I've recently come across malaysiakini . Imagine my surprise... I was actually interested in reading the letters section. The letters reflect a mature and intelligent community. Reading all those letters spurred me to include my own two cents worth.

I'm a 27-year-old Malaysian studying in Australia. I stress the word, Malaysian. I grew up in Kuala Lumpur so I know what it is to be a non-bumiputera from first-hand experience. While not altogether unpleasant, it was a strange experience.

I'm not Chinese, I'm not Indian and I'm certainly not French, although traces of all these races flow through my veins. I owe my patriotism to none of these countries.

I've seen education ministers come, and I've seen them go, yet not one of them seemed to address the problem of the racial segregation in schools, which I feel is caused by the apparent lack of a fair system.

While in school, I learned that racism is not the exclusive domain of the Malays. Everyone is exposed to racism if they've been through our local school system. Since I am not Chinese, Malay, or Indian, I was in a unique position to witness this grand play without being part of it. Hell, I tick off the "lain-lain" box on all my forms! I may as well not exist.

My education continued to the tertiary level. I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to sculpt, to paint, and to create! Interestingly enough, so did two of my Malay friends whom I'd been in the same class with for six years. (When you share a caning from Mrs Woodhull, you share a bond that is not so easily broken!)

They told me they were going to study art in Mara. I was a little curious that they didn't ask me to join them, and of course, I quizzed them on the subject. The only answer I got from one of them was an uncomfortable silence. My other friend, whose father was a "somebody", told me that I could try and apply, but if I wasn't a "bumi", I should abandon the notion.

I wanted so badly to do anything related to the field of art that I took up graphic design at a private institution soon after. That was when I got angry, since the fees were exorbitant compared to the pittance which a Mara student had to pay. How am I different?

All the while I was receiving letters from my friends telling me about their experiences in Mara. They intended no malice, they even shared my opinion, but they were powerless to do anything about it. I'm from a middle-class family, and we practically bankrupted ourselves so that I could afford a decent university education.

Now I'm abroad, finally at the end of my educational journey. I'm older, wiser, and maybe not quite as angry. I don't think I've ever resented the actions the government took. Growing up like that just taught me that the world isn't fair. I've learned to stop complaining and to go about my business quietly.

I'm still waiting, however, for a country to call home. I'm still waiting for the time when I can be called Malaysian, not "lain-lain". I'm still waiting for Malaysia to become the incredible place

I know it can be.