Speaking up - does it make a difference?
Editor - hopping along merrily in a crowd
of nine (all Malaysians) after a good night
out at a weekend, we made our way home. A
group of local youths spotted us and hurled
stones and whatever they could get their
hands on at us, coupled with obscenities and
racist remarks. On most days, I would have
hurried along and ignored them. That night
I stood up to them. One thing led to
another, and the next thing we knew we
were faced with eight teenagers wielding
sticks in our faces.
The aftermath of the incident was a bag.
ful of mixed feelings. At first I was angry—
angry that we were picked on by the
troublemakers and angry with their parents
for letting them run around harassing
people. I was angry at their racist sentiments,
their almost patriotic sentiments, claiming
that we were walking on their street, staying
in their land, eating their food. FIe have no
rights in their eyes. Then I felt regret. I
regretted provoking them, for spoiling the
night for my friends. I regretted putting
them in such a situation, compromising
their safety with my irresponsible actions. I
regretted being so childish. Next, fear crept
in. I was horrified when the incident played
in my mind over and over and I thought of
how vulnerable we were.
perhaps some might say that this
misfortune is a case of some rascals out for
some fun, or perhaps this is a case of deep
seated racism. I crave for a world where rac.
ism is a thing of the past, a place where
people of any skin colour can walk down
the street without being afraid. It is most
disappointing to be reminded that I am an
alien in a foreign land. I cringe at the
thought of having to run and run again
every time a similar situation arises. I hate to
think that I will have to explain to my son
why kids in school are calling him a “chink”
or “blackhead.”
This incident woke me up to an issue
that I have buried in my subconscious. It
challenged my identity. FIhat am I going to
do if a similar situation arises? FIhat did I
accomplish for speaking up? A sore knee
and a sense of dignity.
Ee Siang Choong, fourth year medical student,queens' university Belfast
Email: ee-siang@hotmail.com
studentBMJ 2001;09:399-442 November ISSN 0966-6494
