wear

Please press play.

I just discovered this 10 hour version of the song, which at first seemed absurd to me, as I'm sure it does to you. But considering how many times I played it while I was writing the following entry, it seems like the perfect accompaniment.

Yesterday, Emily and I took a bus from Kuala Lumpur to Tanah Rata in the Cameron Highlands, giving me plenty of time to catch up in my journal....

Kuala Lumpur....yep, we're in Malaysia. The plans have changed a bit.

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Kuala Lumpur, November 9-12:

In my AC-chilled hostel room, I comfortably dressed in black spandex pants and a long, baggy T-shirt that hid my curves. Since Malaysia is a predominantly Muslim country, I didn't want to offend the locals by showing too much skin while I went for my morning run. It didn't really occur to me how difficult I was actually making it for myself, attempting my first run in almost a month in such a hot and humid climate and with so much fabric covering my skin. 

I swung my heavy hiking boots forward as I slowly climbed the ascending pavement, into the depths of a park that felt like the outskirts of a rainforest. Water dripped from the trees overhead and onto my bare forearms, mixing with the sweat that glistened on my already wet skin.

About 20 minutes in, I passed the first pair of joggers. The woman was wearing shorts. They were as long as her male companion's, but she was still going for comfort over the rules of dress that I imagined were strictly enforced. By the end of my run, I had passed countless women in high-cut shorts and tank tops running on the same path. Needless to say, I was confused about the advice I had received to dress modestly.

Like most countries in the world, the cultural "rules" in Malaysia vary based on region, and in a modern city like Kuala Lumpur, Western influence has clearly made its mark. I hadn't realized just how developed the place was, with its efficient monorail system, futuristic skyscrapers, and fairyland LED lights which illuminated streets, temples, and even the royal palace. Kuala Lumpur is an urban burst of color and glitter that seems to draw from tradition just as much as it pushes for innovation and modernization. Of course what I'm describing here are the architectural developments I was able to observe.

So what about the social developments? How does the concept of modest dress work in such a modern city? The more time I spent in KL, the more I observed a diverse mix of female clothing, from waves of burqas--the few moth-like women flowing by--to the rainbow headscarves and butterfly tunics visible in every direction. I was also surprised to see plenty of bare shoulders and legs amongst the locals.

My fascination with these varied clothing styles has led me to think about the broader concept of how we, as humans, work with the physical form to express our inner selves. In fact, the ways in which we cover--and don't cover--our bodies reflect much more than our individuality. Clothing is about the relationship between an individual and the public. When I am home, I feel empowered as a woman and as a citizen. I present my body in ways that reflect that sense of freedom, I embrace the curves of my body and I show a decent amount of skin. However, as a young woman traveling without a male companion in Malaysia, I would feel vulnerable if I dressed the same that I normally do in California. Showing skin back home is an expression of my power as a woman, while covering my skin here is a way to empower myself as a woman.

Thinking about "modest dress" in this context gives me appreciation for the particular ways in which Malaysian women empower themselves through dress, even with the restrictions of a Muslim culture. (Although, as open-minded as I try to be, burqas are admittedly strange to me.) The varieties of colors and jewels amongst the women offer opportunities for self-expression that celebrate the physical form. No matter our country, traditions, or concepts of modesty, I think we all want to exert some sense of control over our physicality as way to express our personal power. Muslim clothes can be surprisingly audacious. There is also something sexy and powerful about leaving more to the imagination. By bringing more attention to a woman's face, head scarves and tunics highlight her unique beauty.

I'd be curious to know how the women here perceive tourists' more scandalous clothing choices and how they feel about foreign dress in general. Based on my current physical appearance--wrinkled, Thai "genie" pants, American shirts and shoes, an Indian henna--I probably look like a Western hippy backpacker, which carries its own implications about my identity and personal power. In some ways I think my appearance hinders my relationship with the Malaysian locals. Covered or not, I am still vulnerable as a foreigner and as a single woman, and so I can easily be overcharged by taxi drivers and hassled by strange men. As a foreign woman, I also haven't had a great deal of interaction with the local women. However, my backpacker outfits also empower me by communicating that I need help with translations and directions. My attempts at modesty (and my henna) show that I respect the local culture. My clothing provides me with opportunities to learn more about Malaysia from friendly locals who are intrigued by my appearance and want to engage in conversation. Obviously, I look foreign regardless of my clothes, but I also believe that my particular blend of local and American garb communicates much more than the fact that I am foreign.

It is interesting to consider the power of dress in a place with such different traditions from those I know. I don't believe appearance tells the whole story about an individual or culture--I mean, how could I?--but I am learning more about the power of appearance and clothing here in Malaysia. I am also learning more about Malaysia, simply by keeping my eyes (and mind) open to the explosions of colors and flowing fabric all around me.