Hello, to my fellow classmates. I’m Shah Abg. Halil. 22 years of age and I hail from Kuching, Sarawak. I’m the youngest of six children. My dad had passed away in 1992 while my mom is a housewife. I love reading, poetry and tennis. Oh, last but certainly not least…I’m gay.
The above was a brief introduction which I had declaimed when I was asked to introduce myself in English class during the first semester of my Diploma in Communication and Media programme. That was in late 2005, in front of an audience of more than 30 people – including my lecturer, Puan Zamnah. The lecture room was silent for ten seconds before I was given a round of applause.
Applause? From a group of mostly 18 year olds, Muslim Malay, first time local university undergraduates, and none of them were gay? I had checked. None were gay until I completed the programme in 2008.
I have always been open about my sexuality, even when I read Law in 2001. My peers mostly were open-minded and I could say that they were too a supportive lot. Of course I did not tell everyone who passed by about my orientation but over time, I had never gotten negative responses. I was popular amongst the girls and the envy of most men. The catch? I am not straight.
Throughout the first semester, most of my coursemates knew about me. I had become Puan Zamnah’s chatting buddy in class. We had covered every single topic under the sun, including issues concerning marriages, in-laws and faithfulness. For a 22 year old, I was quite experienced though never been married. There were also other lecturers who had given me the same treatment as Puan Zamnah. There were Puan Julinda who taught Sociology; Puan Shifa who lectured Advertising and Marketing; and my other English lecturers - Puan Azhana and Miss Hamidah. Female coursemates come to me for advices regarding relationship (read: men), fashion 101 (trust me, I’m the epitome of faux pas) and gift ideas (I am not Martha Stewart).
As someone who had yet to be lucky in love, relationship questions were answered as candidly as possible. I shared what I knew and would not dwell too much on those I find complicated to give my two cents (and comprehend). Fashion-wise, most of them were about colours and patterns, and mixing and matching. I always had shawls in my wardrobe so if the girls needed one for Islamic Civilization lecture or to complete their look to pay their last respects to deceased loved ones, they knew who to look for. The guys meanwhile had sought for the same. No, I did not lend them my shawls.
I stayed in the campus hostel for three years and had straight housemates. They were a mixed bag – conservative, could not care less, open-minded and yes, homophobic. We worked as a team to iron out creases of awkwardness and realization. I had never seen myself as the one who stood out but one of them. I mixed fairly well with them and vice-versa. I have no qualms watching straight porn with them and they in return had never condemned me for watching gay porn when they were around. I was lucky. Give and take was not only meant for couples.
I would be lying if I say that being openly gay was met only with acceptance. There were parties who were occasionally against it but eventually, they had given in and accepted me for who I was. I did not have to fight for acceptance, only persevere. If they did not want to befriend me because of my sexual orientation, it was fine by me.
If I remembered clearly, the only time my sexuality was brought to the table was when I had a major misunderstanding with my roommate. It did not help when he caught me red-handed as I was pleasuring myself one morning in our room prior to the ordeal (he never slept in the room for he claimed that it was too hot, even when the ceiling fan was switched on to the maximum). When the confrontation intensified, I was harassed by drawings depicting my act (yes, he could draw really well) as well as a short paragraph which among others, suggesting me to be thrown out from the apartment-dorm for good.
As a sane human being, I had boldly dismissed such acts. I knew he was angry but by harassing me with drawings and lengthy blog entries would not change me even a single bit. What had actually led to the misunderstanding? I had voiced out my discomfort on my blog about how my apartment-dorm was never quiet, even at 4 a.m. on a daily basis. I was not against his creativity and talent in playing the guitar and singing but until four in the morning? I only did what I thought was right but apparently, the other party disagreed. However, the confrontation was short-lived. I did have a point and I was proud of my stand. We had decided to bury the hatchet and respect each other’s differences.
Homophobia cannot be cured in a day. I am proud to say that I have cured a significant number of my coursemates, male and female alike, from being ignorantly homophobic. Most have yet to acknowledge me for my role but I do see changes in them. It is a win-win situation, I suppose. One even said that I had made a huge impact in his life, curing him from his homophobia.
Frankly, I have never taken advantage of my sexual orientation to change the world. Being gay is not a talent but a gift as valuable as life itself. Being able to change lives of others, directly or otherwise, often puts a smile on my face. Now that I have successfully gained acceptance, fairness and trust from my peers, I am game for the next stage – coming out to my flesh and blood.
Razi - Mar 2nd
Kiya - Mar 4th
Adi - Mar 18th
Zeni - Mar 19th
Danial - Mar 21st
Boy - Mar 27th
-Hanisah, with her eldest son, Harith-
