Derek Kok reminiscence his past to find out how he started to see colour.

A, C, D, E, F . . .

I went to kindergarten at Tadika Riang Baru.

I remember competing with an ‘angmoh‘ kid for the attention of an Indian girl named Joanne. You could say she was my  ‘first crush’. I adored her. I thought her pixie haircut was cute. That smile, oh that smile. Tadika Riang Baru’s uniform never looked prettier on anyone else.

I remember that my best friend in kindergarten was Luvin Kumar, a Chindian boy.  We were like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. Maybe Batman & Robin.

I remember a lot of things from my kindergarten days. But I also remember that I did not know a lot.

I didn’t know what was Malay, Chinese or Indian.

I didn’t know Joanne was Indian. All I knew was that oh-so-sweet smile.

I didn’t know the angmoh was an ‘angmoh‘. All I knew was that I did not appreciate him going after my girl. >:(

I didn’t know Luvin was Chindian.

I didn’t know back then that I did not ‘look Chinese’.

I remember my grandmother saying that I looked Malay. She also told me that if I misbehaved, the ‘apunehneh‘ (a not-so-nice term for Indians) will kidnap me. The apunehneh was like the Bogeyman;  an embodiment of terror which my grandmother used to great effect in order to keep my mischievous behaviour at bay.

Ke Bangku Sekolah Rendah

Then it was primary school. People say that you go to school to learn.

I did. I learnt what ‘Malay’, ‘Chinese’, ‘Indian’ meant.

My eyes started to see ‘colour’.

I even started to notice my own colour. Like my grandmother, people were remarking that I looked Malay. I remember how my mum’s colleagues in school would joyfully exclaim that I ‘looked Melayu‘. I never understood why were they grinning from ear to ear while going, “Eh macam Melayu la anak kamu ini!” (My mum was a teacher in the same school, horror of horrors).

I began to see that people were separated based on WHAT they are. I remember an ustazah coming into my class one day, asking those who were non-Muslims to raise our hands. Being the blur kid I was, I raised my hand in compliance.

She then looked straight at me, “Kamu ni Cina ke Melayu?

Cina, cikgu.

We were then asked to leave our class to go into another. Ah, the segregation of Moral and Pendidikan Islam students. I began to see that there was a “them vs us” culture right in the classrooms of a mission school.

In school, I learnt many new words. I learnt that certain words carried certain connotations with them, words that somehow like a magic spell from Harry Potter would incite mini fights in my all-boys school. Mind you, boys whose age did not even reach a double figure.

Words like keling.

Babi.

Not only that, I also learnt a few things. Cina makan babi, Cina kedekut. Malays were dumb, lazy and could not speak English. I learnt that Indians were keling; the troublemakers in school. I learnt that the Chinese and Indians are to go back to China and India respectively if we don’t know how to speak Bahasa Melayu. I learnt that the Malays were good at sepak takraw, the Indians football and running, the Chinese in maths and basketball.

I was just the teacher’s son. A primary school kid in navy blue shorts.

But I learnt a lot didn’t I?

These ‘lessons’ I learnt, were they true?

I was just the teacher’s son. A primary school kid in navy blue shorts.

How could I have known, what was right or wrong with what I ‘learnt’ in school?

People always thought I was Malay from my looks. Didn’t help that I had a Malay slang to go with my look. In fact the most FAQ I am asked is – “You Malay ah?”

Funny thing was, I represented Wilayah Persekutuan Kuala Lumpur to the Bahasa Melayu National-level Storytelling Competition for two consecutive years in primary school, falling in love with the language in the process. In Year 4, I placed fourth. In Year 5, I emerged as the National Champion, possibly the first non-Malay to win that title.

Masuk Sekolah Menengah

Then came secondary school.

History repeated itself.

Everyone thought I was Malay.

There was once I nearly got punished by the afternoon session supervisor. Reason? Saya tak pergi solat. He obviously thought I was Malay.

Racism was alive and well in school. It wasn’t an abstract concept, it could be seen by anyone who has a pair of eyes. Siva would sit next to Guna in class. A bunch of Chinese boys would be yakking away in Mandarin from the back of the classroom. The few Malays in class 5 Azam would huddle together. Our class teacher would valiantly try to change our seating arrangements to reflect a more Malaysian setting, but to no avail.

When we went for sports, the Chinese kids would naturally gravitate to the basketball courts, while the Malays and Indians would square off against each other in a game of futsal. When the bell rang for recess, the whole school would be in chaos. Imagine nearly a thousand hormonal and hungry boys on growth spurts rushing for food in the canteen. When the dust has settled (literally), you’ll see again people sitting according to their ethnicity.

I was the weird one in school. Unlike the other Chinese students, I mixed around with the other races. I was usually the only Chinese student who played futsal with the Malays and Indians. Some days I sat with the Chinese. Some days, the Indians welcomed me as one of their own.

My best friend in school was Ikhwan B. Mohd Yasin. People said that we were like brothers, some thought we were a gay couple. Sometimes, teachers would ask me, “Bila nak masuk Islam, Derek?

Belajar Rajin-rajin

I thought I am/was not racist.

I have a best friend who is a Malay.

I mixed around with people of every race.

I loved Bahasa Melayu.

I liked thinking that I represented what Malaysia was really about. My ‘Malaysian’ face was even part of a winning campaign that showcased the diversity of Malaysia.

But deep inside me, prejudices and stereotypes reign.

“Typical Malay. Lazy, subsidy-mentality, rempit.”

Cerita pusing. No action, talk only. Indians.”

“What a selfish, kiasu Chinese. Communist.”

Sigh.

We all know all these descriptions don’t do justice. There are very hard-working Malays out there, even in my very own school. I know of many Chinese guys who are the epitome of a bum. I have seen my Indian friends standing up for what they believe in. I remember Haris Ibrahim saying that there is only one race. The human race.

As a child, I was beautifully colour-blind. I want to be blind to what I can see now.

Who do I blame for this? My parents who pass off racist comments? My grandmother who indoctrinated me with the belief that Indian men will hunt me down if I misbehave? Or do I point my accusing finger at the education system of Malaysia?

Did they teach me racism?

Or is it the man in the mirror?

Are we all actually racists, deep inside?

Tepuk dada, tanyalah selera.

Derek wonders where Joanne is now. He is a leap-year baby who plans to read law. Mathematically, he is only four-years old, but people believe that he is actually an old, bald man disguised in the body of an 18-year old. A sufferer of severe split personality disorder, he changes personas according to the weather. Passionate for this country, he believes that all change starts with the man in the mirror. He is very single, but also not very available because his mum thinks he’s too young to date. Faced with the challenge of writing this blurb, his palms started sweating. And he yelled,”BOOMSHAKALAKA!”

Derek is a leap-year baby who is currently reading law. He is single but not available because his mum thinks that he’s too young to date. Follow his frivolous, inane and meaningless Tweets at @derekqiren.

70 replies on “They Taught Me Racism?”

  1. When I was in primary school, my closest friends were malay, indian and chinese. We spoke in English and Malay most of the time. There was never a language nor culture barrier. We played, spoke, and ate together. I was colour blind.

    Until in standard 6, my mixed-race group of friends were practicing for an inter-school netball competition but we never got picked to represent the school. It wasn't because we sucked. In fact, we were the best in the school and our teamwork was excellent. Out of 14 players, 12 were malay, 1 chinese, and 1 indian. My friends and I were devastated. We were way better than those who were chosen but the teacher in charge never even considered us. The biased decision left me bitter. I knew that not all Malay teachers were racist when I went on to represent the school in athletics and handball. But I never touched netball after that, and still haven't to this day. I hate(d) the game and resented the racist teacher.

    Is racism taught? Is is once you've been a victim of it.

  2. I agree to that my kids are asking me what race are they and its so hard to explain especially when you are mix. It doesn't really matter but in Malaysia it does

  3. Its a brave new world out here now…. some powerful loser politicians probably initiated the segregation system many years ago. Many are still scoring political points by promoting segregation. There are many examples out there; bumi license required for most utilities, oil & gas and many other government jobs, discount for bumis when purchasing houses etc…

    I meant no offense towards anyone, for WE are ALL Malaysians. Most bumis I know off, require not such help at all, a good number of them even felt insulted towards these privileges, but i would say, since its placed there by losers, use it to your full advantage.

    I am just sad that there is a huge number of Malaysians out there who has no doubt migrated from other countries but had lived here for generations & contributed to the society and the development of Malaysian but is considered different from other Special Malaysians who has contributed just as much if not more.

    But i hopeful, in fact confident that our Ruling Government, given time, will lead all Malaysians to be Malaysians.

    Malaysia Boleh!!

  4. wow..this is soooo trueee,..

    betul la kamu ex-National champion, selayak layaknyerr..

  5. Yes racism is alive and kicking in Malaysia. Lets give ourselves a thought. Who starts it and from which religion,race and culture is it surfacing.we have the answers to that i suppose.

  6. i guess we all have out tale of racism. remember, segregation laws had only been repelled in the civilized USA only in the 1960's. i am not saying what's happening here in malaysia is OK, because it is not, but we are still in the process of learning to live together. i wished we learnt a heck lot faster, but i guess many things takes time and understanding. personally, i find the best way to beat racism is thru humour. and most of all, i know who i am and i dont see why i need to be sensitive to some idiot's remarks who have no idea who i am. so if they choose to say melayu bodoh, i guess some are, but not me. and to those chinese who claimed they are better at maths compared to malays, i do look out for opportunities when they miscalculate, and i will cheerfully say, mau jadi melayu ka?

    haha. no hard feelings ok. all in good fun. we'll get there.

  7. beautifully rendered post. I love the part where you say, there's only one race, the human race. excellent.

  8. Hey, loved your article. You're right. We are all racist to an extent, despite not being racist.. did that make sense? Sorry, I tend to spew out oxymoronic comments. Another thing, I was reading your article out to my colleagues at work (I'd printed out the whole thing on paper, pictures included) when one colleague of mine pointed to your kindergarten picture and shouted, "Hey! That's my sister!". Joanna's doing her A-Levels at Methodist College in Bricksfield. Lemme know if you want to get in touch with her :)

  9. A beautifully-written article which I believe speaks for every Malaysian, whether they realise it or not :)

  10. Derek,

    Great article. For me, the segregation was at university & it was real bad. Maybe I was too blur in school to notice the subtle segregation. I was never 'Chinese' enough for the likes of the seniors & I heard similar stories from my Indian friends. It was sad because for me personally, before this, race was just something I filled up in forms. But it is good to know that people like you exist & I firmly believe that there are many more like us & one day we will be truly Malaysia!

  11. Such a familiar confusion in the hearts of many young and idealistic Malaysian youth. The race-culture-ethnicity conundrum is as prominent as ever was before in the face of global issues.

    The biggest hope we have, I believe, presently, is to collectivise this confusion (and tension and frustration- a lot of sighs will be involved in the process) and build something tangible out of it.

    So here's to this pleasantly blunt article, to loyarburok, and (ironically) 1Malaysia!

  12. I have always felt the same, in fact, u will realize that we r even further segregated in public universities. And there it isn't even done 'subtly'.

  13. Very well said indeed.In my point of view,I feel racism has been rampant since the days we got our independence. No matter what, everyone wants to self-centered and don't care about the others. They are just saying 1 Malaysia by mouth but not by heart.If we were to see a great nation in the future…There must be no racism.

    Stay together, live together, die together as a Malaysian.

    Anyways…A well-written article….Feel proud of you…Especially when it was written by my own good friend who has always been with me…Certainly it reflected your own maturity and your love towards the country…..ALL THE BEST MY FRIEND!!!!!

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