MAY 25 — Four years ago, I spent half a day in my photography studio with a family many Malaysians now know by heart. Anwar Ibrahim, his wife Dr Wan Azizah, and their daughter, Nurul Izzah.
At the time, Anwar was far from the premiership. To most observers, his political journey seemed to have run its course. The idea of him returning as Prime Minister was a romantic notion — unlikely, if not impossible. The national mood was one of fatigue. Reformasi felt like an echo from a different era.
But during that shoot, it wasn’t Anwar who caught my attention.
It was his daughter.
There was something resolute in her eyes — not anger, not ambition — but clarity. She wasn’t trying to impress. She wasn’t agreeable for the sake of politeness. She certainly wasn’t trying to “perform” for the camera. She listened carefully, spoke sparingly, and stood apart in the most natural way.
What struck me most was how grounded she seemed in who she was. Not as someone born into a political dynasty, but as someone aware of the weight of it — and unafraid to carry it on her own terms.
She wasn’t in anyone’s shadow. Not then. Not now.
This week, she won the Deputy Presidency of Parti Keadilan Rakyat (PKR), securing more than double the votes of the incumbent, Rafizi Ramli. It was her first time contesting for this post — and she won cleanly, with widespread grassroots support.
And I must say — it’s refreshing to see a woman win. Not appointed, not protected, not handed a ceremonial role. She won, by votes. By merit.
The author says Nurul Izzah is ot a ‘yes’ person. — Picture by Abbi Kanthasamy
But of course, the criticisms came swiftly, as they always do in politics. Accusations of nepotism. Questions about dynasties. Social media trolls throwing petty insults. The kinds of personal attacks that say more about the attacker than the subject.
Here’s what I’ll say.
We haven’t really taken the time to know her.
Many reduce her to the role of “Anwar’s daughter,” as though that’s all there is. But let’s not for a moment assume she’s just a younger, female version of the man. Anyone who’s spent more than a few minutes in her presence would see the differences immediately.
She is not a ‘yes’ person. She has her own mind, her own convictions, her own temperament. I saw it before the political spotlight turned toward her. I saw it when her father was politically sidelined, and when she had every reason to fade into the background, but chose not to.
That photograph I took of her back then now feels like a small piece of political history. But more than that, it’s a personal reminder — of how we often overlook character when it’s quiet. When it doesn’t shout. When it doesn’t ask for attention.
People say politics is dirty. And it often is. But once in a while, someone walks through it without being swallowed by it. That takes strength. It takes integrity. And yes, it takes courage — the kind that’s easy to dismiss until you try standing in the same fire.
She’s got critics, sure. All public figures do. But I’d rather judge a leader by what they stand for — not by the noise around them.
We don’t know what kind of leader she’ll become. But I do know this much: she’s not a copy of anyone. She’s Nurul Izzah.
Maybe it’s time we stop defining her by who her father is — and start paying attention to who she is.
* This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.
