COMMENT | Leah is an adorable, bubbly 10-year-old who happens to be the daughter of a good friend of mine. Having known her mother for donkey years, I have watched Leah grow since she was a day old, and boy, did she turn out to be such a pleasant little girl who brings so much joy to those around her.

Recently, I took Leah out for some jalan-jalan at the park and some waffles at my favourite joint. Spending a good few hours together, we had a lot of things to talk about, from her new pet dog all the way to her attempts at impersonating Miranda Sings, a well-known YouTuber.

At one point, Leah began talking about her friends at school and her teachers.

“Aunty Fa, I always have this one problem at school,” she began her story.

“What is it?” I was intrigued.

“Like the other day, my teacher asked all the Malay students in class to stand up. After counting them, she asked the Chinese and then the Indians to stand up.  

"After everyone sat down, she called my name and asked why I did not stand up. I told her it was because I was not a Malay, Chinese or an Indian, but she scolded me, saying I am an Indian.”

After sipping her vanilla milkshake, Leah continued her story intensely.

“Aunty Fa, how can I be an Indian when I am not one?”

I smiled. Born to a Goan father and a Filipino mother, it seemed to me that Leah was having an identity crisis at such a tender age.

“What are you then?” I asked.

“I am English!” she answered in a jiffy.

I laughed out loud at her cuteness overload.

“How can you be English when neither of your parents is one?” I asked, in between chuckles.

“Well, I speak English, I dress English, I watch English movies, I think in English and I do everything English. So doesn’t that make me English?” she asked.

“What about food? Do you also like English food?” I asked.

“No way!” Leah replied, “I love nasi lemak, roti canai and Milo!”

We both laughed.

“Well, that doesn’t quite make you English,” I joked.

“What does it make me then, Aunty Fa?” asked Leah, her big eyes staring at me.

“It makes you a Malaysian,” I smiled.

“If only my teacher asks Malaysian students to stand up, I would surely stand up – but she doesn’t. It is always Malay, Chinese and Indian,” Leah grumbled.

“Don’t worry about it, at least you know who you are,” I tried consoling her.

“A Malaysian!” she said happily.

And, Leah's Merdeka day plans...

On our way home at the end of our outing that day, I asked Leah about her Merdeka Day plans.

“You know Aunty Fa, every year my school has a Hari Kebangsaan parade and students are supposed to show up wearing their traditional outfits…”

“What do you normally wear for the parade then?” I asked as I wondered about the traditional costumes of Goans and Filipinos.

“I wear baju kurung! And my brother, Daren wears baju Melayu!”

“Why baju kurung and not an English dress?” I teased her.

She looked at me, her cheeks puffed up and all, “Why not? I like baju kurung!”

“You know what Leah, I like baju kurung too,” I said, right before giving her a high five.

Like Leah, I too remember having an identity crisis in my school days. In a country where an Indian is expected to be a Hindu and a Muslim is expected to be a Malay, I struggled to fit in as an Indian Muslim.

I ended up pretending to be a Malay only to have the realisation kick in years later that I need not fool myself into becoming someone I am not, in order to fit into social categories.

Knowing there are young people like Leah, who refuse to be fitted into the social boxes constructed by others, makes my heart explode with rainbows.

In the past, our identity may have been related to our ethnicity, religion and race but today, as our society consists of a melting pot of different cultures. We can no longer be fitted into any particular box.

While people in the older days found strength sticking to their own kind, today we see ourselves radically different, based on our own self-conception and self-perception.

We are no longer overly concerned with other people’s impressions of ourselves, nor do we struggle to fit into any box.

We are who we are.

Leah is Leah.

Fa is Fa.

And you are you.

We are whole as individuals, and we do not need to be identified as anything less than everything that we are.

Selamat Hari Merdeka.

FA ABDUL is a passionate storyteller, a growing media trainer, an aspiring playwright, a regular director, a struggling producer, a self-acclaimed photographer, an expert Facebooker, a lazy blogger, a part-time queen and a full-time vainpot.

The views expressed here are those of the author/contributor and do not necessarily represent the views of Malaysiakini.