The broken Batman will probably remain a low point on how to stage the heroes’ eventual success.
Photo Credit: DC
Letter from Zul.
Dear GC,
Tonight, as rain pounds against the window of this dimly-lit mamak where I've sought refuge for years, I stare at my teh tarik growing cold — much like the death of gentlemanly values in our beloved Malaysia. With trembling hands, I switch between GC site and news of another economic downturn, my heart breaking as I whisper: Where have all the gentlemen gone?
I'm witnessing the slow funeral of Malaysian masculinity.
The men who once embodied refinement are vanishing before our eyes. We're losing them — one by one — to the numbing cycle of EPF withdrawal anxiety, mindless football debates, and midnight Shopee binges. My own father, once impeccably dressed regardless of his modest income, would weep to see what we've become.
Each morning, trapped in LDP traffic, I look into neighboring cars and see the hollow eyes of men who have forgotten how to dream beyond survival. By nightfall, these same men collapse before Netflix screens, too exhausted to remember they were meant for something greater.
I fear we're raising a generation of boys who will never know what true manhood means.
This is why I clutch at GC like a drowning man grasps driftwood. While our leaders shame us with populist behavior and social media feeds overflow with empty promises of overnight success, your platform stands as perhaps the last sanctuary for men seeking substance over noise.
The evidence of our decline surrounds us. Esquire Malaysia? Shuttered forever. Details? A faded memory. Even existing men's magazine have lost their souls to advertisers. Each closure felt like losing a friend who reminded us to stand taller, speak clearer, live better. I mourned each one.
In the crushing weight of instant validation and viral emptiness, who still champions the sophistication for men? Who still believes a man should read books instead of just scrolling TikTok reels? Who still teaches our boys that chivalry isn't dead?
The answer brings tears to my eyes: Almost no one. Except you.
Behind our exhausting racial tensions, beneath our crushing financial burdens, Malaysian men are starving spiritually. I see it in their eyes at family gatherings — the unspoken question: "Is this all there is?"
I beg you — don't stop what you're doing. When GC publishes a new article, it feels like someone still believes in us. If that light extinguishes, I fear what darkness awaits our sons.
With profound gratitude and deepening concern,
Zul
(A middle manager watching Malaysian manhood fade with each passing day)