Introduction
When I wrote Returning To Our Roots: The Anger and Heartbreak of Young Malay Men on these pages in 2021, the sight of young Malay men wearing tanjak (traditional Malay male headgear) caught the imagination of (non-Malay) Malaysians.
We were smack in the middle of a global pandemic and grasping the political realities of the country at that time.
These young men in Bangi, Taman Tun Dr Ismail and various other locations throughout the Klang Valley sparked discussions on who they were and what identity politics was looking like in the country.
Friends intrigued by the sight asked me: were they with the United Malays National Organisation (UMNO)? Parti Islam Se-Malaysia (PAS)? Parti Keadilan Rakyat (PKR)?
Today, men donning tanjak, even in casual wear, are almost ubiquitous—the sight of them in the public space is no longer as jarring as before. What was considered fringe is now becoming part of daily conversation, even among the Malays of the business and professional elite who previously would find this phenomenon an oddity.
In fact, last year there was a tanjak exhibition in Pavilion Damansara Heights, a mall in a high-end location catering to Malaysia’s rich.
At a recent reading event of my book, Malayland, at Riwayat bookshop on 3 May 2025, one of my panellists was Tengku Ahmad Ridhaudin or Ku Din, who is known in the silat (Malay martial arts) and keris (Malay weaponry) circles. He enthralled the audience with his theories on DNA, Malay identity and Malaysia, while wearing the full Malay traditional regalia. The audience may not have agreed with whatever he said, but they were intrigued nonetheless.
Malay Majority Authoritarianism Is Here to Stay
Not that “Malay-Malaysia” has ever left the public consciousness, but as Malaysia pursued its economic and development goals throughout the years, Malay culture and tradition fell by the wayside for a while.
Once in a while, interest groups would make a ruckus; in 2008, Hishamuddin Hussein Onn wielded a keris in his symbolic attempt at defending the Malay supremacy.
Lately, Malayness has come back to roost in its country, making a resurgence in great earnest post-2018, when Najib Razak and Barisan Nasional lost their hold on the country.
The year 2018 was the watershed of Malaysian politics; Malaysians since then have seen nation-shaking political breakups.
My colleagues, Dr Nicholas Chan and Dr Hew Wai Weng, wrote about how the “Green Wave” was a right-wing turn in Malay-Muslim majoritarianism. The pooling of Malay support is a strategic move by the Green Wave, which saw many Malay voters (and some non-Malay ones!) voting for Perikatan Nasional (PN).
PAS has always enjoyed a well-deserved reputation for understanding grassroots needs and demands, and PN banked on this leading up to the last general election.
Together with religious elites of the country, they are also able to capture the Malay-Muslim imagination on anti-liberal, anti-minority (especially gender and sexual minorities) and anti-pluralist takes on social issues, culminating in a huge culture war against the secular, liberal elites.
One example would be the recent Sisters in Islam fatwa appeal, an organisation that conservatives have deemed a deviant group.
One (personal) takeaway I get, after reading the news and comments by readers, is that this was a fight between elites—the religious and liberal. The religious elites are seen to be fighting on behalf of the ordinary Malay Muslim, who are not just wanting Islam and Malay rights to be upheld but also battling bread and butter issues.
Optics-wise, it is a great propaganda: skull-capped mullahs defending Muslim Malay rights versus a row of free-haired daughters of Malaysia’s political henchmen—Zainah Anwar, Marina Mahathir and Rozana Isa.
Why Do Malays Feel under Siege?
This has always been asked and bandied about from the day I entered the media as a journalist and editor in the early 2000s. How could a demographic that was a majority in this country – that had policies and benefits tailored for them – say that they were neglected and persecuted for being Malay and Muslim?
To understand any ethnic community in Malaysia, and everywhere else, is to learn about their lived realities and environment. In Jon E Fox and Cynthia Miller-Idriss’ paper titled “Everyday Nationhood”, one’s national identity and connection to nationhood are shaped primarily by their environment and everyday life.
The “Ordinary Malay” is not part of the upper echelon of Malay society—he or she is working as part of the middle class. Even
However, they are not blind to the realities of life: working at all sorts of jobs to support families, seeing job applications rejected because of language and educational barriers, facing the perception that Malays are lazy, and not having the social networks that could lift them out of their dire lives.
Bumi discounts? They would be lucky to get it.
They also have witnessed decades of being wronged by governments that have only been using them for votes and political support. And when elections are over, they go home to joblessness and uncertain futures.
The Bumiputeras, the majority ethnic group, account for 70% of the bottom 50% of the income bracket. Interest groups cherry-pick on such statistics, citing historical income inequalities.
It is undeniable that poverty eradication has been impressive, but the global Covid-19 pandemic reversed some of these gains, causing the absolute poverty rate to increase to 6.2% in 2022. When examining ethnic groups, the Bumiputera community has consistently shown higher poverty rates compared to Chinese and Indians, despite the narrowing of the income gap among these ethnic groups.
The Edge reported that “…researchers found ‘the differences between poor and rich Bumiputera are much larger than the differences between the average Bumiputera and the average non-Bumiputera’, noting that a comparison of the average income between different ethnic groups or between different states ‘masks differences within groups’, which are far more significant because the ‘economic differences within ethnic groups and locations are far more important than differences between them’.”
The class clash between the better-off, more connected Malays and their lesser brethren is stark. It is also a war between the non-Malays, who are presumed to have more than their Malay counterparts.
Threatened Men
If we stretch this further to the dimension of gender, economic hardship could partly explain the rise of toxic masculinity among Malay men.
I think one of the reasons why Malay men feel the pressure to express their masculinity and – in some cases – embrace extreme ideas of manhood is because they feel their foundation as a man is being threatened.
This should not require too much imagination. Men are culturally and traditionally expected to be breadwinners. And when this role is not sufficiently fulfilled, they feel a major aspect of their existence missing.
It is easy for Malay men to feel under siege. While there is a decrease in (Malay) women in leadership roles, there has been an
On Threads, many Malay women acquiesce to traditional roles, though many more of their peers demand their rights and justice. Malay women also appear to be woke, in spite of their conservative attire, so they will give the men on social media a good trashing. The few Malay men who fight back against these women on Threads tend to have less than 100 followers and are anonymous.
The bottom line is this: the beleaguered Modern Malay Man now has to play many roles: father, husband, lover, abang sado (muscular man) and sex god. And when women challenge these roles, his psyche might break.
My research in the past five years was spent talking to young Malay men of differing classes and backgrounds. In the past two years, I have met a few crypto boys who may be westernised – clubbing, drinking, sleeping around – all disavowed by Islam, but they are here to make money.
There is this one guy I met quite regularly. He is fit, lean, soft-spoken but masculine and in his 30s. He is a young man; hence he is naturally assumed to be virile. We met on social media because we wanted to legalise medical cannabis for health. After a few months of talking about this, he invited me to follow his personal Instagram.
Kaboom. Bentleys. Chivas. Every day there was a cigar.
His parents are M40 professionals, and he went to a local college. But he is sharp—he read up on all the English books he could find. Because he came from Johor, he speaks English well, with his grammar nearly perfect. His whole life was in his laptop, ledger, passport and QR codes.
“There’s no hope in Malaysia,” he said to me.
“What do you really do?” I asked.
“I fix things for clients, wherever they are. I guess I am a trader. One day, I will live across borders. You should get to know us,” he said.
So I asked: “You are gonna be like the Malays who left Malaysia to work as a professional or at a menial job?”
He was shocked. “I’m not going to be a waiter or janitor, if that is what you mean.” He looked at me and smiled. “I have money. I’ll see you in August.”
However, for all the sophistication, when it comes to gender dynamics, they want traditional wives. The crypto world is only for hard men—men who live in a parallel universe, where crime is blurred and darkness protects them. Still, the idea of eking out a living and coming home to a welcoming wife with a dinner spread is attractive. It is an appealing image—a hijabi wearing a scarf with its entrails/ends flapping in the air (here the writer envisions a penanggal), a house smelling of scented candles, cooking the best daging salai, waiting for her husband, the Alpha Malay Man.
Our politics have failed (the Malays). The Malay Man is threatened. The economy sounds promising, but he is not seeing it. The kids are always hungry. His parents and wife need money; how can he ever hope to be a lelaki jati (real man)?
The Weak Malay Man
If the crypto boys were sexy, then you also have the disenfranchised working-class Malay boys.
In Malayland, my book that was published by Ethos Books and Faction Press last year, I mentioned an interview with a young Malay man – who at one point considered himself a socialist and activist – but who was now right-wing like his friends.
They perceive that everything they fought for went south. That they were unable to even support their parents, families and even themselves was a serious blip on their masculinity. They could not even be proper sons, let alone men, in a country that was supposed to put the Malay agenda first.
The text below is derived from our exchanges on WhatsApp and email dated 3 March 2021.
Masculinity today, my friend said, was a mess. Malay men do not even know what is toxic and manly anymore. “To be a man is an honour,” he replied, but the examples he and his friends had were dishonourable.
“Kita sekarang dalam post-masculinity. Post-masculinity ni ialah di mana kualiti lelaki yang berani, yang kuat, yang tegas, yang tidak suka menjadi lemah, tidak dilihat sebagai satu kelebihan untuk meneruskan kelangsungan hidup.” (We are in the era of post-masculinity, where men who are brave, strong and disciplined and who do not want to be weak are not seen as assets in life.)
That was also why they were against homosexuality—to them, a real man’s job is to procreate and spawn future leaders, and homosexuality would be the death of procreation. A woman is “needed” to give birth to children, and two men in a relationship would not be able to have that. Meanwhile, gender fluidity threatens the idea of an alpha male.
Today’s men are weak, and their masculinity is questioned. For him and his friends, whethe
“Lelaki Melayu kena ada satu code of honour. Mungkin ada flaw, tapi ada isu yang lebih besar—macam isu politik identiti ni yang perlu diutamakan. Lelaki Melayu heartland atau Melayu suburbia merasakan nilai bushido Melayu semakin bercelaru. Dan aku rasa isu ni serius, sebagai seorang lelaki. Entah, setiap kali aku melepak dengan awek Bangsar bubble dulu, isu ni adalah isu turn off awek-awek ni. Kenapa ciri-ciri toksik macam kaki curang, kaki rogol, kaki raba, mat pet, budak shuffle, mat rempit, dan macam-macam lagi, dilabelkan hanya pada Melayu heartland dan Melayu suburbia? Kenapa semua ni tak dilabelkan pada Melayu Bangsar bubble? Takkan semua benda dalam dunia ni salah lelaki Melayu Islam?” (Malay men need a code of honour. Maybe there is a flaw, but there is a bigger problem— our political identity must be prioritised. The Heartland Malay men, or suburban Malay, sense that the Malay direction is confused, and it is a serious matter for them as men. I do not understand why each time I hung out with my girlfriends, who were part of the Bangsar bubble, this issue of weak men was such a turn-off. Now, why are toxic traits like infidelity, rape, molestation, and bad boys the purvey of the Malay heartland and suburbia only? Why not Bangsar bubble Malays? It cannot be that everything wrong in the world is the fault of Malay Muslim men?)
He continued, “Sebagai seorang lelaki, kalau kau tak rasa kita dalam krisis maskuliniti, aku tak tahulah apa aku nak cakap? Kita dah jadi generasi yang leka. Bila kita leka, kita lemah. Lelaki dilemahkan fikiran dengan tohmahan macam-macam, tambah pulak ada ramai lelaki jahat macam Imam Muda.” (As a man, if you do not experience this crisis, I do not know what to say. We have become a careless, mindless generation. That is why we are weak. [Malay] men are weakened by thoughts and perceptions, which is further exacerbated by bad men like Imam Muda.)
If the West turns to misogynists like Andrew Tate and Jordan Peterson, younger Malay men have their very own idols, one of which is in the form of Azri Walter, a Malaysian Tate lookalike, right from the bald head to the beard.
With a well-oiled, buffed body, Azri urges his followers to be smart at business and when dealing with women. “Show them who’s the boss!” he said in one of his social media posts.
Oddly, examples of masculinity Azri offers are borrowed from the West—ones that are incongruous to Malay manhood but are accepted by his followers. (Even Azri’s surname is Western. We are not too sure whether this is by design or whether it is bona fide.)
You have to give it to him; he is motivated and motivating, he is open about his past cha
I do not know if the friend I interviewed and his friends were Azri’s acolytes, but looking at the comments on TikTok, Azri is riding on a zeitgeist, and his followers – hapless Malay men – are listening.
Masculinity and Politics
Malay(sian) politics have al
Toxic masculinity, characterised by the reinforcement of traditional gender roles and aggressive leadership, appeals to voters and these young men I met, who were threatened by social change. It also discourages female and non-conforming participation. These, however, deepen gender divides in politics and shape views on power and authority.
After all, in Islam, the role of the male in a household is stressed on being a good leader and provider. In an increasingly modern and woke world, where the male identity is challenged, asserting their role and rights as a Malay man – and Muslim too – is all too attractive. This is a global experience that we are all observing now, as we witness genocides across the world and trigger-happy older men in power ordering strikes against the innocent.
Populism is already mainstream, cementing itself in Malaysian psyche as the country grapples with perceived weak leadership. Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim is facing challenges; he is unable to address concerns relating to Sabah and Sarawak – including religious freedom – as he seeks to regain support among Malay voters in Peninsular Malaysia.
East Asia Forum also reported on why Malaysian voters and civil society are turning on Anwar. The public trust deficit is apparent, as Malaysians vented their grouses on the Facebook page of the Yang DiPertuan Agong (YDPA).
The recent Parti Keadilan Rakyat (PKR) election, which saw Anwar’s daughter Nurul Izzah Anwar winning the vice president post, rankled many, including the Malays. (However, the media recently reported that Anwar’s approval rating has increased since 2024).
To the Ordinary Malay, there is no (Malay) leadership that Malaysians can bank on. The only individuals and organisations that are demonstrating a way out into a better future are nationalists and Islamists, who are seen as dependable and united. The Ordinary Malay wants out of the mess, and the only way to do so is by embracing its true nature—as a nationalist Malay who puts religion and ethnicity first. I had mentioned “Everyday Nationhood” earlier in this essay; lived realities often shape the worldviews of the Ordinary Malay (likewise for many others), and clearly the past decade has affirmed to them that the Malay(sia) they inhabit is cruel to them.
