Soon after Malaysia’s historic May 9 election, I happened to be at a conference hosted by the National University of Singapore.

Scattered amongst delegates from around the world, the Malaysian attendees quickly identified each other by our ink-stained index fingers and exchanged big, goofy smiles.

The indelible ink designed to thwart voter fraud had turned into a badge of honour, even while abroad. Maybe especially while abroad. When a speaker on stage noted that “something happened in Malaysia last week”, the Malaysians in the audience burst into whoops and cheers.

One besuited, bespectacled attendee who worked for a state-linked company pumped his fist in the air. 

Forgive us if we are acting a little giddy.

For several years now, the previous government, mired in scandal, tightening its chokehold on daily life and causing us to despair over our collective future, had also presented us with a unique problem – that of Travelling While Malaysian.

Bad enough that we had to live under the regime. We had to explain it all to our foreign friends too. (Americans abroad in the Age of Trump perhaps understand what I mean.)

What is going on with your prime minister Najib Razak, they asked. Uh, we have tried to get rid of him, but he keeps firing those who try.

Why can’t you vote him out? Uh, gerrymandering. Also, muzzled media. Why aren’t you hitting the streets? We have! Hundreds of thousands each time! In matching yellow T-shirts! But then we go home and nothing changes.

1MDB? The United States Department of Justice investigation? The Scorpene submarine scandal? The murder of the Mongolian model? Why, what, when, how.

It got so bad that some Malaysians, when asked, hesitated to say where they were from. A friend travelled to Ulan Bator, where anti-Malaysian feeling was particularly acute over the sensational murder of the Mongolian model Altantunya Shaariibuu, who was linked to a Najib associate and the Scorpene deal. My friend told people she was from Singapore.

Now, seemingly overnight, we have gone from basket case to something of a beacon for democracy, as Malaysians defied all odds and kicked out a regime in power for 61 years in a collective act of calm, organised and undeniable resolve at the ballot box.

Out went Barisan Nasional, the National Front, the only government independent Malaysia has ever known, and in came Pakatan Harapan, the aptly named Hope Coalition.

And we did it without riots or bloodshed.

Since May 9, the pace of change has been breathtaking – the return to power of former strongman turned reformer Mahathir Mohamad at age 92, the appointment of our first female Deputy Prime Minister, Wan Azizah Wan Ismail, the swearing-in of smart, honest and capable ministers to head finance, education, defence, communications and other key posts.

The release from prison and full royal pardon of opposition leader Anwar Ibrahim, an Amnesty International prisoner of conscience. The promises to repeal laws that suppress the media and free speech.

The resignations of officials at scandal-ridden state agencies and those who blocked investigations into the misdeeds of powerful people (who, as of May 9, are no longer powerful).

The police raids on luxury apartments linked to the ex-prime minister. The discovery of 284 boxes of designer handbags, 35 suitcases containing $114 million ringgit and 37 other bags of jewellery and watches.

And it is all still unfolding.

We are black and blue from pinching ourselves everyday. Is that funny feeling...pride?

A few days ago, someone from an international journalism organisation called to ask me about the future of journalism in Malaysia. (I have been a journalist for foreign media outlets for 20-something years. However, having recently taken a new job in market research, I lived this election – for the first time – purely as a civilian.)

I babbled on for a bit, about the need to swiftly repeal laws that reined in the media and to retrain an entire generation of journalists to report with a critical eye.

So, she asked, you are optimistic?

I paused and dug deep inside to try and find some cynical bone in my jaded journalistic body. Finally, I said: Yeah! I am. I am optimistic.

My interviewer grew quiet. She was Italian, she said. And she did not think she would see such historic change in her own country in her lifetime.

I let it sink in – somebody was envious of the direction my country was heading.

It is a feeling I have not felt in a long time.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Chen May Yee, a Malaysian, is a former reporter for Agence France-Presse and The Asian Wall Street Journal, as well as contributor to The International New York Times and Forbes. She founded www.Outstation.my, a web community for Malaysians abroad, returnees and everyone in between.