by Angie Liew
“It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept and celebrate those differences.” -Audre Lorde
For the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ+) community in Malaysia, this statement rings true. Despite the growing pride movement and the legalization of same-sex relationships in countries such as Argentina, Australia, Germany, New Zealand, Canada, France, Taiwan, and many others, queer Malaysians face not only discrimination from family and friends but also religion and the law. Sometimes, it seems, it is forgotten they are human as well.
Since 1826, homosexual activities have been illegal, with punishments ranging from up to 20 years of imprisonment, fines, and/or caning—Muslim citizens may also be subjected to charges in Islamic courts following the Sharia laws which even prohibit the action of cross-dressing. Same-sex marriages are unrecognized, trans individuals are not able to legally undergo gender reaffirming surgery, and the community as a whole receives no protection. Is it justified that a heterosexual person can freely pursue love while LGBTQ+ individuals are shunned, degraded, and punished?
In the media, freedom of speech has been under scrutiny, with the Malaysian film censorship board reinforcing restrictions on film content containing LGBTQ activities. Despite this, various Malaysian movies such as Bukak Api (2000), I Don’t Want to Sleep Alone (2006), Waris Jari Hantu (2007), and Dalam Botol (2011) have stepped into the controversial scene by depicting the stories and struggles of transgender and homosexual people. Recently, MM2 Entertainment of Singapore released Miss Andy (2020), a Malaysian-based movie following the story of 55-year-old Andy, who transitions into a woman named Evon. Shunned by her own children, she is forced into the sex industry to make ends meet.
With its protagonist being a mak nyah (Malay slang for a transgender woman), this film shines a spotlight on some of the daily adversities faced by the LGBTQ community: prejudice from the public, lack of acceptance from family or loved ones, as well as degradation and mistreatment from the police. Although this tale is one of fiction, it portrays the harsh reality of the many unheard queer voices that have been shut down by fear. It is a step forward, bringing to light the perspectives of this oppressed group and its hidden sense of helplessness.
It is long overdue that we as Malaysians come together with empathy. It takes courage to oppose society’s standards and strength to be true to one’s identity, and it is a fight we should support the LGBTQ community in because while religious beliefs may be important and held with high regard, they should not be imposed upon others who share separate values. If granting the LGBTQ community the right to love the partners of their choice does not restrict your decisions or the way you live, is equality for them too much to ask for? They seek peace and the right to express themselves freely without the fear of being condemned or invalidated by those around them for simply existing.
These queer individuals may not fit perfectly within your definition of normal, but their oppression is real, and their suffering persists. We must no longer stand aside and let politics dictate our humanity, because soon it may be too late for us to see: After the violence and abuse, we still bleed the same red; we are all human.