How Burns Night and Lunar New Year connect me to my Scottish-Malaysian heritage

I grew up in Glasgow, with dramatic hills close by, bothies tucked into the landscape, and mountains dusted with slushy snow. Burns Night was simply part of January, marking the birthday of Robert Burns. As a child, it felt ceremonial; as an adult, it has become a rare and welcome excuse to actively celebrate our Scottishness.

Burns Night rewards participation, particularly in the form of fun. There is the vibrancy of ceilidh dancing, far more rigorous than it first appears. Most Scottish people will tell you, often unprompted, about the mild PTSD of learning ceilidh dancing in mandatory school lessons, being forced to hold a classmate’s clammy hand while muddling through the Gay Gordons or Strip the Willow.

But what a skill to have later in life. Ceilidh dancing is, at its core, a lesson in community. The steps are deliberately simple, but they demand closeness: arms linked, hands held, bodies spun and hurled cheerfully around in circles by near-strangers. It’s chaotic and oddly tender. You don’t need rhythm or elegance, just a willingness to be pulled along and definitely wear deodorant. There is something profoundly cheering about that kind of enforced togetherness, laughter, breathlessness, and the promise of a warm dram of whisky at the end of an evening.

Crumpets with ingredients like crab bring out Julie’s proud Scottish heritage

Lunar New Year feels very different in celebration. The day itself is expansive. In Malaysia, when we visit, it begins early and stretches on generously. Friends and family arrive dressed in red, filling my Ahma’s front room with noise and a chaotic but lovely family buzz. Ong pao are exchanged, hands passing small red envelopes that carry both money and meaning. My uncles will open a few beers and play cards. There is always food, and always more than you think you’ll need. Last year, at least a hundred sticks of satay arrived from a local shop, glistening with bags of peanut sauce and eaten standing up between conversations. And the food lasted for days. It’s the kind of hospitality that you never forget.