I often wonder about the curious phrase “Malay-Muslim”. You hear it all the time in speeches, press releases, and community events. It rolls off the tongue as if it were one word. Malay-Muslim like fish-and-chips, chicken-rice, or kopi-o. Always together, always served as a set.
Now, let’s be honest. When everything is good and superb record-breaking exam results, a shiny new mosque, a successful community program suddenly we are no longer just Malay. We are Malay-Muslim. We are thriving, integrated, and proud of our identity. Bravo! Cue applause.
But when it comes to the mundane, the statistical, or (heaven forbid) the under-achievement? Suddenly the “Muslim” part quietly disappears. Then we are just Malay. Just another line on the CMIO chart, another number in the report. The “Muslim” badge seems to only come out for the parade.
And here’s another funny thing. You don’t hear Chinese politicians constantly calling themselves Chinese-Confucian or Chinese-Christian. You don’t hear Indian leaders talking about Indian-Hindus or Indian-Catholics. When they speak, Chinese means all Chinese. Indian means all Indians. It’s broad, universal, inclusive.
But with us? Somehow Malay is never enough. It must always come with its sidekick, Muslim. Malay-Muslim. Like Batman and Robin, always together. Except in this case, the hyphen is not so much a partner as it is a leash: to be Malay is to be Muslim. No exceptions, no variations, no wiggle room.
Why this obsession? Partly it’s political theatre. The Constitution makes it the Government’s duty to safeguard and promote the interests of the Malays. Since most Malays are Muslim, why not kill two birds with one hyphen? It signals that government policy is working not just for Malays, but for Malay-Muslims as a whole. It’s a neat package ethnicity plus religion ready for public display.
Progress in education? Malay-Muslims did it. Building a new mosque? Malay-Muslims achieved it. But when it’s a housing gap, or an income gap? Suddenly it’s only the Malays. The hyphen magically vanishes. Funny how that works.
So perhaps the “Malay-Muslim” label is less about us, and more about what others want to see in us: a tidy package, easily branded and politically managed. But here’s my little suggestion: why not just stick with Malay? We already know Malays are Muslim in the Singaporean imagination. Do we really need to spell it out every single time?
The hyphen, in the end, feels less like recognition and more like restriction. It narrows identity instead of widening it. What about secular Malays? Liberal Malays? Atheist Malays? Sorry no room for you in this hyphenated box.
So yes, call me sarcastic, but I think it would be refreshing to retire the double-barrel label. Let’s keep it simple. Malay is Malay. Period.
If progress is made, let it be the Malays’ progress. If setbacks occur, let it be the Malays’ challenges. We don’t need the extra syllable, the political window-dressing, the fish-and-chips hyphen.
After all, if a community’s achievements only shine when religion is glued to ethnicity, what does that say about how we see ourselves? Maybe the real reform we need today is not in policy or programs, but in the way we speak.
Words matter. And sometimes, the most powerful word is the simplest one.
