It began with the simple notion of forgetting the English translation of the Malay word janji, which I brushed off as a lack of practice.
Slowly, it progressed into an avid preference for cheeseburgers over the familiar sweetness of a home-cooked Malay meal. Soon, I found myself speaking to my seniors and elders in a loud, playful, Western tone – a far cry from the softness of Malay adab (manners).
The longer I spent in my new international school, the further I strayed from my culture, and the more I started to scrutinise myself. I questioned whether my skin was too tan to be beautiful. I wondered if my plain black irises still held value next to my hazel or blue-eyed friends. I wondered if people noticed the moments my Malay accent slipped out through the cracks of my polished, American façade.
In an environment where everyone looked and acted differently from me, I couldn’t help but fall into the crooked arms of comparison. I began to see my ‘Malay’ side as shameful and inferior, concealing it with an artificial ‘white person’ display.
My friends called me “whitewashed”, a slang term that implies a detachment from one’s ancestral culture and an attempt to adopt a Western lifestyle. Growing up, my culture had been my pride and joy. The accusation that I was pretending to be a ‘white person’ woke me from my delusion. It was time to re-embrace my roots and become a proud, nationalistic Malay girl.
To do so, I had to confront my internalised oppression – an issue that is becoming increasingly common among today’s youth. Suppressing one’s culture to adopt a Western identity has become more widespread among Malaysian teenagers, possibly linked to rising racial discrimination.
According to Pusat Komas’s Malaysia Racism Report 2024, there were 73 such cases reported in 2024 compared to 50 in 2023.
Racial stereotyping is not uncommon in Malaysia. Phrases like “Melayu malas, India mabuk, Cina tamak” – which imply that Malays are lazy, Indians are drunkards, and Chinese are greedy – are still heard. These stereotypes rarely hold any truth, yet they remain prominent despite being vastly outdated.
Because of this, friendships and relationships are often shaped by race, and those who dislike a race’s perceived traits may exclude or misjudge people based on stereotypes. This can lead to feelings of insecurity and inferiority, especially among younger Malaysians. Over time, this can result in internalised oppression or even ‘whitewashing’ to escape one’s racial identity.
However, I believe ‘whitewashing’ is also rooted in the Westernisation of media and education. Throughout my childhood, I was surrounded by Western films and books. I found myself envious of the fair-skinned, blonde, blue-eyed girls I watched and read about. Among friends, we would even compare skin tones to see who was the ‘lightest’ – and therefore, the prettiest.
Sadly, this is true for many young women in predominantly non-white countries. A survey by the World Health Organisation found that 40 per cent of women in countries such as China, Malaysia, the Philippines, and South Korea routinely used skin-whitening products. Meanwhile, a 2002 survey by Asia Market Intelligence revealed that 75 per cent of Malaysian men preferred partners with lighter skin.
While it would be unfair to place all the blame on Western media, fair skin continues to dominate global beauty standards and influence perceptions of attractiveness.
‘Whitewashing’ even extends to behaviour and speech. I often find myself putting on a ‘white’ accent in school and formal settings to sound more intelligent. Over time, ‘broken English’ and thick Asian accents became almost synonymous with poor intellect or low etiquette.
A study titled Listeners’ Cognitive and Affective Reactions to English Speakers with Standard American English and Asian Accents found that Asian-accented English speakers were perceived as poorer communicators and less competent. But who’s to say that you are smarter simply because you speak with a clearer English dialect?
The hold that Western media had over my young, impressionable Malay self was immense. It influenced my looks, behaviour, and confidence – to the point that I started feeling out of place at family gatherings and in everyday Malaysian settings.
My ‘broken’ Malay was embarrassingly inadequate compared to my younger, fluent cousins. At restaurants, I hesitated to speak Malay for fear that my fluency was deteriorating. I could not even talk confidently about Malaysian issues because Western news dominated my thoughts.
It was then that I realised I no longer fit in – not among my peers abroad, nor among my people at home. So, I decided to stop conforming to Western ideals and start embracing who I truly am.
Although I take pride in my country, it is important to acknowledge uncomfortable realities like racial discrimination and the lingering sense of Western superiority. Many refuse to admit Malaysia’s racism. Such people, as the Malay proverb goes, are “katak di bawah tempurung” – frogs beneath a coconut shell, unaware of the world beyond.
Acceptance is the first step towards change. After acceptance comes action: to celebrate our culture, reject harmful stereotypes, promote inclusive beauty standards, and take pride in our own accents and mannerisms.
I wouldn’t claim to be the most authentic example of a Malay person – I am still somewhat ‘whitewashed’ in parts of my identity. But I have learnt that there is no single way to be Malay.
There is no wrong way to be you.
To give the younger generation an avenue to express themselves, Twentytwo13 has a dedicated space called Young Voices. If you are a young writer (aged 17 and below) and would like your article published on our news website, send your contribution to editor@twentytwo13.my