SEPTEMBER 2 — It seems like such a cliche, the whole anak siapa (whose child) phenomenon. Yet it is so entrenched in our society it feels as though Malaysia is still stuck in feudal times.

There are Malaysians who sincerely believe that having a father as a prime minister is as good a qualification as any.

As though, when the children of our leaders are born, they are raised overhead to the cries of proclamation, “Yes, a future prime minister has been born.” Or maybe I'm thinking of the Lion King.

Back to the point: political positions shouldn't be decided by lineage. Yet whether it's in the ruling coalition or the Opposition, we see so-called blue blood families. Sons and daughters destined (if you believe what their adoring supporters say) to lead us all.

Well, (insert expletive here) that (excrement).

They get titles, merely for being children of leaders. They get noticed or their paths smoothened by also being children of leaders.

Most recently, we had to deal with our new deputy prime minister's daughter and our local papers quoting her silly, childish rants as though they were in any way significant.

I don't even know her name and I don't want to. She wouldn't even get a line in our papers yesterday if it wasn't because of anak siapa.

How are we ever going to start believing in meritocracy when instead of judging a person's merits purely on their skills and achievements, we ask: “So who's your daddy?”

This is where I thank my own parents for inadvertently raising kids who were very subversive about the whole concept.

See, my mother is also pretty obsessed with the whole anak siapa notion.

It was an almost daily litany: to behave, to never bring shame on our father's name. “Bah, kau jaga perangai elok-elok, Nanti semua tanya siapa bapak kau.”

Well, us being stubborn brats raised on too much Russian literature, when we grew up we all did what Angelina Jolie did ― adopt our middle names as faux surnames.

Not that we love our dad any less; we just decided that we preferred the freedom of being troublemaking hellraisers. You worry we'll sully dad's name, mom? Fine, we just won't use it. Though my sister uses our great-granddad's name instead ― pretty smart considering he's too dead for us to embarass him.

Growing up poor and yet surrounded by children of the elite did make me resentful of those who were born with names and riches without having to do anything to earn them.

It doesn't make it any less a truth that people aren't born leaders and no one deserves it handed to them just because of what name is listed under “father” on a birth certificate.

As someone who had to depend on meagre resources and the kindness of friends and strangers all my life, I don't see why I should be bowing and scraping to someone boasting some sort of political lineage.

And neither should any of us.

*This is the personal opinion of the columnist.