The idea of ‘women in tech’ used to be groundbreaking, but these days it’s more about what you do with it after reaching those rooms of power. With the world in the midst of an uncharted age of AI, it’s more vital than ever that advancements in tech are bridged with human good. That’s what drives Sapna Chadha, Google’s vice-president of Southeast Asia and South Asia Frontier at Google since 2023. In this role, Chadha looks after all the tech giant’s consumer and business products in over 10 markets, with a particular passion for building—in this very moment when change is happening—a digital future for the region that is holistic, equitable and diverse.

⁠What drives you as a changemaker?

I’ve always been driven by the desire to break barriers and show Singaporeans, and the world, that there are no limits to what we can achieve. A lot of that comes from a personal place. I lost my father Eric in 2016 and I made a promise when he passed that I would get to the Olympics. I knew he was there with me, watching over me every step of the way. That promise never left me. It became the fire behind everything.

But it’s bigger than just my own journey now. I co-founded BT Development with my fellow Olympian Kiria Tikanah because we felt we didn’t have the kind of resources or seniors to look up to growing up—we didn’t know who to reach out to when we were younger. We wanted to build something that didn’t exist for us. It’s about creating an environment for anyone to come and seek guidance, and tap into the knowledge that we have. Changemaking, to me, means using everything I’ve been through to make the road a little easier for the next person.

Congratulations on your SEA Games gold medals! How have those wins helped inspire your continued pursuit of excellence?

Honestly, this most recent one means more to me than people might expect. These past few months have been pretty taxing. I had to take a break, had to rethink things. I knew I wasn’t done yet, I still have potential and drive. I’m happy I managed to find that within me.

The win in the semi-final especially, coming back from 8-14 down, tested everything I had, including my mental strength and tenacity. I’m decent at coming back, but doing it from 8-14 was something else. It was just one point at a time. I knew I had the skills to win, but it was nerve-racking because if I made one mistake, I lose the bout. I don’t know (how I did it, but) I flipped a switch and made it work.

This isn’t just another medal. It’s a reminder of why I started, why I stayed and why I can keep going. And going back to when it all began—winning gold in 2017 felt like a full-circle moment. I still remember being a volunteer at the 2015 SEA Games in Singapore. All my dedication and hard work had paid off and it inspired me to keep pushing forward. Hearing the national anthem always fills me with pride and honour.

What is the most difficult (and most impressive) aspect of fencing that might convince a newcomer to watch it?

I always say that fencing is akin to playing chess. It demands a significant amount of mental energy, stamina and physical strength. You must understand yourself, anticipate your opponent’s moves and possess both agility and quick thinking to make split-second decisions. But I think the best way to help a newcomer appreciate it is to break down what they’re watching because so much happens in a fraction of a second that it can look like controlled chaos at first.

In my weapon, the foil, a touch only counts if the tip of the blade strikes the opponent’s torso, from the shoulders to the groin, front and back. The arms, neck, head and legs are all off-target. So already, there’s enormous precision involved. But what makes it even more layered is something called ‘right of way’. When both fencers land a hit at the same time, it rests on the referee to decide who had right of way, essentially, who owned the attack. The defending fencer can take back right of way by parrying, deflecting the blade, and immediately counter-attacking with what’s called a riposte. That whole exchange—attack, parry, riposte—can happen in under a second and completely shifts who scores the point.

One tip I’d give any first-time spectator is to watch the referee’s hand signals. Whenever a hit is made, the referee raises their hand on the side of the fencer being awarded the point. That alone will help you follow the momentum of a bout even before you understand every rule.

What I find most beautiful, and what I hope newcomers come to appreciate, is the deception. At times, a fencer will make a false attack to see how their opponent reacts, then use that information to land the real one. You’re reading your opponent the entire time, setting traps, baiting reactions. While many fencers may possess similar technical skills, it is mental fortitude and tenacity that often make the difference between winning a medal and facing defeat. When you understand that, a bout stops looking like two people poking at each other and starts looking like a very fast, very physical game of chess.

What’s the relationship like between your passion for fencing and your role as Singapore’s representative? Does the latter ever make your love for the former difficult?

It’s something I’ve had to actively work through. My passion for fencing has grown immensely over the last 19 years. I’ve learnt to grow both mentally and physically with every competition and to not take things for granted. We only have such a short lifespan as high-performance athletes, so I try to make the most out of my journey at every competitive opportunity.

But I’ll be honest. The pressure of carrying the national flag can weigh on you in ways that quietly chip away at your love for the sport. After Paris, I hit a wall. I had doubts about whether I could measure up to the competition. I took a short break from fencing entirely, choosing not to touch my weapons, and instead focused on rest, recovery and life beyond the sport. That time away helped me realise I still have more to give. I wasn’t done with this journey.

Coming back, I shifted my mindset completely. I focused on having fun and not putting too much pressure on myself. That’s what the SEA Games gold was built on, rediscovering the joy. Representing Singapore on a global stage is an incredible honour and a significant responsibility, and I hold that close. But I’ve learnt that I fence best when I’m doing it for love first, and for the flag second. The two don’t have to be in tension, but it takes real self-awareness to keep them in balance.

⁠⁠Looking forward, what change are you most excited to see take place in the fencing world and how can we get there?

Two things. The first is growing the sport here at home, from the ground up. I want to inspire the next generation of fencers and contribute to the growth of the sport in my country. I also hope to use my platform to advocate for the importance of mental health and resilience in sports, helping athletes at all levels understand the value of mental well-being in achieving their full potential. That’s deeply personal to me given everything I’ve been through.

The second is the mentorship infrastructure. I want to be a good leader to my younger teammates, help them calm down and be someone they can lean on. We also have plans to bring fencers from other countries to Singapore through BT Development, raising the level of exposure and sparring quality for young Singaporean athletes who don’t yet have the access I was fortunate to get at Notre Dame.

To aspiring Singaporean fencers: keep dreaming, keep believing and know that nothing’s impossible. Don’t compare yourself to anyone, keep your head down and just keep working, you will get there. That’s the change I want to see and that’s exactly how we get there.