In many ways, I have Popo to thank for keeping me race-blind as I was growing up. She made me believe that MALAYSIAN is the only race I was born into and always encouraged me to discover my own identity as a Malaysian (never as a Chinese of Hakka descendent).

Popo did not mind that I could not write or read Chinese as long as I am happy with my life. She did not mind that I worship Jesus Christ instead of the many Chinese gods out there as long as I have hope in life. She was proud of my Malay novels though she could not read a single word of them. And she never discouraged me from having multicultural friends; in fact, I think she liked it.

I used to tell Popo stories when we had lunch together; stories that I heard from my friends in school. Back in those days, every recess period when I walked into the canteen, I saw the sambal belacan gang hanging out together, the char kuay teow lovers always in their corner, and the chapatti party sitting in a circle with their meals. I would eat with each group, one recess at a time, and get to know them for who they are. Then I returned home to tell Popo of the many stories they shared with me. The stories always made her smile.

I believe the more you interact with a person, the fewer misconceptions you have of one another. When I spend time with people from different background and cultures, listening to them share about their perceptions of life, I begin to understand them and accept them for who they are.

Living in a multicultural country is part of our Malaysian identity. For us to live harmoniously together, it is not about being tolerant of one another but about accepting our differences as our strength. We can only achieve this by first discovering who we are as a person and being confident with our personal identity, which would nurture the love required to accept others for who they are. Only then will we fully embrace our Malaysian identity and thrive as a country.