On Being an Indonesian

As an Indonesian, I have never felt more insecure about my nationality than in my own country.

In my interaction with the international community here, I just have to put up with the way these people react when they find out that underneath my deceivingly Oriental look, I am in fact an Indonesian.

In other countries like the U.S., at least I may get a diversity credit for being an Indonesian. I may be the first Indonesian they’ve seen in their lives and it’s really cool because now they can pin down one more place on their map of “where my friends are from.” But here? God, I am just one of the two f'ing hundred f'ing fifty million locals who, thanks to the action of some people, are thought to be preying on them. Even the Asian fetishists are tired of meeting yet another local girl.

Those who had guessed from the beginning that I’m an Indonesian would just keep their distance from me, afraid that I might start pulling their pants and kissing their glorious expatriate ass for a chance to practice English or marry them and live in the EU. Those who thought that I was a Taiwanese, Japanese, etc, would tell me that I shouldn’t go to this place and that place because they attract the locals, but once they found out that I am myself a local, they would be ashamed as hell and never talked to me the same way anymore (if they ever talk to me again at all). Those who ask where I am from, would swallow their saliva upon hearing the answer and say, “ah interesting, I gotta talk to my friend over there.”

Ok, I have to admit that some foreigners are nice, especially the newcomers. They still think it’s cool to be friends with the local people, so they take pictures with me (or of me) and post them on their Facebook to show off to their friends back home.

But then again, the same people also take pictures of becak drivers, fishermen, street kids, and post them on their Facebook. What am I? A tourist attraction?

Anyway, all joking aside, there is always an exception to every rule. Even in the land of reverse-discrimination, I still meet some international folks who are intelligent and open-minded enough to accept that not all locals are the same, like the 20 people whom Yuki and I traveled with to Pulau Seribu this past weekend.

And all joking aside, I do miss New York, the place where you can tell people you’re Indonesian and most people won’t have any prejudice about you (because they don’t know where it is). It’s the place where I could befriend a random half-Jewish/Japanese girl on the subway and later got introduced to her Turkish and Japanese Peruvian roommate; it’s the place where a Greek girl who got annoyed by my housewarming party could become one of my closest friends and later introduced me and my Hong Kongese roommate to her American and Taiwanese roommates.

Finally, all racial jokes and kvetch aside, I do really miss New York. If I ever had the chance to come back there, I would hang on to it for life and never let it go. Those of you who are there, please do not take your New York life for granted. You may have to learn the hard way that the expensive real estate, the stinky bums on the subway and the annoying tourists are the comparatively small price that you have to pay for such an amazing life. Please wish the kvetch-er luck. Hope I will be back in New York this September!