"Malaysian Gods" restricted by the Censorship Board

Details at The Nut Graph here.

So I will be arranging screenings in colleges and so on. Any takers? :-)

I have not made international film festival plans for it. I'd rather it be seen by Malaysians first.

Invasion of the campus softies

SEXUAL IDENTITY: Effeminacy Among University Students by Noraini Mohd Noor, Jamal Farooqui, Ahmad Abd Al-Rahim Nasr, Hazizan Md Noon and Shukran Abdul Rahman. (International Islamic University Malaysia, 2005, 231 pages).

This is one of the fruitiest books I have ever read. The fact that it evangalises against fruity behaviour does not invalidate this verdict, since the world is rife with paradox. (To use an analogy: Pro-democracy activists are not always democratic, no?)

In 2003, Minister in the Prime Minister’s Department Siti Zaharah Sulaiman claimed there were too many lelaki lembut (‘male softies’) among university students. “Where have all the cowboys gone?” she almost asked. This book came out a mere two years later. The five writers also want more cowboys, and they don’t mean of the Brokeback Mountain variety! This is the International Islamic University, and cows must produce only halal meat.

Having five writers might account for some contradicting passages. We are told of mak nyah (transvestites): ““society frowns on them, but they are tolerated to an extent.” A mere paragraph later, these people “are viewed as a significant social problem.” So what are they?

But are all lelaki lembut potential mak nyah, anyway? The book sometimes thinks so, and other times has no clue. But it does want softies to have typical male characteristics, to be “forceful, dominant, competitive and sure of themselves.” (But don’t these sterling qualities also describe many women, such as the book’s muse Siti Zaharah herself? Or am I thinking more of the woman who took back the Wanita Umno leadership from her? But I digress).

The researchers questioned various IIU students on this phenomenon. Astonishingly, only 5 lelaki lembut were actually interviewed. The other 20 are all normal students (and this book, free of irony and relativism, never puts ‘normal’ in quotation marks) who give their usually negative opinions, e.g. “Most respondents felt that softies spent their time gossiping with each other.”

The males, females and softies had to fill out a questionnaire to determine how masculine, feminine or androgynous they were. Stuff like knowing how to read a map or fix “something mechanical.” They are also asked whether they prefer to sit on the left, the right, or just anywhere in a movie theatre. (My own answer would be ‘the centre’ but this option is not included. I always knew I was special.)

Based on these questions and some self-evaluating ones (e.g. on a scale of 1 to 5, how satisfied are you with your sexual organ?), some conclusions are drawn. The book gleefully points out that softies tend to exhibit lower self-esteem than normal men and women. But, astonishingly, softies also tend to exhibit lower stress levels. What gives? “They may not be telling the truth.” Oh, OK then.

Another possibility for the lack of stress could be that “this group of softies is closely knit and very supportive of one another.” Therefore, “such interaction needs to be stopped.” Make no mistake: the authors want to “make the campus environment unappealing and unconducive to effeminate males.” No wonder only 5 softies agreed to be interviewed! And judging from the interview transcripts, they didn’t seem too comfortable with the questions, either. When asked how much he spends on ‘cosmetics’ every month, one answered uncertainly: “Does facial cleanser count as cosmetics?”

The interview process was not free from slapstick. There were “logistic difficulties…partly due to the University’s regulations that require students to observe certain rules with regard to the male-female relationships on campus.” This meant that unmarried men and women couldn’t be in private, and so these interviews were conducted in public places and were frequently disrupted by “noise and external activities (such as passers-by staring at both interviewer and interviewee, causing both parties to feel uncomfortable)”.

This little anecdote alone is an excellent illustration of how conservative gender taboos impede work. If the university authorities weren’t so hung up about sex, perhaps their people can come up with better research. That is, after all, what a university should be doing, instead of getting their students to suggest “military training” or “public punishment” for men who prefer volleyball to rugby.

Then there is the suggestion for each softy to be assigned a masculine male as “a role model for traditional ways of male interaction, carrying oneself, handshaking, and even urinating.” It was at this point, after picking myself up from the floor, that I suspected the whole book to be an ingenious hoax, but then I perished the thought.

I learned more about gender and sexuality from that bit in I Shot Andy Warhol when one of the maestro’s Superstars was asked: “What are you? Are you a woman trapped in a man’s body? A transvestite? A transsexual?” –- and then came the answer: “But darling, what difference does it make, as long as you look fabulous?” Amen to that.

(Malay Mail, 28 January)

< 5 weeks to deadline

Don't forget, boys and girls and everyone in between: You have until 28 February to submit stories or essays to Body 2 Body, Malaysia's first queer anthology!


I blogged the details right here. Klue magazine has been the only representative from the print media to give publicity to it, here. (Why the silence from everyone else?)

We have received 10 entries so far (but only 2 by women). This is not bad considering Malaysian anthologies tend to get a deluge only in the final month. I have hidden the authors' names and forwarded the entries to the two editors, so that they will not be biased.

We posted the Call for Entries on the forum of a website where the members often display only selected portions of their anatomy, and it received over a hundred responses. So to clarify some of the points that were raised on that forum, here is an...

FAQ !

1. Do I have to be queer to take part?
No. We will not check your credentials.

2. Would it help if I were queer?
No.

3. Would it help if I were a good writer?
Oh yes.

4. Is that the book cover?
No. It's a poster thingy we did for the Call for Entries.

5. Is obscenity acceptable?
As Nabokov once said (I am paraphrasing) in defence of Madame Bovary: "A work of art is never obscene."

6. Are there any other books of this sort?
Why, yes, but in other countries. You might wanna check out this Indonesian one:

But that only has fiction. We accept essays too.

7. Can I use a pseudonym to remain anonymous?
No.

8. Why not?
Because the photo-shoot on launch day will be a real bitch otherwise.

News from Rotterdam

Greetings from Rotterdam!

I am here to do a 'Haunted House' installation, and to present Susuk.

I was also asked to kick off the Guest Column for the festival's daily paper. So, seeing as how there are tens of thousands of cinephiles here from all over the globe, it seemed like a plum chance to introduce a Malay film that literally no one here would have seen.

The paper is online here and I am on page 2.

Oh yes, I also did another installation at this unique place -- dubbed the world's smallest art gallery -- that changes its display every Friday. The gallery is precisely the size of a bar window display. This time, I adapted one of my favourite Malaysian short stories, and made use of some unusable furniture.

Among the believers

AL-ARQAM Di Sebalik Tabir by Ann Wan Seng (Penerbit Universiti Malaya, 2005, 178 pages)

The chili sauce did come to mind, I admit. Back when I was a university student, robed, turbanned and bearded Malay gentlemen would peddle it to us, together with a few other halal provisions. We were many miles from home, but these Al-Arqam goods were just as potent in bringing back the memories, alongside the Sheila Majid CDs that we had –- but that these robed guys probably didn’t play in their vans.

This book, unfortunately, doesn’t have the recipe for that sauce. But it does give a broad overview of one of the most remarkable social phenomena that Malaysia saw in the last few decades; and who is to say that its time is really up?

Al-Arqam started in 1968 as a religious study group in Datuk Keramat. By the early 1990s, there were 10,000 full-time members who could be instantly recognised by their attire. Their women were always in severe black purdah, leaving only a slit for the eyes, and their sudden emergence helped create the modern ghost known as hantu kum-kum.

This spooky creature is also absent from this book, but its mere existence showed that Al-Arqam did manage to penetrate our consciousness to a great degree. Judging from the popularity of their publications in particular, there were probably hundreds and thousands of supporters.

You didn’t have to fill out a membership form to join, but there was a vetting process. Its many thriving settlements or communes, including the biggest in Sungai Penchala, received all kinds of visitors. Although most wanted to brush up on religious knowledge, it’s fair to say that some just wanted to get inspired by the Arqam business model.

Ann Wan Seng, a Muslim convert who is also the author of bestsellers such as Rahsia Bisnes Orang Cina, admires both the spiritual zeal and entrepreneurial spirit of Al-Arqam. He brilliantly posits that Islamic revivalism among the Malays had much to do with economic jealousy and insecurity in the face of ethnic Chinese success. As explanations go, it’s more persuasive that simply dredging up Khomeini. It also proves, as if any proof were needed, that Islam has always been a discourse that is socially and temporally contingent.

The rise of Al-Arqam chronologically parallels the new bumiputera class as aided by MARA and ITM (now UiTM). What made Arqam even more remarkable was that it didn’t need government funding or bailouts. Its self-sustaining methods were less corrupt and wasteful. Despite their ‘retro’ (ahem) dress-sense, its members were progressive and often professional. They probably had more female doctors per capita than the rest of Malay society – although you’d be hard-pressed to tell them apart, unless you were very adept at differentiating eyes.

Unlike punier movements like the ‘tea-pot kingdom’ of the recent past. Al-Arqam existed very much in the public realm. Its success also gave the lie to the then-dominant UMNO’s raison d’etre – namely, that Malays needed this party to get ahead in life.

Rather than become a confrontational force, this book shows that Al-Arqam craftily made attempts to cosy up to government leaders to ensure survival. But this was not enough: the movement was banned in 1994 and there came a spate of ISA arrests against its leaders.

In retrospect, the writing was on the wall for some time. The excessive veneration accorded its leader Ashaari Muhammad (his followers took him as an ‘assistant’ to the coming Messiah, who was able to converse with the Prophet Muhammad) also made it easier to dismiss it as a loony cult with probably all kinds of crazy ideas to take over the country. (The Home Ministry’s innuendo about plans for armed insurgency has never been proven).

And if you want to be a conspiracist: Al-Arqam’s model simply pointed to the relative failure of the government’s bloated religious bureaucracy. And that is why ‘action’ needed to be taken.

Although a bit on the slim side, this book is non-judgmental enough to give due credit to Al-Arqam for helping us see that it’s possible for people to inhabit alternative spaces. We could have actually learned something from them, although the leaders’ polygamous habits would not have endeared them to liberals.

Despite the ban, alarm bells are periodically rung in the media about an imminent ‘revival’, especially through the channel of Ashaari’s business empire Rufaqa.

There’s actually a Rufaqa mini-market near my apartment! I used to shop there but I am sad to report the service is slow and the carrots limp. Perhaps the new breed isn’t as gung-ho? Millennial, messianic movements ain’t what they used to be.

(Malay Mail, 21 January)

R for Run

... although R could have easily stood for something else.

Let's read the Quran

A project initiated by Syed Akbar, who can be very persuasive!