By Wilson Tan
“Sometimes, you need to take a step back in order to move forward.”
That line echoed in my mind long after my conversation with Drea, a Perth-based musician of Nigerian-Jamaican descent who was born in Singapore. A Top Eight finalist on Australian Idol 2024, Drea has opened for international acts like Billy Ocean and Six60, while filling out The Ellington with her soulful blend of R&B, gospel, and hip-hop.
On paper, her journey reads like a dream come true.
But behind the mic and beyond the spotlight is an inspiring story — one about percaya diri, the Indonesian phrase for believing in oneself. It’s a story of self-trust, missteps, and reclaiming control — one that made me rethink everything I thought I knew about success, hustle, and confidence.
Stepping back as an act of self-belief
After Australian Idol, Drea felt a sense of emotional lowness.
“The industry wasn’t what it looked like from the outside,” she admits. “There was this pressure to fit into a mould I never agreed to.” She pressed pause on music in 2024 — not to quit, but to reassess her priorities and reconnect with why she started in the first place. In an age where we are all told to push harder, stepping back felt like a radical act of belief in herself.
As someone juggling music production, DJing, and writing — all while in uni — I saw my burnout reflected in hers. For months, I had been running on a tightly scheduled routine: mornings in the studio, afternoons writing, nights for everything else, such as trying to secure jobs and playing gigs. I was grinding non-stop. But Drea’s words reminded me: milestones don’t guarantee happiness, and grinding doesn’t necessarily mean growth.
Saying no even when it is hard
Drea once underquoted herself for a gig and spent quite some time trying to renegotiate.
“If someone doesn’t value you, walk away,” she declares.
So now, I am led to ask better questions that help me make more intentional, self-respecting choices that protect my worth as an artist:
Is this gig worth my energy and time?
Do I feel respected in this interaction?
Am I saying yes to the opportunity because it aligns with my values, or because I am scared of missing out?
Creating from a place of authenticity, not pressure
Drea doesn’t follow a rigid studio schedule. When inspiration strikes, she writes freely about self-discovery and resilience.
“If TikTok shuts down today,” she remarks, “people will probably not remember you.”
That line hit me hard. It made me realise that percaya diri — self-belief — means flowing with life’s ups and downs and using those experiences to courageously create impactful work, while also having fun in the process.
As an emerging artist, I often placed slightly more importance on algorithmic success than creating something meaningful. But I am grateful to say I am trying to shift that focus. I now find joy in playing DJ sets that reflect not just the crowd’s energy, but also my own taste, and in telling stories — like this one — that are rooted in real-life, inspiring experiences rather than trending topics.
Believing in yourself doesn’t need to be done alone
Ironically, I realised that the more I was willing to learn from others, the more I began to trust my own abilities. Drea mentioned to me the importance of shadowing.
“I spent two years doing free backing vocals for a band while also learning other soft skills like managing a band and how to book gigs,” she says. “These are soft skills I still put into practice today.”
I was also reminded of the value of mimicry, even though some might dismiss it as unoriginal or inauthentic. Kygo discovered his tropical house sound by remixing other songs. Gaga modelled herself after Madonna. Even The Beatles began by emulating American rockers. Copying isn’t about lacking originality — it is about learning the language before writing your own story.
Maybe believing in yourself doesn’t mean doing it all alone. Maybe it means knowing when to listen, when to adapt, when to break the rules, and when to build your own.
Drea’s journey — and perhaps mine, or some of ours — isn’t linear. There are pauses. Pivots. But through it all, we keep showing up. We try. We fail. We recalibrate.
That, to me, is what percaya diri looks like. Not confidence without doubt — but courage despite it.