Credit: IG/@joanna._.tsy
Key Takeaways
Moving from Hong Kong to Taiwan wasn't about waiting for a spot — it was about seeing how far she could go.
Joanna Tam (Tam Siu-yee) didn't go to Taiwan to audition because she had mapped out a dream-chasing route in advance.
She had just graduated from university back then — tutoring on one hand, teaching kids to dance on the other. Her life wasn't completely directionless, but she knew clearly: it didn't quite feel like the life she really wanted. She didn't want to settle into 9-to-5 too soon, and didn't want to file away a dream she had carried since childhood into the drawer of 'someday later.'
That dream was a girl-group dream.
She had always loved dancing — even brushed against cheerleading at her school sports day as a kid. But growing up, so many things had to come before dreams: study first, get into university first, set the family at ease first. Over time, wanting to stand on a stage became a thought she rarely spoke aloud, but never really put down.
During university, she went to Taiwan almost twice a year. She loved the warmth of the people there, and that pace of living — a little slower, a little warmer than Hong Kong. Taiwan wasn't a place that suddenly appeared in her life; it was somewhere she had long loved and always wanted to be closer to.
Then one day, audition info for Cosmos Cheer popped up on Threads. Of course she didn't dare sign up the second she saw it. She had been lost during that period — she had even gone to a fortune teller to hear which direction might suit her. The reading said she was suited to develop in Taiwan.
It sounds a bit mystical, but many people's life turning points don't arrive when they're fully ready. More often, it's a few coincidences pushed right in front of them: the blankness of just having graduated, the resistance to walking into 9-to-5, the girl-group dream she had been holding inside, her fondness for Taiwan, and that audition that popped up on Threads.
Everything added up, as if asking her one question: how about — really trying, this time?
So she went to Taiwan.
After actually stepping onto the stage, reality came quickly.
Very early into the audition show, Joanna was eliminated. What was most complicated in that moment wasn't just 'I'm not good enough.' For a girl who moved from Hong Kong to Taiwan, it came with another layer of feeling: she felt she had let people down.
No one wrote 'Hong Kong Representative' on her. No one literally put all of Hong Kong on her shoulders. But when you step out, when others know you're from Hong Kong, when the people around you discuss Hong Kong films and Hong Kong food with you, you realize you're not just Joanna — you're also a reflection of a place.
So when she was eliminated early, it didn't just feel like losing one match. She asked herself whether she had let some people down; she joked that maybe not many Hong Kong people were watching the show anyway. But the loss in that moment was real. The most painful part wasn't losing once. It was starting to doubt, afterward, whether you should have been standing there at all.
But she didn't leave. She stayed in Taiwan, kept practicing expressions, stage presence, learning to be remembered on an unfamiliar stage.
Before joining Cosmos Cheer, Tam made group YouTube content. She knew well: for a group to look good, it's not just that everyone is pretty or hard-working — it's that there must be authenticity between them, role assignments, interactions, and a sense for the audience that 'put these people together and there's chemistry.'
The world of YouTube can be slow. Audiences can get to know you video by video, gradually seeing your personality, reactions, and place. But cheerleading and auditions are another rhythm. There isn't much time for you to be slowly understood. The moment you step on stage, you're being compared. Whether your dance is steady, whether your expression looks natural, whether you have camera presence, whether there's a moment that lodges in memory — these are often judged in seconds. So she began seriously researching expression management.
Many people think expression management is just smiling a bit sweeter or winking at the camera. But for Joanna, it's more like a stage language. On stage, audiences might only see you for a few seconds. In those seconds, you have to make people feel that you have energy, confidence, a memorable point — even make them want to look at you again.
She watches K-pop idol stages and fancams, studying how they manage gaze, smile, and pause in front of the camera, and practices in front of a mirror. Too forceful is awkward; too subtle goes unnoticed. Just right is the hardest. The hardest songs to handle are the ones that need her to 'smile with great hope.'
She jokes that she's not usually someone whose smile carries a lot of hope, so for songs that require dancing full of hope, she spends more time figuring out: how exactly should she smile to make people feel there's light?
People shine not because they're born radiant, but because someone is willing to look back at themselves again and again, grinding each insufficient part into a personal signature.
At first, Joanna didn't join because she especially loved cheering culture. She admits more honestly that she went into the audition with a girl-group dream. She wanted to sing, to dance, to be on stage, to find out if she had a chance to become someone seen.
But after she actually joined Cosmos Cheer, she gradually realized: cheering isn't just performers on stage entertaining the audience. When the audience shouts cheers with them, cheers along with them, pushes the atmosphere higher together — that feeling isn't one-directional. They cheer on the audience from the stage, and the audience returns the energy back to them.
It turns out cheering isn't just supporting one person. Most of the time, it's everyone in the same space reminding each other: you're not alone.
The loneliest part of chasing dreams is often not knowing if anyone is watching.
But Joanna gradually realized: some support doesn't need to be loud. Her former YouTube partners Aiden and ChunKit don't necessarily say emotional things, but they quietly like her posts. Not many words, but they never left.
Her fans, too. At her first Fans Meeting, some fans lined up at 6 a.m. just to sit a little closer. Some elementary school kids without much money spent their remaining savings to buy their merchandise.
She says she was among the eliminated-early contestants, so at first she worried no one would like her. Precisely because of that, every fan still supporting her now feels especially precious.
People don't survive on one big piece of encouragement, but on small signals: a like, an 'I see you,' someone still willing to watch you walk forward.
But the most realistic part of chasing dreams isn't just practice.
What you see on social media is the stage, photos, smiles, comments. But what actually supports someone living abroad is a lot of practical things. For someone still finding her way in another place, every decision to stay a bit longer means recalculating.
Family's worry is another matter. At first, they weren't very supportive; even now, they still worry, hoping there's always a way back behind her. Family worry isn't necessarily opposition; sometimes it's just fear that you'll struggle too much, get hurt, or work for years without seeing results.
But for someone chasing a dream, this worry can also become pressure. You understand where they're coming from, but you don't want to give in too early; you know reality is hard, but you really want to try once more.
Tam isn't treating Taiwan as a short trial. She's giving herself five years. If she can't make something happen in five years, she'll return to Hong Kong.
What she wants to do isn't just cheerleading. She hopes Cosmos Cheer can perform at Taipei Arena one day; she hopes to have a regular variety or hosting show; she wants to do interviews, try drama, and release a funky-meets-street-dance single.
These ideas relate to her studying media at university. She thinks doing interviews isn't just chatting — it's a way to truly convey what a person wants to express to the audience.
So what she wants isn't just to 'go viral.' She wants to be seen, and also to have the ability to bring out others' stories; she wants to shine on stage, and one day become someone with real substance on a show.
What's most moving about Joanna isn't that she has already succeeded — it's that she hasn't yet, but still chooses to continue.
She has been eliminated, felt lost, felt back to zero. What she faces is living pressure, stage anxiety, the unease of comparing to others, the loneliness of starting over alone abroad. But she hasn't used these as reasons to exit.
If time is limited, how far can she go in these years? If she hasn't been seen by many, can she practice a bit more? If this isn't her birthplace, can it one day become her stage?
Not every dream gets applauded from the start; not every effort gets understood from the start; not every stage is ready for you from the start.
Joanna hasn't reached the place she wants to be. But she's using her own pace, letting this once-unfamiliar stage slowly remember her name.
All content and images in this article are published with the interviewee's prior authorization.
