In 2021, Nur Sajat, a transgender woman, was arrested in Thailand and charged by the religious authorities in Malaysia for allegedly insulting Islam by wearing the traditional women’s outfit of Malaysia and a hijab while hosting a religious event[1]. When she was in detention, Sajat claimed that she was sexually assaulted by the Selangor Islamic Religious Department (JAIS)[2]. When she failed to show up for a court proceeding, 122 personnel were assigned on a “witch-hunt” for her[3], with many religious leaders, law enforcement actors and politicians citing that being transgender violates Islamic values and their treatment of Sajat is justified as it is required to uphold the sanctity of Islam in the country.
Sajat’s case is just one example of discrimination against LGBTQ people in Malaysia. The term LGBTQ refers to individuals whose sexual orientations, gender identities, or gender expressions differ from the mainstream cisgender and heterosexual social norms. While Malaysia boasts an ethnically diverse population given its colonial history, the taboos that encompass the LGBTQ community limit the amount of research and data available on this demographic within the country. A 2017 survey of 1300 Malaysians reported that about 60% held negative perceptions of the LGBTQ community, with many citing same-sex attraction as morally unjustifiable[4]. Through further analysis of the survey results, Malaysia was reported to be the second most heterosexist country in Southeast Asia[5].
In Malaysia, where race and religion are intertwined with identity politics, the intense fixation with Nur Sajat is one of the ways in which allegiance to the nation and to one's queer identity are considered two separate entities. A Malay sense of nationalism manifests through a puritanical vision for the betterment of the state attached to the Malay-Muslim identity. As a result, any act or behaviour, such as being queer, that deviates from this strong heteronormative Malay-Muslim ideology is resisted. These binary identity politics hit queer Malay Muslims the hardest. This blog post aims to address the following questions. With the rise of nationalism in many states all over the world, is there a place for the formation of queer nationalism, in the context of Malaysia? Are queer nationalism and Malay-Muslim nationalism two separate entities or can we find intersections between the two concepts and reconstruct an idea of queer Malay identity? How do Malay men and women establish themselves in relation to the Malay Muslim community and the nation-state as "queer" and "Malay"?
To understand the fixation on the LGBTQ community as an oppositional force to Malay-Muslim nationalism, there are two important influences to consider. The first is British colonialism and the second is the role of Islam. Rabindranath Tagore notes in his book that nationalism is a destructive power that is wholly void of any moral or spiritual elements[6], destroying the tolerance and culture in the land that existed prior to colonisation. As a means to break forth from the chains of colonialism, many post-colonial states have drawn upon a form of patriarchal identity as a way to reconstruct their national identity and resist the forces of emasculation from colonial powers.
The combination of European imperialism and Third World nationalism has given rise to the universal nation-state as a political entity. This means that newly independent nations have formed a political society that incorporates aspects of both the colonial power's legislation and culture, as well as local cultural norms. As a result, there have been constructions of binary identities that pit individuals against each other, disguised under the paradox of nationalism with any outliers being seen as anti-nationalist. Similarly, in the context of Malaysia, social scientist Shamsul Amri Baharuddin argued that distinct categorisations such as “Malay” and “Malayness” are mere colonial inventions and constructions. However, due to the high level of colonial influence in Malaysian politics, these definitions not only provided a legal understanding of Malay ethnic identity but also reinforced the very concept of Malayness[7]. This categorisation then served, and continues to serve, as a marker of Malay-Muslim identity and an explanation of how those who deviate from it by identifying as queer are penalised.
One of the biggest colonial legacies left behind by the British prior to Malaya’s independence in 1957 lies in the Malaysian Penal Code. Section 377a of this document proclaims that: “Any person who has sexual connection with another person by the introduction of the penis into the anus or mouth of the other person is said to commit carnal intercourse against the order of nature.”[8] While the law itself does not explicitly criminalise homosexuality, the interpretation of it by the government has led to it only being used for the prosecution of the LGBTQ community. It can be argued that the permanence of these laws causes the citizens they govern to develop moral beliefs that are compliant with behaviours that the law rewards or penalises. This is what Dr Joseph O’Mahoney and Enze Han, the authors of British Colonialism and the Criminalization of Homosexuality, assert[9]. Once these laws are enacted and normalised, it is difficult for citizens to accept amendments from both legal and psychological perspectives. The implementation of these laws by the British government changed the social normative views of the LGBTQ community, specifically views of gay sex.
Assigning blame solely to British colonial power for Malaysia's rejection of LGBTQ individuals may seem appealing, but it would be misleading. Even after gaining independence, Malaysia continued to allow some level of acceptance for non-heteronormativity. A dualistic system was established alongside a secular postcolonial constitution. The country adopted a federal structure and parliamentary democracy while still preserving decentralised traditional power through the Malay sultanate. This resulted in the coexistence of secular civil laws and customary practices such as Islamic family laws, also known as Syariah law. This dualistic national identity also provides insight into the origins and basis of Malay political dominance, which at times challenges the secular state built on multiethnic harmony. Islam has played a significant role in reshaping gender and sexual relations, creating a Malay Muslim identity that opposes an oppressive notion of hegemonic masculinity, promotes female submission, enforces heteronormativity, and emphasizes exclusive religiosity and right-wing nationalism.
However, there was a time when the people who did not ascribe to heteronormative standards were not just tolerated in Malaysian society but were a crucial element of the state-building and development of the nation. In the early 15th century, there were reports of Malay androgynous priests, also known as sida-sida[10]. These individuals served on the side of the Malay sultans to preserve the sacred regalia and special powers of the Sultanate. They were typically male-bodied priests who wore women’s clothes and freely engaged in sexual relations with individuals of the same and also different sex. The sida-sida also were tasked to safeguard the female residents of the palace, a role that would not have been given to them if not for their gender identity. Up until the 1950s, they were observed to still be working in palaces. Even up to the 20th century, transwomen performers, known to Malaysians as “mak nyah” or mainstream media as “drag queens”, were favourably treated by the Sultan of Kelantan and heteronormative society embraced and applauded their artistic endeavours[11]. This is shocking to most as Kelantan is now one of the most religious states in Malaysia, regarding itself as a stronghold of both Malay and Islamic conservative principles. It is clear, however, that there was a time when queer individuals contributed to the overall nationalistic goals in a way that was accepted by society, meaning that queerness helped to construct the foundation for Malay identity. Therein posits the question of when the turning point came, and when queer identity became an “enemy of the state”.
The year 1983 marked a significant turning point when a shift occurred in Malaysia. The rise of new-wave Islamic reformist movements, such as Wahhabism and Salafism, is often associated with the decline of queer tolerance and acceptance in the country. In that year, a fatwa[12] was issued, banning trans-reproductive surgeries and signalling the beginning of Malaysia’s anti-LGBTQ trajectory[13]. To create a cookie-cutter version of Muslims akin to those of the Middle Eastern Muslim world, there was a need to reject the western ideas of tolerance towards the LGBTQ community. The government attempted to cultivate this idea of the LGBTQ community as a mutual enemy in order to create common ground in a society that was otherwise ethnically divided. This technique was used to ensure that the implementation of Islam-centric rules and legislation were met with less opposition from non-Muslims. This concept of a mutual enemy was equally used as an attempt to unify and elevate the Malays. In 1998, senior officials from the United Malays National Organisation (UMNO) launched the People’s Anti-Homosexual Voluntary Movement to lobby for stricter laws against homosexuality[14]. The creation of such a movement conveyed the idea that the Malay identity is inextricably linked to the rejection of LGBTQ identities and the consequent presentation of queer identity as a counter to Malay-Muslim nationalism.
Given the narrative of queerness as a counter to Malay-Muslim nationalism, there are complexities in identifying as Malay in Malaysia. It is difficult to describe oneself as both “queer” and “Malay” given that queerness contravenes both the religious and cultural values that are woven into the concept of Malay identity. The process of Malaysian Malay-Muslim identity creation can be argued to be entrenched in ethnicity and religion, stemming from the urge to protect remnants of local Malay culture in the post-colonial multi-ethnic nation. Manipulated by the political elite, ethnic and religious affiliations continue to be used to influence identity and a sense of belonging to the Malaysian nation-state, with same-sex desires and behaviour standing in direct opposition to Malay culture and religion, which uphold heterosexual gendered norms. The invented tradition of perceiving queerness as a counter to the Malay-Muslim identity is actually being consciously and continuously rewritten by both the political elite and the dominant Malay Muslim community who strictly adhere to normative prescriptions of gender and sexuality. In simpler terms, dominant Malay Muslims often view LGBTQ individuals' same-sex relationships as a deviation from traditional and religious expectations of masculinity and femininity. They believe that queer-identified Malays who engage in such relationships lack the religious faith and moral behaviour considered vital for the development of Malay identity.
The contemporary feelings towards queerness in relation to the Malay-Muslim identity and their shift from the 1980s indicate that identity and nationalism are social inventions created to suit the needs of the context. The Malay-Muslim identity will continue to transition on the basis that it is shaped by both the official version of Malayness advocated for by the dominant Malay group, and the actual lived experiences of Malay-Muslims who identify as queer. It is not to suggest that there is a need for an exclusive Malay identity for queer-identifying Malays, but there is space for these individuals to challenge and refigure dominant narratives of Malay ethnicity by incorporating queerness into their own visions and interpretation of what it means to be a Malay in Malaysia. The obsession with Nur Sajat therefore stems from her deconstruction of the Malay-Muslim identity and the threat posed to the political elites of the nation, as it differed from their version of authority-defined nationalism. Sajat's public declaration of her identification as a Malay Muslim transwoman, however, was her unique means of redefining the prevalent narratives for Malay Muslim identity in Malaysia as part of changing the invented traditions in the nation.
Given the profound influence of Malay culture and religion on the definition of "Malay" identity, it is a valid argument that LGBTQ Malays will face ongoing challenges in reconciling their queer and Malay identities within their ethnic, cultural, and social context. However, the fluid nature of identity allows for the potential development of queer nationalism through the reconstruction of Malay-Muslim identity by queer individuals. Although currently distinct, history has shown instances where queer nationalism has served the interests of those in power, suggesting the possibility of its resurgence. As the complex interplay between identities continues, there is potential for new pathways towards inclusivity and empowerment to emerge in the future.