Race Matters

Someone once told me that race is artificial. We treat it as a reality, but humans invented race. I didn't accept that idea, at first. I grew up in America, where race is always visible, always an issue. Over the years, though, I moved toward acceptance of the idea that race exists because we learn to recognize it, and what we learn, we are often taught.

The three races in Malaysia are Malay, Chinese, and Indian. As three words, they sound so simple. But ask yourself, is "Chinese" a race? There are Chinese people who would say yes, who would say their race is different from the race of, say, the Japanese. If race is a combination of skin color, eyes and noses, then Malays are not very different from Filipinos. If race is culture, however, there are many differences between Malays and Filipinos.

Here in Malaysia, race is always treated as a three-sided issue. The official view is that 61 percent of the people here are Malay, 30 percent are Chinese, 8 percent are Indian, and 1 percent are "other" (source: Malaysia Official Year Book 2004, published by the Department of Information Services). In reality, it's not so clear; for example, a number of tribal groups in Borneo (e.g. the Dayak and others; be warned that both of these links go to old Eurocentric texts) are counted as Malay, but their cultures vary from the traditional Malay culture. There is another group, the Orang Asli ("original people"), many of whom are racially similar to the Aborigines of Australia. (There are different groups of Orang Asli. Some groups resemble the Malays more; some less.)

What's been most educational for me is the recognition of race. I'm not very good at differentiating the three races here. When a person's face is very dark and distinctly Tamil, then I know that person is Indian. But many Indians have lighter skin and different facial features.

There are Chinese people whom I can identify as Chinese. There are others, however, whom I cannot identify with confidence. My inability to racially identify people amazes Malaysians of all races. "Look at her nose!" they say. "Look at his eyes!" Or, "Look at how dark he is!" Dark? As an American, I have a completely different palette of dark and light than a Malaysian's.

Once one of my students was explaining that he is "medium," but the woman next to him was "light" or "fair" (the most desirable attribute among Malaysian woman of all races). I walked over to them and laid my forearm on his desk. "Put your arm beside mine. You too," I said to the female student. Our three arms, side by side, were very close to the same color. "Who is light here?" I asked. All the students laughed at this, and they seemed genuinely surprised.

Race is taught to us. My friends here are trying hard to teach me. I'm not a willing student, but it's impossible not to learn. When I was trying to describe a popular Malaysian singer whom I had seen on TV, a colleague said, "You mean the Indian one?" My friend Halimah was quick to jump in: "She can't tell." Our colleague's mouth dropped open. "How is it you cannot tell?" he said. Then I remembered something about the singer, whom I had never identified as Indian before: "Oh, yeah, his nose is ..." Then I touched the bridge of my own nose and gestured outward. His nose is "high."

My two companions smiled and nodded encouragingly. Yes, yes. I'm beginning to learn.