Racism in Malaysia: An Unofficial Sport

Racism in Malaysia: An Unofficial Sport #

Forget badminton, football, or sepak takraw. If you want to witness Malaysia’s true national pastime, played with unmatched fervour and alarming frequency, look no further than the toxic arena of Racism. It’s not just present; it’s pervasive, practiced with the casual ease of breathing and often defended with the fervour of an Olympic champion protecting their gold medal. We’ve elevated prejudice to an unofficial sport, played in mamak stalls, office corridors, family WhatsApp groups, and the dark recesses of social media, with everyone from the coffee-shop unker to the polished professional seemingly eager to take a swing.

The rules are simple, yet insidious. Point One: Identify difference – skin tone, accent, religion, surname, perceived cultural habit. Point Two: Apply sweeping, usually negative, generalization. Point Three: Deliver the remark, joke, or assumption with a knowing chuckle, a dismissive wave, or a venomous online comment. Bonus Points: Defend it instantly with the sacred incantations: “Cannot take joke ah?”, “It’s true what!”, “My [insert relative] had a bad experience once!”, or the ultimate shield, “I have friends who are [insert ethnicity], so I can say it!” The trophy? A fleeting sense of tribal superiority and the perpetuation of deep-seated division.

We see the game played everywhere. The hushed warnings about renting property to that race because “they dirty lah” or “always late pay.” The workplace whispers questioning the promotion of a colleague, instantly attributed to “quota” rather than merit. The “friendly” mamak banter dissecting entire communities based on lazy stereotypes – “all of them lazy,” “all of them greedy,” “all of them untrustworthy.” The casual exclusion at the pasar malam, the suspicious glance on the LRT, the assumption about intelligence, work ethic, or criminality based purely on the face looking back. Online, it explodes into open warfare – anonymous accounts spewing vitriol, comment sections becoming battlegrounds of prejudice, each side entrenched, firing salvos of historical grievance and modern myth.

What makes this “sport” particularly pernicious is its normalisation. We’ve become so accustomed to the background hum of racism, the casual slurs disguised as humour, the institutional biases brushed off as “just the way things are,” that we often fail to recognise its corrosive impact. We dismiss it as harmless, as tradition, as “just talking.” But this constant drip-feed of “othering” poisons the well of national unity. It breeds resentment, fuels mistrust, and erodes the very foundation of muhibbah we claim to cherish. It tells entire segments of our society they are perpetually outsiders, judged not by character or action, but by an accident of birth.

The victims aren’t abstract concepts; they are our neighbours, colleagues, classmates, and potential friends. It’s the talented student overlooked, the qualified job seeker rejected, the family made to feel unwelcome, the individual constantly forced to prove they defy the stereotype pinned on their skin. The cost is a fractured society, stunted potential, and a national psyche forever scarred by self-inflicted division. We marvel at racial harmony abroad while conveniently ignoring the rot within our own backyard, meticulously maintained by our own words and actions.

We can’t tackle what we refuse to name. Calling out this “sport” isn’t being overly sensitive or “playing the race card”; it’s demanding basic human decency. It’s refusing to laugh at the poisonous joke. It’s questioning the ingrained assumption. It’s challenging the relative who spews venom over rendang. It’s recognising that unity isn’t just colourful posters during Merdeka month; it’s the daily, conscious rejection of the racist thought, the stereotype, the casual cruelty. Until we stop treating prejudice as a national hobby and start confronting it as the destructive force it is, the only title we’ll hold is “Champions of Our Own Downfall.” The game is rigged, and we’re all losing. Time to walk off the field.