However, there was a time when the people who did not ascribe to heteronormative standards were not just tolerated in Malaysian society but were a crucial element of the state-building and development of the nation. In the early 15th century, there were reports of Malay androgynous priests, also known as sida-sida[10]. These individuals served on the side of the Malay sultans to preserve the sacred regalia and special powers of the Sultanate. They were typically male-bodied priests who wore women’s clothes and freely engaged in sexual relations with individuals of the same and also different sex. The sida-sida also were tasked to safeguard the female residents of the palace, a role that would not have been given to them if not for their gender identity. Up until the 1950s, they were observed to still be working in palaces. Even up to the 20th century, transwomen performers, known to Malaysians as “mak nyah” or mainstream media as “drag queens”, were favourably treated by the Sultan of Kelantan and heteronormative society embraced and applauded their artistic endeavours[11]. This is shocking to most as Kelantan is now one of the most religious states in Malaysia, regarding itself as a stronghold of both Malay and Islamic conservative principles. It is clear, however, that there was a time when queer individuals contributed to the overall nationalistic goals in a way that was accepted by society, meaning that queerness helped to construct the foundation for Malay identity. Therein posits the question of when the turning point came, and when queer identity became an “enemy of the state”.

The year 1983 marked a significant turning point when a shift occurred in Malaysia. The rise of new-wave Islamic reformist movements, such as Wahhabism and Salafism, is often associated with the decline of queer tolerance and acceptance in the country. In that year, a fatwa[12] was issued, banning trans-reproductive surgeries and signalling the beginning of Malaysia’s anti-LGBTQ trajectory[13]. To create a cookie-cutter version of Muslims akin to those of the Middle Eastern Muslim world, there was a need to reject the western ideas of tolerance towards the LGBTQ community. The government attempted to cultivate this idea of the LGBTQ community as a mutual enemy in order to create common ground in a society that was otherwise ethnically divided. This technique was used to ensure that the implementation of Islam-centric rules and legislation were met with less opposition from non-Muslims. This concept of a mutual enemy was equally used as an attempt to unify and elevate the Malays. In 1998, senior officials from the United Malays National Organisation (UMNO) launched the People’s Anti-Homosexual Voluntary Movement to lobby for stricter laws against homosexuality[14]. The creation of such a movement conveyed the idea that the Malay identity is inextricably linked to the rejection of LGBTQ identities and the consequent presentation of queer identity as a counter to Malay-Muslim nationalism.

Given the narrative of queerness as a counter to Malay-Muslim nationalism, there are complexities in identifying as Malay in Malaysia. It is difficult to describe oneself as both “queer” and “Malay” given that queerness contravenes both the religious and cultural values that are woven into the concept of Malay identity. The process of Malaysian Malay-Muslim identity creation can be argued to be entrenched in ethnicity and religion, stemming from the urge to protect remnants of local Malay culture in the post-colonial multi-ethnic nation. Manipulated by the political elite, ethnic and religious affiliations continue to be used to influence identity and a sense of belonging to the Malaysian nation-state, with same-sex desires and behaviour standing in direct opposition to Malay culture and religion, which uphold heterosexual gendered norms. The invented tradition of perceiving queerness as a counter to the Malay-Muslim identity is actually being consciously and continuously rewritten by both the political elite and the dominant Malay Muslim community who strictly adhere to normative prescriptions of gender and sexuality. In simpler terms, dominant Malay Muslims often view LGBTQ individuals' same-sex relationships as a deviation from traditional and religious expectations of masculinity and femininity. They believe that queer-identified Malays who engage in such relationships lack the religious faith and moral behaviour considered vital for the development of Malay identity.

The contemporary feelings towards queerness in relation to the Malay-Muslim identity and their shift from the 1980s indicate that identity and nationalism are social inventions created to suit the needs of the context. The Malay-Muslim identity will continue to transition on the basis that it is shaped by both the official version of Malayness advocated for by the dominant Malay group, and the actual lived experiences of Malay-Muslims who identify as queer. It is not to suggest that there is a need for an exclusive Malay identity for queer-identifying Malays, but there is space for these individuals to challenge and refigure dominant narratives of Malay ethnicity by incorporating queerness into their own visions and interpretation of what it means to be a Malay in Malaysia. The obsession with Nur Sajat therefore stems from her deconstruction of the Malay-Muslim identity and the threat posed to the political elites of the nation, as it differed from their version of authority-defined nationalism. Sajat's public declaration of her identification as a Malay Muslim transwoman, however, was her unique means of redefining the prevalent narratives for Malay Muslim identity in Malaysia as part of changing the invented traditions in the nation.

Given the profound influence of Malay culture and religion on the definition of "Malay" identity, it is a valid argument that LGBTQ Malays will face ongoing challenges in reconciling their queer and Malay identities within their ethnic, cultural, and social context. However, the fluid nature of identity allows for the potential development of queer nationalism through the reconstruction of Malay-Muslim identity by queer individuals. Although currently distinct, history has shown instances where queer nationalism has served the interests of those in power, suggesting the possibility of its resurgence. As the complex interplay between identities continues, there is potential for new pathways towards inclusivity and empowerment to emerge in the future.