by Isaac Bakit
I. How It Started
In the beginning, we learned the traditional heterosexual concept where a boy has to be with a girl and a man has to be with a woman. It was this concept that took root in me from when I was just a little kid. In kindergarten, I once “liked” a girl who I didn’t even have feelings for. What did I know back then? I could only follow what I observed in movies and cartoons. I wasn’t attracted to girls, but rather believed on a fundamental level that I had to be with one.
This belief followed me up until primary school, when seeing a relative take off his shirt as he was about to shower sparked a feeling within me. It wasn’t romantic, but from that moment on I began to feel an allure towards the male body. I was baffled. To the point where I began to feel odd about myself and why I had that sort of captivation. It was very much out of the blue, and I didn’t know what had gotten into me.
A year later, I learned of the term “LGBT”. I hadn’t heard much of it prior, but I remembered seeing magazines and the news describing it as a disease: a mental illness where the afflicted are attracted to individuals of the same sex. I didn’t know if the allure I felt for the male physique counted, and so it didn’t get much of my attention at the time.
When I was 11, I began to start liking boys. At that age, my sexual attraction had started to develop, and I began to indulge in gay pornography. From nude pictures and videos of men, I realized I didn’t have an ounce of attraction towards girls as I did for boys. Later, at 12, I was caught by my mother in the act. She hit and spat at me, saying what I was doing was against religion, and that I was “possessed by the Devil.”
From that point on, I began to feel guilt for what I had done, and for what I felt. The earlier definition I had come across for the LGBT community rang true, and I began to internalize a deep hatred towards myself and my homosexuality. I tried my best to “learn” to like girls. To be normal. I lived in shame and self-loathing until an incident at the end of the school year, when I fell at a construction site on my primary school campus.
It may seem like nothing, but the fall I had, the scar I earned from it, was an eye opener: as if God wanted me to come to terms with my queerness. Though I was still digesting my identity and orientation, the weight of it heavy on my young shoulders, I began to see that it was a part of myself that I couldn’t ignore or make disappear.
In high school, I discovered (or rather acknowledged) what I had known about my sexuality. That I was gay. Still, however, I lived in denial. I couldn’t come to terms with it. When people would ask, I would tell them that I was straight. When a few of my classmates suspected I had an attraction to boys, I told them I was bisexual—that I, at least, “still liked girls.” During my senior year, a girl asked me out on a date. I accepted the offer, not because I had feelings for her, but to see if I did, in fact, like girls. It was less a date and more of a trial. I was stoic throughout, and in the end, it ended badly because I simply couldn’t. There was no affection or attraction on my end.
In that same year, I fabricated the story that I had a girlfriend: an American exchange student named Clara Adler. A girl who didn’t exist. I did it because I felt that I had to “train” or “convince” myself somehow to like girls and become straight. It didn’t work. It was then that I learned I couldn’t change that part of myself. It would stick with me, and I could either suffer for the rest of my life or embrace it, even if I would be shunned in the process.
In July 2022, I met a guy via an online dating app. He asked if I wanted to be his boyfriend, and I gladly accepted the offer. We had our first date, but our relationship only lasted for two weeks before I found out he had cheated on me. I was saddened to the point where I suffered a mental breakdown. My first, real love after hiding for so many years, ending just like that. I was eventually able to move on after accepting that I had done nothing wrong. That there would be more chances for me in the future that wouldn’t end in heartbreak.
II. Coming Out
On the 17th of August 2022, a decade after my first “gay awakening”, I came out on social media. Many of my friends and relatives, my cousin and siblings in particular, were supportive, while others were surprised but neutral.
My mother, however, was different. Her reaction was as expected: much like all those years ago, she couldn’t accept the fact that her son felt attraction towards other men. She nearly cried because she thought I had a mental illness. I told her that I was completely normal, and she responded: “Do you know religion? Are you even my son?! Being homosexual is a sin! Please pray to God to stop having interest in men and learn to like women. Change and be normal!”
I then told her that I was born like this. That I couldn’t change, and that my homosexuality was in me, biologically, emotionally, and spiritually. She was furious, and kept complaining that I had chosen the wrong path—that I could simply fix my thoughts with prayer. I have yet to tell this to my father, but I know that there will be a time where my parents have to accept me for who I am, and if not, that it isn’t my fault.
Conceive living in a world where you’re always oppressed. Threats, discrimination and isolation all because of your orientation. That isn’t any different from how my mother treated me after coming out. There is nothing I want more than to embrace myself, to be myself, loudly and proudly, but even then, liberation feels near impossible in the face of that oppression. When the prospect of coming out feels more like dropping a bomb on your parents and loved ones, destroying your kinship and image in the fallout after, how are we expected to ever be free?
I wish it didn’t have to be this way. That coming out has to be treated any different from announcing our relationship with a cisgender person of the opposite sex. That there has to be any pressure, stress or fear at all. More than anything, we need a safe coming out space for ourselves and society. Coming out has and continues to be difficult, and I often still feel oppressed by how discreet I have to be around those I know to be homophobic. At the very least, I can now proudly say that I am living as my truest self, and that I’ve embraced and accepted my identity fully. I now know that I am normal and that there is nothing wrong with me, Isaac Bakit, no matter what anyone else says.
III. What I Hope to Accomplish Moving Forward
My experiences as a gay Malaysian have cajoled me towards standing up for other members of the LGBTQ+ community facing alienation and unequal treatment. It is sad to see people of our kind being discriminated against and ostracized just because of our sexual orientation, something we are born with and cannot change. From news such as Anwar Ibrahim being prosecuted and sacked from Malaysian politics through the 377A penal code, the inhumane caning of two Malay-Muslim lesbians for attempted sex, and the murders of transgender women, I could no longer stand the treatment we were facing just for being different.
I want change for our community. I want others like me to live a good life without worrying if they will be targeted or harassed. I want Malaysian and non-Malaysian LGBTQ+ people to exist on equal ground with cisgender and heterosexual individuals. I know that this is a massive effort, but I will try my best to stand with other local LGBTQ+ activists to achieve the lives we deserve.
Against the misconception of social norms, we are not a harm or negative influence on the well-being of society, and educating people in regards to the fact that we are normal and not mentally ill or sinful. This, especially, demands that authority figures such as policemen, community leaders and government officials recognize that villainizing the LGBTQ+ community through excuses like religion does more harm than good. That, in fact, does not do good at all. By creating false narratives and influencing the views of the public, they aggravate the harmony of our nation by encouraging conflict and prejudice instead of striving for understanding and coexistence.
Cisgender, heterosexual people need to come to the realization that we are just like them. There’s nothing wrong with us. People are complex and sexuality exists on a dynamic spectrum, and you cannot always expect everyone to be the same, to be straight or cisgender, let alone abide by conservative norms. Everyone is different in their own way, and that includes our sexual and gender identity too. As heterosexual marriage or cosmetic surgery are seen as normal, everyday occurrences, same-sex marriage and gender-affirming surgery should not be regarded any differently in the eyes of a “proper” society. We are not deviants who have chosen shameful lifestyles. We are members of society who should be granted at least equal dignity despite our differences.
The Ministry of Education, with the help of the government, should provide more sex education in schools as most Malaysians lack information in terms of sexual orientation and gender identity. As of now, they have only prepared sex education that is limited to heterosexual norms; information on the pedagogy of safe sex should be provided in the context of the LGBTQ+ community, as well as the fact that people are already born with the labels they have assigned themselves. Through proper education on sexuality and gender, we create a society where queer children do not have to worry about being disowned or sent to conversion camps where they will be “cured” or “returned to the path of nature”.
In addition to incentives similar to that received by heterosexual and cisgender households, the government should take steps toward implementing policies protecting marginalized identities from unjust discrimination in the workplace and beyond. In the face of these reforms on both a societal and bureaucratic scale, we will undoubtedly see an increase in acceptance and support amongst the general public—a stepping stone allowing for the gradual legalization of gay sex (as seen in our neighbor country of Singapore), same-sex union, and possibly same-sex marriage.
Lastly, we need a reduction in censorship. Only through more open media policies that allow different perspectives are we able to normalize a culture of tolerance and understanding rather than rejection for what is not understood. As I was once influenced into believing all men had to end up happily married to women and vice versa long ago, I hope to see a future where children are exposed to cartoons and movies including couples or families of all sexualities and genders. Through something as simple as depicting two people of the same sex kissing or the use of labels such as “bisexual”, “transgender” or “gay”, we cultivate a society that not only feels assured in their identity, but also sees that identities different from their own provide no basis for discrimination.
This is my coming out experience—of hiding in the closet and realizing that I didn’t deserve the hurt, and that it was far too small to contain me. I hope that any LGBTQ+ individual reading this who hasn’t yet embraced themself is eventually able to come to that realization too, and it is my hope that with enough support from allies, individuals such as myself will truly be heard as they make their stand.