Someone wrote in to The Star this morning asking which it should be, Malaysian Chinese or Chinese Malaysian. Ah, the recently perennial question raises its head once again. The paper tried its best to answer it, suggesting alternatives, suggesting that perhaps ethnicity shouldn't even be mentioned, and finally ending with a quote from Lolita about a "salad of racial genes."
To me, it's so obvious. It's a question of priority. What's more important, being Malaysian or being Chinese? To me, I'm a Malaysian. If I'm pressed, I admit to being of Chinese descent. Therefore, my ethnicity merely describes the type of Malaysian I am. So I am a Chinese Malaysian, just as I am a proud Malaysian, a loyal Malaysian, a critical Malaysian, a fourth-generation Malaysian on my father's side. (Actually, I can trace my ancestry further back on my paternal great-grandmother's side but who's counting?)
When I was a child, this wasn't even an issue. We were Malaysian Chinese and that was that. It's really gratifying to see others struggling with this question because they are grappling with an emerging sense of a national identity. As Malaysia approaches its 48th birthday, the concept of Bangsa Malaysia doesn't seem like a pipe dream anymore.
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