Between Two Lands: The Tale of the ‘Singaporean-Malaysian’ Daughter

For instance, my father would complain about how cashiers at Malaysian supermarkets bagged groceries. Careless cashiers would sometimes fit as many items as possible into a single bag disregarding fragile items, or they would fail to separate wet and dry goods. My father would say something like “Kalau Singapore tak lokek plastik, barang-barang basah satukan dalam satu beg!” (If this were Singapore, they wouldn’t be stingy with the plastic bags and put wet items together!). Yet paradoxically, if a Singaporean cashier at NTUC did the same, my father would either smugly request extra plastic bags or reprimand the cashier for putting eggs at the bottom of the bag. Moments like these would make the young me wonder, “Why didn’t he say anything bad about Singapore?”

As a Malaysian with a Singaporean father, I grew up negotiating my identity as a Singaporean-Malaysian child. The Johor-Singapore causeway did not mean much to me except a checkpoint to get my name called and the immigration officers peeking into the car. Most of my childhood and teenage years were spent against a backdrop of Singapore: grocery runs to the neighbourhood Sheng Siong and NTUC, visits to cousins in Bukit Panjang, shopping trips to Sun Plaza Mall, walks to the public libraries, Malay weddings at HDB void decks and community centres, and swimming at Clementi Swimming Complex. My first public transport ride was on the SMRT trains and buses and my first movie theatre experience was at Cathay Cineplex in Causeway Point Mall. I have probably ridden in more Singaporean taxis—back when they were still the Toyota Crowns—than Malaysian ones. Throughout the years, my father moved homes —from Toa Payoh, to Sembawang, and now West Coast.

My Malay culture is also closely tied to the Singaporean Malay’s, though some were still intertwined with the Johor tradition. I celebrated Eid with my Singaporean families and enjoyed Singaporean Malay dishes. I spoke Malay with a Singaporean inflection with ‘seh’s and ‘ape’s at the end of sentences. I used the word ‘bedek’³and was oblivious to how the word is non-standard Malay until I left Johor Bahru for further studies. Unconsciously, I became Singaporean in my mannerisms and culture.

As a child, my understanding of the relationship between Singapore and Malaysia was simplistic. To my young eyes, I could not see much of a difference between the Malays of Singapore and Johor as far as culture was concerned. We practically shared the same language and traditions, albeit some variations here and there. Back then, the differences between these two countries in my innocent worldview were the currency and the efficiency of things (or lack thereof), hence why the expression ‘otak Singapore, jangan otak Malaysia’ came to be understood. We were conditioned to believe that having a ‘Singaporean brain’ is to be progressive, developed, efficient, and smart while having a ‘Malaysian brain’ is to be otherwise. Everything from Singapore was deemed good and everything from Malaysia was deemed bad.

Consequently, I internalised these beliefs as a child and felt inferior about my Malaysian nationality, which is inherently tied to my Malay identity. At one point, I was ashamed — both as a Malaysian and as a Malay. One may not typically question that Singapore’s growth and development are often attributed to what Noorainn deliberately refers to as “progressive Chinese culture” – a term she employs not because Malays hold the culture in particular high regard, but rather to reflect their recognition that Singapore’s progress is frequently associated with the adoption and dominance of Chinese cultural values, among other social and cultural dynamics revealed in her study. Noorainn elucidates that Malays, framed as a pigeonholed community with ‘inferior’ cultural attributes, are frequently cast in contrast to the Chinese – highlighting the cultural hierarchies embedded in societal narratives.

Simplistic reductions, using stereotypes and assumptions, were convenient for the common man, with that common man being my father. He did not, or rather, could not see the multi-layered complexities between these two states, that it was not as simple and reductive as “otak Singapore, jangan otak Malaysia”. Hence, I was told to be like Singaporeans even though my blood runs on Malaysian soil.

For years, I doubted my intelligence by Singaporean standards, whatever those were. It did not help that my father kept uttering out his motto while we were studying for school.

My father’s stereotypical view of Malaysians was deeply problematic. His perspective of the Malaysians, especially the Malays, was narrow and ignorant of Malaysia’s nuanced challenges. Ironically, he married a Malaysian whose Johor heritage runs deep in her ancestry. My mother is unapologetically Malaysian. Moreover, she speaks what she calls the ‘correct’ Malay. She was concerned that her children might pick up my father’s colloquial Malay language, which she considered the ‘incorrect’ Malay.

I was unaware of the class and socioeconomic context of my family history that placed us in this in-between position. We were just constantly traveling in and out between these two countries. Unbeknownst to my younger self, the Singapore-Malaysia relationship was more than just stamping my passport at midnight on the Causeway while listening to ‘Misteri Jam 12’⁴ in the car with my parents. I would only learn the historical and sociopolitical intricacies between these two countries later in life, after I moved out of the state and lived the true Malaysian life, distancing myself from my father’s motherland.

My perspectives on the Singapore-Malaysia dynamics started to shift as I began to mingle with Malaysians from various parts of the country. I realised my knowledge of the Malays was confined to Johor and Singapore, ignorant of the richer and progressive Malay cultures beyond my southern worldview. Simultaneously, I also learned from non-Southern friends about the tension at the time between these two countries, something I never realised as a child. My father’s silly little motto began to unravel, and I have grown to regret that such prejudicial mindset was a motivation instilled in me since I was a child.

Today, I recognise that Singapore and Malaysia are two very different countries. Despite a shared history, their realities and challenges are incomparable, especially for Malays. Malays in Singapore live a very distinct reality than the Malays in Malaysia. Though undeniably that we are of the same roots (serumpun) and able to understand each other on a cultural level, the social and political contexts between these two are worlds apart. It is rather ill-informed, and in fact, a disservice to compare them side-by-side without having an open mind to learn of the nuances which these two groups face in their respective contexts.

In the course of time between my tertiary studies in the United States to the COVID pandemic until today, the dynamics between these two countries have shifted amid the rise of nationalism globally. As observed through social media discourses, public opinions of the other country could be very divisive. One of the examples was the photo of a group of Malaysian national football team supporters holding an upside-down Singapore flag, angering many Singaporeans, as rightfully so. Likewise, viral videos of Singaporeans pumping their cars in Malaysia with the locally subsidised RON95 petrol continue to enrage Malaysians. Though we can argue that the behaviours of groups of people are not representative of the whole country, the sentiments that we have towards each other are too strong to ignore.

As such, I find it increasingly awkward to call myself a ‘Singaporean-Malaysian’, as the idea of identifying with my father’s nationality does not sound right. As I moved further away from the southern part of the peninsular, I started to lose the dispositions of what I think made up the ‘Singaporean’ in the ‘Singaporean-Malaysian’ identity of mine. ‘Singaporean’ is a national identity — one in which rooted in citizenship and national pride, neither of which I hold. Though I grew up surrounded by Singaporeans, ate and spoke like one, I cannot claim to have been raised as a Singaporean. Conveniently, I lose my Singaporean cadence when I speak with my Malaysian friends. Now, it only rarely comes out when I speak with my father.

Yet, no matter how much I tried to shed it, Singapore remains a part of me. I feel ‘at home’ whenever I meet Singaporean Malays in Kuala Lumpur as I get to use my ‘childhood language’. I still prefer Singapore mamaks to Malaysia mamaks, and there is no place that can make rojak and murtabak better than Singaporeans. And like my father, I often compare the (in)efficiency of trains (among many others) in Kuala Lumpur to those in Singapore. Well, the apple does not fall far from the tree after all.