With the 31 August and 16 September coming our way, now is the perfect time for us to reflect on what it means, and has meant, for us to be Malaysian. In a country as diverse as ours, perspectives vary, and that’s not unusual because we come from such a wide range of backgrounds and experiences. While you reflect on what being Malaysian means to you, let’s hear the views of three alumni of different backgrounds on what it means to them.
Deborah Catherine Dris ’13
What does it mean to be a Malaysian?
When I was a child, being Malaysian was so simple. It meant colouring flags for ‘Bulan Kemerdekaan’, singing patriotic songs at ‘perhimpunan’ and shouting ‘Merdeka’ along with your classmates to remember 31 August.
When I was a student overseas, being Malaysian was explaining to strangers what my country had to offer – the food, the multiculturalism, the language, the jungles, the islands and the mountains – being Malaysian seemed pretty awesome.
I have always had great pride in my country. I took a train from Butterworth to KL Sentral just so I can watch our National Basketball Team play in the SEA Games back in 2017. I would play tourist guide to my foreign friends when they visited Malaysia. I even taught in a national school for 3 and a half years.
But somewhere between being a child and an adult, I started to realize that certain things were not what it seemed. Some stories were left untold. Some books were left buried. Some people were silenced. And there it was, I realized that our nation’s history is actually much deeper than what we were taught in the mainstream. This realization breeds anger, resentment and opens up traumas I never knew I had. Sometimes, it is the smallest things that bothers me, to a point where I need to check if I am being rational or not.
But the one thing that annoys me the most during this time of the year is the fact that people including Sarawakians and Sabahans do not realise that 31 August 1957 is not the day Malaysia was formed.
The date is 16 September 1963. Remember this, because it does matter.
So when you ask me now, what does it mean to be a Malaysian?
To be a Malaysian is to educate people that we are not 63 years old. To be Malaysian is to acknowledge that we are not just Malay, Chinese, Indian and Others. To be Malaysian is to remember that East Malaysians exist and to listen to what we have to say. To be Malaysian is to understand that ‘divorce is messy’ but working through the ‘marriage’ takes work.
Happy 57th Birthday, Malaysia. Let’s make this marriage work.
Amimah Hasniyah binti Md Yusof ’18
Kita seringkali mendengar kata-kata semangat ‘Saya Anak Malaysia!’ dan ‘Saya Berbangga Menjadi Anak Malaysia’. Namun, jika ditanya, apakah keistimewaan menjadi anak Malaysia? Pada sesetengah orang, mungkin menjadi anak Malaysia memungkinkan kemudahan kita untuk memegang passport istimewa negara Malaysia yang membenarkan kemasukan tanpa visa ke lebih seratus buah negara di seluruh dunia. Bagi sesetengah yang lain pula, keistimewaan Malaysia adalah dari segi diversiti kaum yang terdiri daripada pelbagai etnik dan budaya. Namun, saya pasti, banyak negara lain juga berkongsi keistimewaan yang sama dengan negara kita.
Saya belajar menerima keistimewaan sebenar sebagai anak Malaysia ketika saya mendapat peluang belajar di luar negara. Menajdi golongan minoriti di sesebuah tempat menghubungkan hubungan kekeluargaan yang tidak dapat digambarkan dengan kata-kata. Mungkin kerana latar belakang saya yang dibesarkan dalam persekitaran Melayu sebagai majoriti dan dimomokkan dengan persengketaan disebabkan oleh perbezaan bangsa, agama, latar belakang, tahap pendidikan dan tahap sosioekonomi masing-masing. Berada di negara asing, semua perbezaan digantikan dengan persamaan sebagai anak Malaysia di tempat yang sama, walaupun ada di antara mereka yang dibesarkan dan menetap di negara asing bertahun-tahun lamanya. Bahasa Melayu menjadi bahasa perantaraan, kembali gah sebagai lingua franca tanpa mengira latar belakang.
Mungkin pada hari ini, kita hanya dapat melihat perbezaan yang sangat ketara antara kita semua, tetapi percayalah, kita diciptakan berbeza antara satu sama lain untuk saling mempelajari antara satu sama yang lain.. Jika kita sentiasa melihat perbezaan dan mengkategorikan setiap sesuatu tidak mustahil, kita juga akan menerima nasib yang sama. Di mana ianya bermula? Mungkin daripada kita.
Menjadi anak Malaysia, saya belajar untuk meraikan persamaan. Persamaan kita sebagai anak Malaysia yang lahir di negara yang sama, memegang passport Malaysia yang sama, memengang nilai matawang Ringgit Malaysia yang sama, mengibarkan Jalur Gemilang yang sama dan menyanyikan lagu ‘Negaraku’ yang sama. Mungkin ideologi dan kefahaman kita berbeza, namun saya percaya, jika kita lebih fokus mencari persamaan antara kita, perbezaan ideologi bukanlah penghalang untuk kita kekalkan keharmonian yang kita kecapi sehingga ke hari ini.
Kerana itulah, kita perlu berusaha mengekalkan keistimewaan yang kita miliki hari ini sebagai anak Malaysia, kerana ianya bukan milik kita, ianya milik generasi akan datang. Pepatah ada mengatakan, mendapatkan sesuatu adalah sukar, namun untuk mengekalkannya adalah sesuatu yang lebih sukar. Maka saya percaya, ianya adalah tanggungjawab kita untuk sentiasa mencari titik persamaan dalam setiap perbezaan agar kita akan sentiasa berbangga melaungkan pada dunia bahawa ‘Saya Anak Malaysia!’
Phavanjit Kaur A/P Karamjit Singh ’18
“I’m Malaysian”.
Funny how this word comes out from my mouth gleefully as I introduce myself in a crowd, but immediately leaves a bitter taste on my tongue.
“Forget it, they don’t need to know what comes with it.” The bitterness stays and reels in the roots of emotions of knowing that migration is key to finally having it erased from my tongue.
You see, my family is now in different parts of the world in the name of education, progress and better lives. My people, we run so that we can finally be seen. We run to provide for our children. We run away from “Oye, you pendatang okay! Jangan lupa!” at home to find ourselves being the pendatang in another’s land. We run for better lives.
Ha. Better lives, what does that even mean? As though a nation with four seasons will help shed our attachments to our identities. As though nations with more efficient waste management systems will suddenly help us with fulfilling our responsibilities as citizens. [AHEM Australia, Europe, Canada and other “developed countries” who send their trash to our shores in the name of adding economic value when really most of the trash can’t even be RECYCLED]. As though a nation with more white folk will suddenly transform us into informed people.
My relationship with my birth country is almost like tango minus the sexiness. It is often rough, swift and loud. There are days when I roll my eyes at the sight of all things patriotic and cannot find myself to work for this nation. I scoff at “Sayangi Malaysiaku”. How to sayang when I cannot tahan, you tell me lah?!
What can’t I tahan? The tidak apa attitude. Plastik beg untuk bungkus makanan? Takpe lah. Cut queue orang lain? Bolehlah. Dengar orang cakap benda racist? Eh jangan masuk campur lah apa kaitan dengan kita? Ada kaitan! Dengan generasi yang akan datang nanti. Malaysia’s love for long winded conferences about the social landscape with a RM100,000 buffet lunch. Takpe lah, duit taxpayer jer nanti budget next year berlambak lagi. Malaysia makes me want to run away and never come back. But question is, why?
Working as a key player of the education system, I can see myself in KLIA, pushing all the people in my way, running towards Departures and boarding a flight to anywhere but here. I can’t help myself to feel a sharp tug at my heartstrings when I see my work colleague sharing a racist meme on Facebook or overhearing racial remarks made about the majority by minorities, thinking that it’s justified. Malaysia shackles me on most.
But then, there are days, when the mind is asleep and courage takes its place. Days when no matter how bad it is, it’s worth to stay a little bit longer, just to fix something broken. It could just be, reminding your kids that you too have red blood despite the difference in skin colour.
I’m not sure where I will end up one day. But I do know this, there is no Malaysia without integrity. It’s a love hate relationship, that’s obvious but I’d like for it to be resolved once and for all.
The bitter taste reminds me of the distorted lens I have towards my birthplace, my Manglish, my identity. One hand, I am a Sikh, and feel strong for my motherland, Punjab and on the other hand, I belong to the gula merah soyabean coloured rivers and durian headquarters. You must be wondering – why don’t you feel like you belong?
I feel un-Malaysian when I am asked, “orang Bangla ah?”. I feel un-Malaysian when I am told by my respected elders who clearly want the best for me to “Work hard and get out from here for a better life.” I feel un-Malaysian when I’m asked after a terrible experience, “What was his/her race of the perpetrator?”. I feel un-Malaysian when they tell me, “Oh sorry, you’re not accepted but you can try other Indian focused scholarships/investment schemes/insert-another-race-based-social-policy here. I feel un-Malaysian when after my best friend leaves my home after a great laugh session, and I’m told, “Don’t get too close. You know how their people are.”
All the things that I’ve been told, weigh me down and although I’ve risen from some, I’ve been weighed by some words too. Fact is, a Malaysia that speaks of all its children without the colour of their skin is Utopia; an imagined community. A Malaysia that breathes clean, cool air with its forests and indigenous peoples, is one of the mind. A Malaysia that looks at me, and says, “Ini tanah air you” is a dream.
This Malaysia Day, the bitter taste has travelled and lingers in the pit of my belly now. It lingers but lathered in sweet gula merah like syrup, the colour blind friendships, the heartiest encounters, the glorious food pathways have all hugged me and whispered, “You’re mine.”
© August 2020 – Hamsaveni Vigneswararao ’15
Teach For Malaysia Alumni Network 