I first got together with my Malay Muslim husband when I was 17 and I converted when I was 18. 2 weeks after I turned 21, we got married and have been happily married for the past 4 years. When I got married, I didn’t dare tell my racist mother as I was the only child. We also faced a lot of resistance from his mother because I wasn’t Malay. My mum only knew about my marriage after I graduated from university. I didn’t tell her not because I didn’t have the guts, but it was because I didn’t want her unkind words to poison my new marriage.

She’s tolerating of my husband now, and she’s unable to make anymore snide remarks on seeing that I’m a thousand times happier living with him than I was with her. I went for the Islamic religious courses, do believe in Allah, but until today my mum has no idea that I converted. I don’t eat pork and I never found the Islamic laws to be much of a restriction to my daily life.

I think when you’ve found the right guy to stick with you through thick and thin, nothing else matters. But choosing the right guy is really really important. Everything else is just secondary. Choosing my husband when I was 17 was the best decision of my life. I can’t imagine what my life would have turned out to be without him.

Btw, he’s 12 years older than me, so I had lots of people judging us. People would ask, why you marry a Malay guy. And each time I faced their questions with a strong pride in my voice, “why not?” That usually shut them up. When we go out we overheard other people’s remarks like “got no Chinese guy to find meh?” But I never had to give them any fucks because I’m proud of my choice, and proud of my interracial marriage. Let the haters bitch as much as they want.

A.S.S. Contributor

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