Saturday night, my wife and I attended, and sponsored auctioned tattoo and piercing prizes, at The Justice For Sisters gathering at Map KL in Solaris Dutamas. This was our way of trying to help out with what we feel is a very worthy cause, and let me tell you why.
That night, I looked around me, and I saw a room full of *people*. People who contribute to the community. People who hold jobs. People who live, love, laugh and cry. These people are not liars, nor manipulators, nor are they asking for anything unreasonable. And yet they are punished for their honesty.
They came to the event, facing retribution, facing public humiliation at the hands of a society that has passed judgment before ever taking the time and effort to get to know them. These people are showing the rest of us that there is an alternative to living a lie, and trying to be someone you're not in your heart.
Every day, we celebrate some person or persons for being true to themselves, for being honest, for doing the right thing. At the event, we had an opportunity to *be* one of those people we celebrate. To stand united and say *no* to those who would ask honest people to lie about who they are.
They weren't asking for a handout. They were asking for help in setting the stage for the future; *your* future, my future, our families' future. There come many times in life that we are forced to decide whether to do what we feel in our hearts is right, or cow down and do what society has *declared* is right; even though we know it to be wrong.
Among the acts, there was one I feel I should mention here. It was a lone gent who stood before the crowd and sang an a'capella version of Minnie Ripperton's "Loving You". Musically, I didn't find anything about his performance to be something I would want to repeat. Members of the audience laughed and jeered, while one man in the back row shouted "Wanker!" at the top of his lungs several times. Other members of the audience tried to hush them, and stood up for the man's right to perform in his own way.
At one point, someone in the audience started clapping in rhythm, and several people began to sing along with what was somewhere around the eighth repeat of the same two verses of the song. Interestingly enough, as they began to join in, his tone and inflection improved dramatically for a handful of notes. He came out of his shell and let his voice out to play, too. The encouragement had apparently triggered something within, and for that short series of notes, our ears were no longer assailed. Instead they were stimulated.
Upon realizing that, for the first time in his performance, he "had it", the crowd stopped singing along so they could hear what was now bordering on enjoyable, and his musical ability disappeared entirely once more. And again came the shouts of "Wanker!", and "We get the point!". Yet, he continued, until he was finished, heedless of the notable disapproval from the audience.
I had started to rise from my chair as the man behind me shouted "Wanker!", intensely offended by his behavior without understanding why the desire to introduce my foot to his ass was so strong. My wife, seated next to me, clasped my hand and whispered to me, "It could be part of the show", as she knew what I was about to do. I settled back into my seat, realizing she could be right.
It didn't really come clear to me until I awoke the following morning, and I realized that this performance was perhaps the most brilliant chess game I had ever seen played. If it indeed had been a game of chess, it would be written of in history books, celebrated by newspapers, and shared in coffeehouse chat for years to come.
This man, regardless of the fact that he could not sing, got up in front of the crowd and sang something that was meaningful to him, and though annoying to the spectators, what he was doing truly didn't harm anyone. And yet a group of people who were gathered in an effort to stop others from punishing and chastising people whose behavoir and choices weren't to the liking of "the majority", but hurt no one, were all induced into behaving just as the people they were uniting against. They passed judgment on him and acted "accordingly".
This man did not, however, give up. He continued to do what he had come to do, steadfastly refusing to leave the stage or stop singing until he was finished, even though doing so made him a "social outcast". In fact, he displayed the same determination and drive that was being celebrated and defended by the event itself.
Meanwhile, there was the fact that for that few seconds that the audience responded in such a way that a little support was shown, his voice suddenly blossomed into something that wasn't starworthy, but was deserving of some appreciation in it's own right. Something everyone noticed enough that they stopped sharing in the singing because they wanted to hear more of the performer, now that he "had it". And once the backing fell away, so did the newfound vocal quality. It was like watching a heart begin to beat firmly, overcoming uncertainty, only to have that rythm capsized by expectations from the audience that he could do it alone, and entertain us from then on without assistance.
I didn't catch the name of the performer, though I do recall in his introduction the MC, Edwin Sumun, aka "Shelah", stated something to the effect of "I don't know how to describe this next act...".
It was absolutely brilliant. It painted a personalized porttrait of what the "lady boys" faced every day of their lives. It brought it home in such a way that it allowed me to view it through their eyes. My definition of "Art" is anything, be it sculpted, painted, written, drawn, or otherwise protrayed in any manner, that causes a mental shift and takes you behind the perceptive faculties of the artist. This man, the momentary epitome of what the group was there to support, *is* my definition of art, and I thank him for stimulating my thinking in a way no other act that night did.
People's contributions saturday night will be used to help establish justice for them, and will eventually help each and every person in Malaysia be able to make the better choice, to live free and true to ourselves, whomever we may be.
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