Are you Indian Malaysian? Or Malaysian Indian?
I was suddenly asked this question when I ‘grew up’
Does my identity change because I identify as one before the other?
And surely one was nationality and the other my culture
Yet all through my life, milestones like purchasing property, renting a flat, or getting a job were dependent on this definition
of whether I was Indian
For in the name of fairness, quotas were set for benefits reaped
But when I ask if credit, position and privilege are based on merit or race, the silence is deafening.
I am accused of being sensitive, of being “racially motivated”
All while our politicians refer to Indians as “keling”.
I came from a strong migrant family who arrived on the shores of Malaysia and Singapore as qualified professionals, impeccable English rolling off their tongues,
to ensure they were never passed over for a promotion or a job,
because these ‘basics’ were already in place
Growing up I was always told to be better than average
It was understood that I would have to be far better than my peers
or more active, or unique
to get a foot in the door
Growing up I was taught to be proud of where I am from
Where the swish of sarees and the smell of incense intermingles with sambal nasi lemak and hokkien mee
Where I sing the national anthem with the same pride with which I speak my mother tongue
Where I went to a school that allowed the baju kurung as a uniform choice, but not the kurta suit,
Where wearing a saree to the office was met with mixed reactions
Surprise at its beauty and then ire because I was showing off my midriff,
Though no one said a word when I showed my legs in my skirt suits just the day before.
Don’t be so sensitive lah… it’s just not common to see nowadays.
I was never taught how to respond
When I was told it was refreshing to see I could speak English so well ‘’for an Indian’’
When I was told that I would have to wait a year for that promotion because it was not a year for an Indian to be promoted
When I was told that the landlord wouldn’t rent to an Indian generally, but I wasn’t ‘that’ kind of Indian
Or when the taxi refused to pick me up
When I am told not to be so sensitive.
So, I am learning my lessons, and teaching my children how to respond
When another child tells my daughter she should use powder on her face
When a classmate comments that her hair is messy because it is “curly like all Indians’ hair”
When the person in the lift moves their child further away from my children as if being Indian was contagious.
Or when the well-meaning aunty in the market tells my son, “Wah your eyes so big, so nice, pity your skin so dark.”
When will people learn to appreciate a fellow human for just being
To not use their features as a thorn to prick,
but as an appreciation of their beauty, their individuality
When will we stop brushing aside these slights
because we are told
“Don’t be so sensitive, it’s not so bad lah.”
But sensitive we must be
So those who don’t know are taught the lessons of acceptance and beauty
So we may celebrate our identities because we are Indian,
Not despite being Indian.
Aarathi Arumugam is a Malaysian-born Indian who has lived in Singapore for the last 12 years. She is proud of her heritage and culture, being Indian and having been brought up around a melting pot of all Asian cultures.
