Beyond race

I GREW up in a small town in Terengganu and enjoyed the liberty of running wild and free with my bicycle, and my brothers and my friends. My world was small; it revolved around the town and its people, my family, and my Nancy Drew series collection.

When my father took me along on his business trips to Thailand or Singapore, I played with other kids as the parents sat together and talked business. Life was easy and uncomplicated, and I don’t remember pointing out differences between other people and myself.

It was only when I went to school that I learnt that boys are off-limits, and good girls pray, read the Quran and wear tudungs. There were no children from other ethnic groups or religion in my religious boarding school.

After 10 years in this environment, I’ve forgotten they existed. For a long time, they were simply etched in the background of my life like white noise on television. I was indifferent and uninterested to differences.

What dominated my mind at the time was how to become a good Muslim, how to please my parents, and how to become the best student sitting for the Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia (SPM).

What matters was living in a Muslim community, working in sincere piety for my religion, and fending off temptation.

Not the same

The first blow came in my pre-university years when I learned how religion is not a guarantee to good sense and company. When a Chinese family friend offered me a lift from the airport to school when I first arrived in Kuala Lumpur, she received nothing but rude scowls from the college security guard.

“What do you think you’re doing, not wearing tudung and wearing skirts around?” he pointedly said as he stopped the car.

I was burning with shame and anger, and what was worse was that I didn’t even have the guts to defend my friend.

The incident opened my eyes and shook my world. A question suddenly dawned on me, “What’s so special about me now? What makes me different than other people?”

In between reconciling with what was real and what was not, between getting frustrated with certain people and being simply myself, I began to shed my outer shell and embrace the world as if it’s a whole new classroom.

Suddenly, I saw things differently. Suddenly, I recognised the presence of my fellow countrymen who (despite our differences) share my dreams and hopes. I said to myself, “there are so many great things and great people out there, how come nobody ever told me about them?”

Celebrating differences

I tried to learn many new things. I tried to move away from conventions thrust on me, and tried to see how things look from different perspectives. Unfortunately, not many people share my enthusiasm.

While people from my own religion and culture labelled me a rebel who is too liberal for her own good, people from other cultures thought I’m just another Malay girl who has everything ready on her plate. While people from the village said I’m too Westernised, people from the city saw me as not being progressive enough.

In the end, I got tired of trying to fit in and fled to Australia to further my studies. It has been almost 18 months since I boarded the airplane with relief because I thought I’d be able to finally chart my own course. But I am still a misfit in the local Malay community because I live in a house with students from different countries, I live with men in my house, and I live with non-Muslims.

But who cares whether you’re a Malay, Chinese, Indian, Arab, or Punjab? Who cares whether you’re a Muslim, Christian, Hindu, Buddhist, or Jewish?

I don’t. I accept that we are all different. I understand that my parents sent me to a religious school in the hope that I could go through life with the best education about life and society; something they didn’t get a chance to do when they were younger.

I did not regret going to a religious school, or burying my nose in books and magazines in search of all things to clear my confusions, or being perceived as different to many people – the experience has brought me where I am today.

But if I was given a chance to turn back time, I’d ask my parents to send me to a national school where I could be friends with children from different races.