Search online for “LGBTQ Malaysia” or “transgender conversion therapy Islam” and one phrase keeps resurfacing in official speeches and state media: rehabilitasi. In Malaysia, a Muslim-majority country where religion, law and morality are tightly intertwined, “rehabilitation” has become the preferred label for government-backed programs aimed at changing the behaviour, identity, and faith of LGBTQ and trans people. Framed as spiritual guidance and moral correction, these initiatives—often targeting trans women and queer Muslims—sit at the centre of an escalating debate over conversion therapy, Islamic authority, and human rights in Southeast Asia.
Anthropologist research tracing the lives of trans women in Malaysia shows how these official narratives and programs attempt to reshape identity and behaviour under the guise of religion and cultural conformity. The state-supported Mukhayyam programme, run by the Department of Islamic Development Malaysia (Jabatan Kemajuan Islam Malaysia, often abbreviated JAKIM), has seen over 1,700 LGBTQ people, including many trans women, attend retreats where they are taught Islamic teachings, health and HIV information, and encouraged to adopt cis-heteronormative lifestyles. Though officials sometimes insist these camps are about spiritual guidance and awareness, participants and observers say the underlying message is that being queer or trans is a deviation that should be corrected.
These “rehabilitation” efforts do not exist in a vacuum. In Malaysia’s dual legal system, ordinary civil law and Sharia (Syariah) law operate side by side. Sharia courts, which apply only to Muslims, criminalise gender expression that does not align with assigned sex at birth and same-sex intimacy — offences that can carry fines, imprisonment, and in some cases, orders for “counselling” or mandated rehabilitation. Under the Federal Penal Code, acts described as “carnal intercourse against the order of nature” are criminalised with sentences of up to 20 years and caning, signalling that both legal and religious institutions conflate criminality with sexual orientation and gender identity.
In the southern state of Johor, plans to open a permanent ‘rehabilitation centre’ specifically for people convicted of same-sex relations and those considered “deviant” from Islamic teachings have drawn sharp criticism. State officials have allocated substantial funding to establish a facility that, according to critics, will provide counselling and religious instruction to “tackle” what they see as moral deviations and help individuals “purify” their faith. Rights groups such as Justice for Sisters and ILGA Asia have condemned these plans, asserting that any effort to change someone’s sexual orientation or gender identity — whether through state programs or informal pressure — violates fundamental human rights and amounts to a form of coercive treatment.
For many LGBTQ Malaysians, particularly trans women of Malay Muslim background (wanita trans), these interventions are more than abstract policy debates: they shape everyday life in profound ways. The pressure to conform to heteronormative norms often begins in family and community settings, where parents and relatives may impose their own versions of “rehabilitation,” ranging from religious counselling to behavioural expectations tied to assigned gender roles. These experiences, documented in human rights reports, also include school-based counselling aimed at suppressing gender expression deemed inappropriate.
Critics of these programs argue they have no scientific basis. Major medical associations around the world have denounced conversion practices as harmful, yet in Malaysia they persist under religious and cultural rationales that carry social legitimacy. The result, rights advocates say, is not rehabilitation but internalised stigma, mental health trauma, and a reinforcement of societal hostility toward LGBTQ persons. In Malay cultural discourse, where adab (etiquette) and iman (faith) are deeply valued, queer identities are often misrepresented as moral failures to be fixed instead of natural variations of human experience.
As global awareness of LGBTQ rights grows, Malaysia’s approach to “rehabilitation” remains a flashpoint in broader debates about religion, identity, and human rights in Southeast Asia. For many within the queer community, the urgent task is not to be “rehabilitated,” but to be recognised, respected, and allowed the freedom to live authentically without fear of punishment or coercion.
They call it rehabilitation. Auntie calls it what it is: violence in polite clothing.
When a state, a mosque committee, or a “concerned” ministry decides that your identity needs fixing, that is not care. That is coercion. When someone tells a trans woman she must relearn how to walk, dress, pray, desire, and exist so she can be “returned to the right path,” that is not guidance. That is punishment with a smile.
Malaysia’s so-called LGBTQI “rehabilitation” programs love soft words. Bimbingan (guidance). Kaunseling (counselling). Kesedaran (awareness). Auntie has lived long enough to know that authoritarian systems always start by cleaning up their vocabulary. Violence sounds better when it’s wrapped in religion, bureaucracy, and moral panic. But ask anyone who has been through these programs what they actually feel, and you won’t hear about healing. You’ll hear about shame. Fear. Surveillance. The slow erosion of self.
Let’s be very clear: you do not rehabilitate people for being who they are. You rehabilitate buildings after earthquakes. You rehabilitate roads after floods. When the state treats queer and trans bodies as damaged infrastructure, the message is chillingly simple: you are a problem to be managed. And when participation is “voluntary” under threat of arrest, family pressure, or religious prosecution, voluntariness becomes a joke in very bad taste.
Auntie is especially angry when religion is dragged in as the weapon of choice. Faith should be a place of refuge, not a disciplinary camp. Islam, like every major faith tradition, contains multitudes—mercy (rahmah), compassion (ihsan), dignity (maruah). Yet somehow, when it comes to LGBTQI people, the loudest voices reduce faith to control, obedience, and gender policing. That is not spirituality. That is patriarchy wearing a songkok.
And let’s not pretend the harm ends when the program does. Conversion-style practices don’t just disappear after a weekend retreat or a few counselling sessions. They linger. They show up as depression, anxiety, self-hatred, broken family ties, unsafe coping strategies. International medical and psychological bodies have said this again and again: trying to change sexual orientation or gender identity causes real, measurable harm. Ignoring that evidence is a political choice.
So no, Auntie will not accept the word “rehabilitation.” Words matter. Call it state-sanctioned coercion. Call it moral violence. Call it institutionalised stigma. Or better yet, stop doing it.
If Malaysia truly cares about mental health, faith, and social harmony, the answer is not fixing queer people. The answer is fixing laws, attitudes, and systems that cannot tolerate difference.
You don’t rehabilitate human beings for existing. You protect them.