Keywords

1 Introduction

This chapter is based on a larger anthropological study of how primary schoolchildren learn the meaning of Malay (Melayu) and what it means to be a Malay person in Brunei Darussalam.Footnote 1 In the study, I documented how primary schoolchildren establish for themselves the plethora of concepts and ideas that are taken for granted by adults, such as culture, nature, identity and gender, in order to understand how social relations—in the school and at home—inform schoolchildren’s understanding of Malay. Through ethnographic case studies, I came to the conclusion that respect plays an important role in how children (as well as adults) learn and comprehend ideas of gender, filial duty, deference, ‘correct’ knowledge, ‘normal’ behaviour, hierarchy as well as disrespect. The fieldwork for the study took place at a suburban state school in Brunei Darussalam from January 2016 to March 2017. In 2016 a total of 406 pupils (194 males and 212 females) were enrolled in the school. They were mostly Malays from different socioeconomic (mainly middle-income and low-income households) and ethnic backgrounds, with some of mixed ethnicity.Footnote 2 While I was not privy to the exact number of foreign pupils in the school, I was informed that they were mainly from Bangladesh and the Philippines. The methods used to collect data were a combination of participant observation, interviews and casual conversations with both children and adults. Although pupils were the main focus of the study, teachers, parents and guardians were also interviewed in order to document their experiences when they were primary schoolchildren themselves as well as to compare the differences in ideas—with regard to respect—due to changing historical circumstances.

In the following discussion, I examine how primary schoolchildren learn and understand the differences in what it means to be male and female from daily interactions with their friends and their teachers. I also investigate important texts that detail the ‘correct way’ of being male and female, and look at how adults view gender and how children of different age groups understand and practise gender. I attempt to show how children’s expression of personhood is through the complementary processes of gendering and being gendered. My study demonstrates that children are not passive recipients of personhood but that they themselves are also actively appropriating what is expected of them based on societal expectations.

2 Gendering Colours

When I asked a year three pupil, Azy (female, eight years old), why she refused to give in to her male classmate’s relentless request to borrow a red coloured pencil, she told me that it was because boys should not be using ‘colours meant for girls’ (girl punya colour) for their art drawings. She then proceeded to explain and showed me—from her box of 24 Staedtler colouring pencils—what ‘girl colours’ are: white, yellow, cream, orange, red, pink, purple and light blue. She then pointed to the right side of the colouring box and differentiated that dark blue, green, brown, grey and black are ‘colours meant for boys’ (boy punya colour). Azy further added that while she did sometimes use boys’ colours, she found those colours particularly ugly (bida) while girls’ colours are pretty (lawa). Thinking that she had clarified her actions to me, she was frustrated when I repeated my question as to why she would not lend her male classmate the red coloured pencil. Azy reasoned that it was because both she and her male classmate were different: ‘It’s because we’re different, he is a boy and I am a girl!’ (Pasal kami lain bah, ia laki-laki aku bini-bini!).

Azy’s response can be written off as trivial while her actions towards her male classmate can be rationalised as just being selfish. In actuality, her way of thinking is an essential window that sheds light on how children perceive their world and differentiate themselves from one another, and most importantly this is just one way that children talk about gender. Younger children are also—at some level—aware of this gendering process. In a reception class (pra),Footnote 3 when I asked the girls what the ‘pretty’ objects in the classroom were, I was impressed by how they unanimously pointed to their school bags, something I had not noticed before. Evidently, all the girls had pink or purple schoolbags (mostly pink) with pictures on them depicting Elsa (from Frozen) or Barbie or were brightly patterned Smiggle bags with typically feminine designs like rainbows or unicorns. The schoolbags for boys were either blue or black with superhero pictures on them such as Captain America, Superman and Spider-Man. Furthermore, over the course of my fieldwork in the school, there were numerous occasions when the responses I gathered from the children—when our chit-chat revolved around boys and girls—were the typical: ‘He is a boy, I am a girl’ (Ia lelaki/laki-laki, aku bini-bini) or ‘She is a girl, I am a boy’ (Ia bini-bini, aku lelaki/laki-laki).Footnote 4 In a similar vein, for adults (teachers, parents, grandparents and guardians), their habitual responses when questioned about the differences between males and females were: ‘Because he is a man/boy’ (Pasal ia lelaki) or ‘Because she is a woman/girl’ (Pasal ia bini-bini). While the schoolchildren were not able to explain to me the complexities of what it means to be a boy or a girl in Brunei Malay society, all the children I spoke with were, in some ways, informed of their sense of personhood from what had been ‘dictated’ to them by others. I am not saying that children are seen as full persons yet or have obtained full personhood status, rather they are learning how and what it means to be a Brunei Malay person.

Almost all of the adults interviewed referenced religion (agama) and the Malay culture (budaya) when detailing their ideas about males and females. Conspicuously, almost every answer was followed with the saying, ‘It is much better or proper to do so/this/that’ (Lagi bisai kalau dibuat cemani/cematu),Footnote 5 which emphasises that a certain type of act or behaviour should be performed correctly, thus normalising it. Moreover, when one acts in the correct manner, one is also showing respect to others. At the same time, this reflects that a particular person only acts or behaves in a certain way because of his or her biological makeup—it is ‘natural’. Males and females are told and trained on how to dress, react and view ‘things’ differently, which results in that person developing and acquiring certain traits and a particular way of thinking.

3 Male, Female and Clothing According to Malay Islamic Monarchy (Melayu Islam Beraja)

Malay Islamic monarchy (Melayu Islam Beraja, MIB) textbooks are necessary tools in the facilitation of learning, since the knowledge presented is deemed to be ideologically legitimate and the true way of living as a Brunei Malay person.Footnote 6 Fundamentally, they draw children’s attention to certain ‘forms of identification’ with their family, community and the nation (Stafford 1995: 6, 59). At the same time, this symbolic form of identification is part of children’s personhood. For Malay children in primary schools, MIB is a model to aspire to. For example, in MIB textbooks, one of the interesting topics is on clothing etiquette and appropriate dress codes (adab berpakaian) and the portrayal of male and female characters illustrated in cartoon form. The topic on clothing etiquette appears in both year one and year two textbooks; while the year one book demonstrates how one should dress in everyday life, the year two book shows the appropriate way of dressing according to the Islamic religion and the Malay culture. Both books advise that one’s modesty (aurat) must be covered and one must ensure that one’s attire is neat, clean and not see-through or tight. In Islam, the aurat for males begins at the navel and continues to the lower part of the knee; for females, the aurat takes in the whole body, which has to be covered except for the face and hands. According to MIB textbooks, the correct attire for males is to ensure that one wears either long trousers or shorts that come down to the knees and a long-sleeved shirt is preferred. The types of clothing seen as inappropriate are short-sleeved shirts with inappropriate pictures and ripped jeans. Furthermore, not wearing a traditional Islamic hat/headdress (songkok) while attending an Islamic activity or event is also considered improper.Footnote 7

All the cartoon illustrations of female characters in the books are drawn as modestly clothed in either a full-length loose-fitting traditional dress (baju kurung)Footnote 8 or loose attire, and their hair is either covered with a headscarf (tudung) or a hijab. The inappropriate way of dressing for females is not wearing the tudung when one is outside the house or wearing tight clothes, including attire that attracts attention due to embellishments (such as jewellery) or vibrant colours. Apart from the emphasis of ensuring that one’s aurat is covered, the other significant value that one should adhere to is the fact that ‘attention-grabbing clothing is sinful and is not deemed as good when viewed by others’. Inappropriate dressing is recognised by many as part of Western influences which go against the values of what it means to be modest in the Islamic tradition as well as in Malay culture. Furthermore, in Islam, when one covers up, not only is one respecting the religion—including the community at large—but one is also respecting others (by not causing offence with one’s outfit) and oneself (by protecting one’s modesty). What can be seen here is that the idea of the Brunei Malay person is someone who is Muslim and is dressed appropriately, and failing to do so is not only disrespectful but can be damaging to one’s social relationships with others since one’s personhood is relational.

However, many have argued that such attire is restrictive, particularly for women, and reflects the values of a patriarchal society. In the reception class, when a female substitute teacher took over the class, she admonished a six-year-old female pupil—in front of the whole class—for not wearing her tudung. Not only did she make an example of the pupil, she even asked the pupil if her own mother wore one, to which the pupil, scared at this point, just looked down and shook her head to indicate ‘no’. The substitute teacher then questioned what type of mother she was for not wearing one and that it was wrong and sinful (berdosa) for her not to cover up and for allowing her child to go out ‘showing her aurat’. Sternly, the teacher told the pupil to start wearing one from the next day onwards and to relay the warning message to her mother. In this case, even women—on both conscious and unconscious levels—are upholders of the patriarchal system and more often than not, with regard to inappropriate clothing, would resort to ensuring that their disapproval and criticism are heard.

This is where the idea of patriarchy, within the Bruneian context, varies from the standard definition. Both males and females have been trained into patriarchy, and I argue here that it is a strategy that exists because it meets some needs and is not necessarily thought of as a wholly negative ideological system. Generally, patriarchy is viewed as a negative system that either limits opportunities for women or oppresses them (or a combination of both). Within the Bruneian context, patriarchy is, to some extent, detrimental to females. However, many have accepted the normalisation of such a system in the society due to the nation’s stance on the importance of cultural values and the Islamic religion. This is not to argue or imply that women in Brunei passively accept patriarchy. Rather, this is a claim that is yet to be supported by empirical research since there are not many, if any, local studies on patriarchy and the traditional roles of males and females in Brunei. Given the fact that the nation has become more Islamic, men are generally accepted as the dominant sex because in Islam men’s designated role is to lead and be responsible for their family. As Tania Murray Li (1998: 679) notes of feminist research in Southeast Asia,

men’s greater prestige relates to the meanings attached to the particular practices in which they engage. Errington (1990: 7) argues that the busyness of Southeast Asian women in economic matters and their concern with money are signs not of power (a Western reading) but of weakness. Real power is derived from the spiritual domain, and there men have the advantage.

Evidently, then, traditional ideas of masculinity and femininity are supported by the state ideology and the women who support such a system are typically older females who are also religiously minded. Furthermore, the practice of the welfare state in Brunei helps to promote and reinforce patriarchal values. A large number of Bruneian Malays are afforded privileges as citizens and feel secure enough in their roles as male and female as expected in society. In line with this, many are compelled to be, and are ‘supposed to feel’, thankful (bersyukur) for what they have as the state provides free education and affordable health care, and there is no income tax.Footnote 9

In an article on women in history textbooks, Annie Chiponda and Johan Wasserman (2011: 14) argue ‘that the youth are likely to consider the way men and women are portrayed in textbooks to be unquestionable or beyond dispute’, and that women ‘are largely portrayed in stereotypically traditional feminine roles in a domestic environment. It is only on rare occasions that they are shown in more traditionally masculine roles outside the home’ (ibid.: 15). This argument is applicable to the MIB books. While reading the six MIB textbooks for year one to year six students, I found that most depictions of females within the home show them washing dishes, doing housework and looking after younger siblings. As for pictures of female activity outside the home, one shows a woman shopping while others are shown tending the garden (watering flowers). One other glaring gender distinction represented in the books bears on what roles males and females take up during preparations for a function at home. Males are pictured as being busy with the table and chairs outside the house while females are shown preparing food in the kitchen. This distinction of gender roles reflects a gendered division of labour that is seen as functional for the community as well as conforming to the norms of a collectivist nation.

According to the official Brunei education statistics from 2012 to 2016, female undergraduate enrolment outnumbered that of males across all four major national universities: Universiti Brunei Darussalam, Universiti Islam Sultan Sharif Ali, Universiti Teknologi Brunei and Kolej Universiti Perguruan Ugama Seri Begawan (Seri Begawan Religious Teachers University College) with some cohorts having almost twice as many female students than male students (Department of Planning, Research and Development 2016: 11). While this is a phenomenon seen in many parts of the world, the capabilities of females are not regarded as the same as those of males. In the MIB textbooks, most of the teachers are female and there is an interesting illustration of two girls—dressed in the standard school uniform typical of Brunei state schools—imagining that they would eventually graduate from university. Their imagination pictures them wearing graduation attire; however, there is no context or accompanying caption to indicate which university they will be graduating from. This is in stark contrast to another example of a male student—dressed in winter clothing—writing a letter to his parents describing his experience of studying in a university abroad. On the other hand, while there are some male figures depicted as teachers, many of the illustrations of males show them washing the car or mowing the lawn or engaged in sporting activities (particularly football). This representation, on some level, reinforces the idea that males are allowed more freedom while females, no matter how good they are academically, are resigned to domestic and local settings. Simply put, this reflects the public and private spheres that both males and females are supposedly a part of. In the social sciences, particularly in feminist writing, there have been numerous arguments pertaining to the fact that males dominate the public sphere while females are associated with the private sphere (see Wischermann and Mueller 2004; Rotman 2006; Chiappari 2008; Hagemann 2013).

Apart from the different roles that represent male and female in the MIB textbooks, there is also the description of the type of good and bad behaviour one should internalise and avoid. While males and females are already portrayed in traditional masculine and feminine roles in the textbooks, the bad behaviour listed is gendered from the Malay Muslim perspective. Good behaviour for girls is represented in a cartoon of two girls disposing of rubbish properly in the bin which signifies that the domestic sphere is the place for females. On the other hand, bad behaviour for females is mostly relational, such as selecting friends based on beauty and wealth, spending too much money while out shopping, and being boastful (for example, a married woman talking of her good fortune and the number of her children in the presence of an unmarried/childless woman). For males, bad behaviour is physical and anti-social such as littering, kicking the rubbish bin, writing on school desks, drawing graffiti on school walls and so on. While there is evidence that boys are more physical when demonstrating bad behaviour, there are also studies that show girls resorting to indirect aggression (see Crick et al. 1999; Woods 2013). Burglars and kidnappers are also depicted as typically male in the textbooks, and in one example their victim is a young schoolgirl. This depiction reflects the pervading notion that victims are commonly powerless females while their perpetrators are powerful males. While this is for the benefit of the pupil (reading the MIB textbook) or community to be extra vigilant, it stereotypes females as being weaker compared to males.

4 Proper Conduct and Proper Toys

From a young age, pupils are already taught to internalise what proper conduct is according to their gender through the influence of adults. Not only do they come to understand and participate in the activities of what is proper in their culture, they are also eager to do so with guidance (Rogoff 1990: 111). Children’s participation is also dependent on the approval of their parents, such as in the choice of toys. One of the reasons for this is the shared meaning and social approval that young children seek from their parents as well as from their teachers and friends.

In the primary school I studied, there were two reception classes and the class I was assigned to had 23 pupils: 12 males and 11 females. Their ages ranged from four to six years old, although a majority were five at the time of observation (all the children were born either in 2010 or 2011 and had not yet turned six).Footnote 10 The class teacher was Cikgu (Teacher) Suna and she had taught at the reception level for three years. During my first observation, I saw that Cikgu Suna was trying her best to get the children’s attention in order to start the first lesson of the day. All the children were sitting on the floor facing her and the whiteboard. The boys and girls were divided into two rows each, with the boys sitting in front and the girls behind them since it is considered the Islamic way to do so. When the children were tasked with writing, drawing and colouring, boys were assigned to sit with other male pupils at their designated tables while female pupils were also placed next to each other. There were altogether four big tables shaped into a big square that were shared between five or six pupils. I asked Cikgu Suna if this was her own decision to separate the children according to gender or if she was adhering to the school’s instructions to do so. She told me that she had always done so since it was the MIB way of doing things. She further said that she avoided mixing the boys and girls together as ‘it is not nice if outsiders (specifically parents and guardians) see (the mixing of boys and girls) and especially if there is an impromptu visit from the minister of education or any high-ranking officials including school inspectors [nazir] from the ministry’. The inspectors, she added, were very strict when it came to proper rules of conduct and always tried to find fault.

In my interview with Cikgu Suna, which was conducted over a year later, she told me that this was common practice for her as boys and girls were also seated separately when she was in primary school in the early 1990s. When pupils lined up heading out to their next class, both boys and girls already knew that they had to do so in two rows and this was a common sight too during morning assemblies, the weekly recitation of the Yāʾ Sīn chapter from the Qur’an (on Thursday mornings in the multipurpose hall) as well as during physical education lessons. Although this is seen as the proper or correct way of doing things according to MIB and Brunei Malay parents, not all teachers followed this rule strictly. In a few of the other classes I attended, boys were seated next to the girls and their teachers told me that it was their preference. Sometimes, academically weaker pupils were placed together at a shared table or a mix of weaker and cleverer pupils so that the cleverer ones could assist their struggling classmates. And while reception pupils sat separately from each other according to gender, it was a completely different scenario during English lessons when they were made to mix together and, sometimes according to their own choice, particularly when they were completing a workbook exercise.

At times, Cikgu Suna would struggle to get the children’s attention and as a last resort she started telling the class a story about how she met the superhero figure Ultraman while out shopping with her daughters. Ultraman is a fictional Japanese superhero who defends the Earth against aliens and monsters.Footnote 11 During one of those occasions, all the pupils suddenly became focused on her at the mention of Ultraman, while two of the boys got up on their knees and excitedly started to add to Cikgu Suna’s story of how they also met the superhero in person at a recent live show. Others, mainly the boys, began talking about how they regularly watched the television series, including cartoons, and boasted that the superheroes went to visit them in their own homes. The girls, on the other hand, were quiet and did not join in on the conversation at all. One pupil, Ifa (female, five years old), turned to her friend and said, ‘He is lying’, while her classmate, Ista (female, five years old), looked annoyed and shouted to the teacher, ‘Those are toys for boys!’ During recess, Ista told me that ‘Girls should not play with those toys [Ultraman]’ and when I asked her why, she looked down and shrugged her shoulder then quietly replied, ‘My mother told me that it is not allowed’. In her study of preschoolers, Nancy Freeman (2007: 363) notes that parents’ approval plays a huge part in young children’s preferences for gender-specific toys. Although Freeman’s preliminary investigation into preschoolers’ perceptions of toys and their parents’ attitudes and beliefs is small scale, it is striking how it is also relevant to the pupils in the school I studied. In Brunei, parents are to be respected unquestioningly, which makes their approval all the more important because going against one’s parents is akin to committing sin in Islam. While Freeman’s investigation involves three- and five-year-old children, I argue that it is also the same for older children, particularly for those who have been bestowed with an authoritative status (such as monitors and school prefects).

During one of my observation sessions in year one, I overheard some of the girls chatting about what they liked about Ultraman, and I decided to sit with them and listen in. On behalf of the girls in the group, Tali (female, six years old) told me that they were ‘not allowed’ to like Ultraman since it was meant for boys only. She then added that there were also female characters in Ultraman ‘but we like Princess Elsa and Barbie because they are pretty’. It is clear that girls tended to only like ‘pretty’ objects, and what they perceived as ‘pretty’ was the result of what they had been told by parents and peers. However, at the same time, there was the underlying system at work that generated these traditional feminine traits, that is the ideological dominant value system of MIB and particularly Islam.

Besides knowing what children liked and did not like as a means of getting their full attention, Cikgu Suna also tried to adhere rigidly to what she deemed ‘the proper way of doing things’. Nevertheless, there were times when she told the pupils that it was ‘all right to not follow the rules sometimes’. The following exchange is an example of this:

Cikgu:

Kalau gambar perempuan, beg pensel untuk? [If the picture is of a female, whose pencil case is it?]

Pupils:

Perempuan! [Girls!]

Cikgu:

Transformer ani perempuan atau lelaki? [Is Transformer female or male?]

Pupils:

Lelaki! [Male!]

Cikgu:

Kenapa lelaki? [Why male?]

Pupils:

Pasal Transformer lelaki! [Because Transformer is male!]

Cikgu:

Kalau yang gambar Barbie? Boy or girl? [If the picture is of Barbie? Boy or girl?]

Pupils:

Girl!

Cikgu:

Buleh pulang untuk lelaki tapi inda sesuai pasal ia lelaki. [It can be for boys, but it is not suitable or proper.]

What is interesting in the exchange is that Cikgu Suna, while stating that it was all right for male pupils to have a pencil case with a picture of Barbie on it, it was still not ‘suitable’. When children hear this, their internalisation of stereotypical definitions of gender is further reinforced by the perception of others. During her interview, Cikgu Suna revealed that she did not restrict the toys her daughters wanted to buy since it should be their choice. While there seems to be a contradiction in Cikgu Suna’s actions and beliefs, she was actually being careful not to be seen teaching the ‘wrong’ thing or allowing pupils to play the ‘wrong’ toys. Moreover, being in school, pupils had to be taught right from wrong and it was not fitting to teach them the wrong things (whether sitting, learning or playing, by themselves and with others).

5 Males First, Females Afterwards

When male and female pupils lined up in the school, whether for assembly or to switch to another classroom, the males were expected to proceed first. This was also evident in the roles of class leaders, in which the class monitors (ketua darjah) were always boys while assistant class monitors (penolong ketua darjah) were typically girls. In many ways, this reflected the superior–subordinate system that was in place in which pupils were being trained to internalise and replicate.

In the earlier discussion, I mentioned how Cikgu Suna ensured that she separated the seating arrangements for boys and girls in order to gender train the children, but also to avoid attracting any complaints or criticisms from others and unconsciously, as well, to perpetuate the idea that it was normal to do so. From year one onwards, pupils were already expected to internalise this idea of ‘normality’. There were three classes for year one with fewer than 20 pupils in each, and the ages of the pupils were six and seven year olds. The class I was assigned to observe had 17 pupils: 10 females and 7 males.

Being in year one meant that pupils should already have known what was expected of them and what the rules were since they had been trained since reception class. Once they were in their respective classes after the morning assembly, pupils had to remember to tidy up their classroom by sweeping, clearing any rubbish from the floor and organising the reading books (placed on four adjoining desks at the back of classroom which is where I sat during my observations) neatly into the allocated boxes. Both the class and assistant class monitors had to ensure that pupils assigned for class duty on that day completed their cleaning task. In year one, the monitor was Hai (male, seven years old) while the assistant class monitor was Nur (female, six years old). In almost every class in the school, a boy was always elected as the class monitor while the assistant class monitor was typically a girl. While there were some classes in which only females or only males were elected for class leader roles, it was not common (see below).

Throughout my observation of year one, I noticed that when pupils lined up and waited to enter the classroom for their next lesson, it was always the boys who entered the classroom first before the girls. From the example of the upper primary classes, even though there were times when it was the females who entered the room first, more often than not it was males who were first. Indeed, on many occasions when the teacher was already waiting inside the classroom, they ordered the males to enter the room before the females. Nur, the assistant class monitor, told me, ‘It has to be like that. In religious lessons, we are taught that males should be first. During prayer times, males are the ones in front [leading the prayer]’.

I referred to how it was not common for girls to be elected as the class monitor over the male pupils. However, this did not apply to the year three class that I observed. In that class, the class monitor was Sofi (female, eight years old) while the assistant class monitor was Qam (female, eight years old). Both were chosen to lead and take care of matters within the classroom on the teacher’s behalf. I asked their homeroom teacher, Cikgu Juha, about her decision-making process in the selection and she revealed that the boys were not mature or responsible enough, and that she did not need to abide by the conventional gender rules. She also told me that she was training the girls to become leaders because it was her job to do so. While this was a positive decision on her part, she did not like the fact that the two teachers attached to her class (for teacher training) who took over her lessons had mixed the boys and girls in groups and had also placed a girl in front of a boy in a line. I found Cikgu Juha’s stance on this quite contradictory and I suggest that this comes down to the differences in status between the attachment teachers and her. Elsewhere in my research, I have outlined how rank is an important feature of Brunei Malay society which is still very much part of everyday consciousness (see Brown 1970; King 1994). Cikgu Juha believed that attachment teachers were still learning to become qualified teachers and were lower in status (in terms of teaching experience), and therefore should follow the rules of gender segregation. Only when they are full-fledged teachers would they be able to ‘do as they please’. Even so, Cikgu Juha did not dare to reprimand or advise the attachment teachers and this was because of their difference in qualifications; while Cikgu Juha’s highest qualification is a diploma, the attachment teachers would graduate with a master’s degree. Therefore, the junior/senior rank was not as important, as their qualifications mitigated against it.

In year four, Cikgu Ahi followed the conventional route of choosing male pupils, Irz (10 years old) and Waz (nine years old), for the class monitor and cleanliness monitor roles respectively. The assistant class monitor was Ireen (female, 10 years old) while the assistant cleanliness monitor was Hara (female, nine years old), and both were more outspoken and authoritative compared to their male counterparts. Furthermore, Ireen was a visibly domineering pupil and ordered her classmates around which made me—and her classmates—forget that Irz was the monitor. I asked Irz if he enjoyed being the monitor when Waz immediately interrupted and told us that Ireen was always the one in charge (she greeted the teachers while the rest repeated after her and gave orders on the teacher’s behalf). ‘Girls behave like this?’ questioned Waz half-laughing and half-annoyed. Irz defended himself by saying that he liked being the monitor but was not sure why he did not take charge as much nor was as visible as Ireen. I concluded that because Ireen was a very confident pupil—and also the top pupil in the class who preferred to converse more in English than in Malay—she was able to take charge more than Irz. In this context, fluency in English then became an advantage and bequeathed authority over others, particularly in a state school where a large number of pupils were not fluent in English. In certain contexts, therefore, while the conventional notion of ‘males first and females afterwards’ was preferred, when girls were more equipped with assets such as responsibility, authority and language ability (which most of their male counterparts lacked), they were rewarded. In practice, this was not always the case as evident with Waz’s bewilderment towards Ireen’s domineering attitude.

In some ways, this example is almost comparable to the ‘gender diss’ that Philippe Bourgois documents, in which lower-income males resort to hurling racist or sexist expletives towards women who are more successful and have authority over them as a means to not feel emasculated: ‘Ultimately the gender disses respond to economic inequality and power hierarchies. The crack dealers’ experience of powerlessness is usually expressed in a racist and sexist idiom’ (Bourgois 2003: 147). In the context of Waz, although he did not use sexist language to criticise Ireen, his questioning of her domineering behaviour—which for him was not a feminine characteristic—was indicative of his (and Irz’s) powerlessness even though they were the ones who occupied positions of authority in the classroom.

6 How Gender Can Be Disgusting (Barigali)

Males are not the only ones who participate in gender disses to make fun of and criticise females. Females were also known to engage in this behaviour in the school where I conducted my fieldwork. Between lessons and during recess, I noticed how year one boys and girls made fun of each other. The very fact that they were of different sexes with different physical attributes was seen as funny and ‘disgusting’. Boys and girls also made fun of each other by pointing out that they would soon marry someone of the opposite or of the same gender. They viewed the other sex as ‘disgusting’ (barigali) and called out any touching or holding the other sex as ‘sinful’ (haram).Footnote 12 On the way back to their main classroom one day, a special needs pupil, Muz (male, six years old), held my hand to guide me back to the class and I told him that we should wait for Ame (female, six years old) since she was trailing behind the rest of her classmates. Muz then went over to Ame and grabbed her hand, but Andi (female, seven years old) and a few other girls apprehended him saying, ‘Boys should not be holding girls’ hands!’, and they pulled Ame away from him. Despite ganging up on him at times, the girls were more accepting of Muz. Compellingly, Nur, the assistant class monitor, said this to him one day: ‘You like milk that’s why you are like a girl’. It appeared that Muz was not viewed like the other boys and this was attributed to his special needs disability, yet he was viewed as a boy when he started to touch girls.

Compared to the girls, the boys were more aggressive in their attitude towards Muz. During recess period one day, Riz (male, six years old)—the smallest boy in class—warned Muz to not disturb the other boys playing. The class monitor, Hai, who was holding a pair of scissors, threatened Muz that if he continued to bother them he would cut his face.Footnote 13 Unlike the girls who seem to view Muz’s gender in a fluid-like state, transitioning from male to female depending on the situation, the boys saw Muz as a girl. Muz was effeminate in his behaviour and this was not seen as likeable, and to a large extent viewed as ‘disgusting’ by his male classmates.

There was one gripping conversation between Muz and Riz in an information and communication technology (ICT) class that further demonstrated boys’ dislike for female-oriented objects and female characteristics. Compared to a large portion of the year one class, Riz was the most talkative pupil, had a good command of English and could read any English books for the year one level without difficulty. While all the other male classmates adored Ultraman, he told them that ‘it sucks’ because it was an old superhero and he preferred Ironman. There were many times in class when his group of friends would get him to demonstrate different character voices when reading some of the story books because he was the only one who could effortlessly do so. During that ICT lesson, while all the pupils were sitting on the floor in front of the teacher’s desk, the boys started to chat about Ultraman, Batman, Superman and Spider-Man. Muz suddenly stood up and told everyone loudly that he preferred the princesses from the film Frozen. His sudden outburst was met with roaring laughter from all the boys while the girls had a look of confusion on their faces. Riz then stood up and stated that he now knew why Muz had a tendency to act up or to be naughty (beulah); it was because he only watched ‘princess movies’ that have underwear (spendet) in them. Riz’s own analysis of why Muz behaved in such a way was due to his fondness for female-oriented films, which was therefore the supposed reason—in Riz’s eyes—for his effeminate behaviour.

Further, Riz saw Muz’s acting out or being naughty as a result of his feminine qualities which further reinforced the idea that what is female is seen as bad or negative. Another point that Riz made was the idea of spendet as a form of a female object. Children commonly made fun of each other by calling their friends spendet or making fun of their spendet since the clothing article was generally viewed as dirty and disgusting (by children themselves) even though it is a garment worn every day. Their association and dissociation with certain objects were their way of navigating the social world in which they lived as well as a tool in negotiating social relations with others. Already at this juncture, it was clear that Riz—at his young age—viewed femaleness as inferior to his own gender as a male, a viewpoint that I believe was also shared by his fellow male classmates (except for Muz).

On another occasion, while sitting at the back of the year one classroom with Riz and Hai, where all the reading books were kept, both boys pretended that the books had ‘genders’. Using the book as a prop, Riz playfully said to Hai, ‘I am a boy, I’m perfect … you are like that girl’, to which he pointed to a book with an image of cooking on it (which was the ‘girl’ that Riz was referring to). He then laughed it off and started to talk about cooking pasta with salad. Hai had no clue what pasta and salad were, so he grabbed the cooking book and hit Riz with it. Riz retorted, ‘Whatever! I’ve got the woo, it’s my woo, the woo is mine, give me back my woo!’ I asked Riz how to spell ‘woo’ and what it meant, to which he replied, ‘It’s an invisible power!’ I also asked if girls were perfect too and he disagreed, saying that only boys were perfect as he was one. I asked why he came to that conclusion and he said that it was because of ‘looks’. Evidently, Riz was informed of the traditional roles that males and females take up within the home even though there are variations in the Brunei Malay family. He also talked about cooking pasta with salad, which are not traditional Malay cuisine but Western dishes, and perhaps he regarded all that is Western as superior to what is local. To clarify, in Riz’s way of thinking, it was fine to be known for cooking Western food but if it was local cuisine then it borders on inferior which he associated with females. Significantly as well, he saw that being a boy was ‘perfect’ compared to being a girl due to ‘looks’ and ‘invisible power’ (seen as male qualities).

7 How Adults View Children

During the last three months of my fieldwork, I conducted a number of in-depth interviews with teachers—whom I had had casual conversations with and whose classes I had observed—as well as with kitchen staff, cleaners, and with the parents and guardians who waited to pick up their children on the school grounds in designated areas. Adults have influence—whether it is positive or negative—on children’s ideas of the world. One of the female teachers I spoke with, Cikgu Sho, who is a parent herself with three young children, saw adults as having to guide their children into adulthood. And once children themselves become adults, it is their turn to look after their parents: ‘When they are already working and married with children, it is then their turn to look after us’. For a number of the parents and guardians I interviewed, more often than not they highlighted the idea that the more children one had the more one’s blessing (rezeki) increased.Footnote 14 Having more children is generally desirable in Malay Muslim families.

Overall, whether children are seen as carers or divine blessings, it can be argued that having more children is an economic investment. In her anthropological study of childhood, Heather Montgomery (2009: 64) suggests that ‘[c]hildren are also status-givers and the way in which proper families are formed. In some places, prolific child-bearing is honored and respected’. In Brunei, a woman is expected to bear children soon after marriage. And if the child that she bears is the first grandchild (whether on the maternal or paternal side), this not only gives status to the mother but also to the child since the child’s younger cousins will look up to them. This provides that child with a great deal of power and authority. By having children, therefore, the married couple are elevated to the status of full adults. On the other hand, married couples who have difficulty in conceiving are commonly bombarded with questions about having children. While the issue of fertility is a sensitive and indeed a taboo topic in Brunei, more often than not it is the wife who is seen as the ‘problem’, not the husband. In one of my conversations with a female teacher about the difficulties of conceiving, she acknowledged that ‘it is always the women who are considered as the root of the problem’. In fact, her mother told her that the reason why her ‘eggs would not stick’ was because she either washed her hair during menstruation or she exercised too much, hence her difficulty in conceiving.

The status of women in Brunei Malay society increases on having children, whether socially or economically. And by becoming mothers, women are considered the gatekeepers of their children’s path to heaven in the afterlife, thus also achieving a higher status within the community and in the religious context.Footnote 15 However, an inability to have children can bring about a great deal of emotional suffering because of how they are perceived and pitied by others. In comparing the various ethnographies on the value placed on children, and drawing on her ‘research among the Rungus Momogun’ of Sabah, Malaysia, Laura P. Appell-Warren (2014: 19) argues that ‘in cultures where there is high value placed on children, children are perceived to achieve full personhood at an earlier age than in cultures where there is low value placed on children’. Her analysis differs from Signe Howell’s (1984, 1989) studies of the development from child to adult among the Chewong indigenous people, and Janet Carsten’s (1991, 1995) work on kinship in Langkawi, Malaysia, both of whom argue that personhood involves a process of becoming, and to become a complete person is processual. Hence children are not yet seen as complete persons since they are constantly in the process of becoming. In agreement with Appell-Warren’s argument, I would argue that within the context of Brunei, full personhood status can also be achieved once parents marry off their children and have grandchildren themselves; a point that Carsten also makes.

Having children allows married couples to ‘create kinship not only between parents and offspring but also in wider social relationships’ (Fortes in Montgomery 2009: 63). The Brunei Malay person can be understood as part of a system of social relationships. For many Brunei Malay families, while extended kin play an important role in a person’s life, affinal kin can also bring about privileges and/or benefits. Through having children and eventually marrying the children off, networks are formed in terms of support and connection with the new in-laws, including their relatives and perhaps friends as well. In terms of the number of children one has, there is no right number, but generally many will try to have at least three or more children. The sex of the children is not so much an issue, but families do want to have at least one male child because, according to Islamic law, a large portion of the inheritance (waris) is passed down through the male line. In a study of mortuary rituals among Chinese Singaporeans, Tong Chee Kiong (1993: 148) suggests the concept of personhood also emerges when the ‘charismatic authority of the deceased [father] legitimates the authority of the [living] sons’, thus also emphasising the importance of filial duty. This is similar to the Brunei context in which the authority of the male is further enhanced, but at the same time males are also burdened after marriage with responsibilities as they have to be physically, spiritually and financially capable of taking care of the family. And according to Cikgu Sho, the more male children one has the more money one has to accumulate. But she insisted that she (and her husband) would benefit in the long run in the form of blessings or good fortune.Footnote 16

While some of the teachers showed more understanding and could see the importance of children themselves being regarded as valid informants, parents seemed to be confused as to how I could ‘find things out’ from children. They saw the significance accorded to children from their own traditional culture and religious belief, but were bemused at my own ethnographic endeavour. The common response when explaining my research to them was: ‘They are only children. It is hard to believe what they are saying!’ This suggests perhaps that as human beings, children are only receptacles for adult teaching and their views are not to be treated seriously. It is also the same when the teachers scold or punish the pupils; some would be resigned to the fact that the pupils were just children (kanak-kanak) and could not be expected to fully heed the teacher’s instructions or advice. Similarly, Carsten’s (1991: 439) study of kinship notes that children are incomplete as ‘young children, in particular, are not considered to be fully in control of their desires’, and asserts that the ‘incompleteness of children relates to the fact that they have not yet married or had sex’. I agree with this assertion to some extent. However, when they experience the physiological transition of going through puberty (baligh), they would begin to mature, signalling the beginning of the process of becoming a person in his or her own right. According to Islam, the signs of baligh for males start from the age of 15 (possibly earlier), when underarm and pubic hair start to develop, and the boy experiences the expulsion of seminal fluid, whether voluntary or involuntary. This signals the male child’s transition into adolescence. In marked contrast, females are understood to experience baligh from the age of nine onwards, irrespective of whether its signs are present such as the growth of underarm and pubic hair, breast development and menstruation (which usually occurs about two years after the emergence of other baligh signs). Once a child goes through baligh then fasting during Ramadan becomes a compulsory (wajib) act. The person is viewed as being on the road to adolescence and is generally no longer viewed as a child.Footnote 17 Some of the labels attached to someone who has reached maturity or adolescence include stripling (teruna) for males and virgin (anak dara) for females.

According to Appell-Warren (2014: 19), while gender is a culturally recognised marker of personhood since ‘it is also integrally related to one’s status and role’, the body cannot be ignored when talking about gender since ‘[h]aving a physical body is a prerequisite in many cultures to making one eligible for personhood’. The body itself, as it transitions through physiological changes, marks the beginning of the development of either male or female personhood. The individual moving from the child stage to the maturity stage should change their behaviour as they become more in tune with their duties and responsibilities. Physiological changes should therefore supposedly go hand in hand with acquiring the ‘correct’ knowledge, norms and values. Once children develop into adolescents, they should know what is expected of them as male or female persons in Brunei Malay society: ‘You should know them already by yourselves’ (tau-tau sendiri) or ‘You should understand it yourself’ (paham-paham sendiri). At this point, the child transitions from one who is incompetent into a competent person who should already know ‘how things work’ and understand what is considered as ‘normal’. As noted by Appell-Warren (ibid.: 25), one’s ability to learn and understand the rules that govern behaviour are deemed a person’s way to achieve personhood, and ‘[c]hildren who do not “understand” are not considered responsible for their behaviors, and are not yet considered full members of their culture group as they do not understand the rules that govern behavior’. Even though the child who has reached adolescence has learned the rules of behaviour, they are still subordinate to their parents, their older siblings, older cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, older peers and teachers. Though they appear powerless, there are in fact a number of occasions in which their ‘power’, that is the autonomy of their self, materialises through the ideas of respect and disrespect.Footnote 18

When asked to list what they think the differences between male and female children are, common answers from parents with regard to boys were: self-indulgent or full of oneself (siok sendiri); enjoys fighting (suka berintai); bothersome or disruptive (kuat beulah); and must be strong (mesti kuat). The standard response to why boys typically acquire these characteristics is, ‘It is because they are boys’ (Andang nya jua lelaki namanya). For parents, it is ‘only natural’ for boys to acquire masculine qualities because it is dictated by culture and religion. One of the grandfathers who is related to the group of parents/guardians I had interviewed adamantly stated that male children must not grow up to be ‘transvestites’ or transgender (pundan/pondan), because this would mean that the person is not seen as male (bukan lelaki tu namanya) in spite of his sex. He then proceeded to ‘complain’ that persons who are pundan were mostly from the inner-city housing settlement areas or from the Tutong district.Footnote 19 And his reasoning for this was ‘because there were more females than males these days’ (masa ani banyak lagi bini-bini daripada lelaki, patut tah banyak pundan).

On the other hand, parents viewed girls as typically spoiled or pampered (manja) and reliable (dapat diharapkan) and must be trained to be able to do housework (mesti dicungkil supaya pandai bekraja di rumah). When I asked male adults about their view of female adults, they were quick to point out that they were prone to gossiping (suka mengumpat) and to picking and choosing who to be friends with. They then pointed to the two groups of mothers/female guardians sitting by the multipurpose hall explaining that the two groups had never and would not mix with each other. I pointed out that they, the male adults, were also sitting in two groups as there was another makeshift bench nearer to the multipurpose hall where another group of men was sitting. They then reasoned that the two groups had already marked their territory in these two different makeshift sections a while back; hence there was no need to mix since they always acknowledged each other. After laughing this off, they then told me that their wives were the more involved parent because it was in their nature. I also posed the same question to the two groups of female adults and while each group disagreed that they liked to gossip, they told me it was true of other women but not of themselves. They also said that men’s lack of concern at home with regard to their children frustrated them but they would shift the responsibility to their husbands when it came to scolding their children: ‘They are afraid of their father because he is a man’ (Andang dorang takut bapa/babah dorang pasal ia lelaki).

During an interview with Cikgu Rif, a senior male teacher, he revealed that male teachers generally had a happy-go-lucky or oblivious attitude while ‘females are always fighting’ (bini-bini kuat berkelaie). For him, male teachers in general were easier to work with and would tackle any tasks or issues presented to them while female teachers had a tendency to complain about almost anything related to work. He gave an example of the teachers’ duty roster, explaining that females would typically fight for a timetable that fitted their own personal schedules. This idea that male teachers were oblivious holds some truth according to what I witnessed in the school. For example, during year three’s science lesson, pupils were tasked with completing a section in their workbook; however, they were arguing and hurling insults at each other. Their male teacher, Cikgu Jof, was distracted by his mobile phone and even though he looked up a few times to reprimand the class, he was not strict enough to get everyone’s attention. Mat (male, eight years old) suddenly laid down on the floor as he was too lazy to do anything while his best friend Muji (male, eight years old) shouted out the expletive, ‘Fuck!’, as he argued with a few of his female classmates. All this happened in front of the teacher but he was too busy to notice. This ‘oblivious’ attitude in some way enabled male teachers to shift responsibility for scolding the pupils to female teachers. For instance, when Cikgu Juha, a female teacher, was on sick leave, Cikgu Iran, a male physical education teacher, took over her class as a substitute and instructed the class to sit down and read a story book instead: ‘Don’t disturb your friends, read your own books instead’ (Bah, jangan kacau kawan, baca buku sendiri). Similar to Cikgu Jof, he was also too engrossed with his phone that he occasionally shouted, ‘It’s too noisy!’ (Bising wah!), but returned to his phone. As the noise level became louder, instead of being strict or reprimanding the pupils again, he threatened them that he would inform their homeroom teacher, Cikgu Juha, so that she could scold them for being noisy since they were more afraid of her: ‘I don’t know what will happen to all of you if she gets angry!’ (Kalau ia marah, inda ku tau eh!). This did not quieten down the pupils at all.

8 Conclusion

Social relations that structure children’s everyday lives are embedded in the learning and identification of the Malay ideals of masculinity and femininity. Based on the findings of my research, there are strict ideas and expectations of what it means to be masculine and feminine in Brunei with regard to correct dress and social behaviour and responsibilities, although this is not rigidly practised at times (such as the case in having female pupils as class monitors or allowing male and female students to mix). These strict ideas and expectations could be defined as part of the developmental process of becoming a competent person, and thus inform children what it means to be a Brunei Malay person. What is also salient here is the inherent belief that males are valued (superior) above females (inferior) though this is not to say that females are not valued at all. In fact, as I have shown in my discussion, males rely a lot on females, particularly in taking up the responsibility for caring or disciplining children. At the same time, when women are at odds, they shift the responsibility to men for scolding children just because of their gender (being male) that supposedly warrants respect. Furthermore, females are also respected when their status is elevated through conceiving children and thus achieving personhood status. However, an inability to conceive is blamed on females rather than males, and consequently personhood is then considered as not fully formed, as the mother status is not achieved.

In his book expounding the connection between Malay culture and nationalism from an Islamic perspective, Haji Hashim (2004: 51–52) succinctly outlines that a Brunei Malay person must be one who possesses unwavering loyalty to the monarchy (and by extension the state), must be a Muslim, and must practise Malay culture and speak the Malay language. These characteristics are also extensively detailed in the MIB textbooks for primary schoolchildren. My findings clearly show that the learning of gender centres heavily around religion (Islam), behaviour that governs everyday life (specifically Malay culture) and the ability to understand (language). Although language is not addressed in this chapter, in my original research I found that the Malay language is a marker that focuses children’s attention on the monarchy and, to some extent, the desire to become a useful Malay person. And so, while Malay and religion are two different concepts, over time both are fused together as one entity. In Brunei this is largely due to the amalgamation of MIB and the strengthening of religious fervour over the last few decades. In essence, this fusion effectively structures and cements children’s way of thinking about gender, in which the right way is to follow the teachings of Islam. The messages that the MIB textbooks convey—including those repeated by pupils, teachers, parents and guardians—place males on a higher pedestal than females. At the same time, males are generally associated with positive traits and characterised as empowered while females are associated with negative traits and supposedly disempowered. Ultimately, the belief in maintaining the traditional gender roles between males and females is a result of the dominant patriarchal ideology which is reinforced by the Islamic religion.

My research is one of the few in-depth ethnographic studies that explores how primary schoolchildren understand gender and become gendered in Brunei. This study also reveals the nature of childhood in Brunei, including an anthropological insight into how children make sense of Malayness. I must emphasise, as have other anthropologists (see Toren 1993, 1999; Emond 2005; Montgomery 2009), that while children may not occupy any political or economic role in the community, they are active contributors to their social relations with others.