Racial Enclaves: Inside Serangoon Gardens’ French Community

When it comes to immigration in Singapore, we often think of historical events involving the four main races. But immigration is ongoing, and populations are not static; they are always shifting, forming, and de-forming.

In particular, how does one recent immigrant community fare in its integration with the local population?

The estate of Serangoon Gardens has always housed an ethnically diverse community. Over the last few years, however, many of the Gardens’ residents have noticed a marked transformation in the neighbourhood’s demographic makeup.

Since 1967, a small French school had been running in Bukit Tinggi, Singapore, managed by an association of expatriate parents who wanted their children to receive a French education. With time, and generous funding from French businesses here, the school expanded until its campus could no longer accommodate the student demand.

Consequently, in 1999, Lycee Francais de Singapour (French School of Singapore) moved to its current premises near Serangoon Gardens.

Today, a small but significant French community has developed in the area surrounding the school.

Brian, a resident of Serangoon Gardens, has been living in the area for a decade. Over the years, he has noticed a steady flow of French people moving into the neighbourhood.

“They like to stay around the French school,” explains Brian, “It’s just for convenience, the estate … doesn’t really matter.”

This convenience doesn’t come cheap. Serangoon Gardens is a landed property estate; a quick search online shows that houses in the area can cost anywhere between S$3m to S$10m. Accordingly, the influx of wealthy foreign residents has resulted in some interesting shops popping up around the area to cater to them.

Serangoon Gardens’ modest mall, MyVillage, hosts a French Patisserie (i.e. fancy bakery/restaraunt)—a notable factoid, given that the store’s other outlets are in upmarket city-centre locations. There’s also a French grocery near the central roundabout of the Gardens, which is apparently one of the few places in Singapore to procure genuine French cheeses.

Morgane is one of the co-founders of the grocery store, called La Petite Boutique. Hailing from France, she spent fifteen years working in the F&B industry in Singapore before setting up this small grocery in Serangoon Gardens.

Formerly a durian shop, the lot now houses a collection of cheeses, wines, and other preserved goods imported directly from France.

“This place, it’s a little piece of France,” Morgane says, “The French school, Australian school are nearby, and even the local crowd here are people used to travel; foodies, you know?”

Morgane herself has been living in the neighbourhood since she set up shop.

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Far from the bustling city or any MRT stations, mostly populated by small shops and restaurants, Morgane finds the ‘small village’ environment of Serangoon Gardens homely and pleasant. But how are the French residents integrating with the local population?

Although Brian’s neighbours are French, he hardly knows them.

“We’re not on bad terms, but they don’t speak a lot of English, so they normally stick to their own people—not interacting with any locals.”

“It would be nice,” adds Brian, in reference to having more interaction with his French neighbours, “But I don’t really blame them. English is their second language. [For instance], if everybody around me spoke Malay, it would be hard for me as well.”

Theresa, who has lived in Serangoon Gardens since the ’60s, feels that the neighbourhood’s environment has changed since her childhood:

“In the past, my family and I were friends with all the families along the street we lived in … [But] the French like to keep to themselves, and don’t normally speak to their neighbours.”

Morgane explains in France, English is taught in schools as a second language; all television programmes are dubbed in French. As a result, many French people rarely encounter foreign languages.

“Our country is really big,” she says, “One thousand kilometres, by one thousand … We don’t really need to speak a foreign language.”

“I know that some of my customers, they speak [only] a little bit of English, and they know how to communicate on a basic level, but it can be a bit more difficult if you really want to know your neighbours, make new friends.”

Morgane is herself comfortable conversing in both English and French.

I ask her if the Singaporean neighbours are ever hostile over the lack of communicability.

“Well, it’s always the same: If you don’t know the person, how to communicate … Sometimes when French people try to speak, they know [only a] few words. If you want to be polite, or ask things in a certain way, going straight to the point could be felt—maybe sometimes—a bit rude. But I don’t think people really have that hostile kind of feeling.”

Interestingly, however, Theresa and Brian both feel that the French residents have made the neighbourhood a better place through their mere presence, even without integrating that much into the local community.

“It’s normal to see an entire French family cycling down the road,” says Theresa, “Without any cars blaring their horns or cursing at them … This wouldn’t be tolerated anywhere else in Singapore.”

This reminds Theresa of her own childhood, when she and her friends would play badminton or cycle on the road without fear of being run down—something that faded with time, but returned with the new French residents.

While they don’t interact much, she appreciates how they make the neighbourhood feel “more lively and easy-going”.

“They give this neighbourhood a more relaxed atmosphere,” says Brian.

“Singapore is such a busy country, with our hectic lifestyles. The French know how to have a work-life balance—it kind of rubs off on the rest of us. Look, like right behind you,” he gestures, pointing to a family wheeling their bicycles along the pavement.

Often, Brian has observed how French residents will cycle, go to recreational spaces, or visit eateries in the neighbourhood as a family. He adds that they frequently hold house parties, inviting other French families in the neighbourhood—but no locals.

“I wouldn’t want to go anyway,” he laughs, “Because I can hear them from my house; they’re just speaking their own language. I wouldn’t understand a thing.”

Morgane guesses that slightly fewer French people are staying in the neighbourhood compared to two years ago; many young people prefer to live somewhere with more buzz, she reckons. For families, however, having easy access to the French school nearby is still a strong motivator to move to the Gardens.

Despite the insular nature of the French community, the residents don’t see their presence as a bad thing. Ironically, to some old hands, the expatriates are helping to return the neighbourhood to its roots.

For the rest of us, the French community in Serangoon Gardens tells an interesting tale about immigration. We’ve been conditioned to believe that immigration results in one of two scenarios: confluence or conflict; merging, or distancing.

But Serangoon Gardens is neither. No grand narrative of cultural union, nor cautionary tale of ethnic chaos. Just a peaceful coexistence; one that still, in its own subtle way, shapes and improves the neighbourhood.

“Overall, Serangoon Gardens has always felt like home to me, despite the influx of French people,” says Theresa, “I’m glad that the French have brought a little bit of that ‘kampong’ culture back to us.”

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