Tag: Religion

*Pinch*

“Faster, what colour, what colour!”

This is something that many of us are familiar with: The ‘pinching game’. For the uninitiated, this ‘game’ is initiated when one spots a man with a turban in the vicinity. One will then pinch our friend(s) and continue pinching them until they tell us the colour of the turban.

When we were younger, this ‘pinching game’ was just some harmless fun with friends. We were naively unaware of how racist the game is. We knew very little about the meaning of a turban or the people who wear one and to us, we were just poking fun at something that was unfamiliar.

However, we have grown up, both individually and as a society, to be a lot more careful around topics of race and religion. We have emphasised on the importance of respecting the Malays, Indians, even the Chinese group, and the different religions in Singapore. 

There is one minority group, however, who has often gotten sidelined in our society: The Sikhs. 

We see them around, but most of us have hardly mingled with a Sikh before, much less know anything about the Sikh culture. The average Singaporean would have only noticed the turban and the bearing of ‘Singh’ or ‘Kaur’ in their names, but what else?

A Peek Into The Sikh Way Of Life

I first stepped into a gurdwara (Sikh temple) last week, where I met the founder of Sikhs of Singapore, Perinder Kaur, to learn about the Sikh way of life. 

Midway through the tour around the Gurdwara Sahib Silat Road (Silat Road Sikh Temple), we also got to speak with Harjit Kaur, the Vice Chair of the Sikh Centre at the temple, and Baljit Singh, the  President of Central Sikh Gurdwara Board, who gave us insights into what it means to be a Sikh in Singapore.

We got to speak to Baljit (L) and Harjit (R), who shared about the teachings of Sikhism

As an agnostic, what stuck out the most to me is how authentic Sikhism, the faith of a Sikh person, is. The beliefs and teachings of Sikhism are largely centered around being a good person. 

In fact, in the words of the trio, being a Sikh is to be “a student of life.”

Baljit explained, “we are all on a journey, between now and the end point, and one of the things I’ve learnt [in Sikhism] is that you want to attain Mukti, salvation in your living life,” and for him, attaining salvation is simply being able to be a good person and leading a truthful life. 

Teachings like the three tenets of Sikhism, act as a guideline and a conscious reminder for Sikhs to be a good person.

The 3 tenets, or pillars of Sikhism that Sikhs live by
Image Credit: Sikhs of Singapore

Sikhs believe in one God and follow the scriptures laid out by their Gurus, and it is up to every Sikh individual to interpret and follow the teachings. As such, Sikhism is a very personal journey for every Sikh.

“Each of us is on a journey at a different pace, and the accountability is in each of us to answer to the one supreme Lord.”

Interesting, although Sikhism is a monotheistic religion, Sikhs do not pray to a definite form of God. Rather, their God is an abstract interpretation of a higher force. 

Thus, if you were to visit any gurdwaras, you will not find any effigies like you would at churches (Jesus Christ) or Buddhist temples (Buddha), for example. Instead, Sikhs pray to the Sri Guru Granth Sahib, the Sikh holy scripture, which contains the teachings of the Sikh religion.

Sikhs pray to the Sri Guru Granth Sahib, the Sikh Holy Scripture
The Sri Guru Granth Sahib, the Sikh holy book, contains scriptures laid out by Thirty-five Saints

The 1430-page holy scripture is so highly-revered that one does not simply buy it off the shelf at a bookstore. It is meticulously transported from India to Singapore with assistance from authorities at Changi Airport and even our local police. 

“It’s almost like you’re welcoming God into your home,” Perinder mused, on bringing the holy scripture to a new home.  

What Does It Take To Be A Sikh?

Like Christianity, Sikhism has its version of baptism as well. The Amrit Sanchaar, or Amrit for short, can be taken by a Sikh anytime, but once undertaken, it is a pledge to lead the Sikh way of life. 

Besides the believe in one eternal God and the 10 Gurus and to follow the teachings of Guru Granth Sahib, this commitment includes a firm promise to live by the 3 tenets of Sikhism, The Five Ks, and the rules of the Four Taboos and Five Vices.

The Five Ks 

The Five Ks are five articles of faith worn by Sikhs and are symbolic of the Sikh culture

The Kara, is an iron bangle that a Sikh has to wear at all times, irrespective of gender. There are multiple interpretations to the meaning of the Kara. One of it propounds that the circular shape of the bangle signifies eternity, which also means that there is no beginning and end to the almighty.

The Kesh represents hair, which Sikhs believe is a gift of God and Sikhs keep their hair as a form of respect. This is why many Sikhs have a long beard or long hair. 

One of the reasons why Sikhs wear turbans is also to honour this gift (of hair), and to keep it clean and neat. A turban is also part of the ‘uniform code’ and has become an identity for Sikhs. And because a turban has become a form of identity for the Sikhs, making fun of a Sikh’s turban is akin to making fun of an Indian for having ‘brown skin’, for example. 

No photo description available.
The Five Ks in Sikhism and its individual meanings
Image Credit: Daily Sikh Updates

Then, there is the Kanga, a small comb that Sikhs keep in the hair (within the turban). Likewise, it signifies discipline and cleanliness. 

Sikhs also carry a Kirpan around, which is a dagger and a symbol of the Sikh’s sovereignty, pride and dignity. It also signifies a Sikh’s duty to defend the weak and helpless from any injustice. In Singapore, there are regulations in place for safety, such as a limitation to the size of the dagger (up to six inches long). 

Lastly, the Kashera, which is a pair of ‘baggy shorts’ that signifies ‘self-restraint’ and falls in line with one of the Four Taboos (adultery). 

The Four Taboos & Five Vices

In Sikhism, Sikhs are supposed to steer clear of the four taboos and five vices.

The four taboos in Sikhism are: No adultery, no cutting hair, no intoxication (cigarettes, drugs, or alcohol), and no consumption of meat that is slaughtered or prepared in a religious manner

Lust, anger, greed, attachment, and ego makes up the five vices. 

Although these are taboos and vices laid out by the faith, almost all of these (besides the one about hair and meat) are temptations that all of us face in life. These ‘rules’ are pretty much guidelines to help one become a better human being. 

With that said, what I respected the most is how honest and real Harjit was when she spoke about these commitments. 

“Having said that, it's not like you have taken Amrit (baptism) and you've become perfect, It's a promise. I have taken Amrit but I can still get angry. It is something that I'm still working on.”

Being A Sikh Is Also About Being Selfless

Besides those core teachings, there is another prominent trait of Sikhs, which is their concept  of Sewa (selfless service). 

It is mentioned in Gurbani, that Seva (service) can be done by “tan, man, dhan,” which breaks Seva into three types: “Physical service, mental service, and monetary service.” 

This ethos is so strong among Sikhs that it is literally what keeps the gurdwara running. 

Harjit shared: “[The gurdwara runs] totally on the basis of sharing, hundred percent. With everything, the building, the food, the provisions for Langar (food), the upkeep of the place. Anytime we want to change the carpets or the lights, people donate wholeheartedly. Everything.”

Considering how expensive it must be to run a temple and how small the community is in terms of numbers, I was surprised to learn that all seven gurdwaras in Singapore are fully supported by donations. This takes into account the supply of free meals at their Langar hall every day, which is open to anyone and everyone regardless of race or religion. 

The Langar hall is kept running through the day and anyone is welcomed there

“The people that you see in the kitchen are all volunteers who come down to cut the vegetables and prepare the rations for the day so that the community kitchen is kept running. This is basically the essence of the religion, to serve without any inhibitions.”

There are also many regular volunteers who do different types of Sewa for the temple and the community. Even Baljit and Harjit, who both hold positions of authority in the gurdwara, are volunteers themselves. 

Perinder (L) runs Sikhs of Singapore, and Harjit (R), who is  the Vice Chair of the Sikh Centre at the temple

In fact, the temple board faces a ‘happy problem’ of regular volunteers refusing to accept plaques for their years of service, because “they said they don’t do the service for any sort of appreciation or recognition.” 

Keeping The Faith Alive

There are about 12,000 to 15,000 Sikhs in Singapore today, which makes up only 0.26% of our population of about 5.8 million. That possibly makes Sikhs a minority among the groups of minorities in Singapore. 

Despite the size of the community, I have, through the two hours spent at the gurdwara, realise how much they have to offer to our society. For example, in the recent incident where local influencer Sheena Phua called two Sikh men “obstructions”, the Sikh community could have easily hit back with criticisms. But the youth from the Young Sikh Association invited Sheena to the Gurdwara, showed her around and shared the beliefs of Sikh faith with her.

Perinder explained, “But you look at the bigger picture: What do you want to do? Do you want to stay angry or, moving forward, do you look at it as an opportunity for you to actually engage? As a community, we took a very important stand that we would not react with anger. Rather, educate, not hate.”

This is where a platform like Sikhs of Singapore comes in to raise awareness and bridge the gap, through sharing stories of the everyday Sikh and to address common misconceptions among Singaporeans. 

In a country like ours where we are so multiracial and multicultural, this is so important: The empathy and patience in being able to take a step back to re-evaluate how we deal with or even react to any racially or religiously sensitive situation. 

It’s hard in practice of course, but as with the teachings of Sikhism, it is something that will do all of us good to strive for.

Baljit shared that 550 years ago, their first Guru made a very apt comment about how there is no separation between different races or religions, because at the end of the day, we are all the same. It’s all about humanity. 

“We don’t identify people by their faiths, we identify that every person is a human being."

Also read: He Became A Monk At 23: What It’s Like Living By 227 Rules.

At 5am where most of us would have still been deep in slumber, Phra CK gets out of bed. Like the other monks who are residing at Palelai Buddhist Temple at Bedok, waking up at the crack of dawn is nothing out of the ordinary.

It’s an impossible feat for most of us, but for Phra CK and the other monks we saw when we visited the temple two weeks ago, this is a lifestyle that they have long accustomed to.

Back when Phra CK was training in monastics in Johor, meditation sessions start as early as 4am every day. Over at Palelai Temple, the first agenda starts at 6am daily—the morning chant.

6.00AM - Chanting

So there I was, at the start of my day where I will tail Phra CK to find out what a monk’s life is like in Singapore. 34 this year, Goh Chun Kiang is a monk by choice and was one of the youngest in Singapore to be ordained at 23 years old.

In a video interview with us later on, Phra CK shared how he wanted to be a monk ever since he was a primary school kid. Seeing the conflicts between his mum and dad back then made him think about the meaning of true happiness. Then, the shows he watched and books he read further influenced his perspective of wanting to be a monk.

https://www.facebook.com/millennialsofsingapore/videos/2885328878208213/

Now a ‘full-time monk’, he resides in Palelai Temple and lives according to the daily agenda set out by the temple.

Together with the Millennials of Singapore team, we sat in silence at the back of the main shrine as we waited for the morning chant to start. The only sounds were the occasional creaks from when the wall fans oscillated. The monks entered singly, each of them finding their own spot in front of the Luong Pho Phra Buddha Jinaraj. And as everyone waited in silence, I actually felt like I would on a very relaxing holiday—calm and with a clear mind.

The temple is open to the public and while we were there, a few people came by for a short prayer and offer incense. A handful joined the morning chant, although, Phra CK shared that the evening chants usually see more crowd.

There is a rack at the back of the hall with chanting books as well, so members of the public can refer to the book and chant along if they wish to.

Midway through the session, I took a copy to attempt to follow the monks in chanting. After flipping through the pages, I gave up, for I had no idea where they were already at. And it was in Pali language.

The various aspects of Buddhism covered in their daily chants.

When I caught up with Phra CK later, I asked how he even managed to memorise approximately 30 minute worth of chants and what more, in a language that doesn’t come naturally to us.

“If you’re talking about intensive memorisation, it took me a month to remember.”

These daily chants covers several aspects of Buddhism, of repentance, of dedication of merits, and of various teachings in Buddhism among others. For Phra CK, the daily chants is also a sort of recollection of the fundamentals in Buddhism and monastics. The chants help him stay mindful.

6.30AM - Breakfast

Mindfulness is one of the key principles they practice in their life as a monk. Such that even during meal times, the monks have their food in silence even as they sat together at a round table.

The whole idea of mindfulness, Phra CK explained, is also to overcome desires.

The exception is if they have urgent matters that require them to talk over their meal. I guess that explains why their meal times are only 30 minutes.

We followed Phra CK to their meal area and watched from afar, for privacy reasons during their meal times.   

At the back of the photo is the meal area, located at one end of the temple compound.

One of the temple volunteers later invited us to join the other volunteers for breakfast at the kitchen, when the monks were done with their meal—the dishes that are served to the monks are collected back to the kitchen area for volunteers’ consumption after.

When I saw the dishes, I was struck by the quantity and variety of dishes there were there—more than 10 plates of food. The dishes reminded of homecooked meals at my granny’s place: stir-fried vegetables, prawn with leek, carrot cake, and bread, among others. There were also about five plates of fruits like bananas, jackfruits, lychees, and apples.  

Unlike some sects of Buddhism that require one to be vegetarian, Phra CK and the other monks at Palelai Temple consider food a blessing from lay people, and they consume whatever is given to them, including meat.

7.00AM - Area Cleaning

Part of their daily morning routine includes an area cleaning right after breakfast. The scope of cleaning depends on the number of monks staying there and what there is to do on that day.

On that day, Phra CK was mopping the main shrine. On other days, he could be clearing rubbish or sweeping the floor.

8.30AM - Alms Round

At around 8.20am, we headed out to a neighbourhood market area at Tampines, together with another monk and five temple volunteers, who drove us there.  

Because being a monk means renouncing material wealth, they have to depend on lay devotees for their food. This is one of the reason they go out on their alms round daily, a traditional practice where they collect food from devotees.

We stood in front of Blk 832 Tampines St 81, at an open area facing two coffee shops.
Temple volunteers help to pack and load the donations onto the car.

Before this, I had, with my very limited knowledge and my misguided impression of monks, envisaged the alms round to be where they go around coffee shops or markets asking for food.

Instead, a crowd of devotees came up the moment the two monks took their spot at a central location in the middle of two coffee shops and the side of a supermarket. If you didn’t pay attention, you would have thought that people were rushing up to get freebies. The baskets and trolley the volunteers prepared were filled up within the first five minutes, and were wheeled away to be loaded up to the car by some of them.

A short 15 minutes later, we were back on the car headed back for the temple.

I asked Phra CK if the alms round is usually this short (and easy). He explained that at the beginning, it was more challenging as people didn’t understand what they were doing. There were even times where the Police has come up to check on them.

However, as the monks at Palelai Temple have already been following the same Alms Round schedule for more than 10 years, residents and devotees around are already familiar with this. The regular devotees will also have stand-by for the alms round when the time comes.

“Volunteers recognise the devotees, so once they see that they have more of less come already, then can go already.”

Although, this isn’t something that is practiced by every practicing monk. In certain countries, alms round is highly-frowned upon as natives see it as a shameful act of begging.

“This is why during the alms round, we have to look down and stay silent. We are not supposed to solicit donations. We cannot ask for anything, because that becomes begging, and we cannot speak or give any advice in return because this exchange becomes a form of trading.”

This is one of the ways you can tell bogus monks apart from the real ones.

Upholding A Strict Code Of Conduct

For those who have ordained and devoted their life to monastics, these are also just a few of the 227 rules that they have to abide by.

Some of the rules include basic ones like not lying and not killing, and those that lay people would find hard to live with: Not being able to accept or use money, not being able to laugh loudly, and even extremely specific rules like “not to use mattresses, cushions or cloths filled with cotton or kapok.”

The number of rules on food consumption alone.
Screen capture taken from dhammadana.org

Even meal times are ‘regulated’, as monks are not allowed to eat after noon. Thus, their second and only other meal for the day happens after the alms round at either 9.30am or 11.30am. I cannot fathom how I were to survive with not eating after 12pm, but for Phra CK, these things aren’t a big deal. It is all a matter of conditioning.

“Before I ordained, I went to study up on the rules. When I first read all of them, it was a bit ‘wow’. Initially, it looks impossible when you just read it, but when you apply it to daily life, you just get into it.”

In the end, these drastic lifestyle changes are possible because they have been trained. Nonetheless, there were many things that he admitted having to give up.

“A lot of things. Personal favourites like gaming. I used to love gaming. Music as well. But all of that were just temporary and we are trained to overcome such desires at the conditional retreat, before getting ordained. At the beginning, there was something like Cold Turkey. But over time, I just get used to it.”

As a monk, he dedicates the rest of his day (free time) to meditations, memorising chants for different rituals, and on his own assignments. He is also currently an advisor to a Buddhist youth network, and helps with leadership training, and interfaith training.

Now that Phra CK has pledged to an ascetic lifestyle, I learn that the only thing he is able to watch (by choice) are news and documentary films.

With no worldly pleasures to look forward to unlike possibly all of us, and no material wealth to strive towards, I wondered what, then, motivates Phra CK every day. Are monks really, like those corny Journey to the West kind of movies, just in search of achieving Nirvana?

“Yes. For me it’s spiritual money. Happiness.”

The ultimate goal as a monk is to be fully dedicated to overcome desires, and attain peace and happiness. However, it is contradictory to say that that is an end goal either, as it signifies desire.

“Monkhood for me is a full-time volunteer job, or a lifetime volunteerism. It’s a very personal spiritual cultivation.”

Most of us will never fully comprehend the life of monks and nuns in our lifetime. From our perspective, it is a big sacrifice on things that make up our life today, all to pursue a life that surrounds religious teachings. Furthermore, it is a devotion of one’s life in something so intangible.

After spending half a day with this 34-year-old Singaporean millennial however, I am reminded of how life is really that simple if you mean it to be. We just live in an entirely different world, with completely different perspectives of the world and of our existence. While we are caught up with trying to live a hedonistic lifestyle, being a monk for Phra CK is being free. Free from the need to seek fame, fortune, love, or any sort of material pleasure to live happily. Because at the end of the day, a fundamental tenet of monasticism is impermanence.

Why fret over all those things when we will all go one day?

Also read: 3 Millennials Who Prove That Age Isn’t A Barrier – Keeping Singapore’s Traditional Arts Alive.

Warning: This article contains content that some may find triggering. Most people go by the pronouns ‘he’ or ‘she’ but for me, it’s neither. Instead, like many non-binary individuals, I identify with ‘they’ and ‘them’. Growing up, there were always signs that I wasn’t quite attuned to the nature of a girl. I hated skirts, hated walking along the girls’ aisle, and contrarily, liked dressing up in my dad’s clothes. My aunt told me about how she once heard me screaming my head off from another room when my mum was forcing me to put on a dress it was that bad. When I was a primary school kid, I stumbled upon photos of this female bodybuilder. She had feminine appearances (long hair) but such a masculine body: she had a male chest and no breast tissues at all. Even at such a young age, I was amazed at how a biological female can have such a masculine body, and I remember wanting to have a body like hers. In secondary school, I realised just how different I was compared to the other girls. I was nothing like the stereotypical female. I had morbid thoughts of self-harm because of how deeply unhappy I was with the way I appeared.
Transgender Transmasculine Singapore
I started to realise just how different I really was in my secondary school days
Image Credit: Cassius
However, I did not understand any part of those feelings back then. Because in the world I grew up in, we lived by the principles of the Bible.

How Can I Be Trans And Christian?

I was born into a devout Christian family. The kind where you will see shelves full of Christian paraphernalia the moment you step into our home. My dad is a pastor, and my four brothers and I pretty much grew up in the church. We saw the world through the lens of Christianity, and only through that where ‘sex before marriage’ and seeking ‘permission’ from the church elders before dating are very normal. In my religion, there is only male and female, and this gender distinction is stated many times in the Bible. As Christian, the message that it is only right for one to be the gender that one is born as is clear as day. So all through my teenage years, I struggled with my gender identity, because even though I am born a female, I didn’t feel like it at all. I hated the way I looked and I hated the way I sounded. The picture I had of myself in my mind differed so much from how I looked like in reality that I dissociated a lot. The way I felt about my body and identity made me very ashamed of myself. I felt inferior all the time and because I lacked self-confidence, I found it really hard to even interact with people. I also doubted myself a lot. I thought that this was just a phase that everyone will go through. That maybe, I was just super anxious about myself and envisioning delusions to escape. The mix of unhealthy and conflicting feelings manifested itself in the way I socialised - I couldn’t.  I did not know how to, and did not have a lot of close friends. I also hate bothering people with my problems. All through my teenage years up until I was 23 last year, I kept to myself and internalised all of my negativity.
Transgender Transmasculine self-harm
Scars that are reminiscent of the dark past
I spiralled into depression. I got into many relationships, even abusive ones, just to fill the void. I sought to self-harm, slashing myself to cope with the intense feelings of sadness and frustration. Back then, those were the only ways I knew how to deal with my emotions. Everytime I thought I had made progress in accepting myself as transgender, I would spiral again. There were many times I contemplated suicide. At one point, I lived everyday thinking that I would just die suddenly, like how a car will come out of nowhere and just hit me and kill me. I felt like there was no meaning to anything. Every day, I was just surviving for tomorrow. Then, in June 2018, I spiralled again and hit rock bottom. At that point, I had been working at a restaurant in a bid to earn some income while figuring out what to do with my life. With guidance from my head chef, I manage to grow in character and confidence, and had risen through the ranks.
Transgender Transmasculine Singapore
Image Credit: Cassius
I had started to see some sort of purpose in life and I knew that there were only two options for me: Either take the necessary steps to change my life for good, or continue spiralling like what I have been doing for the past 23 years. There were so many times I had wanted to take my own life and I knew that if I continued the way I was, I would go crazy trying to ‘fit in’, and I probably would not survive much longer. However, the steps to changing my life include confronting one of the only two biggest fears I had in my life: coming out to my parents. Coming out to my parents meant going against everything they stood for, and in our church, they believe that queer people are “scum of the earth”.  I took a month to look inwards. To confront all the unpleasant feelings I had buried deep within me. All the painful experiences I have had growing up, the cold exchanges I have had with my parents. All the times where I was struggling inside but they just weren’t there for me. Where I felt so alone. All the emotions that I pushed aside, because it was just so much easier to avoid thinking or feeling. Dealing with all those feelings of sadness, frustration, anger, fear, and isolation that had been bottled up for so many years was very overwhelming. But I knew I had to deal with them to be clear of who I am exactly and who I want to be moving forward. Beyond that, coming to terms with my own gender identity meant that I had to question every single thing that I ever believed in. Having grown up with strong values of Christianity ingrained in me, and then having to go against these values in acceptance of myself, is like being thrown into the wild with no bearings of where I am. I had to relearn about the goings-on of the world and how to survive in this whole new landscape that I never saw and was never taught about growing up.

Then, I Came Out To My Parents

My mum was the first to find out. She got very emotional and over our first dinner together after she found out, she kept saying things like “the Bible is my standard, is it yours?” And, “I have a conscience, I hope you do too.” She made it clear that I am someone with no morals if I choose to be this way. That really broke my heart, because I was trying to be truthful and honest with them. I was really hoping to communicate with them, instead of us shutting each other out. When I told her about how I felt, about how I never had feelings for guys, and about all the painful struggles I had internally growing up, all she said was, “are you being honest right now? Why are you lying?”
She also once said to me, “people like you never [use to] exist,” and, “people like you put us through so much pain and shame.”
My dad told me that he was not going to judge me but God will, and reiterated that he will never ever change his mind on marriage being only between a male and female. I used to be suicidal. Coming out was my way of preserving my life and to respect the life that my parents have given me. Yet, my parents can only see this as my greed that I am being selfish and trying to hurt them by being transgender. It really breaks my heart to be rejected by the people who brought me up, and whom I still love dearly. It is the very reason why I feared coming out to them in the first place. It is also disappointing that none of my brothers (except for one) ever acknowledged me for who I am either, or to be there for me.

Relearning How To Live Life

I am still trying to come to terms that my family will never accept me for who I am. The rejection still hurts, but I remind myself that it is equally hard for them to process the shock because of the many emotions involved. And I try not to let their rejection get to me. I understand that if i didn’t change my way of thinking, I would have felt the way that they are feeling now — it took me a long time to understand that they are not out to be negative towards me, it is just what they were taught to do. However, I live with guilt every single day knowing that my parents still love me. I see it through their littlest actions: when they ask me if I have eaten yet or when I will be reaching home. This guilt has often made me feel that I am not deserving of all the efforts they have put into raising me. But I know that I want to live true to how I feel. With that conviction, I also know that I have to overlook my parents’ expectations and the expectations that I put on myself. When I made the decision to be openly transgender, my whole belief system was turned upside down. But being forced out of what I am familiar with helped me get out of the pit that I had put myself into all those years. Transgender Singapore_Cassius I don’t know if I can ever truly be the person I want to be someone who is kind, and all the positives but I think my suffering has really opened my eyes. The rate of suicide among transgender individuals is very high. Being able to confront my denial and feelings has helped to phase out the many suicidal thoughts I use to have, because I now know who I want to be and how I want to live. Because of what I went through, I am able to persevere. However, there are many, many people who do not have the resources or support they need, and it is very hard for them to break out. Being able to look inward and confront myself has changed my life, and it is the one thing I hope for those who are going through similar situations: Look within yourself, and learn to be vulnerable. This story is written by Millennials of Singapore, as told to us by the featured individual. - Editor's note: This is a personal story and not a generalisation of the community. We have included specific mentions of a religion in this article solely for context purposes, the Millennials of Singapore team does not condone religious discrimination and persecution. Also read: My Sexuality, My Right: “A Stranger Wanted Me To Apologise For My ‘Lesbian Appearance'".
The first thing my parents said when they found out about my boyfriend was, “why a Chinese?” Tim* and I have been together for four years, of which three-and-a-half years were spent hiding our relationship from my parents. For that long and agonising three-and-a-half years, my parents had no clue that I was even dating. Or perhaps they had suspected and just didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that their Indian daughter was dating a Chinese boy. Whenever my boyfriend and I hung out, we would avoid going to places where my parents could be at. I would lie to my mom almost everyday. She'd ask, "where are you going?" and I would say, "to meet a friend." Lie. "Which friend? What's their name?". Another lie. Not only was it exhausting to lie, I hated myself for doing so. I felt guilty for keeping such a big secret from the people I should be the closest to. Many times, I considered telling them the truth. My friends kept encouraging me to come clean with them too. It's not like I didn't have a choice that I had to resort to lying, but I was just too afraid. My parents have never been super strict, but they are what you would call "typical Indian parents", which if you've heard anything about, you would know they can be pretty scary when enforcing their beliefs. So it was lies upon lies, upon lies. We were cautious, careful, as we should be as an under-the-radar couple. Until one day, Tim sent me home only for us to bump into my dad at the void deck.

F**K.

My dad wasn’t supposed to come home at that time, but there he was, and he saw Tim. What followed was an awkward conversation in the lift with my dad. "Who is that boy?" "He's just a friend." He obviously didn’t buy that. I mean, which guy friend would send a girl home without any particular reason right? When we reached home, his exact words to my mom were, “you should ask your daughter to bring her boyfriend home next time.” I sighed as I shut myself in my room, ignoring whatever conversation my parents were going to have. Well, shit. That was it. There was no point trying to hide it anymore. A million thoughts ran through my mind. On one hand, I was relieved, but there were so many worries that came after: Were my parents going to disown me? Were they going to tell every living relative about how I've brought shame to their family name? Were they going to force me to break up with Tim?

THE TRUTH IS OUT

No one spoke about the incident until the following night's dinner, and it was a conversation I hoped never came. My parents asked about 'the boy that dropped me home'. They wanted to know how old he was, what he does, what his parents do - the usual stuff. But they also asked me the one dreaded question, "why a Chinese?" How was I supposed to answer that?
I didn’t look at his race when I fell in love, I fell in love with the person he is.
I tried to convince them that it didn’t matter that he was Chinese. But they were adamant on the same thing – “He’s not a Hindu”. They refused to see him for who he is as a person. They only saw him as not Hindu. I was frustrated and hurt. They hadn't even met him and they were already dismissing him and our relationship. They wouldn't even give him a chance just because of his race. It was illogical, but at the same time, expected. My family has always been conservative. My parents never outrightly forbade me from dating a Chinese but it was heavily implied that bringing home a boy of a different race was frowned upon. On the other hand, Tim's parents knew about our relationship and have accepted me as part of the family a long time ago. I had found a second family in them, joining them for significant family gatherings like Chinese New Year dinner and birthday parties. I love my parents, but even I have to admit they can be pretty racist. Over the years, my mother would make comments on how Indians are better than other races, how we are more "elite". I'm not entirely sure where this racism stems from. Having known Hindus who converted out of their faith, she might have feared that her children will do that too. Perhaps that's why she would always tell my brother and I, “no matter what, don’t tarnish my religion.”

THE ULTIMATUM

Which is why when I tried to persuade them to meet him before blatantly disapproving our relationship, they gave me an ultimatum instead:

“I’m giving you two years to think about it. We’ll talk about this then.”

They wanted me to to think about a relationship that they didn't see a future in. Me being me, I told her to think about it too. It might have felt like a 'power move' when she dished that out but the two-year ultimatum seems like a joke now. To me, it felt like an excuse for my parents to not deal with it. Because I had thought about it, about everything that could possibly cause a conflict between us, and race and religion were the last things on that list. Because of this ultimatum, my life and relationship with Tim have come to a standstill for the next two years. While my friends are applying for a BTO, getting engaged, or making wedding plans, all I’ll be able to do is look at my Facebook feed and sigh over the predicament my parents had put me in.

LOVE VS FAMILY

I'm afraid of where I will be in two years. I don't want to be in a position where I'll have to eventually choose between my boyfriend and my parents.

"How am I to choose between my partner and my parents?"

How is anyone to choose between the person you want to spend your future with and the people who brought you into this world and to the person you are today? I owe my parents everything and I can't possibly build a future without them in it. Neither can I picture a future without my current partner. I don't mean to sound melodramatic but let's face it, many of us do things just for our parents. It could be something like going to a school our parents preferred or having children because our parents want us to. We do these things out of filial piety, even though it may not be what we really want. Sometimes I wonder, "why can't my parents just be happy in the fact that I'm happy?" In a world where it's difficult to find someone you are committed to love and whom is committed to love you back, it's a wonder I had found it at all. It's been 6 months since they gave me the ultimatum, which means I have another 1.5 years to hope for my parents to have a change of heart. For them to realise that when it comes down to it, race or religion does not and should not define us or our relationship. And I really pray that I will not have to choose between a 6 year relationship with a partner I see my future with and family. *Name has been changed to protect the identity of the individuals. Also read: It’s 2018 – Why Are We Still Paying Wedding Dowries?.
I was born Muslim. I grew up in a Muslim family. While my parents weren’t the most religious of people, my upbringing was very much Muslim. I went for Friday prayers at the neighbourhood mosques, was taught to read the Quran, and would visit the mosque during Hari Raya Puasa and Haji. As a young boy, I went to religious classes every Sunday morning, where we would learn about the different aspects of the religion- it’s history, the five pillars and how to speak Arabic. I attended all my religious classes diligently and even got a certification of completion by the end of it. Religion for me at the time wasn’t so much about belief as it was about following my parents, because that’s just how it is. You follow the religion of your parents, because they’re your parents and you’re just a child. I did as I was told; No more, no less.

Losing my religion

When I was 14 years old, a friend invited me to a Christmas party. I had no idea it was an evangelistic event until we were an hour in. The pastor was speaking about the death of Christ and its significance. It was only then that I realized I was actually sitting in a sermon. At first I thought, “Shoot, I’m trapped.”, but since I was already there, I listened as the pastor preached about the essence of Christmas. Maybe it was the music, the melody or the words of the worship songs, but somehow that all got me questioning things—questioning if there truly existed a god, because before then, even though I was Muslim, I’d never believed in a higher being; as far as I was concerned, God didn’t exist. Eventually, my beliefs shifted to the point that I started believing in an actual god – the Christian god. I had been converted.

Secrets at home, judgement outside

My conversion to Christianity came with no small amount of fear. I had no idea what would become of me if my family were to find out. I was terrified, so I tried my best to keep a low profile. Among my friends, I was Christian—I even ate pork. But when I was home, I was a whole other person. I had to act the part of a Muslim. I couldn’t eat pork. When it was time to fast, I fasted at home but as soon as I was out of my parents’ sight, I broke fast. Part of the act was out of fear, but a big part of it was also out of respect for my parents and what they believed. For about 5 years, I had to lie every Saturday in order to go to church. My mum would always ask me, “why you always go out on Saturdays?” It was lie after lie, last week it was, “I’m going out to study with my friends,” this week it’s, “I’m going shopping for new clothes.” There was always this paranoia that they would find out, and I was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. All my friends knew I was a Christian, but not all of them responded positively to this. While most of them accepted it, there were a handful that didn’t, and who would ask me why I converted just so they could shoot me down and rain criticism on me. In school, some of my closest Malay friends would keep their distance from me. They wouldn’t talk to me, which is why I have a lot more Chinese friends now than Malay ones. About 6 years after I converted, when I was in NS, some of the people I knew would attack me because of my beliefs. One of my instructors that found out dragged me to one side after breakfast one day, while we were waiting to go back to our dormitory, and said to me, “Wah, if we’re not in Singapore, I would have killed you already. It would have been my duty to kill you.” I knew he couldn’t do anything, so I retorted, saying, “Yeah, lucky we’re in Singapore. You can’t do anything to me.” Muslims judged me, Christians judged me, even friends I knew who were neither Muslim nor Christian had something to say about it. They would say things like “Eh, like that, aren’t you betraying your own family?” or, “Don’t you think your family will be upset?” This is because there is a Muslim law that holds your family responsible for your faith. If you betray the faith, it’s on your family as well, because it means they haven’t brought you up well.

And then my parents found out

Eventually, my parents found out because they found a bible in my room and that’s when all our problems began. I tried reasoning with my dad, explaining that he couldn’t force me to believe in something I didn’t believe in, and that even if I did follow him and “behaved” like a Muslim, he and I both knew that in my heart, I wouldn’t be one. But still, he would keep saying, “cannot”, “cannot”, “cannot”. Things didn’t progress and it came to a point when things became violent. I didn’t want to fight back because my dad was already getting old, so all I could do was block him as he beat me. That day, I ran out of the house half-naked, with not even shoes on; all I had on were my shorts because my shirt had torn from the beating. I didn’t know what to do because I didn’t want to fight back, but at the same time, I was about to explode, so I ran. My pastor—a Malay pastor who has also been through a similar experience—came down to talk to me and comfort me. He offered to open his home to me if things got worse, but he made it very clear that I should try all ways and means to make things right with my parents. I was prepared to run away. I told my mother that if my dad beat me up one more time, I was gone. She told me to come back, to not talk about religion for the time being and promised to make sure my dad didn’t hit me again. From that point on, my family didn’t speak openly to me about religion anymore. Neither did my dad and I speak. That went on for about 2 years.

What now?

Today, 8 years on, I’ve made good with my family. They still refuse to accept the fact that I’m Christian, and from time to time, they still try to change my mind about Christianity. When news comes up on Pastor Kong Hee, they make a big deal of it, saying, “see, Christians are like that.” They raise the issue of rich pastors, and they do little things here and there to put down Christianity and lift up the name of Muslims. The more I’ve grown in my faith as a Christian, the more they’ve seemed to grow in theirs as Muslims—my mum, my dad, and my sister. While I’ve been serving and being more active in church, my mum’s started to pray 5 times a day; my dad’s been going to the mosque every day; and my sister’s been going for more advanced religious classes. This year, my parents are going on a pilgrimage to the Middle East. While there is not a war right now, I am fearful that it’s only right around the corner, like when I marry my Christian girlfriend. She might need to convert — at least according to Muslim customs — and I know for a fact that she won’t. Neither of us can fathom being of a religion we don’t believe in. Other people may disagree with me, and they are free to do so. Maybe they’ll say, “I’d rather things be peaceful within my family, and I’ll give up my belief if that’s what threatens to tear us apart.” But for me, belief matters and I cannot easily give that up.

Religion in Singapore

No matter what happens in the future, I know I will stand by my beliefs. After all, I’ve already gone through so much to defend my right to believe it. Stories like mine are not all that rare. The details are different, but the struggle is the same. We face condemnation from all sides—those of the same faith as us, those of a different faith, those who know us, those who don’t, friends and family. In Singapore, by right, no one can do anything to you based on what you believe. But there are still many ways people can hurt you. Your friends can ostracize you. Your family can beat you. Everyone is free to judge you. From all I’ve heard and experienced, racial tolerance and religious tolerance are just how things appear on the surface. Sure, we can all live together, but if you strike out on your own and believe something different from everyone else—especially everyone else in your family—that’s when you realize how ugly things are, or how ugly things can get when religious differences are in the picture. At the end of the day, religion and what you believe is a highly personal matter. It is not for others to decide for you, and it is surely not something you believe simply because your parents do. The best I can do is stand by my religious beliefs while respecting those of others, whether they be family, friend or stranger. Top Image Credit
Disney has done it again. Continuing its winning streak of beloved animated feature films, Walt Disney Animation Studios hits yet another home run with Moana, an uplifting and heartfelt tale destined to adorn the awards-spangled annals of Disney’s decorated filmography. While the film wouldn’t be a Disney story without recycling some old tropes, Moana does offer some new ideas that might surprise you on a second viewing. So, without further dawdling, let’s take a deeper dive back into the sparkling aquamarine waters of Disney’s Moana.

Feminism and the Disney Heroine

Let’s be honest, Disney isn’t exactly known for its strong female characters, with their classic roster full of “princesses” defined almost entirely by their good looks, impossibly slim waists, and relationships to Prince Charming. Fortunately, Disney has been getting better at portraying female characters, with women that are strong, capable badasses in their own right (Mulan, Pocahontas), and a woman who don’t need no man (Elsa). Here’s the thing, though – they’ve never been both. Mulan and Pocahontas are both defined in part by their romantic relationships to male lovers, while Elsa, though powerful, is kind of a whiny cry-baby when you really think about it. That makes Moana the first female Walt Disney Animation Studios character who, on top of having no romantic inclinations, is also a bona-fide badass. You could say Merida also qualifies, but she’s from a Disney-Pixar production, not WDAS, and I’m a stickler for details. “How about Officer Judy Hopps from Zootopia?” Well… She’s a rabbit. But okay, fair enough. In Moana, Disney drives the feminist message farther home than in any of their prior films. Moana’s gender-blind tribe has no qualms whatsoever about a woman becoming their chief, and has both men and women contributing equally to roles like farming and exploring. Maui, on the other hand, represents the stereotypical male chauvinist, with his incredulity towards a woman like Moana being “chosen” by her tribe, and by The Ocean. He relentlessly mocks and doubts Moana’s abilities as a mortal woman, and even goes as far as to trap her in a cave and throw her into the ocean… repeatedly. It is only when Moana survives the Realm of Monsters and saves Maui’s life, that he changes his tune and becomes convinced of her worth. In the Moana-Maui dynamic of the film, the writers espouse a form of gender equality achieved through mutual respect – men and women are different, but both are equally important. Maui’s strength and raw power are essential in their quest, but so are Moana’s skills, intuition, and gentle touch. Equality between men and women, the film argues, is embracing the value of every individual, different as they may be from each other.

Religion

Aside from the story’s obvious roots in Polynesian culture and religion, Moana is rife with modern religious symbolism and references, some more subtle than others. These include references to reincarnation, aversion to eating pork, and splitting the sea à la Moses, to name a few. Not convinced? You might be when you realise that The Ocean in Moana is an analogue of the most prominent figure in Abrahamic religion – God. At the film’s opening, the narrator (Moana’s grandmother) reveals that, “in the beginning, there was only ocean”. Sound familiar? She also reveals that Tafiti, the “mother island”, emerged from The Ocean and created all life, much like the relationship between God and Darwinian evolution that some theistic evolutionists subscribe to. Unlike the sleeping Tafiti, The Ocean is an omniscient, omnipresent entity that shapes the course of the world and guides the heroes’ actions throughout the film. As helpful as The Ocean is in the story, an ever-present undercurrent in Moana is the question of why The Ocean doesn’t help more, evocative of the Problem of Evil argument against God in real-world philosophy. Put simply, if God (The Ocean) is so powerful and benevolent, why doesn’t He (It) eliminate evil (the darkness) altogether? At one point in the narrative, our heroes get surrounded by “pirates”, and Moana cries out to The Ocean for help, to which Maui responds, “The ocean doesn’t help you. You help yourself.” A weird sentiment for someone who has seen The Ocean as a living, moving entity with his own eyes, but one that brings to mind the classic “God only helps those who help themselves” argument. Help the heroes while they’re being attacked by savage pirates? Nope. Splash some water on the lava monster trying to kill our heroes? Nope. Stupid chicken falls into the water for the umpteenth time? Better save it. In one scene, The Ocean straight up sends a massive storm at Moana, marooning her on a desolate island much to Moana’s chagrin, until she realises that Maui is on that same island. The Ocean sure does work in mysterious ways, doesn’t It? And I haven’t even mentioned the similarities between Maui and other religious figures like Jesus and Prometheus, as well as Moana’s prophetic “chosen by The Ocean” story arc. This is probably a bold claim, but Moana just might be Disney’s most religiously-charged film to date, for better or worse.

In conclusion...

Throughout the length of its runtime, Moana delights, entertains, and moves viewers with Disney’s signature magic and flair, all while delivering a narrative rich in subtext and ripe for discussion. Moana is a film that proves, like the ocean it’s set upon, to be far deeper than it seems. Top Image Credit