Jerome Kugan & Pang Khee Teik

Softer, Harder
In 2003, the Ministry of National Unity and Social
Development was desperate to justify every last syllable of its
existence. One day while visiting a local university, the minister
made known her observation that our campuses are overrun
by “soft men”. She reasoned this was due to the fact that the
Malaysian education system had over the years allowed more
women to excel and enter into universities, causing the men to
lose their self esteem and become pondan.
The press then took up many pages in coming months,
painting Malaysia as a country in danger of moral apocalypse
as a result of the double-whammy social ill known as “soft
men” and “hard women”. “A lot of people laugh when they see
such behaviour,” said the minister, “but really, it is not funny.”
Obviously she never met RuPaul.
The laughter and derision happened because people
like the minister continued to flaunt their ignorance and
insensitivity. After all these years of independence and progress,
do we still judge a person by the way he lets his wrist flop?
Eventually, some universities implemented boot camps
run by army men to straighten our effeminate boys. Not
 Introduction 9

surprisingly, many boys signed up for this sexual fantasy come

true. We heard that in some campuses, every night after the
arduous training, the boys threw fabulous parties in camouflage
drag. Don’t you wish you were there?

The Order of Nature

The year 2003 was also when the two of us moved into an
apartment in Brickfields, together with two other writers (we
were like the Fantastic Four, but with our own separate rooms,
thank you very much). We were in our mid-20s then and full
of hope and enthusiasm, thick in the swirl of a galaxy of rising
stars that included independent filmmaker Amir Muhammad
(the publisher of this anthology).
At the time, Pang had been installed as the irreverent
editor of Kakiseni.com, an online magazine covering the local
arts scene. Meanwhile, Jerome’s depressing gay short story
(under just his initials JK) “Love In The Post-Nicotine Age”,
had appeared in Silverfish New Writing 1, edited by Amir (yes,
the same one!). Already we had a reputation – not so much as
enfants terrible, but rather as attention-whoring multi-taskers.
  We threw blitzkrieg house parties, organised exhibitions,
wrote stories and poems, and cameo-ed in our indie friends’
films. We won awards. We attended (almost) everything. We
wanted to streak the world in all the hues of the rainbow.
Naturally, we couldn’t just stand by and watch the rising tide
of ignorance, hate and deliberate misrepresentations such as
“soft men” and “hard women” without doing anything. “Hang
on, hear us out!” we wanted to squeal. We figured it was time
to provide a platform for fellow squealers.
In our efforts to destabilise the str8tus quo, we started an
Internet mailing list called Gendergenres for Malaysian queer
writers and friends. Through it, we put up a call for submissions
for an anthology of “alternative lifestyle” writings we wanted to
10 Body 2 Body: A Malaysian Queer Anthology

call “The Order Of Nature” (so named after a phrase in the

infamous Penal Code 377). We even organised the writing and
handing over of a memorandum to SUHAKAM (the Human
Rights Commission) protesting the vilification of lelaki lembut
and wanita keras in the media. When we appeared in The Star
under the headline “Gays, Lesbians Have Rights” the next day,
it felt orgasmic.
But that initial triumph was eclipsed by what followed.
The quantity and quality of submissions we received through
Gendergenres were underwhelming, in spite of three deadline
extensions. The memorandum was ignored – the press needed
little incentive to demonise the innocent (having glorified
demons all these years). Though we were ready for it, the world
around us was far more conservative than we had led ourselves
to believe. When the Brickfields apartment split up, our rainbow
dream was filed away in hard drives that have since fried.

Seksualiti Merdeka
But then a few things happened that conspired to resurrect the
anthology. Thanks to life’s many ups and downs, the two of us
managed to end up working together at The Annexe Gallery,
a little gallery in Central Market Annexe that dreams of being
an arts centre. In August 2008, the two of us along with Jac sm
Kee and Farish A.Noor were invited to read at IndigNation,
Singapore’s Pride Fest. Inspired by the experience, we decided
to organise Seksualiti Merdeka, Malaysia’s first sexuality rights
festival. This we did with the help of our friends working in
the arts, academia and activism. An audience of approximately
500 people turned up to attend the festival’s program of films,
forums, workshops and storytelling sessions. We were taken
aback. In a flash, our rainbow dream flared to life again.
We were fortunate too that Amir (coming to our rescue
yet again!) had recently started a publishing company and
 Introduction 11

was on the lookout for interesting titles for his imprint. Amir
persuaded us to give it another shot. So, in late 2008, we put
up a call for submission, the main criteria being that it has to
address “alternative sexuality” and that it must be related to the
Malaysian experience. We even insisted on no pseudonyms.
We made the call for submissions open to all writers queer
or straight, Malaysians or non-Malaysians. So in the end, it
matters not your sexual preference or positions, as long as you
can make a stand.
We received 57 submissions. We chose 21. Amir asked
us to include a story of our own each. That made it 23 stories
altogether. Many late nights later, here we are, labouring over
the introduction.
 
Narratives of Difference
The starting point of any experience worth recounting is
perhaps the discovery of one’s difference. The truth of most
self-discoveries is that they often happen first at home, among
family — that most basic of social units. Cheryl Leong’s
“Breathing Pure Oxygen” doesn’t come with a backstory, but
its narrator’s careful orchestration of her “coming out” to her
mother hints at a lifetime of worrying about acceptance. But it
happens on both sides. In Brian Gomez’s touching “What Do
Gay People Eat?” it’s the parents who worry if their child can
accept their struggle to adapt.
Unsurprisingly, differences become more magnified in
spaces of enforced conformity. School is especially troublesome
for its insistence on rules and uniformity, often alienating and
punishing those who are different. In the three stories that deal
with school environments, Pang’s “Cream Of The Crop”, Sharil
Dewa’s “Roommates: Not A Love Story” and Kung Khai Jhun’s
“Dude, Don’t Tell Me”, the protagonists struggle to negotiate
the socially acceptable line between friendship and more.
12 Body 2 Body: A Malaysian Queer Anthology

The discovery of one’s difference is often accompanied

by denial. If there’s a palpable sense of sadness in many of
the stories, it’s due to the individuals’ inability to conform to
the narratives of the mainstream. In Julya Oui’s “Friends Of
Everyone”, the narrator stages a formal denial of his ‘gay’ self.
But the act only reinforces his identity. What can be more ‘gay’
than rejecting one’s self by dressing it up in careful denial?
Similarly, Faizad Nik Abdul Aziz’s coolly observant “The
Friendship Dictator” describes the delicate act of living a life
of secrecy.
On the other side of the experience, being confronted
by difference can often be disarming. In Paul GnanaSelvam’s
“Monsoon Massage” and Abirami Durai’s “Have You Seen
My Son?” it is the shock of discovering one’s kin or friend has
literally transformed and become a completely different person.
And not just any kind of person, but one who challenges our
deepest prejudices.
Those prejudices also surface in Shanon Shah’s
“Muslim 2 Muslim”, considered through the filter of his
ongoing meditation on religion, openness and acceptance. His
conclusion is that acceptance is possible. And that differences
can enrich rather than subtract from the experience of being
who and what we are.

Strategies of Desire
As queer sexuality learns to deal with the pressure of
conformity, it adopts strategies not bound by hetero-normative
expectations. Call it a subculture, if you will. A subculture
that operates according to its own rules. It can appear strange
and alien, which is easy to be mistaken for perverse and
immoral. Though one has to ask, which is more perverse: two
consensual adults falling in love, or the busybody interfering
and preventing it?
 Introduction 13

  What is aberrant desire? In Maya Tan Abdullah’s “The

Man From Berali Carpets”, it wears the face of a policeman
whose craving brings him to the brink of his sanity. In
Singaporean writer O Thiam Chin’s “Good Job”, is it abuse
if you want it again? In Tan May Lee’s poignant “The Wives’
Story”, two lovers find each other within a system that privileges
heterosexual men. Can these stories, worthy of the shocking
exposés one often encounters in scandal and gossip rags, be
part of the Malaysian queer experience?
Strategies of desire need not only deal with plotlines.
They can also be an aesthetic unto themselves. Sonia
Randhawa’s “The Wedding Present” climaxes in a symbolic
sacrifice, in the tradition of pulp fiction. Shortlisted Frank
O’Connor Award writer Shih-Li Kow’s punchy “Harry Is
Dead” and Zed Adam’s faux naif “The Old Fig Council”
continue in that thread, providing stories that even appear
irreverent to the anthology. Meanwhile, Hwa Yi Xing’s
“And I Love You” and Marisa Repin’s “Pirate Girl” push the
queer aesthetic strategy even further, freeing language itself
from “straight”-forward narratives. And for something that
really screws with the mind (that the ass falls out!), try Ray
Langenbach’s “The Naked Meme”.
But what is the final objective of these strategies? Do
they offer some kind of wisdom whose lessons are universal? In
Ho Sui Jim’s “In Search Of ” and Jerome’s “Alvin”, the answers
point to a blur of competing intentions; the search becomes a
means to its own end. But is the aim of queer sexuality, or any
sexuality for that matter, purely sexual? Or is there something
more? In Ann Lee’s candid “Hafiz’s Dilemma” and Azharr
Rudin’s poetic “Sunset”, there’s a hint that perhaps the most
treasured experience in the queer spectrum is not sexual at all.
In the end, aren’t we all just looking for love, for a someone
with whom we can share a sunset?
14 Body 2 Body: A Malaysian Queer Anthology

Massage as Metaphor
For readers not familiar with the term, the title of this anthology
comes from the name given to a highly choreographed form
of massage. Body-to-body massage requires the masseur or
masseuse to utilise not just his or her hands, but the entire
body to massage yours. Body-to-body massage serves little to
loosen your knots, but does wonders to stimulate those hard-
to-reach places. The massage as a metaphor for this anthology
works on so many levels we will simply leave you to appreciate
it on your own terms.
For a bit of fun, we encourage you to leave this book
‘accidentally’ on your family dining table or at the workplace. If
your kin or colleague fears you might turn queer upon reading
it, you can challenge them, “I’ve been reading books about
Hobbits and I still haven’t grown fur on my feet.”
Thankfully, we no longer have a Ministry of National
Unity and Social Development to instruct us on how to
behave. However, we do have a Ministry of Information,
Communication and Culture. While it’s the habit of rulers to
prescribe strict definitions of culture, we can only hope this
anthology will empower the ministry and all you lovely folks
to participate in an oft-neglected duty: to acknowledge and
celebrate existing cultures, including the cultures of reading,
writing and massaging.

Jerome Kugan & Pang Khee Teik

Chawan – Nirwana Maju – Devi’s Corner Bangsar
July 2009