Seksualiti Merdeka: Coming to Terms With the Love that Dares not Speak its Name

Who would have thought that sexuality rights were being celebrated in the historical and cultural heart of the Malaysian capital two weeks ago? Malaysia, like anywhere else (Muslim-majority or not) has long suffered from homophobia and transphobia in the most public of places: unsubstantiated accusations of homosexual behaviour landed one of the most influential politicians in recent times in jail and long-term disgrace. The media, meanwhile, which often sees itself as a moral guardian secondary to religious authorities, takes advantage of Malaysia’s conservatism to paint sexual minorities in the worst possible light. The recent (and very dubious) news report of a “wild” lesbian party attended by Malaysian Muslim women is one such example that smacks of self-righteousness and shameless prurience.

And so I was pleasantly surprised that Seksualiti Merdeka (which roughly translates as Independence of Sexuality) took place without noisy protests or arrests by the moral police. The annual event, launched in 2008, features a program of lectures, workshops, plays, and film screenings demonstrated a kind of unprecedented maturity to broaching issues of sexual identity, sex work, human rights, and moral policing. Malaysia is a country of contradictions, and these contradictions were also present in Seksualiti Merdeka. The event was officiated by Marina Mahathir a human rights activist and AIDS awareness campaigner–and the daughter of the former Malaysian premier, Mahathir Mohamed, who once barred visiting ministers and diplomats who were gay from entering the country and who deposed Anwar Ibrahim for committing sodomy.

Being surrounded by images that would often be regarded as offensive material and people who were interested in sexuality rights (or those brave enough to attend to satisfy their curiosity of how the sexual Other look like in non-stereotypical circumstances, i.e. not in gay bars and massage parlors) was new to me. Sitting at a film screening of Bukak Api (Open Fire, 2000), starring Malay-Muslim transfemale sex workers, in all its uncensored glory, was new to me. Bukak Api brought home the message that even in the most conservative societies, you can’t talk about AIDS, pregnancy, and violence against women without talking about sex. This is illustrated in a scene where one sex worker laments about being aware about AIDS only through snappy campaign slogans (“Love your family, stay away from HIV”) and nothing in terms of modes of infection and prevention, resulting in her unknowingly contracting the virus – sadly true to life.

Witnessing this sea change, I wondered whether the time has finally come for Malaysians to recognize sexual diversity as a non-threatening, normal, and ultimately, acceptable, fact of life. But then I began to notice with every event I attended that Seksualiti Merdeka attracted a crowd of the distinctively urban, foreign/highly-educated, English-speaking, relatively well-to-do, and liberal type. Perhaps not every Malaysian is ready yet. Perhaps not the young, working-class Malay-Muslim couples who get arrested for close proximity in cheap hotels or in their cars because they cannot afford to hire rooms in five-star hotels or go to places abroad where they are beyond the reach of snooping moral guardians.

Seksualiti Merdeka implicitly demonstrated the class divide that divides people’s opinions about sexuality: if you’re young, urban, well-educated, fluent in English and media-savvy you are likely to support open discourse on sexuality rights in Malaysia, and if you’re not all that then it’s likely you’ll find talking about such issues publicly inappropriate.

But leaving Malaysia a few days later, I realized that I was leaving a country with a potential to return power back to the people who, for decades, live under the paternalistic thumb of its leaders. It was great to see the freedom and effort in raising sex and sexuality as issues that concern everybody, hence the popular and highly-accessible venue Central Market. It was better that the event hasn’t yet reached a more representative audience than not exist at all. But real engagement about morality and rights to privacy needs to happen between those whose opinions are at odds with each other, and not between those who openly show their liberal colors.

No Country for Muslim Women

I am not an Islamic scholar, therefore my opinions on Islam do not count. Worse still,  I’m told that it’s not my place to have an opinion on Islam at all.

This is the general climate of thought in Malaysia put forth in the recent proposal by the country’s main Islamic party, PAS, to investigate the Muslim feminist non-governmental organization Sisters In Islam (SIS) for un-Islamic activities and to “rehabilitate” its members to “the right path”. The announcement has sent shock waves across the country.

The feminist organization has long been the thorn on many Muslim Malaysians’ sides, of both conservative and moderate persuasions, mainly for their outspoken critique of book-banning, polygamy, and state-imposed concepts of modesty. The latest in the string of attacks against SIS is by far the most extreme and is said by many to be a major political misstep for PAS, which once vowed to be “modern” and “democratic”.

But PAS has yet to retract their demands amidst growing pressure from many quarters, including criticisms from within party lines. But more importantly, it has yet to disclose further details of their charges against SIS. In the meantime, their contempt for Sisters In Islam touches on more personal issues that raises questions as to whether accusations against them are really from a theological standpoint; from the members’ choice of dress (many do not wear the hijab) and marital status (many are also unmarried). These claims to discredit SIS have been reactionary at best, intolerant and anti-women at worst.

Calls for SIS to drop “Islam” from their name cite the non-governmental organization’s lack of formal credentials to represent the religion and influence to mislead young minds. But who has the right to represent Islam? And really, do we need an authoritative body to speak for a community so complex and pluralistic, especially when ones that claim to do so have shown themselves, time and time again, to be petty and bigoted?

Being a Muslim feminist and a supporter of the organization, I have a different view: the “Islam” in SIS denotes the reclamation of certain rights from Islamic sources, by reading the Quran and hadiths from a gender-neutral perspective. It certainly is not about representing every Muslim man and woman in Malaysia as more “authoritative” voices would claim. Put simply, “Islam” in SIS is about women who live in an Islamic state, politically and spiritually.

Muslim feminists have long been targets of brutal attacks. Many have even lost their lives for promoting women’s rights: Turkish feminist writer Konca Kuris openly expressed her critical views on male domination in her society and paid with her life in 1998. Asma Jahangir, Nawal al-Sadaawi, and the women of RAWA, for example, have all received numerous death threats. The long list of Muslim activists can testify that what the women and men of SIS believe in are not freakish coincidences or “alien” to modern-day Islam.

But it is what they believe in that’s viewed as dangerous. So dangerous that a member of Malaysian parliament suggested that the organization should be investigated under the Shariah Criminal Offenses Enactments and the penal code, as if the members were criminal suspects. And so as it stands, the easiest and most cowardly way to containing that danger is by silencing them.

When religion is deeply entrenched in the country’s constitution and public policies, everyone has a right to talk about it, and particularly, to criticise its abuse. But the threat to express dissent hangs over every Malaysian like a foreboding black cloud. “Liberal” has become a dirty word in Malaysia, where it can mean anything from being Westernised and elitist, to simply being immoral.

To demonise organisations like SIS for being “liberal” for expressing non-mainstream opinions pertaining to Islam is more than just clichéd, it’s about bullying the usual “soft” targets like women and other marginalized communities into silent submission.

Pink is For Tween Muslimahs

It had to happen sooner or later. With Barbie and now Hannah Montana merchandise dominating the tween to early teenage market in Malaysia, products for young Muslim women in hijab are starting to appear, particularly on the bookshelves. And they look very pink.

"Thank you, Puteriku" by Nora Isa

"Thank you, Puteriku" by Nora Isa

The increasing pinkness of girl’s books can be directly connected to the uninterrupted rise of a global consumerist culture that worships Hollywood celebrity culture in Malaysia; from businesses that name themselves after American cities for prestige to the local edition of Cosmopolitan magazine that represents the arbiter of modern Malaysian female sexuality. And by following the lead of Barbie and Hello Kitty manufacturers’ lucrative use of the color pink, local book publishers do the same to gain a monopoly on young female readers.

Of course pinkness would not be complete without princesses. I’d like to point out here that although princesses have long been present in Malaysia, both in reality and in legend, none looks strikingly similar to a Disney princess as the female protagonist in Azian Aiman’s Sayalah Puteri Raja! (I’m the Princess Here!). Causing the most concern for me is its depiction of princesses as celebrities and objects of female envy, as revealed on the back of the book:

Zara steps out of the car and waves to a crowd that screams her name.

“Princess Zara! Princess Zara!”
“Oh, how beautiful she is! How wonderful it would be to be just like you, your highness!”
“I want to be like Princess Zara!”

A cacophony of screams fill the already chaotic air. Is she witnessing a mass hysteria? Zara cannot hide her excitement at being the object of worship.

Sayalah Puteri Raja! Or, "I'm the princess here!"

Sayalah Puteri Raja! Or, "I'm the princess here!"

Now, I’m not the only one here who thinks that princesses make one of the worst kinds of role models. They’re expected to be beautiful, rescued by Prince Charming, and either acquire or inherit wealth and royal status patrilineally. But then, stories of princesses and other beautiful heroines make an obvious progression towards the Malay novel’s main theme: romance. The contemporary romance novel is pretty much the only form of Malay fiction writing one can read today. So pervasive is the Malay romance novel that it’s even taught in schools as ‘Malay literature’.

The stylish repackaging of the young adult novel is part and parcel of the mainstreaming of ‘Islamic culture’ aimed to reach out to younger Muslim Malaysians, but the appropriation of religious language in a narrative that celebrates fame and beauty needs to be seriously questioned especially when one is entitled, Saya Mahu Saiz S or “I want a Size S” by Ain Maisarah which is about, you guessed it, dieting and being thin. Also designed in pink, Saya Mahu Saiz S is written for a young readership and already it’s sending out narrow definitions of what is beautiful, acceptable, and feminine.

In Malaysia, there is no end to the litany of anti-Western sentiment aimed at the pop culture-loving Muslim youth. But none of this is directed at criticising the subtle and insidious world of Western-style consumerism that is slowly reshaping the definition of femininity. It’s not enough putting a hijab on a fair-skinned Disney princess-lookalike and say it’s uniquely Malaysian or even Islamic. This is something we’ve failed to be critical about. There is an unsettling undercurrent of hypocrisy and self-hatred that fuels the aspirations and consumption patterns in this country, and it’s high time that those are taken seriously.