“Why Won’t You Acknowledge Us?” — The Refugees’ Struggle for Recognition in Malaysia

Source: SAYS

I didn’t ask to be born to Rohingya parents in Myanmar’s Rakhine State, where my family and I suffered unthinkable injustices for years.

A Tough Start

I come from a place you’ve probably heard about but may not understand. I hesitate to share my origin because of the fear of being judged or ignored for where I come from or how I look. But let me tell you, my blood is just like yours, even if our skin is different.

Have you ever wished you could choose your parents? Or pick where you were born? Of course not. None of us get that choice, just like I didn’t choose to be born Rohingya in Myanmar, where my family faced endless persecution. I have never known peace—only rejection.

Forced to Flee

In 2017, while sitting under a tree in my yard, the Myanmar military suddenly attacked my village. At first, I thought it was my friends playing with toy guns. But when I saw my neighbor lying in a pool of blood, I knew it was time to flee to Bangladesh for safety.

In the refugee camp, I found a bit of belonging, but something still felt off. If Myanmar is my home, why are they forcing me and my people out? These questions haunted me as a child. Later, I was kidnapped by armed groups because of my writings about the suffering of Rohingya refugees.

After being released for ransom, I decided to risk everything and boarded a boat to Malaysia—a country known for standing up for Palestine, jailing corrupt leaders, and having a large Muslim community. It seemed like the place for me. But arriving as a scared young man, I quickly learned that hope is fragile.

Life in Malaysia as a Refugee

Malaysia is beautiful. The people are kind—they smile even if they don’t know you. But behind those smiles, I soon discovered there’s a lack of awareness about refugees, especially the Rohingya. Many mistake us for economic migrants or even Bangladeshis. Some Malaysians don’t care, but others are incredibly supportive.

Living as a refugee here is no walk in the park. There’s no law allowing us to work or study, which forces many of us into low-paying jobs. Employers take advantage, knowing we have no legal recourse. Despite this, some kind Malaysians share their food, homes, and kindness with us. It’s those small acts of generosity that keep us going.

A Ray of Hope

In Malaysia, mosques are where I truly feel a sense of belonging. When I pray, standing shoulder to shoulder with strangers, it’s a reminder that our differences fade in front of God. Unfortunately, outside these places of worship, people are divided by skin color, religion, and status.

Thankfully, I’ve found a support network through Fugee, an organization that helps refugees rebuild their lives. They’ve given me a voice and a platform to share my story. Through them, I’ve met Malaysians who believe in me and want to see me succeed both academically and professionally.

Because of the kindness I’ve found here, I have hope. While I may not be widely accepted in every part of society, I’ve found my place within this country’s warmest corners.