Filmmaker's Statements
Heels To Heal
It’s undeniably challenging to live a full life as a queer person in Malaysia. When I was a kid my parents stopped me from pursuing music and tried to suppress my identity. I grew up with a profound void in my life.
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Now, as a queer filmmaker fortunate enough to embrace my truth, I wanted to create something that fosters healing — not just for myself, but for the queer community. Making a musical documentary has always been a lifelong dream of mine, and teaming up with local drag queens felt like the perfect harmony of resilience, self-expression, and queerness.
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Through the generosity and courage of the queens — Heels To Heal was born, alongside our journey of healing. This film is queer dream and joy brought to life, a celebration of resilience and an evidence of the transformative power of vulnerability.
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In a world where anti-LGBTQ+ sentiment continues to rise, I hope this film can serve as a beacon of hope, a reminder that healing is possible. That we have space to find peace — within ourselves and together as a community.
Qeluar (Out)
“You must meet Warren!” That’s what many of my fellow LGBTQ activists in Malaysia insisted when they learned I’d be studying in London. They didn’t introduce him as the first LGBTQ refugee in the UK, but as the person to go to if you’re queer, Malaysian, and homesick.
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Being queer in Malaysia, a country that prosecutes and discriminates against LGBTQ people - is a constant struggle. Yet, for many of us, Malaysia is home. Warren remains Malaysian at heart, and when we met, my homesickness faded right away.
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Growing up we were both overwhelmed by negative narratives about the LGBTQ community. For me, this fueled a mission to create authentic, affirming representations of Malaysian queer lives. For Warren, it inspired a commitment to to create a support network for Malaysian queer people.
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What happened to Warren is both heartbreaking and, sadly, not uncommon for LGBTQ Malaysians. While many who endure such journeys opt not to share their stories, Warren has reached a place of healing where he’s ready to tell his story - on his terms.
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Through Qeluar, we hope fewer queer Malaysians grow up feeling the way we did.
lonesome
"I feel so oppressed and trapped," a friend told me during one of the COVID-19 lockdowns. I wasn’t exactly thriving either, but the feeling struck a familiar chord. Growing up queer in Malaysia, I had always felt this way. That sense of isolation and confinement wasn’t new. It had been normalized for me. Comforting, even. That’s what inspired this piece.
In a country like Malaysia, where queerness is criminalized, getting people to share their stories is always a challenge. But the lockdown created a unique opportunity, one that allowed for vulnerability from a distance. It felt like the right moment to explore a voicemail documentary, a format I had long wanted to try.
Lonesome weaves together voicemails from members of Malaysia’s diverse queer community, accompanied by poetic, contemplative visuals. I hope it offers an intimate portrait of collective queer solitude. A way of being alone, together.