The word that everyone LIKEs

A not-so-serious reflection on a very serious word

Love, Light and the Safer Cousin

There’s a four-letter word Malaysians can’t resist – and no, it’s not SALE. It’s LIKE.
In matters of the heart, LIKE has long been the safer cousin of love. “I love you” sounds LIKE a proposal; “I LIKE you” feels LIKE probation. It’s emotional diplomacy – sincere enough to stir hope, vague enough to allow retreat.
In Malaysia, where feelings are expressed through food and emojis, I LIKE you is how we court without committing, flirt without falling, and confess without collapsing. After all, love may be blind, but LIKE keeps one eye open – just in case.

From Crush to Kopitiam

And that’s the thing about LIKE – it refuses to stay in its lane. What began as a hesitant word of courtship soon crept into every corner of our lives, from hearts to hashtags, from classrooms to kopitiams, from assemblies to elections.
We say it when we’re unsure, when we’re polite, when we secretly mean more but don’t want to scare anyone off. Somewhere between I LIKE you and I love nasi lemak, the word found its destiny – not just as a feeling, but as a lifestyle.
“LIKE” is that word that thinks it’s everyone’s friend. It turns up uninvited to every conversation – sometimes as a verb (“I LIKE your post”), sometimes a preposition (“LIKE you, I also love durian”), sometimes just loitering awkwardly (“and I was, LIKE, speechless”). It’s the rojak sauce of language — sweet, sticky, and a little messy, but somehow holding everything together.
When Facebook Met Mamak
Once upon a timeline, LIKE was born as a humble blue thumb-up – the digital equivalent of a pat on the back. Then, LIKE all things Malaysians borrow and improve, it escaped Facebook and found its way into our mamak stalls.
“Eh bro, you LIKE teh tarik lebih manis or kurang manis?”
“I LIKE both – depends who’s paying.”
Somewhere along the way, LIKE stopped being about affection and became about attention. People now chase LIKEs the way children once chased ice-cream trucks – except now the truck runs on Wi-Fi, and the jingle’s a TikTok remix.
We used to earn respect; now we collect reactions. The new kampung prestige isn’t how good your sambal tastes, but how many people LIKED the photo of it.

A Buffet of LIKEs

And Malaysians, ever creative, have turned LIKE into a full-course buffet:
There’s the polite LIKE – “I LIKE your comment” (translation: I saw it, don’t @ me).
The diplomatic LIKE – “I LIKEd your idea in the meeting” (translation: I survived it).
The office LIKE – a mandatory ritual when your boss posts about teamwork.
The romantic LIKE – that risky click on a photo from yesteryears at 3 a.m., the digital equivalent of waving across a crowded kopitiam.
And, of course, the reluctant LIKE – “I LIKE it lah, but…” – the linguistic shrug of the nation.
Every LIKE has a motive, a mood, a mini-drama. Shakespeare, if he were Malaysian, might have written: “To LIKE, or not to LIKE – that is the notification.”
LIKE, Lah, Universally Speaking
Travel the world and you’ll hear it everywhere. Americans sprinkle it LIKE salt: “So I was, LIKE, totally there.” Brits drizzle it LIKE vinegar: “That’s, LIKE, quite good, innit?”
But Malaysians? We turbocharge it in full dose of Manglish. “I was, LIKE, wah, you know lah, LIKE, so panas can die one!”
If the English language were a buffet, LIKE would sit proudly between sambal and sarcasm – essential, overused, and utterly addictive.

The LIKE Economy

In today’s digital world, LIKE has become a KPI. Influencers worship it, politicians court it, and charities beg for it. “Please LIKE and share!” they plead – not “please understand and care.”
Once upon a time, we LIKEd people for their character. Now we LIKE their captions. The blue thumbs-up has replaced the human handshake – approval without conversation, affection without commitment.
Still, it’s the fastest way Malaysians agree on anything. One viral cat, and suddenly, racial harmony is restored.

Linguistic Sambal

Grammarians may frown, but linguists adore it. They call LIKE a “discourse marker” – a verbal pause button for the modern mind. But in Malaysia, LIKE isn’t just grammar; it’s seasoning. It’s how we soften the blow, sugar the truth, or buy time.
“LIKE that only ah?” means “Seriously?”
“You LIKE or not?” means “Please say yes.”
“No LIKE meh?” means “Aiyoh, you’re breaking my heart.”
It’s linguistic sambal, Malaysian style – adds 3Fs of flavour, fire and sometimes tears.

The Philosophy of LIKE

To LIKE something is to soften. It’s a middle path between love and loathe – the religion’s “maybe” of modern speech. Malaysians rarely say “I love it.” Too risky, too permanent. But “I LIKE lah”? That’s affection with plausible deniability.
In plantation meetings, I used to hear: “Boss, I LIKE your plan – but terrain too steep lah.”
Translation: “No way I’m doing that.”
So yes, LIKE is our national emotional insurance – a polite way of saying “thanks, but no thanks.”
Even in retirement, the word follows me. Friends ask, “Do you LIKE this new phase of life?”
And I reply, “I LIKE it, LIKE, slowly.”
Because LIKE isn’t just about approval – it’s about adjustment. It gives us permission to grow gently into what we’re becoming. Perhaps LIKE is humility in four letters – a quiet recognition that life doesn’t need to be perfect to be appreciated.
We may not always love our situations, but we can still, well, LIKE them.

When LIKE Met Muhibbah

And when LIKE meets muhibbah, something beautiful happens. Here in Malaysia, liking someone doesn’t mean agreeing with them – it means respecting them.
We LIKE our neighbour’s rendang even if it sets our tongues on fire, and they LIKE our bak chang even if it looks LIKE an origami project gone rogue. That’s muhibbah in motion – the gentle art of liking across differences.
In a land of many tongues, LIKE is the one that speaks them all. Whether it’s “like that only ah,” “aku suka bah,” or “gua suka la bro,” it carries the same heartbeat – the rhythm of understanding that transcends accent, race, and postcode. It’s the everyday melody of Malaysia: imperfect in grammar, perfect in harmony.
And this, truly, is the language of Muhibbah – not confined to slogans or ceremonies, but lived in the everyday kindness between strangers. It’s the unspoken courtesy at the queue, the shared laughter over teh tarik, the instinct to lend a hand without asking who or where from. Muhibbah is built not in speeches, but in small gestures of grace – when we choose connection over correction, warmth over walls, and humanity over hierarchy.
But for this harmony to endure, we must also have the courage to guard it. We must call out – and, when necessary, erase – those who profit from stirring division, those who promote racial or religious disharmony while pretending to “like” only themselves. Their opportunistic likes serve ego, not empathy. And Malaysia has no space for such noise in her symphony.

Sabah, Politics and the “LIKE” Vote

As Sabah heads into another ballot season, LIKE takes on a new twist. Posters bloom faster than bougainvillea after rain, promises multiply, and suddenly everyone wants to be liked – both online and on-ground. Some candidates rehearse their speeches; others rehearse their selfies. The like button becomes the new handshake – the digital salam of the season, exchanged with smiling faces, filtered sincerity, and hashtags of hope.
But democracy, like durian, must be tasted, not merely admired. It isn’t about who gets the most clicks; it’s about who earns genuine connection. In Sabah’s kopitiams, where uncles debate policy between sips of kopi-O and makciks deliver political analysis sharper than sambal belacan, the real likes are still measured in trust, hope, laughter and belanja satu lagi round.
As nomination and voting days approach, the streets will be draped with posters and promises – all asking, in one way or another, for your like. But when the time comes to cast your vote, remember: liking is easy; choosing is harder. A click is fleeting; a vote is lasting. The ballot box deserves more than a thumbs-up – it deserves thought, conscience, and courage.
So listen beyond the slogans. Discern between charm and character, between viral posts and viable plans. Vote not just for who you like, but for who actually likes doing the hard work – the ones who can turn applause into action, promises into progress, and rhetoric into results that truly lift Sabah higher.
Choose those who build, not recycle; who serve, not perform; who seek unity, not popularity. Sabah deserves leaders who don’t just like the limelight but like the late nights – those willing to trade hashtags for hard hats and applause for accountability.
Because at the end of the day, democracy isn’t a beauty contest. It’s not about who’s liked the most – it’s about who will like us enough to keep their word once the hashtags fade.
So, as the ballot beckons, vote not just with your thumbs but with your thoughts. The like that truly matters isn’t the one glowing on a screen – it’s the one that glows in our collective future, when the people’s voice, spoken wisely and responsibly, lights the way forward for Sabah and for Malaysia. That’s the kind of like we can all stand behind.

The Final Takeaway

Yes, LIKE may be overused, over-clicked, and over-explained. But it remains the friendliest four-letter word around – one that can bridge confrontation and connection, silence and smile.
So go ahead – LIKE your food, your friends, your conversations, your day. But maybe, once in a while, instead of clicking a heart, send a real one. Because in the end, LIKE isn’t about approval. It’s about belonging. And that – I really, really LIKE.
Yet beyond the screen and scroll lies something deeper. The story of LIKE is also the story of us – how we seek to be seen, heard, and held, even in the smallest digital gestures. What began as a shy confession – “I LIKE you” – has evolved into a universal handshake, a symbol of our shared desire to connect.
In Malaysia, in Sabah, LIKE carries more than grammar; it carries grace. It’s how we soften disagreement without surrendering respect, how we build bridges between languages, faiths, and hearts. We may not always love alike, but we can always LIKE enough to listen, laugh and live together.
So perhaps the final lesson is this: LIKE lightly, but live deeply. Use it not as a shield, but as a spark – to care, to converse, to create warmth in an often cold, scrolling world. Because when LIKE matures into empathy, when approval turns into understanding, that’s when Malaysia can truly shines.
And that – sincerely, profoundly, and with a smile – I still really, really LIKE.
Note: This write-up has exactly 100 likes – and not one of them was bought