“I have to say, I’m grateful you’ll be staying with an Indian family instead of a Muslim one.”
My grandmother said this in a hushed voice, even though we were the only people in the room. Her words bothered me a bit– but, I must admit, I was sort of relieved too. The colorful Hindu culture I’d seen on TV seemed a lot more inviting than the cold, strict Muslim culture I imagined was the alternative. I was traveling to Malaysia in just a few months, to live in that ~exotic land~ for an entire year. I was excited to travel, but I was very scared. What if I got lost in the airport and missed my flights? What if my host family hated me? What if I accidentally offended them irreparably? What if my schoolmates avoided me? What if I got malaria?
When I checked off “Malaysia” as my #1 choice for the AFS scholarship, I applied on a long shot. I knew little of Malaysia beyond the two missing airplanes, the name ‘Kuala Lumpur,’ and the silhouette of the big twin towers.
A little bit of Google Images research told me that Malaysia had amazing beaches, and thus it became my first choice above the four other countries I could choose from.
Instead of starting junior year, I flew 20 hours with strangers, and entered the home of people I had never met. I spent 11 months as an exchange student in Malaysia– a colorful land of diversity in which abide Malay Muslims, Chinese Buddhists, Indian Hindus, and many indigenous peoples, all combining to make a lot of public holidays and an exciting palette of food.
Traveling there was a whirlwind of excitement and fear and over-packing and sad goodbyes and jet lag, then adjustment. In the beginning I felt lost, confused, and paralyzed with homesickness, but day by day, it grew easier, as I learned to appreciate the cultural nuances— Give and receive things with only your right hand; don’t cross your legs in public– and came to understand the local languages.
In time, I found loving families on two continents and memories that will last a lifetime. By the end I could barely recall what it’s like to drive on the right side of the road, to wear shorts in public, to feel cold, or to eat with a fork. Being 10,000 miles from everything I’d called familiar in my first 16 years of existence was definitely challenging, but most of all: it was amazing.
Now when I think back about my grandmother’s whispered confession, I see how prejudiced it was. It makes me angry, but it also served as a powerful reminder: ideas like that— that Muslims are dangerous and I ought to look out so they don’t try to force me into conversion— are the reason I went to Malaysia in the first place. I went to Malaysia to break down the barriers we create in our minds: the idea that certain groups are dangerous and out to get us, when in fact they often consist of amazing kind, loving people. I went to Malaysia to get to know those people— the Muslims I was raised to fear, the people who ‘call America their enemy’.
I learned that most of the time our biased ideas and expectations are wrong– and that the only way to learn the truth is to go up and touch it.
I have learned about Islam, and with that, the fear that had been instilled in me as a Christian American child has dissipated. I was told that all Muslims hate America, and that’s why everything changed when I was almost two years old and 9/11 became a tragic day in American history. TV shows told me that terrorists are constantly trying to destroy our families and our happiness. The news told me that the world is a dangerous, terrible place, where people do awful things.
But driving past the beautiful mosque in our small town each day, sitting among Muslims in my classrooms, listening to them talk about their religion before they go to pray in the school surau, doing the salam to show respect to teachers and female elders — this has taught me to question all of that.
How can it be true that all Muslims hate America if new friends get so excited to hear that I am from the land of Hollywood, New York City, and Walmart?
How is it that I am safer in this Muslim country than in my hometown Baltimore City?
How can the world be a dangerous, terrible place when there are temples that are that beautiful? Sure some people do things we can call terrible, but what about all the other beautiful acts of kindness that happen every day but no one hears about them? Clearly, it seems, not everything we are told is true.
How can we get rid of this fear of diversity? How can we learn to accept other people for the kind teacher, student, friend, neighbor, family member, coworker, they are rather than the stereotype their headscarf makes us focus on?
My radical idea is that we can learn a lot by listening: listening to my host mother’s explanation on why Indian men put hooks through their backs and rods through their faces once a year and climb up to a temple up hundreds of steps; by watching how to respectfully greet a Malay man or woman; by appreciating the colorful traditional attire of different races.
What if we listened to these explanations before we jump to conclusions on how sexist it is that women must cover their entire bodies even in this terrible humidity and burning sun? What if we watched the body piercings of the kavadi and admired their commitment to their faith, rather than being creeped out by this strange ritual for their many strange animal-like gods? What if we joined in Chinese prayers for prosperity beginning in the new year, holding incense and bowing our heads forward three times to wish for something nearly everyone can agree on?
Animals— humans included— fight things that scare them. But what if instead of attacking others, we learn about what scares us and let go of that fear? We will always form judgements before we know the whole story. But what if we learn more before we act on these judgments?
The abilities I developed through my year abroad continue to shape me. I have been transformed into a far more compassionate human being. I dream of establishing medical clinics in developing countries. Bonding with people completely unlike myself was important practice for understanding new beliefs and respecting longstanding local traditions.
Learning about other cultures is not only a good way to have amazing experiences and stories to tell, but it is our obligation as citizens of this planet. Every nation is different, and that is a good thing. We don’t all need the same religion, just as all animals do not need the same niche in their environments. Ecosystems depend on biodiversity, and so do humans. Humans cannot all be the same; that would be boring! If we accept this need for diversity and learn to appreciate it, the world will be a much more peaceful place.
My Year in Malaysia 