In the neon glow of Singapore’s office towers, an undercurrent of silence stretches deeper than just the hum of air-conditioners and the tapping of keyboards. It is the quiet expectation that even when you are unwell, you show up. A recent post on the r/askSingapore subreddit, highlighted by The Independent, captured this with startling clarity: a woman noted that many of her male colleagues rarely take medical leave—even when visibly ill—and asked whether taking an MC (medical certificate) might somehow be seen as “less masculine” in Singapore. This perception adds another dimension to that well-worn Singaporean mantra: “work hard, play hard” (though in reality, often “work hard, rest little”). But beneath the mantra lies a tangle of cultural, institutional and gendered pressures. It is one thing to have a legal entitlement to up to 14 days of outpatient sick leave and up to 60 days of hospitalisation leave per year under the Employment Act. It is quite another to feel that by exercising that entitlement, you may be failing to project the image of the irrepressible, ever-on-duty worker.
The Masculinity of Presence
In Singapore’s highly competitive work culture—where long hours are the norm and deference to seniority and hierarchy still matter—being physically present, even when unwell, becomes a signal of commitment. The subreddit poster observed that a male colleague “would take a maximum of two days” for flu symptoms and come back to work still coughing, rather than take proper rest. The logic: if you are in pain, you soldier on. If you fall, you rise. If you take leave, you risk being seen as weak. That perception links with global phenomena of “presenteeism”: showing up while unwell, often with reduced productivity, because the social or workplace cost of absence feels higher than the cost of attending. In Singapore’s context, this is underwritten by both peer norms (“everyone else is here”) and organisational unwritten codes (“the boss stays late, so should you”). It is perhaps also wrapped up in gendered expectations. Men may feel an extra burden to display invulnerability, to live up to an image of stoicism. The notion that taking an MC is “less masculine” may sound extreme, but it signals that for some, absence may in practice feel like a badge of weakness.
The Gendered Layer of Work Ethic
Yet gender plays out in more complex ways than simply “men don’t take MCs”. Data from elsewhere suggests that women tend to take more sick leave, and for longer durations. A 2024 study of sickness absence across diagnostic categories found women had longer average absence durations than men across almost all types. While this data is not Singapore-specific, it resonates with broader gendered patterns: women carry a heavier load of unpaid domestic labour; they may have more constraints in balancing family and work; they are more exposed to certain chronic health burdens; and they may recover more slowly from some conditions. In Singapore, a local study on married Chinese employees found gender differences in perceived work and family demands, and life stress. The result: the dual demands of work and home may place differential pressures on women. Thus even as men feel the pressure to attend work while sick, women may face a double bind: attend and manage household work, or absent themselves and risk being judged uncommitted. In a deeply performance-oriented culture, the stakes are high. Taking MCs too liberally may be frowned upon, equated with lagging commitment. Employers may—whether openly or implicitly—penalise those whose absence record is less stellar. News commentary urges employees not to feel guilty for taking MCs, cautioning employers that linking MCs to performance evaluations is harmful. But cultural inertia remains.
What’s at Stake?
The cost of presenteeism and of absenteeism plays out at both individual and organisational levels. Workers who push themselves while sick may delay recovery, risk infecting others, and suffer burnout. On the organisational side, reduced productivity, higher turnover, and hidden health costs accumulate. Moreover, the gender dimension complicates any straightforward policy fix: a one-size-fits-all sick-leave culture may unintentionally reinforce gender inequities.
Toward a More Balanced Culture
Singapore’s legal entitlements are relatively clear. But culture moves slower than law. Organisations could do more: actively encourage rest for illness, normalise taking MCs (without stigma), offer flexible returns to work (especially for longer illness), and ensure that performance evaluations do not penalise legitimate leave. As one workplace advisor noted, productivity improves when employees use the healthcare system rather than fight it. From a gender lens, policies should also attend to the additional pressures on women—domestic load, caregiving duties, and greater exposure to chronic conditions—and ensure sick-leave entitlements and return-to-work accommodations are sensitive to these realities. Finally, workers themselves might reflect: involuntarily pushing through sickness may win short-term recognition but erodes resilience in the long run. In a society where the hard-working ideal is celebrated, we should ask: does the shining present-day presence cost us tomorrow’s health, or tomorrow’s parity?
The anecdote of male colleagues shunning MCs opens a window into a broader dynamic: the interplay of Singapore’s high-pressure work ethic, the unspoken expectations around presence, and the gendered overlay that shapes how absence is experienced. In a workplace culture that prizes showing up, the true courage may lie in knowing when to take leave—and when to reconceive strength not as “powering through” but as stepping aside to rest, recover and return. In doing so, the city-state might inch closer to a healthier, more equitable workplace future.