Muhibbah

So remember that night we had our poetry hangover? This was why. We wanted to come up with something that really celebrates our diversity and fight the racial stereotypes that people sometimes try to put us in. So collectively, this is what we came up with. Love each other you guys, it's important :) 

They say I'm Indian,
But I didn't quite fit the description,
In fact, the only thing Indian about me was the colour of my skin,
My skin, the colour of mahogany,
I was told I should use fair and lovely,
Even so, I never did fit in,
I never wore a pottu on my forehead,
Or as people called it, "The dot on the head"
To top it all off, I didn't speak Tamil,
When I did, my family said I sounded mentally ill,
So when I ordered my food in English or Malay,
People would look at me with such dismay,
"And she calls herself Indian" they'd shake their head and say.

After church every Sunday,
I'd eat Nasi Lemak or Wantan Mee,
But nothing beats having a Thosai,
With some dhaal and chutney,
When I tell people that I can't take spicy,
They'd look at me like I was crazy,
Then they'd get all up in my grill,
And say, "Beta, are you for real?"
"Without spice there is no life"
"How will you ever be a good wife"
My goal in life is to make the perfect rasam,
To catch the perfect macha husband,
Because only then will they call me Indian.

They say I am Chinese,
So kiasu until people sure tease,

A sefl-declared Canto-kien by dialect,

My eyes so sepet, open big big also no effect,

Apparently, they say I am yellow in colour,
Personally, I like getting tanned instead of paler,

I am supposed to be fair and radiant,

But I like different shade and gradients,

I am one of those who don't speak Mandarin,

All the aunties say,"Aiyah she don't know any thing."
Eh, I can speak Cantonese and Hokkien,

"No la, she's a banana!” Sien.

I grew up not differentiating people by colour,

Nor am I for sale to the highest bidder,
Is it wrong that I don't care about features?

Or glorify those round-eyed ang moh creatures,

I may not uphold all the pantangs,

Sometimes I even disregard the larangs,

It is no disrespect to my elders,

I choose to pay attention to the real matters.

Orang cakap,"Lu tak suka lu balik kampung la"
Tapi kampungku di Petaling Street bukan Cina,
Masa isi borang kena letak bangsa,
Kenapa leh? Bukankah kita semua bangsa Malaysia?

They say I am Malay,

But when I go out on the street I get cat-called leng lui,

With my duku langsat skin tone the shade of your teh peng,

The question I always get is "Ko ni Melayu ke tak”. 

I am in essence a mixed race kid,

But in that small narrow Malay box I am sometimes forced to fit,

But it is a box that was only designed to fit half of me, 

The other half is Hakka, the type you hear first then see.

Then there are questions like "Melayu apasal pakai macam tu?" 

To which I feel like replying "Pakai baju Melayu tapi mulut kau macam hantu",

I am nostalgic for the Malays in the films of P.Ramlee, 

Those dapper looking ones and the fitting kebayas by the sea.

"Nama awak tak ada Binti? Apasal? Kenapa?",  

It is these kind of questions that make me feel so hampa, 

Apparently to be Malay is all in a name, 

And also on how you play the privileged game. 

But being a Puteri UMNO was not a role for me to play, 

Not when I enjoy a good dose of chi kut teh, 

And as much as I like the color red I wouldn't wear it to a rally, 

There are "Cina pergi mampus" ideals to which my identity cannot tally.

So I settle for being a Melayu Murtad instead, 

Instead of a bohsia behind a mat rempit with no helmet on her head, 

So I write in English and berspeaking too, 

Because PERKASA be damned, I memang tak cukup Melayu.

In this time and age,

With the turning of every page,

There are too much issues causing rage,

Isn't there anything we can salvage?

We all have two eyes, ears, a nose and a mouth,

You can be from the east, west, north or south,

You still have the same red blood running through your heart,

It is this country, your home where you have to play your part.

So step up guys and make some new friends, 

It is about time these racial battles end,

Shake the hand of a person whose a different skin shade today, 

Ask that desi out before another brader gets in the way,

But having hybrid relationships are the way to go,  

Be it friends, lovers or your occasional gigolo,

So why do we pick and choose and not mix it up? 

When we meet at the mamak we still all say "eh cha what's up?"

Will there ever come a time when race is disregarded in this nation? 

I fear greatly for the younger generation,

Lets all start to disregard our skin colour, 

Because who really cares if you're fairer or I'm darker,

With our collective use of k's and lahs,

We unite to become truly muhibbah!

Sherjoyen Wobustamy

230am, 18th September 2015

Ghetto HQ

SB is a conflicted soul of sorts, who is mad enough to go chase after what she really loves as opposed to conform to society and her mother's idea of a successful person. She prays she makes it in life, because she will not be able to tolerate the nagging that would follow if she doesn't. Her inspiration comes from everything around her, as well as made up situations in her head. Good luck distinguishing between the two. 

SY is a 'Jacqueline of all trades' who loves wearing plaids.
She doesn't believe in things that fade and fulfills the promises that she made.
She seeks the hearts of the troubled, to be a listener in times when things are doubled.
She's the kind who stands in the gap, who will only call it quits when it's a wrap.

JN is the one who doesn't take chances, but she's working on that. She's powering through life, one day at a time. Even with all that life throws her, you'll always see her with a smile. She's a hopeless romantic, hopeless beyond repair. You may say she's a dreamer, but she's got her feet on the ground.