In April 2019, I listened to BTS's new song, Boy With Luv, and, like the personas in the song, I fell in love. I loved the beats, I loved the colours it made me imagine, I loved the vocals, I loved the dance, I loved the feelings I had when I listened to it—like enjoying the scent of cotton candy and lemonade against the cool sea breeze on my face. I felt so enamoured by the delivery of the song and all the visuals that came with it. 

But you know? I think what grabbed me the most was the fact that it was well-loved by so many others across the whole world, too. Like them or not, there can be no denial that BTS is an incredibly huge band with millions of dedicated fans who love them. And I find that to be one of the amazing things about BTS. They inspire people of different backgrounds, languages, ethnicities, cultures, everything, to come together and sing, dance, enjoy, and be cheerful along to a band they genuinely feel so much for. Seven young boys from Asia! Amazing!

Often, when I think about a "unifying" language on this earth, what instinctively comes to mind is English. English is said to be a "global" language. Somehow, it is or has been growing to be for decades. But, and I acknowledge that I am simplifying this very much, the main reasons for its global use aren't really because people feel so much for it. The reasons are grounded in blood, violence, and brutality. I think of the world as rooted but through the years, so much of us were ripped away from what grounded us when we were taken over by the English. So we take their language, their practices, their beliefs. Even as countries celebrate days of independence, a lot of us still depend on the powers that forcefully held us. English is probably the language I'm best in, but not a day goes by that I don't feel guilty or empty because of it. 

So... When a band such as BTS, who proudly speaks Korean, who does not feel the need to always pander to the English or America, it fills me with so much awe. Somehow, in ways I find difficult to explain, I see the overflowing love for BTS from people all over the world to be a rebellious response against this idea that global popularity is only reserved for the West. I feel the same way when the movie Parasite was so well-celebrated, and now when the show Squid Game is the most popular programme on Netflix. It's so refreshing, so satisfying, fills me with a pride I cannot translate into words. 

When I watch BTS on American, British, Australian, and other predominantly English-speaking shows and they are so incredibly unapologetically Korean, I'm so moved. How do I explain this? That after decades of subconsciously believing that if my English wasn't good enough I'll always be made fun of in my country and in the rest of the world, I see this group of guys my own age who speak Korean without needing to constantly apologise, without needing to check themselves nor having to have a translator so openly close to them, and they appear so comfortable and so at ease. It's heartening, relieving, like a huge slab of smooth cement has been lifted from my back. So smooth that I never even realised it was there until it was gone, and only then did I notice how broken my neck and back was. I feel validated, seen.

I also feel that my shared love and appreciation for BTS also comes from the fact that I am Malay. I am Asian. And as an Asian, I'm perceived to be part of a minority when Asians give so much for and take up so much of the world. I'm part of a group that's seen as behind when we've brought so much forward. I'm often described to be "on the other side of the world" when that very subjective statement could be said the same for the West, too. To see so much love for another group of Asians makes me feel like I can soar along as I sit on the shoulders of them as giants, too.

Even after 4 years of pursuing a degree in Literature and unlearning the way the West has been placed on a pedestal, I realise I've so much more unlearning to do. This journey of throwing away the unnecessary accord we lend the West is constant, it's a life journey, a life of relieving regional trauma and shedding away ideals that caused so much cultural pain. 

Today, as my love for BTS grows, so does my assurance as an Asian, as a Malay—an assurance that has been growing steadily as learning and loving come along from different angles. I find it strange, curious, that my love for a pop band can stir up feelings of cultural trauma and Asian/ minority identity politics, but I suppose that's how intertwined pop culture and media representation is to our self-esteem and self-identification. It isn't as superficial as we all may think. 

Once again, I was looking through the photos of my Kedah trip (which, I have yet to make the time to form into words) and my heart was filled with the yearning to see the children again. I miss the kids so much; their joyful faces and their innovative games, their intriguing stories and their willingness to play and learn. I really want to see them, meet new faces, and do more things that can help alleviate their situation.

To ease my heart, I played Michael Jackson's amazingly heartfelt classic Heal the World. I then came across Maati Baani's version of the song, one that featured child prodigies from all over the world. As I was doing my house chores, tears just wouldn't stop rolling hahaha. The video is so touching, and the fact that only children were the one singing made it all the more sincere and earnest.

It brought me back to the last day of the camp with the Rohingyangs, when we Irsyad facillitators were singing the very same song on stage for the children. At one point, the children simply caught me off guard when they too started to beautifully sing along to the chorus. That moment, I just couldn't continue singing, so I just stood there and waved my arms with tears rolling down my cheeks. I was standing in the centre of the stage, so it was impossible for the children to miss my crying face, so I noticed some of them actually gestured towards their eyes while shaking their heads and smiling. It was an attempt to make me stop crying, but it backfired totally because it only made me cry much harder.

Another moment that really stood out to me, was when the children raised their voice in unison every time they sang the line "for you and for me and the entire human race". It was so difficult to hold myself together every time that lyric was repeated and reverberated loudly in my ears.

It deeply touched me how they, children who suffered such a terrible past, see the world with light in their eyes, the same world where most turned a blind eye and closed their ears deaf to the horrible plight of the Rohingyans. Maybe that's just one of the beautiful things about children, about young humans – their optimism, faith, and belief in the world is still strongly preserved.

Call it strange, but I aspire to hold on strongly to my own optimism, faith, and belief in the world. I've been told many a time that it's a gullible thing to do, but is it really?

Because if I were to say I've "given up on humanity", I really mean that I'm giving up on myself, because I'm human. I don't know whether we realise it, but when we say that phrase, we're giving up on ourselves, and the things that we can actually do to help one another out. It's true, a lot of people in the world are the causers and victims of suffering, but I just don't think losing faith in ourselves is doing much to change that. Because, well, we are all part of humanity, part of the human race. We're human, and none of us a special exclusions, nor are we a unique exception. And we've got the ability in us to do something.

We shouldn't wait for others to do something, because to "restore that faith", to heal the world, it all starts from us. To heal my world, it all starts from me.