I love the cheers

Honest Bios

Chapter 4: “The People Cheered. I Smiled.”

How I turned poverty into PR. And outrage into office.

Not everyone who speaks truth to power wants the truth to win.Some just want the microphone.
The stage.
The applause.

I was one of them.

You think I was loved for being brave?
No. I was loved for being safe. I talked about injustice.
But never named the architects.
I cited victims.
But never stood beside them in court.
I wept in interviews.
But never marched in the rain.

“They say I gave voice to the voiceless.
But I wasn’t a voice. I was a volume knob, always turned just low enough to be palatable.”

I turned human suffering into a script.
I quoted poetry while girls were praying for rescue.
I praised Malaysia’s potential
While our daughters were being married off to predators,
And our sons were being arrested for tweets. But I kept it tidy.
Digestible.
Optimistic. That’s why they let me speak.

Because I didn’t call it state failure.
I called it “an opportunity for dialogue.”

Here’s the truth:

“When the system wants to look like it’s listening,
It puts someone like me on stage.”

I was the perfect proxy:
Educated.
Polished.
Emotionally intelligent but politically defanged.

The donors loved me.
The press quoted me.
NGOs invited me. Because I made rage look like reflection.
I made structural violence sound like a misunderstanding.

And the people? They clapped.
Because for a moment, it felt like someone was listening. But I wasn’t.
Not really. I was performing awareness.
Monetising moral anguish. And like all performances,
I had a script.
And that script never included naming my father.
Or his policies.
Or the institutions that kept him untouchable.

I said:
“We must do better.”
“We need more education.”
“Let’s raise awareness.”Never:

“The law is broken.”
“The judges are complicit.”
“The leaders are predators in suits.”

Because those words burn bridges.
And I needed my bridges.
For access. For relevance. For image.

Let’s talk about some of those bridges.

Child marriage

• I condemned it… quietly.
• But never demanded that PAS be removed from power.
• Never condemned syariah courts enabling it.
• Never asked why my father let them thrive under his watch.

Marital rape

• I posted articles.
• But never stood with survivors.
• Never fought for a legal amendment to Section 375.
• Never called out MPs who laughed at women’s trauma.

State violence

• I used words like “polarisation”.
• Never “abuse”.
• Never “corruption”.
• Never “tyranny”.

But every time I said something vague in a press interview?
The people clapped.

They needed hope.
And I gave them branding.They needed change.
I gave them content.They needed rage.
I gave them reflection.

“I was the soothing voice the system needed to survive the noise.
The face they held up and said:
‘See? Not all Mahathirs are monsters.’”

But what did I do? What did I change? I won awards.
I wrote articles.
I made people feel seen.But I never made the powerful feel fear.
And without fear, nothing changes.

Let’s call it what it is:

Activism theatre.
Policy cosplay.
Dissent with a sponsor.

The system didn’t just tolerate me.
It needed me. Because a polished, elite woman quoting Gloria Steinem is the perfect distraction
from the fact that women in Sabah can’t get access to basic reproductive health. Because a Mahathir who speaks softly
makes you forget about the Mahathir who ruled with steel.

And so the people clapped.
And I smiled.

“They weren’t clapping for justice.
They were clapping for the feeling of justice.”

It felt good.
For both of us. They felt hope.
I felt heroism. We shared the illusion that things were changing. But I knew they weren’t.
Not really.

Because real change doesn’t happen with polite essays.
It happens when people name names.
When activists risk prison.
When systems shake because truth was shouted, not whispered. And I never shouted.
I never even raised my voice.

“They cheered.
And I smiled.
Because I knew they weren’t applauding resistance.
They were applauding performance.”

The People will always clap for me. They need me..