Whenever we gather as a family in public places, heads will turn and we become the centre of attention. Once, someone even came up and asked, “You all speak so many languages, are you family? What race are you?”
We are a family with three languages - mother’s tongue, father’s tongue, and siblings’ tongue. Siblings’ tongue developed from our growing up in Kuala Terengganu, and somehow our conversational language with friends got absorbed into our home language. In fact, my parents also converse in Bahasa Malaysia with one another.
As a child of mixed heritage, we were brought up in a mixed heritage environment. Our food, the languages we speak (and spoke since I lost my father almost years back) with our parents, our exposure to different religions, and most importantly, we were never told what race we are.
We played with children from school and neighbouring kampungs and attended Jawi and religious classes with them. The one common language we all spoke was Bahasa Terengganu. And that was how Bahasa Terengganu got absorbed as our siblings’ tongue.
We celebrate the festivals of both our parents, as well as Hari Raya, since neighbours would bring various goodies to our house and we would go visiting my father’s friends for almost the whole day. We were so absorbed in the Hari Raya festivity as if it was our own.
The questions of our race and religion were never asked, not by our friends, nor by teachers. We were oblivious to our race and religion.
That was until I was 14 years old. I had to fill up a form for the SRP exam (what is now PT3). There was a question on “Bangsa” with four boxes to be ticked - Melayu, Cina, India, and Lain-lain. I had no clue what to tick. I took the form home and asked my father. He too could not answer that question. After a bit of thinking, he said, "Let’s tick Lain-lain."
And that was how I became “Lain-lain”.
I went abroad to study and worked for close to 10 years. Never once was I asked about my ethnicity. Abroad, I am a Malaysian, until I came home to Malaysia to work. Every job application form, every employment form, every imaginable form that I had to fill, asked for my Bangsa. By then, I knew what my heritage mix was, but I did not know what Bangsa I was.
I cannot be my father’s race (which is the default race imposed by the government) as I am also my mother’s race. I also cannot be both because I don't see myself as strictly either. I have always known me to be me: a Malaysian with no specific race, embracing different cultures in my life. To get around this, wherever I could get away with it (it was pen-and-paper forms then), I would draw another box, write down "Malaysian", and tick that box. Where I could not, I continued to use Lain-lain.
I got away with this until the digitalised world. The JPN had linked me to my father and auto-filled my race and religion as per my father’s. All forms now have expanded lines of Lain-lain, so I have no choice but to put my father’s race and religion.
But what of my mother? Is my mother’s race not in me?
More importantly, what of me? At home, heritage-wise, I know I am both since our culture and practices embrace both my parents’ heritages.
But when I step out of my home, whether into a bustling crowd or a close group of friends, I am surrounded by people of different cultures, diverse traditional wear, religions, and languages. I do not see the labels the JPN requires. I just see my fellow Malaysians.
With Merdeka Day and Malaysia Day around the corner, seeing the Jalur Gemilang flying everywhere brings an immense feeling of emotion.
The government forms might force me to choose a race, but under that flag, I feel proud. Merdeka reminds me that "Malaysian" is the only box I ever truly need to check.
I am anak Malaysia, and this is Tanah Tumpahnya Darahku.
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