Between Kartini and de Beauvoir: Where Am I?

Thursday, 20 April 2017 - 10:19:19 WIB
By : Anbar Jayadi | Category: Gender & Sexuality - 1692 hits
I write this on behalf of myself. That being said, though I do not intend to speak on behalf of all Indonesian “women,” as I believe each “woman” has her own particular dilemma, it does not necessarily mean that we “women” do not share the same dilemma.

The dilemma in my case is that the “I” in me craves an answer to the question: “what does it mean to be a ‘woman’ within the Indonesian social context?”

I am asking this because I was disturbed when I searched the definition of a “woman” (“perempuan”) in the Indonesian dictionaryHow dare it! I mentally screamed as I stared at my laptop screen (of course I should not rely on dictionary per se in searching the answer of my question, but it was a starting point). The definition gives a reductionist depiction of being a “woman.” It associates “woman” with motherly and female biological characteristics, and the examples and context given are mostly of prostitutes. I do not say that this is inherently wrong, but when I looked up the definition of a “man” in that same KBBI website and read the examples attached to that definition, I was enraged.





So, what does it mean to be “woman” within the Indonesian social context? (I put the quotation mark to imply that the term “woman” here can be interpreted loosely).

I looked for the answer in Kartini’s writing, Habis Gelap Terbitlah Terang, a book of her letters translated by Armijn Pane. I must admit I was little bit late to this book, having borrowed it from the Leiden University Library just this year. A little note, though, it seems odd that I found the book in Leiden, not in Indonesia where I searched for this books in vain for months.

There are two things about Kartini’s letters that fascinate me. Firstly, she was not afraid to be critical of her social surrounding. In a letter dated November 6, 1899, she questioned religion, reflecting: “Is religion a blessing to human beings? Religion must prevent us from committing sins, but look how many sins were made in the name of religion?”
Though she argued that it was more important for a person to have a good heart, she did not necessarily contend against the importance of practicing religion.

Secondly, Kartini’s letters showed her compassionate side.  In one of her letters to Stella dated  August 23, 1990, she wrote: “You said you did not understand why a woman must marry. You always put ‘must’ against ‘I want’. If it was another person, I will do ‘I want’, but this is my father; I cannot do that since I know the sadness that he will carry.”

Here, what I perceive is that she was aware of her decision and was being critical of the basis of her decision. On the one hand, she implicitly questioned the notion why a woman must marry, but on the other hand, she took into account her father’s feeling, because he was an important figure to her.

Prior to Kartini, I read Simone de Beauvoir a lot. By “a lot” I mean not only did I study her infamous The Second Sex, but also I perused her writing from her novel The Women Destroyed, her memoir The Memoirs of Dutiful Daughter, and her story about her mother’s death in A Very Easy Death. I was almost obsessed with her writing (and sort of proud to brag about it, for no reason).

De Beauvoir denounced her bourgeois background; she wanted to be independent and to build her very own life separate from that background. She was into knowledge – philosophy in particular – and was eager to learn (and to compete as well, I would say). In her memoir she said: “I would have to try to preserve what was best in me: my love for personal freedom, my passion for life, my curiosity, my determination to be a writer.” De Beauvoir wrote this after she met Sartre with whom she could talk about her most enthusiastic subject: herself.

De Beauvoir inspires me in a different way from Kartini. In her, I can see a part of myself: the rage, the desire for personal freedom. In other words, she is relatable for me (not that I’m saying I’m a bourgeois). But, with Kartini, I am reminded that I am still Indonesian – though of Sundanese-Sulawesi ethnicity, not a blue-blooded Javanese like her – and I learned that sometimes one has to make a tough choice, especially for the loved one.

I do not mean to contend Kartini and de Beauvoir as they do not necessarily represent different sides. What I am trying to do is to define myself by continuously learning from their experiences. I am in my own attempt to extract their writings in search of an answer to my own question: what does it mean to be a “woman” within the Indonesian social context?

Anbar Jayadi is currently a master’s student at Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam. Her study is funded by Indonesia Endowment Fund for Education (LPDP). Between classes, she tries to deal with her own existential questions. She loves eating cupcakes.

Got an opinion on this issue? Let’s talk about it in the comments section below.

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COMMENTS
Rosa | 20 April 2017 | 20:04:48 WIB
Hi Anbar! Seeing the definition, I am actually ok with the biological description; after all, the fundamental distinction between men and women is based on their reproductive organs. However, I am also annoyed by the overly negative examples in the sub lemma (in fact, all of them are, even though I am OK with people doing sex work for a living..). I understand that this is the result of the social condition in Indonesia. Anyway, you said that "the definition gives a reductionist depiction of being a woman". What would you suggest to make it not reductionist? (I checked Merriam Webster definition of "woman" and it basically says that it is an adult female person--English has "female" for the biology-related definition while in Indonesian it doesn't work that way).
Anbar Jayadi | 21 April 2017 | 20:44:42 WIB
I am not sure what to suggest to make a definition so that it is not a reductionist one (I am not a linguistic expert). But, just to clarify, what I meant by "reductionist" is that once I read the definition and the example, I can almost picture one particular image of a woman (though not everyone will have this same interpretation). Maybe, from the point of view of a non-linguistic expert, the examples given can be more varied. For example, "brave" can be attached to the term "keperempuanan" hence the state of "being brave" is not almost exclusively attach to "kelaki-lakian".
Rosa | 21 April 2017 | 21:33:26 WIB
I see. I think language needs constant redefining/reinterpretation to follow the social dynamics of it speakers. In my opinion, it's not that masculinity or femininity ("kelaki-lakian" / "keperempuanan) should be attached with a specific quality; instead I think that they should be phrased more neutrally ("having qualities that is usually associated with men/women") and the "outdated" qualities ("bravery" for "kelaki-lakian") can labelled "dated" or "literary", just to understand the literature when society was patriarchal.

By the way, I would like to read more of your writings (or know more about your thoughts) relating to your ultimate question: "What does it mean to be a “woman” within the Indonesian social context?" Where do you usually write? Or if you prefer to meet, Amsterdam is only an hour from where I live now :)
Anbar Jayadi | 22 April 2017 | 03:40:58 WIB
(In addition to your thoughts, Rosa, I also want to point out how some "Western" words like "queer" in term of gender identity or "gender" itself are kind of "lost in translation" in Bahasa Indonesia. Hmmm..)

Ah cool! Let's do further correspondence on that. How can I contact you? I don't use social media soo... telepathy? #justkidding XD
Rosa | 22 April 2017 | 04:00:55 WIB
Ah, yes. Even the word "gender" itself! Haha. Drop me a mail in rosalia.adisti@gmail.com! See you there!















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