Susan JessicaAda Wong. The name alone brings up so many images: that red dress, the sleek boots, the mysterious woman who can get out of anything. For years, I admired her—hell, I worshipped her. If only I could be as calm, as collected, as cunning. I had this whole idea that I could embody Ada Wong, walk through life like her—cool, suave, always three steps ahead.
Spoiler alert: I ended up face-first in a dumpster of bad decisions, way off course from my original “Ada Wong” fantasy.
The First Encounter: Falling For Her Look
It all started with her iconic red dress in Resident Evil 4. You know the one. The dress that somehow looks chic while she’s out there dodging zombies and treacherous mercenaries. I figured, “Easy, I’ll get the outfit, walk around with the same confidence, and BAM—I’m Ada Wong.”
So, I went full cosplay. Red dress. Black boots. Wig. The whole nine yards. Except, the first thing I learned was that there’s a big difference between looking like Ada Wong and being Ada Wong.
I felt like a walking costume malfunction. I tripped over those damn boots, and the wig kept slipping. The worst part? I couldn’t even walk into a room without feeling like I was playing dress-up at a Halloween party.
It didn’t help that I had no idea how Ada carried herself in all those crazy situations. She didn’t just “look cool.” She lived cool. You can’t buy that in a costume shop.
Lesson learned? You can look like Ada Wong, but you’re not gonna be her by wearing her red dress. Fashion doesn’t magically infuse you with confidence (or combat skills).
Second Attempt: Channeling Her Confidence (With a Side of Panic)
Okay, so the whole look thing didn’t work. No biggie. I decided to go for something deeper—her confidence. Ada wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, move with purpose, and make bold decisions under pressure. That was something I thought I could totally get behind.
I tried to be more assertive at work—shouting down that one guy in meetings who wouldn’t stop talking about crypto (still no idea what it is). I pushed myself to make snap decisions, to own every room I walked into.
Yeah. So, here’s where it all started to unravel:
- Overconfidence. I was like, “I can do anything Ada Wong does, right?” Nope. I overestimated myself a lot. Like, a whole lot. I made decisions without thinking them through, and, surprise surprise, those decisions came back to bite me faster than I could say “game over.”
- I also kinda started isolating myself. Ada was this lone wolf. She didn’t need anyone, right? Well, turns out, trying to do everything alone doesn’t make you look like a badass. It just makes you tired. And lonely.
Fast forward to me, sitting in my kitchen at 2 a.m., eating cold pizza, wondering how in the hell I’d gotten here. Spoiler: Ada Wong wasn’t really an island unto herself—she was just really good at working within her world.
Third Attempt: Ada Wong’s Resourcefulness—Where Everything Went Wrong
So, after failing in the looks department and failing even harder in the confidence department, I decided to tackle her resourcefulness. Ada could make weapons out of practically nothing. Me? I had a broken stapler and a pair of scissors. But I had hope, y’all. I had hope.
I tried applying this to my daily life—whether it was fixing stuff at home or coming up with “creative” solutions at work. But it didn’t go as planned. At all.
One time, I was trying to “repurpose” an old broomstick into a garden trellis. You know, Ada would’ve fashioned a perfect, functional trellis with her bare hands and a bit of wire. Me? I nearly gave myself a concussion with the damn broomstick. It fell on my head three times before I just threw it in the corner and ordered a proper one off Amazon. Sometimes, resourcefulness is just buying things online instead of trying to MacGyver your way through life.
Here’s the thing: Ada’s resourcefulness was based on experience. She knew what worked and what didn’t. She knew how to use her environment. I, on the other hand, had no clue. My “resourceful” attempts usually ended with me Googling “how to fix a broken broomstick” or “how to make a trellis out of duct tape.”
You need nitrogen-rich soil—wait, no, was it potassium? Let me Google that again…
Reality Check: The Dangers of Emulating a Fictional Character
Okay, let’s take a step back here. All this time, I had been trying to be like Ada Wong, thinking her coolness, her calm, her cunning would somehow rub off on me. I was completely missing the point.
Ada is a fictional character. She’s designed to be an idealized version of a woman who can fight off monsters and manipulate dangerous situations. Trying to become her wasn’t just unrealistic—it was making me forget who I was. I was trying to copy a character that had the luxury of being written by someone else.
And the worst part? I wasn’t Ada. I’m me. And I had to start remembering that.
Ada Wong’s Real Strength: The One I Missed
I mean, let’s be real—Ada had flaws. She wasn’t perfect. She had moral ambiguity that made her more human, more relatable. But I kept looking at her like she was this perfect model, which was the real mistake. I tried to strip myself of my own identity to wear someone else’s.
Ada’s power came from knowing who she was. She didn’t try to be something else; she owned what she was, imperfections and all. The lesson here? Perfection is overrated. The best thing I could’ve done was embrace my own messy, imperfect self.
The “Real” Lesson: I Didn’t Need Ada Wong, I Needed Me
Okay, here’s the kicker. All these attempts at copying Ada Wong were just distractions from the fact that I had no idea who I was or what I really needed. I didn’t need to be some badass spy chick. I needed to stop trying to be someone I wasn’t.
I’m still not Ada Wong. (Spoiler alert: No one is.) But I’ve learned that I don’t have to be her to be strong, confident, or capable. I can just be me—and that’s enough. Ada’s legacy? It’s not about trying to copy her, but about learning from her adaptability, her confidence, and yes, her imperfections.
I guess that’s the real takeaway: Ada Wong might be an icon, but the real power lies in embracing your own story. Even if that story includes failing miserably at cosplay, overconfidence, and accidentally turning your broomstick into a weapon of mass destruction.
Richard Joseph
