To be Malaysian is to like Nasi Lemak. But not really. To be Malaysian is to say walao. Not that simple. To be Malaysian is to speak more than one language. Probably not that too. To be Malaysian is to be born in Malaysia. Not necessarily true either.
Being a part of the Malaysian diaspora, I believe, really spurs one to question what it means to be Malaysian. Existing overseas, away from one’s home, we lose the privilege of being our identities. We could pile on cultural stereotypes with no end, try to relive Malaysia overseas, and we still can’t reach the essence of Malaysian-ness. You’d only arrive at a hollow caricature of a Malaysian, one that likes Nasi Lemak, hangs out at the mamak, drinks kopi peng, drives a Proton, speaks a mix of their mother tongue and Malaysian-English, was born in [some rural state] and moved to Kuala Lumpur, hates traffic jams, and plays badminton. I wonder if that describes you. Maybe I wasn’t that far off, but there will always be aspects of the Malaysian experience that won’t apply to all Malaysians.
To be Malaysian isn’t merely defined by the sprawl of our languages, an endearing love for P. Ramlee, or valiantly defending Malaysian food against anyone, be it the Singaporeans, Indonesians, or Burmese (are we that different anyways?). I might like my teh ais (or teh peng) as much as the next person, but I might not be able to read Bahasa Melayu. We can’t deny that these experiences belong to a Malaysian character, but they aren’t as universally Malaysian as we think they are. Malaysian-ness really isn’t about a smear of cute yet relatable experiences and mannerisms, because we’re more than that. Being Malaysian is, unfortunately, a confusing ordeal.
Studying overseas, I spend a good amount of time in libraries. This piece has itself been edited in multiple libraries across Singapore. So, allow me this, as we ponder what Malaysian-ness really is, I’d like to reel in some insights I’ve gained from being in these libraries. I won’t claim to have solved your Malaysian identity for you (if that is even possible), but I do promise a few cogent insights.
To be Malaysian is to host differences. It isn’t merely the exhausted state-owned narrative of Malaysia, Truly Asia. We need to reconsider our notions of difference here. Difference isn’t about arbitrary lines across race, class, gender, and religion. It’s about individual experiences, character-defining instances, and perspective. Think of a library: it holds many different stories, each given equal space and respect, no matter how unique or contrasting they are. That is the closest approximation to the progressive and purposeful difference we could hope for, and it is a quality that Malaysians must have.
I’m an ethnically Chinese, heterosexual male with a family primarily in the Klang Valley. I didn’t take SPM and I studied internationally. When I navigate my own Malaysian identity, I must remember that my experience of Malaysia will unequivocally differ from that of many other Malaysians who do not share my profile. It goes beyond this, though. I was never hit by the rotan as a kid because my parents didn’t believe in it. I don’t visit relatives over the Chinese New Year. I teeter on the line between Buddhism, Christianity, and non-belief. But I don’t think any of this makes me any less Malaysian, and my experience of Malaysia shouldn’t be any more privileged than yours. And so, Malaysian becomes something of an umbrella term for me, amalgamating the individual experience into a collective. The term should then remind us of the difficult differences between us. But it should also remind us that, as Malaysians, we must decide to welcome and relish each individual narrative.
That we can host a diversity of narratives does not mean we are, though. Libraries do not themselves necessitate a condition of goodness, but they certainly hold that potential. Curation prevents harmful rhetoric, upkeep prevents rot and destituteness; and similarly, it is our responsibility to empathise, broaden, and inform. It worries me that we seem to be falling behind. Malaysia is inevitably becoming more complex and tense; our politics has been pushed to unfamiliar grounds, our languages drive controversy and separation, while class, race, religion, and gender entangle us all in a weird cacophonous struggle for primacy. Our differences are being highlighted, but not with empathy, and not with joy.
That is what the big labels, such as nationalist, unpatriotic minority, or religious fundamentalist, obscure. It obscures our library-like collection of often complicated and self-interested stories. We shouldn’t have to hide behind complacent and tribalistic stereotypes of a perceived Malaysian experience to define our own. Instead, I think there is something beneficial in carefully contemplating your own position as a Malaysian, bridging compromise, and promising empathy, that we as a nation should look towards. Perhaps the next time you see a Malaysian that is different (not very hard to do, I would think), consider their lived experiences, and keep them with you. To be Malaysian is to realise the richness of diversity, and respect that the Malaysian experience, whatever it might be, belongs to all of us, equally. We must strive to be good libraries, and therefore empathetic citizens, because those experiences are what we bring with us when we’re away from home. And so I belong to Malaysia, and I believe you do too.
