Prominent Queen est. 1995

This is the part of #QuarterLYsis

Part 1 : How I Started to be My Own Everything – The Backstory of Becoming Self Sufficient

(YES, I AM A WOMAN. YES, I EXIST)

Relationships. What a juicy topic!

The first bottom line: I hate to openly talk about this. As I am writing this, I live daily among Indonesian society who always thinks there is clearly something off with you, supposed that you do not have a partner, or you will not let yourself with one, if ever.

Besides, I like to keep my private life very privately. (There’s a reason it is called private!)

Lastly, the fact that out here, I am a highly sensitive person (where it is not so shamefully include a trait that people’s opinion matter a lot to you) makes me more often than not keep what is essentially mine to myself. (Re: I am often afraid to be judged. Which is so ridiculous to begin with, I aware.)

Nevertheless, on this particular day I was writing this, I was having the time of my life, watching Daniel Sloss’  Comedy Live Part 2: “Jigsaw” on Netflix, when one of his bit forced me to write.

The bit was this:

 

I decided to write after finding out that I am not the only one with this aligned perspectives (which I kept to myself for too long because I was afraid), and mostly because I am tired in defending myself on the face of 99.99999999% of Indonesians’ face every time I told I am so f*c*ing content being on my own.

Disclaimer: If you are an Indonesian, people of religions, patriarch, or basically from any society who find my perspectives genuinely offending, you should be. But at the same time, you can not make me apologize for what I believe in.

Before jumping straight ahead, I think it is only logical for you to trace back into my life history that made me who I am today.

Where This All Begins

I have a very peculiar-relationship-sharing parents, and even more frustrating extended family who are both conservative Christian and people of tradition. (North Sumatran, Batak).

My mom and dad started of from every typical nearing late 20s Batak-Christian household scenario in early 1990s: Parents who are “worried” and only “want their children to be happy,” started loosing their mind because their young children, men and women, are not showing any sign of tying the knot, whilst they are heading to the “expiration” period.

(Although best believe, if you live inside this community for too long, it is purely because these kind of parents are worried that they can not send their children to traditional marriage, where they can achieve “the honor” added toward their own family name. A selfish reason to my perspective.)

Both my maternal and paternal grandmothers work as headmasters which buildings were close to each other. Being the typical (worst case scenario) tiger and obsessive powerful Bataknese women, they decided to marry off both of their young children who had never brought partners home. 

I never had the vivid image of this, because naturally, we do not talk about this at home. Both my mother and father was ALWAYS uncomfortable with this topic involved.

I do know one thing: My mother had various multi ethnicity friends, particularly Chinese. Even nowadays, when we are in the family gathering, my aunts and uncles never once forget to state their horror to imagine my mom to be married of to one of those “non pure breed.” (Imagine how mud-blood are being addressed in The Wizarding World? Exactly like that.)

Regarding my father, the only thing I know was his proud exclamation that once, there were five women chasing him at once. But because he was not interested on marriage, yet, he just let them passed. I learned this on one of “manly” car drive, with only both me and my dad. (Yes, I have to play “manly,” every time I want to have my dad spill the tea.)

Then why my parents agreed to marry at the first place, then?

Well, I can only tell my own version of truth, NOT theirs: They are so afraid to go against or reject their mothers wishes, because according to them (and the values they are injected with):

• God in heaven dearly hated children who go against their parents wishes, especially mothers. Besides, “Mothers know best. What can go wrong?” , right? (Yes, I am being SARCASTIC).
• They strongly believe their parents’ and the extended family beliefs’: if you are not married, you will die alone, sad, lonely, and unaccomplished.The same goes for childless people.
• Lastly, they take seriously the believe that they are expiring in no time. (My father was 30, my mother was 26.5)

So, after about one year of “dating,” they tied the knot. Just like that. Years later, this is where I understand that some marriages are shallow, and people do not always stayed together because they wanted to, (or “in love,”) but more because they are afraid to go against the social norm, and AFRAID to be ESSENTIALLY THEIR OWN. Especially for Indonesians.

Not so long after that, my mother conceived a male child. But he, my brother, died at only 5 days after birth. Lung complications. My mother was so devastated. As for my father’s truth, I simply do not know. He never talked about it, and I never asked.

Around a year later, my mother was pregnant again. Me. Nowadays, summing their stories from my own eyes, I could tell how unprepared they were. Again, it was my truth, not theirs.

7 months along the pregnancy,  my father was very upset to learn that his first born bear a vagina, instead of a penis. It was a loss to the “family line” he presumed. For a Bataknese, a male child is everything.

Name. Honor. Protection. Credibility. Status. Approval. You can name every single sexist, patriarch, and misogynist values you have ever encountered. You will find it there.

I am no psychologist. Yet I think, that was my very first encounter to my self rejection.

I always love my parents, even by the time I am writing this down. I think it is unfair to demand your parents to be anything but they are. After all, they are just human beings who are bound to s*ck, like the rest of us. Plus, you can not change the past.

Still, back in those days, and even nowadays, a thing haunts me, constantly. It is very hard to get rid of it, and to just place myself neutrally, in numerous situation. Because, even unborn, I already fully grasped the statement: You will never be enough.

Where It Took Off and How – The Early Phase

Bullying.

And yes, I get it, you will say, “Every children has been bullied before,” or things that to me, can even sounded more heartless, like, “I don’t think people bully each other. It is just a form of joking, that is being taken too seriously.”

Well, if that is your stance, go ahead. Still, you can not invalidate how it made me felt like.

Especially considering, that my first bully was my f*c*ing family. A place, where according to Disney films, you belong to, you are accepted and loved as who you are. Bla bla bla.

Well, not to me.

My mother has an older sister who had two beautiful daughters, at least according to her. (This is sarcasm.) To put it simply, my mother highly place her sister, to the point where, supposed I am bullied by her and her daughters, my mother will ask me to tolerate them.

As young as 3, I comprehended me as a bothersome. Slowly, I learned that I always have to be careful among these people, like walking among the egg shells. Most importantly, as I always have been ‘demanded’ to make room for these kind of people and STILL be addressed as arrogant, selfish, needy, bastard, sometimes be slandered for things I did not do…

I learned to hate myself.

How It Develops as It Goes

Apparently, being an introvert, smart, sassy mouthing, ambitious, dominating, yet obese, wavy, and every other “un-pretty” terms is not popular among both boys and girls.Thus, I learn to solely depend on me, protect myself, be my own parents, best friends, sisters, brothers, protectors, I never have.

Having a complicated extended family system, combined with my father’s constant job-related-moving-around requirements drew me to excessive alone time, accompanied by countless of books, Lego toys, and films. I was very comfortable among my own stuffs. I used to visualize stories with them.

Before school, I think the only time I was actually “having a good time” was with my cousins. As per I told you about their nature, you can imagine, how much “good time” it was. (This is my peak of sarcasm). 

As I went to school, I was never aware that socializing exists.  No, not in a “sociopath” or “psychopath” term. In fact, I really love socializing. Yet as an introvert, the number is very limited, because I prize smaller circle with depth, than bigger but shallow.

I love socializing, or at least until I learn that children around me do not get my reference, because they simply did not read or experience what I experienced. So I did not get them, and they did not get them. The easiest way to “deal with it?” Making fun of people. Children learn the best from their parents, that we need to treat someone different or new by staying away from them or hating them, no? (Yes, sarcasm).

I still do not want to dodge the fact that I have a temperament issue, though. This is a trait, I still bear even 20 years later. At this point, considering I have told about how my family works, I have to partly claim that it was never entirely on me.

This situation carried on for so long. Especially due to the fact that as I grow, I become more competitive, more independent, and more……. “manly.” (This is the only cringe term, that I can only come up with, because that’s how you describe a woman who writes her own f*c*ing stories: “manly.” At least in my Indonesian-glossary-filled head.)

Until today, I do not really have a speed dial contact. You can say it tragic, but I’d rather take it as a comedy.

Nevertheless, I can not deny that sometimes the society can be my greatest pet-peeves, especially considering how they generalize women.

Because, I do not fall into your womanly criteria, and I am perfectly functional, driven, fulfilled, and self-dependent WOMAN who IS NOT JEALOUS OF OTHER PEOPLE (especially fellow women). I am fat, I am “ugly,” I am single and is NOT LOOKING for ANY  MARRIAGE OF CHILDREN. NO, I am NOT LONELY. NO, there is NOTHING WRONG with me. YES, I EXIST. 

But I have to say, that I do have an identity crisis for so long. Even these days.

The Existential Crisis Phase

I never want anything associated with girl and woman. Yet, everyone, even my closest one, always insist that there is something wrong with me for behaving like that.

Let’s face it, the society has long been to engrossed with men telling women stories. Disney films, the f*c*ing PRINCESS STORIES are told from MEN PERSPECTIVE, that their existence are so important that it is the only way women’s life can be transformed AND validated. Without them (on their own words), women are nothing. 

This same sickly fairy tale, is being told over and over again coated with “religious” upbringings. And heaven, how I hate it.

Being an Indonesian, of course according to law, I have to choose one religion. It is literally one of the National ID column.

Religion traces back to God. I love God. I worship. Nonetheless, I can find religion to be very irritating. It is almost always again stories and rules written by men, for women to silently slide into, no protest can ever be filed.

The same formula, as far as I knew, was repeated again and again and again in films, particularly Hollywood. We fall in love with “Superhero” stories (the same reason, I, as many other people, watch Avengers End Game for more than 5 times in the cinema). There’s nothing wrong with superhero ideas. We need “someone” to save us from the mundane life, after all.

Yet,I found it problematic, that most often in those formulas, we see women be saved by strong, muscular, blonde, blue eyes, often white, MALE. And women in those stories, they helplessly waited in the sideline until it is time to lash out some high pitch laugh, giggles, and claps, by clinging onto strong men’s arm. Even the newly ones, they put “strong women” as gimmicks, or in a tangible way, “Women are strong, but they are not that strong, right? If so, men are in dangerous.”

Our films, medias, and society, has a problem with representation. Yes, as a fellow woman, I found those kind of woman depicted may be real. In fact, some women does love to be a damsel in distress. You can debate me all you want, and still find that my argument is 100% valid. If you ask me, I will always have a strong response against it. But my square one, is that, I RESPECT that kind of choice. Besides, more often than not, situation like that in real life, can be much more complicated than a single headline.

Still, problem arises, when YOU ASK ME to be LIKE THAT, when I simply AM NOT like that.

My mother, my aunt, my father always insist that there will be a time in my life when I need a man. According to their version, it is interpreted as to succumb, because I am considered to be NEVER capable of carrying my own upbringing, being responsible for me, depending FULLY on my own capabilities.

As any other message, I have every single right to tweak it differently, like: there will always a time when I need a man as my team, colleague, friend, fellow fighters, and many more. Even at those times, I am fully complete and whole being on my own.

In the next part, I am going to tell more about my perspective on (romantic) relationship as well as filia (friendship) ones.

To sum up this writing in one sentence: I particularly greatly annoyed by people who tell me there is something wrong with me being fiercely me and my own, and that I desperately need a man to “transform me.” Because, excuse me, baby, I have been everything what I, myself, need for as long as I have lived, and…

…. where are “men” at those time?

So, needing them now? Oh no, I do NOT need “validation” or “transformation”  EVER. Thank you very much.

June 20, 2020

Indonesia