Harams, Rules, and a Whole Lot of Why's

Recently, I had a long conversation with a friend about her dating “technique,” a whole strategic approach to meeting new people. I was so fascinated that I ended up bringing it to my therapist. And, as she always does, she redirected the spotlight back to me. What started as a casual discussion about someone else’s love life slowly turned inward. Instead of talking about dating apps or romantic preferences, we found ourselves unpacking something much deeper: the way my schooling experience may have shaped my perception of relationships, emotions, and personal decision-making.

When I look back on my school years, I realize I spent about five years across three different religious schools. Across all of them, one message was repeated almost like a mantra: “couple haram.” Dating is forbidden. Full stop. No nuance, no explanation. Just a rule that became part of the atmosphere.

Even now, years later, those reminders echo in the back of my mind. During that therapy session, I realized something important: the rules and restrictions in the schools I attended rarely came with guidance, context, or alternative ways of navigating feelings and relationships. It told us what not to do, but rarely what to do instead. And suddenly, it made sense why so many classmates ended up secretly dating, why some got caught, and why students often oscillated between strict obedience and quiet rebellion. There was little middle ground, little opportunity to internalize values in a meaningful way.

As I reflect on this now, I remember my childhood love of one simple word: why. Not because I had a natural instinct to challenge authority (though I won’t deny I sometimes did), but because I wanted to make sense of things for myself. If I were told not to do this, my first instinct would be curiosity!

In Malaysia, particularly in traditional schooling systems, the approach often prioritizes discipline over understanding. Students are expected to follow rules first and ask questions later, if ever. There is often no space for critical thinking; rules are treated as absolute, not as opportunities for discussion. Students learn to follow, not to understand. So when they grow up, they either reject the rules entirely or accept them blindly without the tools to navigate real-world situations. The education system has introduced Kemahiran Berfikir Aras Tinggi (KBAT), but in practice, even mild curiosity is often met with labels like keras kepala, kurang ajar.

This pattern is not limited to just dating. Across moral, emotional, and behavioural education, instruction often emphasizes restriction over understanding. Fear, shame, and compliance are easier to measure than curiosity, reflection, or autonomy. But developmental psychology tells us that children and teenagers don’t stop thinking about something simply because they’re told not to. Adolescence is when curiosity peaks, identity forms, and autonomy becomes crucial.

This is where Self-Determination Theory (SDT) comes in. SDT explains that humans thrive when three psychological needs are met: autonomy, competence, and relatedness. And these three domains influence motivation. Motivation can either be extrinsic, that is, behaviour driven by fear of punishment, judgement, or consequences, or intrinsic, when actions are aligned with personal values and understanding.

In my own experience, much of the schooling I received relied on external motivation. Students were expected to follow rules, avoid transgressions, and comply with authority. Emotional education, skill-building, and safe spaces for questioning were minimal. As a result, values weren’t internalized; fear and obedience dominated. And from my experience, fear doesn’t produce understanding. Instead, it produces secrecy, rebellion, and confusion.

Interestingly, many people who grow up in structured or fear-based schooling (including me) eventually find ways to reinterpret their experiences. Principles, faith, and personal values are often rebuilt later in life, not because someone forced them, but because individuals gain the autonomy to explore, reflect, and connect with meaning. External motivation transforms into internal motivation: from “If I don’t do this, I will be punished” to “I choose this because it aligns with who I want to be.”

Again, this same mechanism explains why students who seemed perfectly obedient in school often shift dramatically once outside the system. Not because they “changed,” but because the controls no longer exist. Motivation that relies solely on external pressures cannot sustain itself. Intrinsic motivation, nurtured by understanding, competence, and autonomy, is what leads to lasting growth.

Reflecting now, I wonder: what if schools across Malaysia approached education differently? What if, instead of memorizing rules and verses, we explored meaning, context, and consequences? What if curiosity were encouraged instead of silenced? What if students were guided to connect values with their own experiences, rather than simply comply? From a psychological perspective, intrinsic motivation grows when people feel ownership over their actions. Values deepen when they are chosen, not imposed. 

I am glad my childhood love of why didn’t get completely silenced, it’s still here, LOUDLY poking me to think deeper, question more, and connect the dots. 

So keep asking why! 

Ask it loudly, ask it often, and ask it even when it annoys the people around you.