Rawr Rawr Like a Mog Dragon

Writing the draft article was unexpectedly one that took me to a place of great self reflection. Not just of my work, but also as a person, a woman and a woman in relation to the world and the people around me. I knew that part of the process required reviewing the journal I had kept throughout my time in Jogja, but I found myself–as I did my research and throughout my process of writing and re-writing– often having little thoughts that I would have to add to my journal. I don’t know how it would stand as an academic paper, but it was truly a labour of love for the women and men that I have met affected by family violence who I believe try their best in the only way they know how.

In Jogja, I noticed a dichotomy amongst the women in their knowledge and capacity to speak of setting firm sexual boundaries and their perceived lack of autonomy to ask or deny sexual experiences with their husbands. I noticed also the pride in their capacity to keep the peace in the home, raise their children and take care of their husbands. This got me thinking a lot about what it means to be a woman– in essence what defines this standard of femininity and gender that we as women perform to. I wondered to what degree these behaviours and beliefs reflected our true wants and desires versus what was dictated by the norms of our culture and that of society. This was not exclusive to the women in Joga. I saw it everywhere. I think equally for women living in a Western context, there is this pressure to have a relationship, be a mother (and a good one), maintain an immaculate home, be desirable (but not sexually aggressive), be independent (but not too independent!), have an opinion (but not speak it too loudly) and the list goes on.

This made me wonder how well we knew ourselves– what we wanted, needed/were comfortable with, versus what we felt we should have, do or be fine with. Despite the best of efforts in defining and educating people on violence versus respectful behaviours within an intimate relationship, I believe it continues to be a grey area in many peoples conception or understanding of it/what it looks and feels like. Further, how much of what we accept or are OK with is informed by our role as women versus our personal comfort, safety and wellness? Even as I write this I feel a voice come unbidden telling me not to be difficult or cause a scene, and that all men are the same. It sounds like the voice of my mother, my aunties, my friends.

When Damian and I spoke about my topic, we discussed how it had the potential to come off polarising in its implication of women in the co-production and sustaining of violence. In a bulk of the research I have read, women are victim or they are perpetrators. On a personal level, I don’t believe that examining this from the current perspective is complicit or victim blaming, rather I find it strange that the experiences of women as subject to a system of oppression we are born into and shaped from is just largely omitted(?)/ignored (?)/not considered very much(?). It seems also the gendered expectations of women of themselves and their partners does not seem to factor very much into the research on family violence, rather it is the expectations of men and the challenges men face in filling the shoes of traditional masculinity. It was a challenge to ensure my intention was not misconstrued, but ultimately my hopes was to bring in a dialogue on the important of women knowing themselves– their gender identities/roles, boundaries and expectations of themselves and their partners– to change the dynamics that are existing in the cycle of violence.

The dust has settled. It has been almost two weeks since the wrap up of our program, and finally feeling like my head has caught up with my body in Berlin, I sit down to write about a few things that I feel I take with me following this experience.

What was most apparent to me throughout the experience, were the blindspots of privilege that would be made apparent at the most unexpected times.

Throughout my time there, I had two trips to Bali planned, and had spoken about it glibly while at work. I’ll be honest, I had thought nothing of it, and remember saying that it was a no brainer to go to Bali for the weekend as it took 2 hrs and 45 mins to drive to the closest local beach, but only an hour and 15 mins to fly to Bali. When asked about what I got up to I shared stories about my friends who own clubs, restaurants and villas in Bali and how I spent my time frequenting their establishments and living with them. I feel so silly now reiterating the things I said then, but I probably would have no awareness of how insensitive I was until one of the men I worked with said that he had only been to Bali once, and then only because of work, as it would cost him an entire month’s salary to go on a trip there. I had never felt like a bigger dickhead in my life, and still continue to feel a little ashamed at how ignorant I was to the people, environment and place I was despite having set out with the very intention to be otherwise.

I remember also a conversation with some other program members. We were discussing how we felt hungry all the time, despite eating the set number of meals one usually would, and one of the girls remarked that the chicken served was often more bone than meat, and she never felt there was enough on a plate. Following that conversation I started to notice how our lunch plates were filled at my work where we had a lovely ibu who cooked for us every afternoon. I realised, that the locals would often pile their plates high with rice and a single portion of protein and vegetables. While I am aware (being Asian myself) that Asians like eating rice, I knew also that a lot of them ate rice as the primary sustenance as it was cheaper. While I would sit in a lesehan and order two different fishes, vegetables and never finish my rice (carbs), my local friends would eat rice and an omelette or a piece of tempe. I suppose the prettied way to describe how I feel is humbled, but what it made me realise is how wasteful and entitled I am. More so I suppose, because it reminded me of my grandma and mother who grew up extremely poor in a village, and how far removed I have become from these experiences that I have always thought have played a large role in shaping who I am today.

I think when we read the books, listen to the lectures and write the papers, it is so easy to know the right things to subscribe to. It really isn’t unlike sitting in a pub in Fitzroy and knowing that the right things to say would be in support of veganism, feminism and non-mainstream music (but in that everyone has their own steez and we respect that kind of way). It’s easy to say that yes, you will be open-minded, and wear the shirt that covers your shoulders but is there really any true meeting of the culture u inhibit in doing that? How is true respect, empathy and understanding even possible when you sit within this space filtered and protected by the safety net of all that you have back home? I suppose it is these experiences living and working in the field that bring us closer to this understanding. For me, it was the simple, seemingly mundane activities of helping in the preparation and eating of food, having that chat between ‘official’ meetings by the motorbikes about family, the weekend or life, sitting idly in the angkringan drinking jamu and staring at our phones together (instagram is HUGE) and picking up the mic and participating in the impromptu office karaoke session that brought me closer into that space and with that a greater awareness of who I was in there.

Last week, we were invited by our host organisation to hold an informal discussion on a topic of our choice.

I have found throughout my time here, that even when the same language is spoken, things are often lost in translation. An informal discussion in my mind, was not at all that in reality. I had assumed it would be a casual conversation on a particular topic where thoughts and opinions could be shared. Instead, we were placed on a stage and given microphones, filmed and asked questions by our ‘audience’ who were a mix of representatives from other NGOs, our mates (who were there for moral support) and local people from the surrounding community.

I had chosen to speak about my experience working as a Men’s Behaviour Change facilitator in Melbourne, with a focus on how I felt it was important for women to step into differing roles in healthcare, social work and society in order to challenge and transform gender norms and dynamics. As the female facilitator in a MBC program, we provide not only a female figure that is equal to that of the male facilitator, but one that challenges misogynistic attitudes and perceptions, calls out collusive behaviour and model the figure of a woman they can respect.

The content of what I spoke about was nothing particularly groundbreaking, but my experience of this informal discussion is memorable to me because of the reaction it incited in the men in the audience. The local men spoke a lot about themselves being ‘korbanan patriarchy’ (victims of patriarchy), and how in their local villages, how they are taught to be as men come from interpretations of religious scriptures passed on by their fathers or community elders. They then went on to speak about how they had and continue to posses significant blindspots with regards to misogynistic behaviours that impact their intimate relationships, how it is a process of education and feedback to change this and how they now utilise the same scriptures as a tool to speak and educate men in developing districts on domestic violence.

An Australian man (a fellow student) had also taken the microphone off me at the end of my talk. In speaking about his research that centred on masculinity, he sat and addressed the men who were a part of the informal discussion and proceeded to ignore everything I had spoken about. I found it interesting that he utilised words such as empowerment and equality for women and men, in a dialogue who’s premise centred on how hard done men were by the circumstances life had given them, and how, in order to help them, women should let them talk and listen. I truly believe he subscribes to the same ideas and theories of feminism, humanism and human rights as I do, and yet somehow, we did not see things the same.

I reflect upon the words of John Dewey, “any theory and set of practices is dogmatic which is not based upon critical examination of its own underlying principles”. Essentially, we choose what we want to take from a particular theory, and often what is not deemed to be of use to us is conveniently set aside in our interpretation of it. Further, as all experiences are not equal and subject to an individual’s interpretation of it to produce and assign meaning, I wonder the extent of learning that occurs in academia and through an embodied experience such as the one we are currently on. Rather, does our experience of education and ‘knowledge’ serve only to concrete our prevailing attitudes? I have noticed for myself that the moments of new understanding have occurred in situations where I had no clue what to anticipate or expect. Perhaps it is that space of the complete unknown where even the self is not known that the impetus for growth lies.

We have been researching the experience of domestic violence in Indonesia the past few weeks, in preparation for a livestream discussion that will take place just before the close of our monthlong placement here at Mitra Wacana. It has been interesting, reading both research papers conducted by local researchers and published in Bahasa Indonesia, as well as those written by their Western counterparts. I feel incredibly privileged to have a measure of proficiency with the local language, and have a great appreciation for the insight it has provided me to the nuances of the people and their culture.

Despite always knowing of the power of language and its influence on how it shapes one’s perspective of the world, I have never really truly lived this experience. I grew up speaking three languages that are rarely spoken in parts of the world outside of Southeast Asia, and never have felt the need to fast-track learning German in Berlin as everyone speaks English. Here in Jogja however, I am acutely aware of how this has allowed me to access their community, and am reminded how important it is for development efforts of any kind to be informed from the roots of the community out. As a culture that is comparatively reserved, where opinions and strong point of views are never voiced in a forthright manner, I can see how the wants and needs of the people could be overlooked, or never even known by us, the well-meaning bules.

One of the things that stood out to me in reading these articles surrounding domestic violence in Indonesia, were the words used to describe the women–’korban’ and ‘tawanan’. Respectively, they translate to victim or sacrifice, and hostage. I am acutely aware of the importance we place on language as a tool to empower and change the narrative of victimhood amongst our women who experience gendered violence, women whom we speak of as survivors. The articulation of violence is known to have a significant impact on its interpretation by the very person experiencing it, having an impact on the story following the abuse, through the process of seeking justice, recovery, and identity, and I am extremely interested in learning more regarding this. I have also noticed that almost all research papers surrounding domestic violence by local researchers dedicate a significant proportion in their introduction to feminine dialectics that understands violence as a byproduct of the biological differences between men and women. Men being bigger, stronger, and prone to sexual urges and acts of aggression. This is something I had not noticed prior to coming here, with most research papers I have read and frameworks I have used emphasising the innate patriarchal structure of society as the cause of violence against women.

I wonder if this is a product of the cultural perceptions surrounding gendered violence, as researchers are also not exempt from the socio-cultural space they inhibit. This is a topic that I have been thinking a lot about, and one that I feel holds a great significance for the field of development particularly with regards to the rights of women– that violence is a concept with a meaning and construct entirely dependent on the normative understanding and acceptance within a particular society. How is it then that there are frameworks and theories that not only dominate this dialogue but inform the work not only in developing countries but also in Australia where a large proportion of our community is comprised of immigrants and refugees?

One of the first seminars we had was on gender issues in Indonesia. There were three speakers, each covering differing areas of their expertise. The content of what they spoke of was nothing new to me, despite it being very context specific to Indonesian culture and politics. What I found greatly inspiring and very interesting was the women who led the seminar. They were incredibly passionate, forward thinking and exhibited great strength and determination when discussing their area of expertise, all while staying extremely connected and true to their cultural roots.

The Western conception of feminism often draws to mind a sort of ‘radical’ female form that has been popularised by the media, and this is often a one dimensional form of feminism that I think we often default to unconsciously. Whether we realise it or not, perhaps there is an idea in our minds of what a feminist is. I know for me, since coming here, I was a little surprised at myself for noticing this preconception that I never knew I possessed. Of the three speakers at the seminar, two were older Indonesian ladies in traditional clothing, who spoke searingly on varied topics surrounding the violation of women’s rights in Indonesia with surprising openness on matters of body autonomy and sex. I never would have believed that what a person wore would give me a preconceived notion of them, and know that I most definitely do not believe that wearing religious/modest clothing automatically makes a person ‘conservative’, but I realised I was a little taken aback at how open they were when speaking about matters that would make most people (regardless of where they are from) a little uncomfortable. All because they wore a hijab.

The Indonesian women I have had the privilege to meet and get to know since being here are generally soft spoken and quick to smile. They present with a gentle, calm way that I have found often belies a their sharp wit and strong opinions! In Jogja, the women typically wear headscarves or a ‘hijab’ when out in public spaces, and generally dress with their arms and legs covered. Most of them are Muslim, and it is the culture to marry young and start a family. I had an assumption that perhaps they might be a little disapproving towards foreigners entering their public spaces in revealing clothing, or possess a preconceived notion towards women who live lifestyles that differ from theirs, only because these conceptions happen within all cultures towards people who are/look different, or ‘sluts’ and ‘freaks’ would not exist. Rather, I have found them to be entirely embracing, and many tell me that they don’t expect non-Indonesians to act like Indonesians as it is not their way.

Despite their craze for Melbourne style hipster coffee brews, the foreigners (bule as they are typically referred to by the locals) way of being/living is perceived by the locals as something completely different and separate from their culture and beliefs, and therefore simply something of interest to observe, maybe sometimes to take a selfie with, but not something that has any bearing on their beliefs, culture or way of life. I wonder what the implications of this are for development practitioners who perhaps may bulldoze into a context such as this with their ideals of morality and humanity, and how a community such as this would thus respond to their initiatives of change or ‘aid’, when it is simply, in their own words “bukan cara kita”. If they cannot identify with us, or understand us then how should our efforts to ‘help’ them make sense to them, and likewise?

In particular with regards to family violence, where within the private space of the family, ties to tradition and culture run deep, I believe that there is no initiative that can be taken off a generic framework without actually being first deeply connected to and knowing the hearts and minds of the people. Indonesia with its complex and vastly varied and nuanced ethnicities and cultures is a searing example of how important context specificity and intersectionality is not just important but completely necessary. In having had the privilege to be around these Indonesian women, I feel that there is great wisdom and empowerment that can be drawn from culture and tradition, and that development efforts need to find its place within this space if it hopes to enact change that is truly in the interests of the community.

I had a lot of misgivings leading up to being here.

A part of me was elated to have been accepted into the program, having always wanted to do my project placement somewhere overseas. However, I knew myself. I have never been one to partake in school trips and group activities with new faces, or had the attention span to sit for long blocks of lectures. Plus, it has been a good number of years since I’d been in a traditional educational setting, and the stipulations on things like the clothing requirement (small as it may be) had me worried.

Today marks the first full day I have had to myself following the first week of orientation activities. It has been raining everyday here, and our days have started at around 8.30am and concluded at 4pm. I’m not going to lie, it was tough to get into it the first day, sitting in that lecture hall jet lagged amongst alien faces. But if there is something to be said about my experience here so far, is that everyone has been extremely nice.

I had come into this expecting to feel somewhat familiar with Indonesian culture, having spent some time many years ago modelling in Jakarta, and speaking fluent Bahasa having been born in Malaysia. But if my memory serves me correctly, the culture in Yogyakarta seems to differ significantly from Jakarta even at the surface. The people seem more soft spoken and reserved. There is a sense of calm, unhurried gentleness amongst the locals that I have only otherwise seen present amongst people that live in quiet countrysides, despite Yogya being a capital city.

I felt I needed to take some time to ease into the program, and set aside a little time every morning to do my yoga practice, and in the evenings to journal while the rest grouped off and went out to explore and have dinners. I felt I needed to establish a routine that was familiar to me to ground me, take space to become aware of the preconceptions I had brought with me, and a little bit of time to let go of this strange immature adolescent delinquent resistance I seemed to harbour about dress and conduct. Cognitively I know of course why these are in place, but having just stepped off a plane from Berlin, a city of liberal expression in extremes, I knew I needed to not just follow the rules, but find it within myself to truly respect and appreciate where it placed within the local context.

But as life would have it, I quite unexpectedly ran into one of the girls in the program at a mixed martial arts gym, and we had a rad ol’ time training with the local Brazilian Jiu Jitsu crew. One of my favourite things to do in a new city is to check out the local gym or yoga studio. I have found they often can serve as an existing hive of like-minded folk you can connect with when travelling, and know that it was instrumental in making Berlin feel like a home only a few months after moving there.

Tomorrow we check out of our orientation hotel digs and move onto our self-arranged student accommodations, and next week marks week 1 of language study. I know now that Bahasa Malaysia is NOTHING like Bahasa Indonesia despite sharing common vocabulary. It seems, while I can understand them, no one, can unfortunately understand me.