By Dr Rahim Said
At long last, AirAsia has done it. It has delivered Malaysia from one of its greatest national crises — greater than inflation, greater than a weak ringgit, greater even than the eternal pothole on Jalan Tun Razak.
Yes, the airline has finally taken decisive action on the issue that has kept so many of our political-religious defenders of public morality awake at night: the scandalous visibility of female cabin crew kneecaps.
Beginning Ramadan 2026, AirAsia will allow its female crew to wear the hijab on duty, along with a pants option. This may come as a shock to many Malaysians who had assumed that by now there already existed a special committee in Putrajaya dedicated exclusively to regulating skirt lengths at 35,000 feet.
For years, various groups have heroically pointed out that the true threat to national morals is not corruption, mismanagement, or that curious thing called “public funds missing from the ledger.”
No, the real danger was the hemline of AirAsia’s red skirt — a garment so potent, it apparently had the power to destabilise the faith of an entire nation.
But at last, salvation has arrived. Tone down your alarms, dear moral guardians. The skies are safe again.
AirAsia’s bosses, invoking their “people-first culture,” announced the decision with the solemnity of a major geopolitical treaty.
CEO Bo Lingam framed it as a sign of the airline’s maturity as a global carrier. Which is fair — nothing says “global carrier” quite like updating your uniform policy to stop politicians from talking about thighs.
Credit must go to the crew who raised the issue. After all, they’re the ones who must listen to unsolicited lectures from passengers who believe that their boarding pass somehow doubles as a moral license.
And let’s also acknowledge the Crew Group Head Suhaila Hassan, who politely said that the uniform policy “acknowledges diverse backgrounds” — which is corporate language for: We’re trying to stop people from arguing about our clothes on Facebook.
The iconic red uniform, AirAsia confirms, will remain unchanged — because let’s be honest, AirAsia without its red outfit is like nasi lemak without sambal: technically edible, but where’s the drama?
Instead, a tailored hijab-and-pants version will be offered, matching the existing Jeddah-route attire. It’s a practical move. After all, Jeddah flights are the only place where everyone agrees the dress code is non-negotiable — especially the passengers.
Now, will this satisfy the loudest public commentators? Hard to say. The new uniform covers more, but knowing how quickly some people can repurpose a complaint, they may soon announce that the pants are too modern, too Western, too baggy, not baggy enough, or somehow a plot concocted several thousand kilometres away.
But one thing is certain: Malaysia Airlines is probably watching closely. Not because it wants to change its uniforms, but because it’s wondering how AirAsia keeps getting free publicity from the same groups who swear they’re offended by everything the airline does.
So here we are, in Malaysia, where an airline updating its uniform is hailed as an act of cultural diplomacy, moral restoration, corporate inclusivity, and — most importantly — crisis avoidance.
And perhaps that is the real Art Buchwald moment: that with all our national issues — cost of living, corruption trials, political drama, collapsing roofs, and the ever-present haze — we remain a nation uniquely capable of organising a multi-year debate and several press statements over the visibility of a flight attendant’s shin.
But fret not. AirAsia has spoken. The hijab is approved. The pants are tailored. The red remains red.
And the moral guardians of Malaysia may now find something else to complain about — perhaps the colouring of nasi kerabu, which has also been looking suspiciously vibrant lately.
The views expressed here are entirely those of the author
WE