Hello! I am an Amoi, the Malaysian variant of cewek Tionghoa/chindo. A while back, I was determined to interrogate why Malay guys in Malaysia are especially interested in having an Amoi, albeit under the conditions that it would be temporary or she could fully assimilate into Malay Muslim culture. The figure of Amoi is beyond doubt, quintessential to Malaysia and Indonesia’s popular culture today, occupying the profane section of their men’s imagination. Besides the electrifying social media personalities of Amois, there have been endless debates on TikTok whether the usage of “Amoi” is racist or sexist given it is usually used within the context of cat-calling in Malaysia but not necessarily questioning why the obsession in the first place with the Amoi? Through my own absurdist methods of self-ethnography, I mapped out a historiography of the Amoi figure, which resulted in a more extended version of what you are about to read. Recently, with Indonesian social media confronting the question of “Kenapa cowok indonesia suka cewe tionghoa atau chindo?”, I wanted to share what I have found from the Malaysian case so that we can answer this question once and for all. 

The word “Amoi”, according to Malaysia’s government body, Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka [Malay: National Institute of Language and Literature] in its actual literal meaning is “anak perempuan, gadis (biasanya digunakan sebagai panggilan kepada gadis Cina)”. The Amoi is supposedly fair-skinned, skinny and free enough of religious judgement to be able to wear skimpy denim shorts in public although courting her would mean needing to be of high social status given that she is materialistic. If I could attribute the resurgence of the usage of Amoi in Malaysia, it can almost undeniably be tied to Ms. Pui Yi’s popularity as the more bold and brazen version of another famous Amoi of the 2000s—Elizabeth Tan and her bedroom ukulele covers on YouTube. 

Bear with me here, they are like the Upin and Ipin you hear about from Malaysia; Elizabeth Tan and Miss Pui Yi are two sides of the coin to the latest instalment of the Amoi fantasy, pioneered specifically by two internet personalities of different eras. Elizabeth Tan represents the other side of the Amoi fantasy: the demure figure and bini material given that a key feature of her online personality was that she was culturally open to Malay culture, sparking hopes of assimilation via marriage. Her content included open embracement of Malay culture beyond just food, from learning Malay dialects to singing covers of contemporary pop Malay songs. Dare I say, Elizabeth’s slightly brown highlighted, bed-tossed hair with her ukulele in her bedroom is a cemented image of any Malay man in the 2000s. Alas, with the announcement of her marriage to a Chinese man, the fantasy deflated and paved the way for a younger, different kind of Amoi to hold this vacuum. Ms. Pui Yi, on the other hand, rose to fame as a social media influencer, DJ and film actor. She also has a very popular OnlyFans account. There is this element of near impossibility of “winning over” an Amoi and also staying in a relationship with one given the almost unimaginable reconciliation of moral, racial and religious differences.

Well, this Yvonne Tan has one of her first realisations that being an Amoi hold a potent space in the Malay man’s mind was here to stay, was when I discovered Hujan’s Ah Moi Chantek (2008). It is a song that highlights the fact that being with an Amoi would at best be fleeting, hinting at the reason that being committed would not be an option due to cultural and religious differences, which is part in parcel of what makes an Amoi so alluring:

---

Ah Moi Chantek
Lain dari yang lain
Aku tunggu selalu
Kehadiranmu suatu yang baru

Pergi aku
Pergi aku buat sementara
Engkau yang sanggup menunggu
Menunggu hampir setiap masa.

---

Can you imagine going to a music festival with a sea of  Malay men singing “Ah Moi Chantek” resoundingly with all their heart, until today? Also can you imagine a group of strangers catching a glance of you and end up singing the song to you? And then can you imagine going to a random concert in Indonesia and seeing the same glee towards JKT48? To even give a comparison to this bizarro experience is difficult, further illustrating how strange it is to be fixated on the women of a minority, once immigrant community.

Maybe the lyrics can provide some explanation. The Amoi is different without an explanation, but I am inclined to believe Hujan means she is just different culturally from Malay women. She is partially forbidden and in turn, offers a lifetime of wondering what could have been if circumstances were different, without  having to negotiate cultural obligations. Her potency increases with her forbiddenness, knowing that he would greatly disappoint his family given that most Amoi might not necessarily embrace Malay customs or Islam. He, too, has no interest in embracing Chinese culture beyond a superficial manner as well given so much of Chinese-ness has been framed to be against Islamic principles, uncomplimentary to their way of life, particularly with food. Faced head on with how different our worlds are, all the Malay man can do is wonder how our lives, our worlds could have been different.

Amoi has evolved to become a site for men who are disenfranchised from racial and cultural expectations, be free of responsibilities albeit momentarily, and to explore new worlds through her. Not every Malaysian man will get the chance. She is primarily a figure shaped for a fleeting romance that can only be explored with boundaries and shared fantasy with other people who don’t actually know Amois. She is a site for eroticism and to flirt with the idea of moral bankruptcy while also purporting superficial ideas of Malaysia’s multiethnic utopian dream through the use of assimilation.

And just to show how long ago the obsession with Amoi was, the 19th century Syair Siti Zubaidah Perang Cina, accounted a the war of the Chinese empress and her seven daughters against conquering a land called Kembayat Negara ruled by Sultan Zainal Abidin. The Sultan’s companion Abdullah Sani interestingly uses war symbolism to tell the Chinese empress and princess that marriage, and private life, is the proper vocation of women when they attack and conquer Kembayat Negara. But instead of simply berating them, he tries to win them to his bed, and uses the symbolism of the princess holding the weapons to be the object of penetration (Mulaika, 2011):

---

Lalu disahut Abdullah Sani
Menteri Cina sangat berani
Bukan menjadi bela di sini
Jadi suami patutnya ini

Abdullah Sani then answered:
The Chinese minister is very brave
[But I] am not ot be sacrificed here,
It is more fitting to become a husband.

Kerana tuan seorang perempuan
Bukannya patut menjadi lawan
Jikalau seperti di dalam peraduan
Puterilah patut menjadi kawan

For you are a woman
and ought not to be an adversary;
But if it were in the bedroom,
The princess is fit to be my companion.

Patut berperang di dalam kelambu
Keris dan lembing pujuk dan cumbu
Sekarang berbuat benteng dan kubu
Membara laskar beribu-ribu

[We] ought to fight beneath the
mosquito net,
Our krises and spears coaxes and caresses.
Now [you] put up parapets and
stockades,
Bringing thousands of soldiers.

Itulah malu yang dipertuan
Berperang dengan raja perempuan
Anak dara lagi perawan
Di tengah medan hendak dilawan

This is his highness’ shame:
Fighting with women rulers,
Maidens and beauties,
Wanting to fight in the open field.

Hijjas, Mulaika, “Victorious Wives: The Disguised Heroine in 19th Century Malay Syair.” NUS Press and Malaysia Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, 2011, p. 131-132.

---

The Chinese princesses eventually conquer Kembayat Negara and take the Sultan prisoner. The crux of the Syair is the story of how Sultan Zinal Abidin’s wife Siti Zubaidah has to enter the world of men to save her husband and with her ally, Princess Rukiah of Yunan, who was orphaned and exiled from her kingdom by invaders. The two train in martial arts and, disguising themselves as men, were able to retake Yunan. In return, Rukiah agrees to help Siti Zubaidah in a war against China.

With the forces of Yunan and its allies, Siti Zubaidah—still masquerading as a man—is able to conquer China. They waged war against the Chinese princesses and won, with Zainal Abidin being rescued. The eldest princess fled while the other six embraced Islam and married several Rajas. One of the Chinese princesses, Kilan Cahaya, marries the Sultan. Siti Zubaidah, who has been dressed as a man this whole time continues to maintain this male alter ego “Syahar” for 8 more years before finally revealing who she is to the Sultan. She also insisted on Sultan Zainal Abidin to marry Princess Rukiah and together they returned to Kembayat Negara. Interpretations could be made about this Syair, about the court imagination of interracial polygamous marriages with both Malay and Chinese women, being strong when the Malay man is absent. I choose to believe it is one of the first instances of a solidarity poem between Malay and Chinese women where they set out to challenge the king of the land together:

---

Ada kepada hari yang suatu,
duduk di balai paras yang tentu,
hati Rukiah terlalu metu,
teringat perbuatan saudara itu.

There is one day,
sitting in a certain levelled hall,
Rukiah’s heart was too excited,
remembering the actions of her friend.

Kepada Zubaidah ia berkata,
“Wahai kakanda muda yang pokta,
mahukah kakadan menolong beta,
pekerjaan besar kepada cita. 

To Zubaidah she said,
“O young sister of yours,
do you want to help me,
[with a] great work towards our ambitions.

“Jikalau sampai seperti rencana,
dapat membunuh raja teruna,
adinda menjadi hamba yang hina,
perintahlah barang titah permana.

“If it goes as planned,
we get to kill the young king,
you become a lowly servant,
rule the commandment item.

Zubaidah tersenyum manis berseri,
“Jangan begitu adinda berperi,
jikalau ditolong Tuhan Yang Ghaari,
dapat melawan raja bestari. […]

Zubaidah smiled sweetly and radiantly,
“Don’t be like that fairy sister,
if God the Most High helps,
[you] can fight the bestari king. […]

Akan  Zubaidah muda bangsawan
bergantilah nama “Syahar Pahlawan”,
terlalu baik fiel kelakuan,
kasih kepada teman dan kawan.

Then Zubaidah, a young aristocrat
changed the name to “Syahar Warrior”,
too good fiel behaviour,
love to friends and family.

Akan Rukiah puteri yang pokta,
“Nahar” konon namanya nyata,
bersama kakanda Sahar pendeta,
seorang pun tiada mengetahui warta.

Then Rukiah the noble princess,
“Nahar” is said to be the real name,
with your sister Sahar the priest,
no one knows the news.

Abdul Rahman Al-Ahmadi, Syair Siti Zubaidah Perang China: Perspektif Sejarah, Kuala Lumpur: Perpustakaan Negara Malaysia, 1994,  p. 339-340.

---

Certainly, this could all just be my speculative take on the historiography of Amoi in Malaysia. We live in realities divided into social and racial classes; rendering the relations between the Amoi and the Malay Dilemma as complex, transgressive and politically explosive. More importantly, we need to explore what can the Amoi do about this? What is certain is that Amoi holds a potent space in Malaysian men’s fantasies as a sexual, mute object that significantly elevates any man’s status. From Hang Li Po supporting Sultan Mansur Shah to Wan Azizah taking one of the highest political positions for our current prime minister Anwar Ibrahim; I advocate that we transform this ornamentalistic support that specifically raises up the status of Malay men and redirect it just like how Siti Zubaidah and Princess Rukiah worked together to challenge power structures together. 

In Malaysia, we are grouped according to three major categories of Malay, Chinese, Indian that have also in their process cemented vastly different worlds, almost always strategically for political reasons, each with a venerated character that is considered the hallmark of tradition that can be upheld through marriage. If there were a spectrum of what is least acceptable, the Amoi would be placed there, furthest away from the status of a Perempuan Melayu Terakhir [Malay: Last Malay Woman Standing], and is thus very much desirable in the eternal forbidden nature the Malay world has created for her. Nevertheless, unfortunately, there are various hierarchies of what is considered desirable beauty in our society, which quickly causes resentment (rightfully so) within different groups of women and creates a cycle of internalised misogyny, which I call all Amois to resist this with their positionality to interject. 

Just as the racial question has significantly weakened our abilities to address many things from class unity and struggle to social, economic and political rights:

Let’s resist misusing racialised desirability as another point of divide when tackling gendered issues.

While we grapple with our own hypersexualisations of Chinese and East Asian women as a globalised phenomenon, such fetishisations include the idea that we are docile and obedient usually for a price, I say we stick our heeled feet into such gendered and racialised socialisations deeply entrenched within us and collectively confront internalised norms.

As referenced earlier,  Lu Yin used the analogy of “flower vases” to describe the role of Chinese women. It is time to throw the vases into the wall, and use the shards to take a stab at those who think they can own us, and grow together with other flowers in the garden, working towards nurturing a world that can hold beyond temporal fantasy.