I know that I write a lot of melancholic stuffs in this page, and if you know me in real life, I sometimes act like a comic and tend to laugh at my own jokes. But like I believe all of you are, I'm not some two-dimensional character in a teen-lit novel. When the light is out and the night is dark, and my sleepiness is somewhere but in my head, I'm actually a very serious person. I re-watch Aaron Sorkin's The Newsroom for the umpteenth time, teach myself the politics between the Sunnis and Shiites, and sometimes, try to think of how to someday leave the world better than I found it. Shouldn't be a hard work, don't you think? We were born into such a messed up world, won't take a genius to find what could be improved. The challenge, however, is in where, and how, to start.
You know how I was born into a middle class family of Javanese descent with a Muslim faith, and live my entire life in Jakarta? You know how the demographics of Indonesia's big picture is? Yep, like me. My family is, politically speaking, center-right. I grew up in the southern part of suburban Jakarta, which, truthfully speaking, is mostly inhabited by people like me. Sure, many of them don't exactly share my background, but you know, more or less, we are the pribumi. Indonesians don't understand political correctness, so I believe that it's still generally acceptable to say that word: pribumi. Most of my friends, I have just recently realized, tick all of the criteria I have just mentioned, like me. Come to think of it, during my first 20 years, I hardly know anyone who doesn't look like me.
If this was America, I'd be a white Irish girl with perhaps brunette hair living in New York. I'd be a part of Trump's target demography, to be honest. I'd be in a box full of privileged people simply because of their color and their faith, though not exactly the kind that the 1% has. I'd be the majority. And you know how privileged the majority is? Always remember this all throughout your life: There is no right or wrong. There's only popular opinion. When you're a majority, of course it's easier to make your opinion the popular opinion.
Then real life came and I was suddenly in a concrete jungle of a capital city we call Jakarta, which we all have a love-hate relationship with, and I was forced to educate myself about who I am, what I am, and how I should interact with people. I had to learn the hard way about my place in the actual world; about joining a community, an entire society that I had never been really exposed with. All of a sudden, here I am. In the middle of a culturally and ethnically diverse society that I wasn't aware I was lacking the experience of. All of a sudden, I had to learn how to place myself in this world, and where I am is really important to learn how to be politically correct.
Suddenly, I was a minority. Sure, sometimes it makes you feel like you're somewhat interesting. But it could also make you feel like being in an aquarium: everyone was watching you, examining you, asking you what it's like to be in your world. Suddenly, it's just a weird feeling. Not exactly sucks, but weird.
Now, imagine that Jakarta is a miniature of America: people from different ethnics, cultures and background flocked together to create its own dynamic. Just like America, where the immigrants are the real force behind their dynamics, Jakarta is also severely dependent on these people who once came to try their luck in the big city. This past holiday, I realized what an hellhole Jakarta is during the Eid-ul Fitr, when every last person I know left this city for--oh, God knows what. A holiday, maybe. Or a family gathering in their hometowns. Everyone was updating their social media from all over the world that I couldn't even keep up where each of them went. Instead of a 3-day family visitation in a small countryside like everyone else, I was here. In Jakarta. Shops closed, malls barely functioning (and I know this, because I went to the mall that Eid-ul Fitr evening since I was done with my family gatherings) supermarkets couldn't keep their promise of fresh fruits and vegetables, restaurants running out of ingredients and struggling to serve the overflowing of customers with limited waiters... There isn't much glory to this city when it comes to this holiday, and I was left wondering what would happen to Jakarta had none of these people come back. A real-life Walking Dead, I suppose.
So, this is why I understand that had I been born American, I wouldn't be supporting Donald Trump if my life depends on it. I probably don't really understand how immigrants feel like a threat in America, but I do know that you can't hope for a better future when you're not willing to co-exist with other people who don't look like you. I'm not even going to start with political or religious views here (because God knows it's become an issue here in Indonesia, too) but just start with people who look like us. My government always said it's trying its best to keep Papua in this country, but to what extent? Nobody's doing much for them. Those who live here, people like me, who look like me, probably first thought of them as a bunch of thugs. If we have no gun controls, it's probably only a matter of time before we also have a #BlackLivesMatter movement here around us. Because Indonesians--I don't know if you haven't noticed, but we are brutally hostile. No, we're not friendly. That's a propaganda your primary school teacher told you, the way they teach North Korean kids that Kim Il-Sung is a God. No, we're not friendly. We just like to believe we are. Or maybe we are... but only to people who look (and think, and dress) like us.
No comments:
Post a Comment