JULY 15 — Why should I even care? I have everything I need and want. Why should I care? Why bother? Why put myself in danger? Oh, I asked myself those questions a thousand times before that fateful day. 

I knew the answer. Besides the eight objectives of Bersih which seemed perfectly legitimate and noble to me, I was angry. I was angry with the police who have literally become our very own fashion police. I was angry that the government thought that they could get away with blatant lies.

I was angry that despite coming from a national school and having good friends from different races, I saw the government seemed bent on creating racial and religious divides that, in reality, were not true. Most of all, I was angry with the injustice that is rampant in the land.

A girl can hardly walk around town in broad daylight without constantly looking over her shoulder for fear of being robbed and hurt by snatch thieves or have acid splashed all over her body while an innocent person wearing a yellow T-shirt is arrested? 

I was angry and scared and totally fed up.

So I walked. 

The day before the rally, a few friends asked me if I was afraid. Though I would have liked to say I am fearless, I am not. I was afraid of what would happen the next day. 

What if I die? What if the police fired “live” bullets and it becomes a repeat of the Tiananmen Square massacre? What if there’s bloodshed? What if I get expelled from university? What if they just kick me out? What if it becomes a full-blown riot? What if I get hurt in all the commotion? What if no one shows up and I am the only one? What if nobody else cares? What if people are too afraid to take a stand? What if I get arrested? I am old enough to be tried in court as an adult but not old enough to vote! Even if I turn 21 and register before the next general election, my name might not even be in the system by then. What if, what if, what if...

In the midst of the million and one questions swirling in my head, I remembered two things. The first was a quote from Martin Niemoller, a German pastor who opposed Adolf Hitler during the Holocaust:

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out — because I was not a communist; 

Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out — because I was not a socialist; 

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out — because I was not a trade unionist; 

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out — because I was not a Jew; 

Then they came for me — and there was no one left to speak out for me.

Evil triumphs when good men do nothing. If I do not speak and take a stand against injustice now, all the corruption will continue. 

The second thing I was reminded of was a Bible verse in the book of Esther 4:14: “For if you remain completely silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”

Who knows if I have been created for such a time as this? It was the time to actually stand together and do something instead of sitting at home and complaining. 

When I first told my parents that I was going to walk, I was met with a resounding, “NO!” from my father. After much pleading and persuasion through my mother and aunt, he finally relented. Never once did I regret walking. 

I need not have worried so much either. The atmosphere was carnival-like, happy. People were smiling, laughing, taking pictures, holding balloons and giving out flowers. In fact, shopping in a big sale is more violent and rougher than the Bersih demonstration. 

The horrible tear gas, the water cannons and the violence by the police made me even more determined to march on. How wrong it was that the police, the very same people who were supposed to protect me, were the ones coming after me. 

But the solidarity and the courage of the rakyat to stand for truth and justice, it gave me hope. It gave me hope that people from all walks of life, every creed and colour, tall and short, young and old, put aside their differences and helped one another continue on throughout the day. It gave me hope that I am not alone. It gave me hope that stereotypes, prejudices, presumptions and prejudgments were dropped. It gave me hope that Malaysia truly had a future.

It gave me hope that there was LOVE. 

Love for Malaysia, family, friends and fellow Malaysians. Love that knows no boundaries.

Never before had I sung the national anthem, “Negaraku”, with such pride and never before did the lyrics ring so true. Never before did the Rukun Negara mean so much. 

Sure my whole body ached the next day after so much running and climbing walls and gates like a clumsy monkey but it was worth it.

Heroes and heroines? Hardly. Just doing the right thing.