s entitled Extraordinary People[2] which featured Tan and The Greenhouse. The programme revealed that Tan, who had been grappling with drug addiction, was arrested in February 2016 and sent to the Drug Rehabilitation Centre for six months. He was currently in recovery from substance dependence and had been abstinent for eight years. While the period of abstinence helped him realise recovery was possible, the turning point came when he hosted a recovery meeting despite having relapsed. “I was paranoid,” the 46-year-old recalled. “I was feeling very ashamed of myself.” To his surprise, the participants reassured him that they believed he wanted to quit, that he was a good person and that he could break his 20-year addiction. “I felt so safe and happy for the first time in my life that I just never had the craving to use drugs again,” said Tan, fighting back tears.

That was in 2017, on 7 July, which became the official opening date of The Greenhouse, when he founded it the following year, in 2018. The establishment offered free and anonymous counselling, and its 12-step programme encourages clients to understand the cycle of addiction, with relapses regarded as part of the recovery process. “To come to our centre and receive care for free from strangers shows you that the world isn’t what you think it is,” Tan said. The Greenhouse had assisted over 400 clients in the previous six years and ran a counselling training programme that had even benefitted professionals from the Ministry of Social and Family Development (MSF). For some individuals, using past pain to heal and help others was the common thread in their lives. Tan, for example, saw himself as a wounded healer — someone who converted one’s past struggles into support for others.

With help from volunteers, The Greenhouse had seen a success rate of up to 80% for drug use recovery and abstinence, he said. The centre was also an early adopter of trauma-informed care, which focused on asking, “What happened to you?” rather than “What’s wrong with you?” “That then eliminates a lot of the shame that they feel,” said centre manager Shila Naidu, “because then they know that ‘I didn’t actively choose to do this harm to myself’. “With that knowledge, with new coping tools introduced, with a loving community around them, they could then make better decisions for their future.” The episode of Extraordinary People showed that at The Greenhouse, therapeutic approaches like art and horticulture were used to support healing and growth. These programmes did not just benefit its beneficiaries, they also created meaningful impact for corporate and community partners.

References[]

Acknowledgements[]

This article was written by Roy Tan.

Alaric Tan

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