What It Really Means To Be A Malaysian: An Introspective Piece
Disclaimer: This article is written based on the opinion of the author and does not in any way reflect the view of the organisation.
Disclaimer: This article is written based on the opinion of the author and does not in any way reflect the view of the organisation.
The worst thing about being part of a minority group? People aren’t really interested in knowing who you are — that is unless you accomplish something worthy of their attention.
When asked, ‘what does it mean to be Malaysian?’, I genuinely do not know how to answer the question. Is it the multitude of rich cultures? I’m a minority, people barely even know what I celebrate. The food, perhaps? Sure, but is being Malaysian simply just all about food? The education system then? Oh, yes how can we possibly ignore the glaring bias that is the quota system which favours just one particular race! The government– the kleptocratic government, I mean. We live in a country where the former prime minister who committed fraudulence got convicted only after years of committing the act.
So, what does it truly mean to be born in this country?
As you can probably tell by now, this isn’t one of those articles that extols the virtues of Malaysia or lists all the more reasons to be proud of being a Malaysian. And while everyone continues to ignore this cruel, unvarnished truth in the vain belief that, despite the current hardship, Malaysia will one day return to its glory days — but I am here to deliver the truth.
It is undeniable that Malaysia has merits. Though the weather is something most of us complain about, it is home to some of the most stunning and gorgeous locations on earth. The abundance of nature that Malaysia has been gifted with cannot be justified by the existence of Perhentian, Redang, Langkawi, Sipadan, and many other islands that currently escape my memory. We are also renowned for having world-famous skyscrapers that are comparable to the tallest buildings in the world. Because of the many diverse languages used in Malaysia, most Malaysians are at least bilingual and usually trilingual. All Malaysians are united by their shared love of food, festivities, and mutual dislike for the current government.
Just a few days ago, maybe two or three days before Merdeka Day, I heard the roaring sounds of fighter jets and army choppers above my condo as they practised for the parade, and I was taken back to the time I first started high school. Because my school was within the vicinity of Merdeka Square, every year as August approached, we got front-row seats to behind-the-scenes of what goes on during the Merdeka parade. We were so fascinated by it all that I still vividly remember the walk up the hill to my school being crowded with horses rode by the army and police officials. It was always a joyous occasion that everyone — no matter race, religion, colour or size — came together and celebrated.
But is the extent of patriotism limited to a single day, where everyone dons a mask for the show? Students sing at the top of their lungs to the national anthem and wave their flags high and proud. And once it’s over, we go back to living in the very country that denies us the equal right to survival.
I remember getting flustered at my phone because refreshing the page almost 100 times didn’t help me move on to next page to secure a vaccine dose for my parents (let alone me) who were at high risk of getting covid. I remember being denied leadership roles even though I was the most qualified candidate in the room just because I didn’t wear a hijab even. I remember my friend calling me at 12am crying that she didn’t get into the university she applied for with her outstanding results, but her friend who got lower-than-average results had been accepted into all three universities she applied for. I remember the time my friends would get chosen to represent the school, and I would watch from the sidelines even though I was better than them at playing netball. I remember how my parents worked extra hard just to earn more so they can pay the mortgage for our house, whilst our neighbours lived comfortably because they got a pretty good deal from buying the Bumi lot.
I remember my my distant relatives coming over for dinner somedays and they would share their experience of getting rejected from job offers because they weren’t Mandarin speakers. I remember watching the Olympics with my dad and heard him sighing in disappointment over how many people with real talent and skill were denied the opportunity to represent the country because they didn’t have powerful connections. I remember the times when all my friends would sit around and discuss future plans, and none on them involved living in Malaysia forever. I remember the days when my cousins visited from overseas and how their parents would urge my parents to quickly migrate because “there is no future for us here in Malaysia.”
I remember it all painfully.
And that is just my story, though. There are many others with similar stories who either have been lucky enough to leave or have been less fortunate to still be living here, having to endure the blatant prejudice and bias because this country has failed them. The media has painted Malaysia as this beautiful, harmonious and peaceful country to the whole world. However, lately, the truth is beginning to surface.
Still, not all hope is lost. There will never be a better representation of Malaysia than what we saw last December at Gurdwara Sahib Petaling Jaya during the flood, when the ‘others’ (the Punjabis) brought together Malays, Chinese, Indians, and all other races under one roof, putting aside all racial prejudices to aid those in need.
If you weren’t there physically helping out, then you must’ve seen in on social media platforms or perhaps the news! As early as 8am, people from all around the Klang Valley and even those from further away arrived to begin preparing meals that would be given to those who lived in flood-affected areas. When they couldn’t help out physically, many would donate money or items that were needed by those affected such as clothes, blankets, baby milk, sanitary pads, toiletries, baby pampers and many more! It certainly was a sight for sore eyes. I was extremely fortunate to be able to physically assist in the food preparation where I met so many people from various backgrounds who did not care that it was a Sikh temple or that they had to cover their heads or take off their shoes because they were all working toward the same thing: aiding those in need.
That was, for me, being a true Malaysian.
Before this nation implodes, there is yet time to save it. Now it is up to us, the Malaysian youth, to recognise the problem that is progressively poisoning our country. Malaysia doesn’t only belong to the Malays; it is also the home to the Chinese, Indians, the Punjabis, the Ibans, the Orang Asli, the Dayaks and all the other minorities that fall under the category of ‘others’.
My manager once told me that before we see a person and judge them for how they may appear, we must first look at them as humans. And no better words have ever been spoken to date. Before looking at an Indian walk pass and locking your car doors, before seeing a Chinese come in the store and hike up the prices, before seeing a Malay at work and refusing to work with them because they’re ‘lazy’; look at them as humans first.
And there it is I guess, the true meaning of being a Malaysian.
[Written by: Balvin Dhaliwal. Edited by: Siow Chien Wen]