Reading the Writings of Contemporary Indonesian Muslim Women Writers: Representation, Identity and Religion of Muslim Women in Indonesian Fictions
Diah Ariani Arimbi
A thesis submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Women’s and Gender Studies Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences University of New South Wales
September 2006 ORIGINALITY STATEMENT
‘I hereby declare that this submission is my own work and to the best of my knowledge it contains no materials previously published or written by another person, or substantial proportions of material which have been accepted for the award of any other degree or diploma at UNSW or any other educational institution, except where due acknowledgement is made in the thesis. Any contribution made to the research by others, with whom I have worked at UNSW or elsewhere, is explicitly acknowledged in the thesis. I also declare that the intellectual content of this thesis is the product of my own work, except to the extent that assistance from others in the project's design and conception or in style, presentation and linguistic expression is acknowledged.’
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Date 20 September 2006…………………………………………...... To
My late father, who is my inspiration and whose spirit is living inside of me
And
My mother whose love, strength and prayers make me what I am today Acknowledgements
This thesis could not exist without the help of many people with whom I share my love, my life and my gratitude.
Most importantly, I am very grateful to Associate Professor Jean Gelman Taylor, my thesis supervisor. I am indebted to her caring guidance and support for the development of this thesis. I could not thank enough for her courage and faith in me. I am grateful to Dr. Rochayah Machali, my thesis co-supervisor, who helps me with her expertise and words of encouragement. I wish to thank Dr. Jan Elliott, my editor and proofreader for her tremendous help with my writings. I would like to thank Dr. Keith Foulcher for giving me opportunities to have teaching experiences.
I am also grateful to my family (Mbak Nining, Mbak Wiwik, Nanang, Nanus, Gita, Pipuk, Pakde Mur) for their endless support and prayers for my well-being. I wish to thank Mary Gravitt, my best friend for our “hot” discussion on issues of politics, economics, philosophy and current affairs. I am very grateful to have a friend like her. She is really one in a million. I also thank to my fiends: Maimunah, Nur Wulan, members of Pecothot Jaya (mbak Anti, mbak Maria, mbak Umi), mbak Erna, mbak Nestri and Zain for their supports, and particularly to Riduan Zain for helping me with thesis printing, copying and submission.
Many people have contributed to my education through their guidance, support and prayers throughout my postgraduate school years and the writing of this thesis. There are so many of them that I cannot possibly mention all their names. From the bottom of my heart I thank them for being there for me. I could not have done it without them.
v Abstract
Indonesian Muslim women’s identity and subjectivity are not created simply from a single variable rather they are shaped by various discourses that are often competing and paralleling each other. Discourses such as patriarchal discourses circumscribing the social engagement and public life of Muslim women portray them in narrow gendered parameters in which women occupy rather limited public roles. Western colonial discourse often constructed Muslim women as oppressed and backward. Each such discourse indeed denies women’s agency and maturity to form their own definition of identity within the broad Islamic parameters. Rewriting women’s own identities are articulated in various forms from writing to visualisation, from fiction to non fiction. All expressions signify women’s ways to react against the silencing and muteness that have long imposed upon women’s agency.
In Indonesian literary culture today, numerous women writers have represented in their writings women’s own ways to look at their own selves. Literary representations become one group among others trying to portray women’s strategies that will give them maximum control over their lives and bodies. Muslim women writers in Indonesia have shown through their representations of Muslim women in their writings that Muslim women in Indonesian settings are capable of undergoing a self-definition process. However, from their writings too, readers are reminded that although most women portrayed are strong and assertive it does not necessarily mean that they are free of oppression.
The thesis is about Muslim women and gender-related issues in Indonesia. It focuses on the writings of four contemporary Indonesian Muslim women writers: Titis Basino P I, Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim, Abidah El Kalieqy and Helvy Tiana Rosa, primarily looking at how gender is constructed and in turn constructs the identity, roles and status of Musim women in Indonesia and how such relations are portrayed, covering issues of authenticity, representation and power inextricably intertwined in a variety of aesthetic forms and narrative structures.
vi Table of Contents
Page Number Title Page……………………………………………………………………………… i Dedication Page……………………………………………………………………….. ii Acknowledgements...…...……………………………………………………………... iii Abstract………...……………………………………………………………………… iv Table of Contents.…………………………………………………………………...… v
Introduction……………………………………………………………………………...1
Chapter 1 Women and Islam in Muslim Societies: Some General Issues……………….………..20
Chapter 2 Theorising Islamic Feminism…………………………………………………………..61
Chapter 3 From Global to Local: General Perspective of Gender Issues and Islam in Pre-Independence Indonesia……………………………………………………………87
Chapter 4 From Global to Local: General Perspective of Gender Issues and Islam in Post-Independence Indonesia…………………………………………………………114
Chapter 5 Muslim Women Writers in Indonesian Literary Tradition: Walking Their Path for Existence…………………………………………………………………………..149
Chapter 6 Authors, Their Worlds and the Female Traditions………………….………………...182
vii Chapter 7 Representation, Identity and Religion: Images of Muslim Women, Their Lives and Struggles in Fiction (Part I)……………………..………………………………..206
Chapter 8 Representation, Identity and Religion: Images of Muslim Women, Their Lives and Struggles in Fiction (Part II)……………………….…………………………….257
Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………….293
Bibliography…………………………………………………………………………..298
Appendixes……………………………………………………………………………330
viii Introduction
Women, gender and Islam will always be a contested site because women’s locus in relation to Islam is problematic when their status is manifested through the eyes of the practiced Islam. Various interpretations of Islam have managed to define, locate and perhaps entrap women under certain fixed categories. Amina Wadud and her attempts to break the hegemony of patriarchal fiqh is an example of the problematic female position in Islam. Her endeavour to be an imam, by leading a Friday prayer in New York, triggered a strong controversy.1 The possibility of a woman leading prayer of male and female congregation resulted in outbursts from Muslim leaders and Islamic scholars. However, where many religious authorities condemned her action several others supported her. What Wadud had attempted to do clearly brings gender issues into focus as the idea of female imam for mixed gender congregation remains a controversial issue.
Amina Wadud is not the only woman struggling to conduct new readings of the Islamic teachings. The 2003 Nobel Peace Prize winner Shirin Ebadi, an Iranian Muslim woman judge, has shown that Wadud is not working alone. Ebadi, the first Muslim Nobel Laureate woman from an Islamic state focuses on the congruence of the discourse of human rights and Islam and its demanded actions. Her mission as defender of human rights in general and women’s and children rights in particular in Iran, within an Islamic discourse, has made her an inspiration for other Muslim women. Ebadi believes that her use of Islam as a strong support in articulating and advancing human rights is justified. She states: [the] divine book (the Qur’an) sees the mission of all prophets as that of inviting all human beings to uphold justice. . . The discriminatory plight of women in Islamic societies, whether in the sphere of civil law or in the realm of social, political and cultural justice, has it roots in the male-dominated culture prevailing in these societies, not in Islam.2
1 ‘Pelita Amina Memanaskan Dunia,’ Gatra, No 21 Tahun XI, 9 April 2005, pp 25 – 28. 2 Ebadi’s speech for her acceptance for the Nobel Peace Prize, 10 December 2003, quoted from Margot Badran, ‘Between Secular and Islamic feminism/s Reflections on the Middle East and Beyond’, Journal of Middle East Women’s Studies, Winter 2005, 1, 1, p. 22. Italics mine. 1 For Ebadi, fundamental human rights and Islam are interfaced. She argues that Islam should promote and safeguard human’s rights for all mankind, irrespective of differences be it race, gender, faith, nationality or social status. She acknowledges that Islam has been at times historically misused and complicit in the perpetuation of discrimination.
In her work as a judge, lawyer, lecturer, writer and activist, Ebadi believes that Islam can be a close ally in promoting justice and equality. Like Ebadi, many Muslim feminists are working in similar path. They navigate between religion and gender politics that variously script the ways Muslim women’s identities are narrated, defined and regulated. Their rhetoric of gender equality attempts to construct alternatives spaces where Muslim women can articulate new understandings of their subjectivities through discourses they themselves have authorised. This is their contemporary challenge in both theoretical terrain and praxis.
The number of discursive orientations in which women can locate their self-determined political and ideological goals has risen significantly within a variety of different social and cultural contexts without assuming a fixed or essentialised a priori understanding of what it means to be a woman. Muslim women’s movements across the Muslim world have also become a pivotal part in the global women’s movement. The internet and mobile phone created networks of transnational feminisms where exchanges and interflow of information take place. Indonesian Muslim women are also part of these transnational networks.
Women’s centres promoting women’s autonomy and self-actualisation have been established in various urban areas throughout the archipelago.3 Like their Muslim sisters elsewhere Muslim women in Indonesia also attempt to construct, regulate and structure their own subjectivities in order to remap the ways Muslim women have been
See also Ebadi’s Nobel lecture in Oslo, Norwegia, 10 December 2003, Nobel Prize, Internet, http://www.nobelprize.org, and Ebadi’s speech, http://nobelprize.org/peace/laureates/2003/ebadi-lecture- e.html, (Friday, 14 October 2005). 3 Several women’s centres have been established in many Indonesian cities such as Rahima in Jakarta, Rifka Annisa in Yogyakarta dan PSW (women’s studies centre) in IAINs (Institute Agama Islam Negeri, State Islamic Institutes) and UINs (Universitas Islam Negeri, State Islamic University), and in private and public universities in various cities across Indonesia; Makasar, Medan, Malang, Surabaya etc. Some modern pesantrens (Islamic boarding schools) also set up similar centre such as in Malang and Cirebon. 2 discursively represented, and policed, within social categories. The establishment of women’s centres in Indonesia should not be automatically taken to mean that women no longer suffer discrimination. In rural regions particularly, restrictions and limitations are still applied to women. Many aspects of women’s lives are still heavily circumscribed by social codes that are often discriminatory. What she will be, how she will behave, her interaction within her family or outside familial relations, her life occupation, her education are all determined by the boundaries of cultural/social space defined for her in her society, and each discriminatory measure degrades the quantum of autonomy she can exercise and serves to silence and immobilise women. However, not all women are merely passive victims. Those who struggle always find ways to resist and to challenge patriarchal practices, laws, and customs. They seek to challenge the identity imposed on women in the specificity by encouraging women to analyse and reformulate their own identity, and by so doing to assume greater control of their lives; greater self-autonomy. Indonesian Muslim women believe that it is only when women start assuming the rights to define for themselves the parameter of their own identity and stop accepting unconditionally and without question what is presented to them as the “correct” religious, social, cultural or political identity that they will be able to effectively challenge the corpus of patriarchal articulation imposed on them. Their resistance against discrimination is then continuous and manifested in numerous shapes, creating a range of responses in the social and political arena that vary from the exclusively secular to the exclusively theological, with numerous alternatives in between.
Indonesian Muslim women’s identity and subjectivity are not created simply from a single variable; rather, they are shaped by various discourses that are often competing and paralleling each other. Discourses such as patriarchal discourses circumscribing the social engagement and public life of Muslim women portray them in narrow gendered parameters in which women occupy rather limited public roles. Western colonial discourse often constructs women as oppressed and backward. Each such discourse indeed denies women’s agency and maturity to form their own definition of identity within the broad Islamic parameters. Rewriting women’s own identities are articulated in various forms from writing to visualisation, from fiction to non fiction. All expressions signify women’s ways to react against the silencing and muteness that have long been imposed upon women’s agency.
3 In Indonesian literary culture today, numerous women writers have represented in their writings women’s own ways to look at their own selves. Literary representations become one way among others trying to portray women’s strategies that will give them maximum control over their lives and bodies. Muslim women writers in Indonesia have shown through their representations of Muslim women in their writings that Muslim women in Indonesian settings are capable of undergoing a self-definition process. However, from their writings, too, readers are reminded that although most women portrayed are strong and assertive it does not necessarily mean that they are free from oppression.
Research Questions
Among Muslim women writers in Indonesia, the four selected writers Titis Basino P I, Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim, Abidah El Khalieqy and Helvy Tiana Rosa are prolific authors spanning from the older to younger generation: ranging from 67 years of age to 35. Their works produce rich sources of identity politics of Muslim women in Indonesia, covering issues of authenticity, representation and power that are inextricably intertwined in a variety of aesthetic forms and narrative structures. The choice of the authors for subject analysis was purposely selected as these four writers are Muslims and their works are widely published yet their names are often forgotten in the canon of contemporary Indonesian literary culture which is dominated by younger generation of authors categorised as sastra wangi (“perfumed” literature)4 and the newly emerging chick lit.5 There are certainly other writers than these selected four, and
4 Sastra wangi is referred to narratives (mostly novels) written by a group of young female writers in their 20s or 30s largely about women at their age, living in urban settings, and enjoying freedom in expressing their sex and politics. 5 “Chick lit,” narratives always set in urban environments, evolving around stories of young cosmopolitan working women aged 20s - 30s surrounded with urbanised issues, such as fashion, shopaholism, sex and - of course, a Barbie-an sophistication in the form of writings. The “chick lit” is styled in humorous fashion and very lite reading, and the book covers are always coloured in pastel with illustration a la Barbie. 4 like them too they are often ignored.6 These writers have published numerous fictions yet their names are seldom acknowledged, and such is the primary reason for selecting them as research objects. Each author represents their generation in Indonesian literary periods. Although such selection fails to include all writers of all generations outside the mainstream, these four bring multiple representations of Indonesian Muslim women in fiction outside sastra wangi or chick lit. Not all of these writers’ works are selected; the choice of works is based on writings which offer sources adequate to discuss issues affecting Indonesian women. In the discussion, the authors will be referred to by their first names only. This is partly because Indonesians rarely have a family name and also because all these four authors prefer to be called by their first names.
The thesis is about Muslim women and gender-related issues in Indonesia. It focuses on the writings of four contemporary Indonesian Muslim women writers, primarily looking at how gender is constructed and in turn constructs the identity, roles and status of Musim women in Indonesia and how such relations are portrayed by selected writers.
The main aims of this research are firstly to explore and map gender-related issues presented in the narratives of contemporary Muslim women writers in Indonesia; secondly to investigate how such issues are presented, that is how Muslim women in Indonesia are portrayed in the narratives; thirdly to investigate a variety of the aesthetic forms and narrative styles and structures employed in these writings, recognising how issues of aesthetic are intertwined inseparably with issues of gender constructions, power, representation, identity and prevailing ideology; fourthly to find out how similar and/or different gender issues that Muslim women writers in the global environments and in Indonesia contexts have written, and finally to investigate how the writings of these Indonesian Muslim women narrative writers have sustained, challenged, worked and reworked the perceptions of Muslim women, roles and status in the Islamic societies.
6 There are other writers such as Herlinatiens who published Garis Tepi Seorang Lesbian (2002). Her fiction is about the life of a lesbian Muslim. Written by a Muslim girl wearing jilbab, this fiction has triggered a strong controversy even until today. Other book Wajah Sebuah Vagina (2004) by Naning Prawoto is also a similar case. 5 Reading Women Reading Writings: Feminist Literary Criticism at Stake
A feminist interrogation of literature is always a contextually grounded undertaking, for a text cannot be studied in pristine isolation.7 Historical realities have to be considered. Such realities are crucial in analysing the power of words and the ways in which those words are presented. Feminist writings are executed in broader political contexts and the sorts of experiences that women have throughout history are called upon. The problematic of the political nature of these writings and their writers is indeed of interest. In a broader sense, the expressed presence of a subject in the narratives, the subjective “I” of the author in depicting, working or reworking, even challenging the qualities adhering to the questions of “feminine” or “masculine” is an object of scrutiny. The authority embodied by the presence of the author in the narrative, her ideology, and her responses reflect the political stand of the author thus producing or reproducing a received construction of women. The disengagement of literature and literary production from a wide range of historical realities will certainly neglect the fact that literary production emerges from certain time and space.
This thesis is not solely about reader’s response study of literary texts, although as a part of this study questionnaires were distributed in order to get readers’ responses on selected authors. This thesis focuses on the textual analysis of selected texts and the politics surrounding those texts that becomes the material and ideological context of the production of those texts. An adjunct analysis, scrutinizing how far and how familiar the selected texts involve and have an effect on the selected readers, will also be presented.
7 Ruth-Ellen Boetcher and Elizabeth Mittman, ‘An Introductory Essay’, The Politics of the Essay: Feminist Perspectives, Indiana University Press, Bloomington and Indianapolis, 1993, p. 17. 6 The Politics of Literature
Literature is political, Judith Fetterley argues in ‘Introduction to The Politics of Literature.’8 She further claims power is the main issue and the core of power in literary politics is consciousness: Consciousness is power. To create a new understanding of our literature is to make possible a new effect of that literature on us. And to make possible a new effect is in turn to provide the conditions for changing the culture that the literature reflects. To expose and question that complex of ideas and mythologies about women and men which exist in our society and are confirmed in our literature is to make the system of power embodied in the literature open not only to discussion even to change. Such questioning and exposure can, of course, be carried on only by a consciousness radically different from the one that informs that literature. Such a closed system cannot be opened up from within but only from without. It must be entered into from a point of view which questions its values and assumptions and which has its investment in making available to consciousness precisely that which the literature wishes to keep hidden. Feminist criticism provides that point and embodies that consciousness.9
Applying a “new consciousness” of feminist readings offers new ways of reading and interpreting literary writings.
Literature may function as a means to promote political agendas, either against or pro prevailing ideologies but that does not automatically mean that it contribute to one’s understanding of political agendas. Politics may exist thematically in the text but it is also embedded in its language, thus a reader’s participation is necessary for its political exposure. In this sense, text is political as its readers complicate its meaning as soon as s/he enters the picture. The political content in the text and its relationships to what an author has in her/his mind are no longer the only ways by which interpretations are made. The reader’s entrance to the text creates text-reader relationships that the author is not aware of. The politics of the text – the politics of literature – makes sense when a text is read and begins to exist for its readers.
8 Judith Fetterley, ‘Introduction on the Politics of Literature’, The Resisting Reader: A Feminist Approach to American Fiction, Indiana University Press, Bloomington, 1978, p. xiii. 9 Judith Fetterley, ‘On the Politics of Literature’, Feminisms: An Anthology of Literary Theory and Criticism, Robyn R. Warhol and Diane Price Herndl (eds), 2nd ed., Rutgers University Press, New Brunswick, N.J., p. 569. 7 Catherine Belsey and Jane Moore posit that there is no such thing as a neutral approach to literature. All readings/interpretations are political.10 Feminist literary critique may question, among other things, the ways a particular text represents women, how it portrays gender relations, how it labels sexual difference, how it terms power-relations between different gender roles, and so forth. Even if a particular text says nothing about gender relations, depicts no women at all, the text can still be critiqued through a feminist reading. Belsey and Moore further remark on the political role of feminist readers: A feminist does not necessarily read in order to praise or to blame, to judge or to censor. More commonly she sets out to assess how the text invites its readers, as members of a specific culture, to understand what it means to be a woman or man, and so encourages them to reaffirm or to challenge existing cultural norms.11
Besley and Moore have also added that feminist criticism has a pivotal role in deconstructing timeless meanings that literature carries within the norms of traditional literary criticism. Literature is no longer a special category that simply depicts reality, embodying timeless truths and neutral agendas, and thus ceases to be seen unbiased. As de Beauvoir states, “the ways in which the questions are put, the points of view assumed, presuppose a relativity of interest; all characteristics imply values, and every objective description, so called, implies an ethical background.12 Writing is no longer an individual phenomenon but a social and cultural institution, in which its social contexts are more than just shadowy backgrounds. Literature becomes a manifestation in which its various forms are subjective to the ways societies comprehend and identify themselves and the world they live in or imagine. “Re-visioning” - to borrow Adrienne Rich’s term – serves as a new way of looking at constructions of women in any art forms: Re-vision – the act of looking back, of seeing with fresh eyes, of entering an old text from a new critical direction – is for us more than a chapter in cultural history: it is an act of survival. Until we can understand the assumptions in which we are drenched we cannot know ourselves. And this drive to self- knowledge, for women, is more than a search for identity: it is part of her refusal to self-destructiveness of male dominated-society. A radical critique of
10 Catherine Belsey and Jane Moore, ‘Introduction: The Story So Far’, The Feminist Reader: Essays in Gender and the Politics of Literary Criticism, Catherine Belsey and Jane Moore (eds), Macmillan Education, Ltd., London, 1989, pp. 1 – 20. 11 Belsey and Moore, ‘Introduction’, p. 1. 12 Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex, H.M. Parshley (trans. and ed.), Jonathan Cape, London, 1953, p. 26. 8 literature, feminist in its impulse, would take the work first of all as a clue to how we live, how we have been living, how we have been led to imagine ourselves, how our language has trapped as well as liberated us; and how we can begin to see – and therefore live – afresh.13
Perhaps, Rich’ s claim of re-visioning an old text should be extended to all texts, old and new. Any given text should be re-examined with new critical eyes in order to awaken a “new consciousness.” In this way, feminist critique serves as a powerful naming that free women to produce their own readings, appropriating different meanings at different times - even from the same text - according to changing assumptions and conditions.
In arguing the necessity of the politics of a literary criticism, Annette Kolodny succinctly posits: For what we are asking to be scrutinized are nothing less than shared cultural assumptions so deeply rooted and so long ingrained that, for the most part, our critical colleagues have ceased to recognize them as such. In other words, what is really being bewailed in the claims that we distort texts or threaten the disappearance of the great Western tradition itself is not so much the disappearance of either text or tradition but, instead, the eclipse of that particular form of the text, and that particular shape of the canon, which previously reified male readers’ sense of power and significance in the world.14
Although Kolodny aims her argument at the Western tradition, her argument is extendable to other literary traditions crossing cultures, regions, and borders, pointing the nature of feminist criticism which is to challenge the authority of established canons, relocating women’s traditions from the periphery to the centre of the canon, thus helping readers, especially female readers to challenge the existing paradigms playing as the subtexts in literary writings of male-dominated societies.
Between Facts and Fiction: The Problematic Images of Women in Fiction
13 Quoted from Fetterley, ‘Introduction’, pp. 568 – 569. 14 Annette Kolodny, ‘Dancing Through the Minefield: Some Observations on the Theory, Practice, And Politics of a Feminist Literary Criticism’, The New Feminist Criticism: Essays on Women, Literature, and Theory, Elaine Showalter (ed), 1st. ed, Pantheon, New York, 1985, p. 149. 9 Can fiction be seen as a true representation of actual life? The notion that a clear division exists between fiction and reality is problematic. On the one hand, it is argued that if there is no real woman in the literature, only representation, then there is no one to liberate. Yet, there are still women who experience sexual discrimination, who are not being able to find jobs because they are women, who are denied their rights because they are women, who are written out of history because they are women. On the other hand, taking literature as fact will negate the assistance of the imaginative creative process of the author in the writing. Literary product does not automatically duplicate the real. For this reason, it is simply a representation of the real.
Further, a singularity of representation cannot be asserted for that ignores the dynamic of social-historical notions of women crossing the spacio-temporality of their existence. Deconstructionist theories decentre the subject and reveal the intertwining of female subjective identity to sex. As identity is an on-growing process, a fixation of identity reflective to all women of all ages is an absolute impossibility: Literary works gives images of women that are not absolutely identical, and the differences among them must be significant. Historical flux and change should not be prematurely ended in symbolic stasis that women can suffer once and for all an identity fixation on the level of style, releasing action only to ‘the woman’ of the semiotic.15
Literary analysis must take the role of the structures of ideology that lie within the literature. Ideology does not appear as mere ideology, but, rather, as subtle network representing “the imaginary relationship of individuals to their real conditions of existence.”16 In this respect, literature is ideological in its nature, “[i]n imaginative works a moving ideology can be fixed and brought to consciousness and its contradictions can be made visible.”17 Perhaps, it may be added that in literary works, the structures of ideology are not only thematic but disperse in every element of the work. The inclusion of analysis of ideology in literary analysis is therefore crucial: Criticism using the notion of ideology focuses both on what is stressed as intentional and what appears subliminal, discordant and unintentional. With the notion, we can read against the grain, not aiming to uncover a truth but investigating how a transcendental concept of truth was formed at all. Literature inevitably colludes with ideology, which is in turn inscribed in literary forms,
15 Janet Todd, Feminist Literary History: A Defence, Polity Press, Cambridge and Oxford, 1988, p. 83. 16 Louis Althusser, ‘Ideology and State Apparatuses’, quoted in Janet Todd, p. 85. 17 Ibid., p. 86. 10 style, conventions, genres and institution of literary production. But it does not simply affirm, and it can expose and criticize as well as repeat.18
Any categorisation of literary works contributes to the analysis of ideology: the canonised or un-canonised, high or popular literary classifications. The distinction between elite and mass literature, for example, escapes from the ideological network located within. Such classifications and distinctions of feminist literary criticism help us focus on the ideological structures of literary production, particularly where such structures often to be absent.
Images of women in male-dominated literary production are made problematic by feminist critiques. Cornillion’s Images of Women in Fiction: Feminist Perspectives (1972) is considered to be one of the foremost writings that scrutinise women images in literary production. Through literature, Cornillion believes the historicity of women’s oppression can be traced, and by understanding their subjection, women can raise new consciousness of how women were, are now and might become, thereby provoking new directions for women in reading and understanding fiction, which in turn may contribute to women’s personal growth.19 Feminist literary analysis examines the ways in which representations of women and their real lives are dissimilar. By reading against the grain of such representations, one can change perceptions of reality.20 It should be noted however that the analysis should not centre only on images themselves. Most importantly the exchange process and the relationship between representations and reality must be critically examined.
Reading images is not always one-sided direction of the viewer looking at an image. Who is the viewer, what images she looks, and how images are looked at complicate the problem. “Looking” itself is a complicated and ambiguous act of reading, having multiple directions and creating multiple impacts: The way a woman looks might mean either a description of her appearance, or a description of her act of looking at others; the two kinds of looking might even be modified by each other. As such, images at which one looks can be simultaneously both a call towards or a warning against a particular way of
18 Ibid., p. 86. 19 Susan Koppelman Cornillon, Images of Women in Fiction: Feminist Perspectives, Bowling Green University Popular Press, Bowling Green, Ohio, 1973, pp. ix – x. 20 Ruth Robbins, Literary Feminisms, MacMillan Press, London, 2000, p. 51. 11 looking . . . and an opportunity to look differently, to criticise or refuse that look in favour of another way of looking.21
In literary analysis fiction is no longer read without critically questioning images produced within its narrative. As fiction is constructed from the interweavings of cultural narratives, it thus for feminists is “a cultural strategy for performing identity claims,” when these feminist “become aware of the huge impact that literary works can have on public opinion.”22 In fiction, identity formation is amongst the most observable materials constantly located within its narratives. Through narratives which, by and large, are drawn from the materials of everyday life, characters living in the narratives generate their identity formation translating individual meaning through their stories. For the readers, reading such stories – looking at other stories – creates a bond connecting the readers and the characters that continuously engages readers in the process of identity formation: Women have used the word ‘personal’ because emplotment has been their tool to create individual meaning through other stories – of the women of the past – in order to tie into a historical understanding the ongoing content of women’s lives within narratives that offer a wider conception of ‘agents’ as moral subjects. In this sense, individuals do not simply have memories in the historical sense, but, by adopting everchanging attitudes toward them, continuously reconstructing them, they can develop new interpretations. . . . Identity is conceived differently in narratives not only because past experiences are rewoven through time, but also because each new and broader narrative gives new meaning to society’s own larger narrative.23
One may respond differently to a given image depending on time and place. The way one looked earlier, one looks now, indeed, how one may look tomorrow and one’s perception of looking at looking and re-looking denies an assumption that a given set of images subsists and carries a fixed meaning. Looking at images, or reading images of women in fiction is then not a simple act of reading but a rich and complicated ways of looking, looking at what others look at how women were defined, are defined and may be defined. Accordingly, feminist literary criticism develops a critical presentation of such looking by adding the dynamics of the whole process of reading/looking aiming to invigorate multiple relationships between the female subjective and the social as they appear in fiction through literary representations.
21 Ibid, p. 57. 22 Maria Pia Lara, Moral Textures: Feminist Narratives in the Public Sphere, Polity Press, Cambridge, 1998, p. 92. 23 Ibid., p. 93. 12 Constructing/Re-constructing Women: Women Reading/Writing Women
It is Elaine Showalter who coins the notion of women’s own literature, famously known as “a literature of their own” or academically referred to as “gynocritics” which she herself argues, “begin at the points when we free ourselves from the linear absolutes of male literary history, stop trying to fit women between the lines of male tradition, and focus instead on the newly visible world of female culture.”24 Showalter’s agenda is to create a space for the values of a female own culture and female biology without necessarily falling and being trapped into a dependency on men, male culture, value and approval. Woman as reader as well as woman as writer are central to gynocritics. Woman as reader obliges her to critically read such male-produced texts, consciously examining the ways in which women are portrayed in these texts. In this way, the reader awakes to the significance of literary sexual codes,25 thus is able to read the texts from a feminist perspective.
If woman as reader enables woman to be a critical reader of male-produced texts, women as writer requires woman to create her own meaning, acting as a producer of her own, an executor of her own politics. Proposing eloquently an argument to recognize woman as writer, Showalter posits: women as the producer of textual meaning, with the history, genres and structures of literature by women. Its subjects include the psychodynamics of female creativity; linguistics and the problem of female language; the trajectory of the individual or collective female literary career; literary history; and, of course, studies of particulars writers and works.26
Furthermore, Showalter insists that feminist criticism must be fundamentally political and polemical affiliating itself with, on the one hand, various theoretical criticisms and other modes of new feminist approaches and, on the other hand, aesthetical values making gynocritics “more self-contained and experimental.”27 The use of critical
24 Quoted in Literary Feminism, Ruth Robbins, p. 75. 25 Elaine Showalter, ‘Toward A Feminist Poetics’, The New Feminist Criticism, p. 128. 26 Elaine Showalter, ‘Toward A Feminist Poetics’, quoted in Literary Feminism, p. 75. 27 Elaine Showalter, ‘Toward A Feminist Poetics’, The New Feminist Criticism, p. 129. 13 analyses and aesthetical values as methodological tool celebrates the rigor of feminist critique.
Both woman as reader and as writer open up a space for women to have their own culture within the literary tradition. However, in conjunction with the development of various approaches of feminist literary critiques, limiting female tradition to only one is problematic. When Showalter proposed to establish a female tradition she meant to include women writers of a particular background, as racially white and of educated, middle- or upper-class background. The limit to one female tradition embodies the notion of excluding other women who do not belong exclusively to the group. Such exclusion reiterates the notion of otherness, placing women who are not white, nor educated, nor from middle- or upper-class as “others.” Feminism, for this reason, becomes hypocrisy, epitomizing double standards of liberation and oppression at the same time. It imitates the very same domination it seeks to attack in the first place. To fight against such bias is to promote plurality and multiplicity of female own traditions within different literary genres, welcoming women across time, race, sexual orientation, ethnicity, class, educational background, and other differing categories, as Showalter herself argues “creative coexistence between traditions which inform and modify each other”.28 A tradition relies heavily on what it includes and excludes, so a feminist tradition must not become fixed but allow for mixed values. Because women experience life differently, female traditions are heterogenous, varied according to women’s own subjective standings. Feminist themselves must be reminded of such heterogeneity. Ruth Robbins paraphrases George Eliot on the necessity of remembering women’s plural tradition: It would be truer to say that women writers write after their many kinds; that their kinds of writing fully equal the kinds of writing produced by the many kinds of men; and that if we are alert to their kinds, we may also alert to differences that enrich the field of literature even as they also subvert its own traditional assumptions.29
Forging new female traditions provides possibilities for women as writers and readers of their own perspectives to continuously construct and reconstruct their own
28 Ruth Robbins, Literary Feminism, p. 96. 29 Ibid., p. 100. 14 definitions, awakening to the notion that female traditions are not rigid categories, distinctly separable in time, space and culture.
Identity Politics
Identity construction cannot radically escape from the sexed body that one is born with. However, many feminists have claimed that a sexed body is not automatically endowed with sexual roles applying sexual practices. Simone de Beauvoir’s famous adage says: ‘one is not born as a woman, but one becomes a woman.’ Championing de Beauvoir’s premise, in explaining female sexual identity construction, Judith Butler argues: construction is neither a single act nor a causal process initiated by a subject and culminating in a set of fixed effects. Construction not only takes place in time, but itself is a temporal process which operates through the reiteration of norms. Sex is both produced and destabilized in the course of this reiteration.30
By saying that identity construction is not always fixed Butler opens up a vast opportunity to see that gender and sexual difference is constantly evolving. The sexed identity is therefore no longer determined by presupposed norms and values to which a body belongs, more importantly there is no single identity. Identity is always plural in its nature. Female identity formation conveys two oppositional characteristics of being produced and destabilised during the course of the on-going process of identity construction. Sexual identity then undergoes a similar process. In responding to the call of feminists to attack the determined identity of male traditional norms, women engage and awake themselves to the notion of self-identity, “by conceiving their identities as flexible and self-reflexive.”31 The influence of space and time also contribute significantly to identity process, different moments create different narratives of identity and different environments build different historical perspectives.
Gender has become one of the most applied notions of identity politics, especially when it is used to refer to the social and organisational relationships between the sexes. When
30 Judith Butler, Bodies That Matter: On The Discursive Limits of “Sex”, Routledge, New York & London, 1993, p. 10. 31 Maria Pia Lara, Moral Textures: Feminist Narratives in the Public Sphere, Polity Press, Cambridge, 1998, p. 171. 15 gender is applied to a critical analysis, it becomes a pivotal tool for historical study examining the ways in which female and male relations are constructed in their socialization. Gender is indeed both an empirical fact and a constitutive mechanism working both on individual and social levels; gender features consequently serve as one of many manifestations of a subliminal gender system operative throughout the cultural and social domain a subject belongs to. The duality of gender operations is revealed through literary and cultural criticisms. Through gendered literary criticism, the process by which the gendering system dominates both in fiction and actual life can be critically called into questions and challenged. Feminist literary analysis is a critical tool in demystifying the restrictive definition that women have long suffered by exposing the different dimensions based on female own cultures. Feminists can conceptualise and act to re-signify women’s identity politics through the mediation of literature and thus have a huge impact on readers.
A Gaze of Her Own: Authority and Subject Position(s)
One powerful tool to centre the authority and subject position is the use of ‘I’ within the literary tradition. However, the authorial “I” is not unproblematic.32 The problematic “I” lies in the sense that “I” cannot radically stand outside any discourse of power that it is associated with. For the “I” then, to be able to maintain its own integrity, it needs to play along the dynamic fields of critical negotiations, acknowledging its likeness and differences, its field of force and counter-force, play and (re)play. Within this respect, the “I” then includes the “I”s of others who have left imprints in the process of subject positioning. Minh-ha captures the positionality of the “I” and its enormous ability to create an endless story, a story that “never really begins nor ends,” and that “There is not catching, no pushing, no directing, no breaking through, no need for linear progression which gives the comforting illusion that one knows where one goes.”33 The authorial “I” is the writer who herself has a beginning and an end but her story does not.
32 For details, see Butler, Bodies that Matter, pp. 122– 123. 33 Trinh T. Minh-ha, Woman, Native, Other: Writing Postcoloniality and Feminism, Indiana University Press, Bloomington, 1989, p. 1. 16 Every woman is entitled a gaze of her own, of situating her subject position according to her own vision and revision.
Female own gaze generates new alliances and resistances to defy patriarchal power, as the gaze “destabilizes the fiction of [male] authorial intent and control.”34 To evade an account that marginalizes women as writers and readers, women must be included as contingent agents without relinquishing their dynamics and complexities. Female vision radically challenges the traditional notion of male gaze, of ‘men look at women and women look at themselves being looked at,’ which simply objectifies women as the victims of male gaze. However, Parker and Meese suggest that to gain authorial gaze of their own, women do not necessarily need to eliminate others’ subject positions.35 Eliminating the positionality of another subject in erecting one’s own, is but an oppression. To avoid such dilemma, subject position is negotiated through the practices of borrowing and of resisting the suppression and fixation. This means to create a female culture and female visioning and re-visioning, which stand equally with male culture.
From Private to Public
A story multiplies itself through the process of weaving and reweaving by different story tellers (authors), such stories no longer reside in the circle of personal domain; rather, they occupy a recognisable locus in the public domain. The thesis that “the personal is political” is very well suited. The story moves from private to public with no reservation. Narrative that paradoxically is personal in the first place becomes inherently impersonal. Given the very nature of language, the embedded themes living inside the narrative are disseminated and it is for the readers to create its signification. Seemingly silent and repressed, women as writers and readers come to speak loudly
34 Reina Lewis, Gendering Orientalism: Race Femininity and Representation, Routledge, London and New York, 1996, p. 20. 35 Alice Parker and Elizabeth Meese, ‘Introduction’, Feminist Critical Negotiations, Alice A. parker and Elizabeth A. Meese (eds), John Benjamins Publishing Company, Amsterdam, 1992, p. xi. 17 using an alternative language of fluid and plural subjectivity.36 In this respect, a woman builds two forms of identity of herself, and of solidarity with other female members through the process of self-identification with the characters appearing in the narrative. As Hannah Arendt states: “narrative becomes the vehicle for the construction of collective and individual identities.”37
In the public domain literature plays its most important role as a privileged site where “one becomes aware of problems not previously known or fully understood” by “gathering information and making public a variety of experiences.” The public domain may then act as the centre of self-understanding for women to research historically why they are denied their public roles.38 The varieties of experiences that women stories offer can raise a new consciousness for women. Literature proves to be a powerful tool in creating a more woman-friendly environment both in public and private domain where women have room of their own to pursue individual and collective growth. As James Bohman argues, the aesthetic realm, which is this case is represented by literature, is essential when one endeavours to promote a totally new understanding of the order of things.39
Feminist literary criticism aims to critically look at the ways women are defined and portrayed in literary writings by both female and male writers, and to question and scrutinise the representations and misrepresentations in a given literary tradition. Feminist literary critique aims for a mediating role between the structural system constructed in the public arena and the representation of that system in the narrative. In addition, feminist literary critique calls into question received notion of female identity, helps raise new historical consciousness. By making personal stories into public ones, feminist criticism destabilises the ways in which the signification process is produced and the location of meaning is sited. “[B]y contesting the spaces where ‘private/public’ meanings located differences, feminists have shown that these spaces and their
36 Sidonie Smith, A Poetics of Women’s Autobiography: Marginality and the Fictions of Self- Representation, Indiana University Press, Bloomington, 1987, p. 13. Although Smith discusses the problematic of autobiography, her discussion on the narrative, in my opinion, is applicable to other literary genres. 37 Maria Pia Lara, Moral Textures, p. 36. 38 Ibid., p. 109. 39 Ibid., p. 112. 18 boundaries cannot be taken as given facts but must be seen as arenas for re- significations.”40 The blurring of distinction between private and public spheres means that women have managed to make themselves the very subjects of collective action for constructing and reconstructing their identities.
This thesis is organised into 8 chapters. Chapter 1 discusses the various issues globally raised within the conjectured discourses of women, gender and Islam. Chapter 2 explores the notion of Islamic feminism. Both chapters function as the contemporary discourse the selected writers are being exposed to. Chapter 3 and 4 discuss the similar paths of previous chapters only within Indonesian settings. These chapters look at the historiography and the circulating discourses of women, gender and Indonesian Islam. Chapter 5 explores historiographically Indonesian literary tradition and the place of women’s writers within that tradition. Chapter 6 specifically presents the authors – based on interviews - as writers, their worldviews, merits, and how discourses of women and Islam in Indonesia affect their stories. Chapter 7 and 8 map and examine these writer’s literary works from issues discussed in the previous chapters and how religious identity is formed and perceived by Indonesian readers. Finally, this thesis never aims to classify women’s works in any identification, it simply wishes to describe and document women’s works for fear of loosing their works in historical remembrance.
40 Ibid., p. 171. 19 Chapter 1
Women and Islam in Muslim Societies: Some General Issues
When the PDIP (Partai Demokrasi Indonesia Perjuangan, Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle) - a political party led by Megawati Soekarnoputri - won the general election in 1999, it produced a massive reaction in the political, social, and religious spheres. Most importantly, the PDIP’s triumph in general election also called attention to the issue of gender. Could Megawati Soekarnoputri become the first woman president in Indonesia, the world’s most populous Muslim country? Headlines of major newspapers in Indonesia such as The Jakarta Post, Kompas, Republika, Jawa Pos and others were flooded with the issue of whether a woman could or could not be the president of Indonesia. Opinion, especially that of Indonesian Muslims, was by and large divided into two opposing camps: those for or against her appointment. Such opinion occurred at most levels of society. At the political level, PPP (Partai Persatuan Pembangunan, the United Development Party) even issued a fatwa (religious statement) that “only a male Muslim be eligible for the presidency,”1 while other political parties such as the PKB (Partai Kebangkitan Nasional, National Awakening Party), stated that it would back Soekarnoputri in the presidential election.2 At the social level, after weeks of controversy, NU (Nahdlatul Ulama), a leading Islamic organization, through its chairman, Abdurrahman Wahid, stated that it supported a female presidency.3 Not only political parties and social Islamic organizations took part in the debate, ulama (Islamic clerics) were also responsive toward the debate; some agreed with the female candidature and some rejected it. An article in The Jakarta Post stated: Many Muslim [ulama] and politicians of rival political parties have insisted that Islam does not allow a woman to be in a position of leadership in society. It must be stressed, though, that this is by no means the stance Muslims in Indonesia are taking. Muslims [ulama] coming from Java, Sumatra, Bali and the eastern Indonesian islands during the past weekend, for example, said that they
1 The Jakarta Post, 16 June 1999. Internet, http://www.thejakartapost.com, (10 April 2002). 2 Ibid., 17 July 1999, Internet, http://www.thejakartapost.com, (10 April 2002). 3 Ibid., 17 July 1999, Internet, http://www.thejakartapost.com, (10 April 2002). NU is Indonesia’s largest Muslim organisation and it sponsored PKB for the 1999 ans subsequent national elections. 20 would support whoever was democratically elected to become the nation’s president.4
Within the debate, however, some ulama warned that religious and political interpretation should not be mingled and “they called on social religious organizations, including MUI [the Indonesian Council of Ulama], not to become entangled in political power struggles through issuing statements, edicts or actions made on behalf of Islam and the authority of [ulama].”5
The debate around whether or not Megawati could be elected as the president even went beyond national boundaries. An article in New York Times International entitled ‘Can she run Indonesia? It’s about Islam, or is it?’ also highlighted the divisiveness of the issue: “A Woman President: No Way!” shouted a recent newspaper headline, stating the case succinctly....The rector of [Islamic] boarding school, Noer Muhammad Iskandar, took a different (perhaps-less emotional view). “Why not?” he said. “Islamic laws allow a woman to be president. This business is a political interpretation of Islamic law, not a religious interpretation.” . . . The disagreement . . . goes all the way to the top of religious hierarchy. Three of Indonesia’s five leading clerics argue that a woman cannot be president; two disagree.6
The argument outlined by Iskandar indicates that the realm of religious interpretation should not coincide with the realm of political interpretation, that religion resides in private sphere while politics is public and that women’s role should not to limited within private domain only. Religious interpretation exclusively governs the relationship between human and God, and political interpretation human-to-human relations, and the first should not be manipulated in support of political interests.
It was not, ultimately, Megawati who became the fourth Indonesian president. After a long debate in the MPR (Majelis Permusyawaratan Rakyat, People’s Assembly), Abdurrahman Wahid, head of the nation’s biggest Islamic organization, NU (Nahdlatul Ulama), was elected as the president in 1999. In 2001, amid growing dissatisfaction with Wahid, Megawati was named his replacement. Megawati Soekarnoputri, a Muslim
4 Ibid., 29 June 1999, http://www.thejakartapost.com, (10 April 2002), italics mine. 5 Ibid., 28 June 1999, italics mine. 6 Seth Mydan, ‘Can She Run Indonesia, It’s about Islam, or Is It?’ The New York Times International, 20 June 1999. 21 herself, then became the first woman president of Indonesia, and her vice president Hamzah Haz of PPP, a party which earlier was opposed to the election of a female president.
The issue of gender in Muslim societies certainly has a long history of debate. The following discussion on the debate is exclusively drawn from literary sources written in English or Indonesian, and English or Indonesian translations of other languages. As Arabic functions as an important language in the Islamic discourses, many valuable sources are written in Arabic. However, sources originally written in Arabic, or other languages, but with no English or Indonesian translation will necessarily be excluded due to the author’s inability to read Arabic. The sources used are drawn from theoretical, historical, anthropological, sociological and religious studies on the notion of “the woman question” and the interpretation of political developments related to gender issues in Muslim communities. The differences within various Islamic schools of thought, such as Sunni, Shi’i and other schools, are of less concern since the emphasis is upon the gender issues raised within the tenets of Islam. That is, the Islamic background in which the issues take place and that construct the prevailing gender system in most Muslim communities.
The question of whether a Muslim woman can, or cannot be president has been addressed by several Islamic scholars. Fatima Mernissi, a Moroccan sociologist, is a Muslim scholar who has written several books on issues similar to those raised by the 1999 Indonesian election. Mernissi, in her The Forgotten Queens of Islam, argues that since the rise of Islam and after the death of the Prophet Muhammad, there have been Muslim women as heads of state7. In her book, Mernissi researches the history of these Muslim women rulers, and reinterprets the difference between the notion of imam, caliph, sultan (men) or sultana (women), and malik (king) or malika (queen). Imam and caliph have associations with the notion of a divine mission, and refer to those who are filling the place or succeeding the prophets.8 Sultan, sultana, malik or malika are not “tempered with religion, [and] are available to anybody…they do not imply or signify
7 Fatima Mernissi, The Forgotten Queens of Islam, Mary Jo Lakeland (trans), Polity Press, Cambridge, 1993. 8 Ibid., p. 32. 22 any divine mission.”9 However, becoming a caliph itself is not granted based on gender, as she writes: No woman who has held power has borne the title of caliph or imam. For that reason are we to say that there have never been [female] heads of state in Islam? Is the title alone a sufficient criterion of exclusion? If one regards having the title of caliph as the criterion for governing, one is going to eliminate the majority of heads of state, because few bore that title. Caliph is an extremely precious title reserved to a tiny minority, because of its religious and messianic dimension. Even today, just as in the past, many Muslim heads of state would like to bear this title, but only the exceptional few have the right to it.10
Mernissi argues that even men who are given the title caliph are not themselves automatically born with the right. A Caliph functions as the greater imam, which includes “the leading of prayers, legal consultation, adjudication, and municipal administration, while imam is the one who leads the prayers.”11 She further continues that “An imam is not necessarily [a] caliph”12 for a caliph leads people in terms of time, while an imam leads in terms of space. Thus, being an imam is merely one function of being a caliph. Because a woman’s ability to deal with a “lesser” imamate role is doubtful, some hastily come to the conclusion that her ability to deal with a “greater” one is considered out of the question.13 Such unsettling opinions of female imamate have long been in the centre of Muslims’ debates. An early Muslim scholar, Ibn Rushd, states: Opinion is very divided on the ability of woman to be imam for a congregation of men [that is, to lead the prayers]; some even question her ability to lead the prayers of congregation of women. . . . Shafi’i authorizes [her] to lead the prayers of women; Malik forbids it; as for Abu Tawr and Tabari, they allow her to be [an] imam in both cases. Nevertheless, the consensus of the majority [of the religious authority] is to forbid woman to be imam for congregation of men.14
Caliphate, by contrast, has even greater implications. A caliph is “both head of state and head of government and fills all the important cabinet posts.”15 He is also the successor of the prophets, or as Ibn Khaldun writes, “the guardian of divine law, namely al-anbiya
9 Ibid., p. 12. 10 Ibid., p. 10. 11 Ibid., p. 32. 12 Ibid., p. 31. 13 Ibid., p. 33. 14 Quoted in Mernissi, The Forgotten Queens of Islam, p. 33. See page 1 in the Introduction for controversy over Amina Wadud to be an imam for Friday prayer. 15 Mernissi, op. cit., p. 32. 23 [prophets] and those who fill their place, that is, the caliphs.”16 A caliph embodies “no personal narcissistic concern with power,” thus according to Mernissi, caliphate was “a dream difficult to realize after the Prophet’s death,” because caliphate was “a mythical vision of a happy community ideally directed by a caliph who was made wise by divine law - a law that reduced him to a humble captive of God’s project,”17 Caliphate then lies at the core of Islamic philosophy and exemplifies the harmonious relationship between humans and Allah (habluminnallah) and the relationship among humans (habluminnannas). However, Mernissi shows that a historical shift in definition has occurred. Caliph is now a hereditary position, similar to that of king, which is passed down from one generation to another. The caliphate is now comparable to a dynasty. Since the period of the Rashidun or the Rightly-Guided Caliphs (632 – 661), after the death of the Prophet Muhammad, the term caliph was transformed into “a new form of Middle Eastern empire defined and legitimised in Islamic terms.”18
With regard to the reference made by Mernissi on the difference between ideal caliph and head of state, several Indonesian Muslim scholars have made similar remarks. Related to the debate on whether a woman could be president, an NU local scholar, Ali Machsoen Musa, commented that “there were great differences between a president and Islamic caliph. A caliph in Islam, for instance, bears all of the executive, legislative and judicative power, while a president holds only the executive power.”19 Accordingly, the controversy surrounding the presidential candidacy of Megawati Sukarnoputri should not be merely an issue related to gender.
Indeed, women’s exclusion from the political sphere may be due to the historical root of the term caliph. However, one needs to make a distinction between the myth and the reality, between the religious sphere and the political sphere, between the Islam Risala and political Islam.20 Although a woman has yet to be a caliph, history shows that some
16 Quoted in Mernissi, The Forgotten Queens of Islam, p. 11. 17 Ibid. p. 13. 18 Ira M. Lapidus, A History of Islamic Societies, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1988, p. 54. 19 The Jakarta Post, 13 July 1999, Internet, http://www.thejakartapost.com. (10 April 2002). 20 Mernissi in ‘Introduction: Was Benazir Bhutto the First?’ in The Forgotten Queens of Islam, p. 5. In this book, Mernissi draws a distinction between religious Islam and political Islam, as she writes, “In order to avoid misunderstanding and confusion, let me say that in this book every time I speak of Islam without any other qualification, I am referring to political Islam, to Islam as the practice of power, to the acts of people animated by passions and motivated by interests, which is different from Islam Risala, the 24 of them managed to be sultanas and malikas.21 Latterly, women’s involvement in politics, for example in becoming a prime minister or a president, challenges the assumed exclusion of women in the political sphere and highlights past instances of Muslim women in power. Muslim scholars, including Mernissi herself, have asked whether or not Benazir Butto was the first Muslim woman ruler. The argument suggests that the answer is no, not the first. Women’s involvement in political Islam should be put in its socio-historical and cultural contexts. Mernissi quotes Ibn Khaldun to capture this context: Allah does not give orders directly to a person unless he knows the person is capable of carrying them out. . . . Most religious laws apply to women just as they apply to men. Nevertheless, the message is not directly addressed to them; one resorts to analogy in their case, because they have no power and are under the control of them.22
Mernissi uses the above quote as a reminder that along with the dissemination of the divine message, one should not forget the various ways people will interpret its meaning. Any issue should not be immediately considered a universal matter. It should be placed within a context, be it historical, social, societal, cultural or political, to avoid uniformity which may result in the domination of a category over another.
In Islamic societies, women’s involvement in political life is not the only issue for muslimah (Arabic, literally meaning Muslim women). Among others is the restriction of women to the domestic sphere: such restriction is currently being lobbied against, with demands for wider opportunities for Muslim women to participate in the public sphere. In fact, these are calls for social, legal and educational reform. Social reform covers gender relations, economic wellbeing, and political demands for equal access to public spaces and power, while legal reform includes women’s demand for the reinterpretation of the shari’a (Islamic law). According to Muslim women scholars, shari’a supports men’s definition of Muslim women’s status and roles. At the present interpretations of the shari’a are exclusively conducted by men, notwithstanding the issue. Educational reform demands that women have access to the religious texts and the opportunity to scrutinize them from the point of view of their own experiences and perspectives. In divine message, the ideal recorded in the Koran, the holy book. When I speak of the latter, I will identify it as Islam Risala or spiritual Islam.” 21 Ibid., p. 13. 22 Quoted in Mernissi, The Forgotten Queens of Islam, p. 33. 25 order to achieve such reforms many Muslim scholars are now demanding new readings of the Qur’an.
Reinterpretation of the Qur'an
Muslims perceive the Qur’an as the book from which interpretations of Islam derive. It is also the main reference point from which Muslims always live their ‘Islamicity’23 (a notion of Islam). Although it does provide principles and guidelines for Islamic spirituality, the Qur’an also serves as the main source of how Muslims should live their social life. Not only does it talk about faith and belief - a realm that grounds the relation between a Muslim and Allah (habluminnallah), it also talks about social spheres (habluminnannas) such as society, culture, social order, philosophy, economics, politics, customary law, view of life, education, and so forth.
The need to reinterpret the Qur’an is perhaps the most important demand that many Muslim scholars, men or women, have ever articulated. The motive is not to question the sura (chapter) scripted in the holy book, but the interpretation that provides the exegesis of the sura. The Qur’an, though considered the main source of guidance as to how Muslims should behave and act, is not a book of law.24 As the book of revelation, the Qur’an contains the ideals of Islamicity, thus it is not without reason that Muslims believe the Qur’an is the righteous scripture as inferred by its alternative title Al Qur'anul Karim. Qur’an itself literally means reading, not so much “to read” but more “the reading” (the text).25 In reading a text, one cannot separate what is read from and the reader who reads. Although the Qur’an itself does not change through time, it does not necessarily mean that the reader and the process of reading do not change either. One should not forget that a reader is located within a set of circumstances, be they historical, social, political, or cultural, which result in a particular reading process and
23 Fazlur Rahman in Islam and Modernity: Transformation of an Intellectual Tradition, The University of Chicago Press, Chicago, 1982, p. 22. Rahman uses Islamicity to refer to the notion of Islam. 24 John Esposito, ‘Introduction: Women in Islam and Muslim societies’ in Islam, Gender and Social Change, John Esposito and Yvonne Haddad (eds), pp. i – xxviii. 25 See ‘Pengenalan Dasar Al Qur’an’ (Basic Understanding of the Qur’an) in Al Qur’an Terjemah Indonesia, PT. Sari Agung, Jakarta, 2001, pp. xi – xxii. 26 understanding of what has been read. In the reading of the Qur’an, the reader is the interpreter, and whatever comes out of the reading process is the interpretation. Who the interpreter is and what his/her position is in a sociohistorical context, becomes a matter of importance. Wolfgang Iser states that “[r]eading is an activity that is guided by the text; this must be processed by the reader, who is then, in turn affected by what he has processed.”26 As suggested by Iser, reading is thus an asymmetrical process where “a text cannot adapt itself to each reader with whom it comes in contact.”27 It is the reader who should adapt toward the text, for it is the reader who moves, while the text stays the same. The new reading that Iser suggests necessarily put into consideration “the poles of text, [and] reader, together with the interaction that occurs between them.” Iser identifies that from the interaction between these three parts, “effects and responses” coming from the reading are not exclusively properties of the text or the reader. Rather, such interactions result in a change where “the text represents a potential effect that is realized in the reading process.”28
In the case of reading the Qur’an, reading itself becomes interpretation. Isn’t to read to understand what one is reading? Susan Sontag writes: To understand is to interpret. And to interpret is to restate the phenomenon, in effect to find an equivalent for it. Thus, interpretation is not (as most people assume) an absolute value, a gesture of mind situated in some timeless realm of capabilities. Interpretation must itself be evaluated, within a historical view of human consciousness.29
Indeed, what Sontag and Iser suggest in The Act of Reading is against the traditional method of interpreting, which suggests one must uncover the “hidden” meaning located somewhere in the text. In traditional interpretation, a reader looks for a single “hidden” meaning within a text, which might be considered as the only truth. The meaning is conveyed only in the text. On this understanding, the reader and the act of reading are ignored. Accordingly, one interpretation achieves greater currency than other interpretations. And whoever reaches the so-called “correct” interpretation can easily claim that -they have grasped the “truth”. The consequence of this might be - as Iser writes, “the truth of the text is a ‘thing’-which is born out by the fact that it exists
26 Wolfgang Iser, The Act of Reading: A Theory of Aesthetic Response, The John Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, 1978, p. 163. 27 Ibid., p. 166. 28 Ibid., p. ix. 29 Ibid., p. 11. 27 independently of the text.”30 The traditional interpretation method is therefore problematic. First, it asserts a universal validity that grants a superior position to a particular interpretation, including the interpreter(s) who have arrived at a particular conclusion. Second, since a claim to the truth has already been made, there is an underlying assumption that there is no use in rereading or reinterpreting the text, since the truth is sealed once and for all. The text, therefore, loses its vital feature, which is its communicative ability.31 When a text cannot communicate anymore, one possible result is that the text is abandoned by readers because it is no longer useful. It stops in the past, having no opportunity to be related to the present, let alone to continue moving into the future.
When the text is Al Qur’an such reading/interpreting becomes very problematic. If one reads Al Qur’an using traditional norms of interpretation, one might think that Al Qur’an is something of the past, having no relevant correlation with the present and the future, especially when one needs to justify a circumstance occurring in the present. What should a Muslim refer to, when they are encountering a legal or socio-political concern which needs to be justified, when The Word of God is no longer able to act as a source of reference, having lost its ability to communicate? Moreover, within the framework of traditional interpretation, such readings could serve as legitimations of the interpreters who believe they are the only ones to have grasped “the truth” of the holy book. It is worth noting the significant role the interpreters plays in the norm of traditional interpretation, as Esposito states: The Word of God . . . was interpreted and applied in socio-historical contexts by human beings. Using reason and influenced by diverse geographic locations and customs, early jurists developed a body of laws, which while somewhat uniform in essentials, reflected the difference of juristic reasoning and social customs of a patriarchal society. Islamic law is thus the product of divine law [(shari’a)] as understood (fiqh), interpreted and applied by male religious scholars in the past and preserved in legal texts and manuals.32
30 Ibid., p. 5. 31 Ibid., p. 13. 32 John Esposito in ‘Women and Islam in Muslim Societies’ in Islam, Gender and Social Change, p. xii. Italics mine. 28 In Islam itself, there is a conception called ijtihad,33 meaning using logical reasoning to view and judge a problem not directly stated, or sometimes one that is not conferred in the Qur’an. However, the justification of the problem must be referred to the scripture (the Qur’an) as the main source. Other sources would be the Sunna (preferable acts and behaviour suggested for Muslims following those exemplified by the Prophet Muhammad) and the Hadith (the traditions of the Prophet Muhammad), scholarly writings, and debates. The word tafsir (Arabic, meaning interpretation) is widely used by Muslim scholars to interpret Islamic ideals referred to in the Qur’an. Whether one tafsir can be considered the authentic one, a Muslim could only say Wallahuallam, meaning ‘only God knows.’ The president of the Indonesian Council of Ulama himself admits that a tafsir cannot record perfectly the meaning of the original.34 Among the 6236 verses in the Qur’an, only 200 verses bear straightforward commands and prohibitions.35 To understand the rest of the verses, one must rely on numerous interpretations. In the Indonesian language alone, there are at least seven tafsir regarded as sound.
Since the death of the Prophet Muhammad numerous interpretations of the Qur’an have been made. (First by the Four Rightly-Guided Caliphs, Abu Bakar, Umar bin Khattab, Usman bin Affan and Ali bin Abu Tholib, and then by the ulama after them. Barbara Stowasser, in Women in the Qur'an, Traditions, and Interpretation, groups these numerous interpretations into three categories: the conservatives or traditionalists, the fundamentalists (a problematic term that Muslims themselves do not apply), and the modernists. Stowasser writes: The conservatives or traditionalists view Islam as inherited, balanced system of faith and action based on, and sanctioned by, scripture and its interpretation though the verifying authority of community consensus. Conservatism takes a defensive stand against modernity, which it perceives in terms of Westernization and hence, cultural domination.36
33 Barbara Stowasser, Women in the Qur’anic Traditions, and Interpretation, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1994, p. 196. Stowasser defines ijtihad as independent interpretation of scripture; independent, scripture-based, judgement in a legal or theological question. 34 The Speech of K.H. Hasan Basri, the president of the Indonesian Council of Ulama, Al Qur’an Terjemah Indonesia, p. x. 35 Ibid., p. xv. 36 Ibid., p. 6. 29 The “fundamentalists”,37 as opposed to modernists, attempt to apply past instances of Qur’anic ideals to the reality of the modern world. The fundamentalists implement the earlier interpretations of Islamicity to present day situations. Stowasser further continues: The fundamentalists are scriptularist activists who see themselves as the conscience of the Islamic way of life, soldiers in Islam’s battle against the forces of darkness without and within, whose ambition parallel, in no small part, those of America’s Puritan tradition and Europe’s Radical Reformation. Fundamentalists insist on the literal interpretation of the scripture and translate the sacred text directly into contemporary thought and action; thereby, they often bypass and disregard the work of the centuries of theological-legal experts. Adverse both to diversity in local customs and also the acculturationist encrustations of the past, fundamentalists aim to formulate the true Qur’anic message in, and for, the modern world. This involves the rejection of the past and present customary adaptations, and centers their paradigm on the Qur’anic text by means of ijtihad (individual scripturalist interpretation) in rejection of the conservative ‘ulama’-formulated community consensus. And in doing so, stand in political opposition and incur the wrath of the established authority in almost all Muslim nations.38
Identical to the traditionalists, the fundamentalists also reject the notion of modernity as a property of the “Western” (meaning for fundamentalists, anything that is not Islamic) structures and practices, which are often viewed as “immoral and corrupt.”39
The last category of interpretation is the modernist one, which Stowasser discusses in the section of her book entitled “Modern Muslim Interpretations.” Unlike the traditionalists and the fundamentalists, the modernists do not entirely reject the Western notion of modernity. They, in fact, come from a tradition that is “familiar with Western history, politics, culture and literature.”40 Modernist interpreters such as Husayn Haikal who wrote Hayat Muhammad (The Life of Muhammad), even devotes himself to “find[ing] ‘the new scientific way,’ ‘the modern method’ in writing an historical-critical study on the Prophet Muhammad that renders to the young now under the spell of Western culture, an image of their Prophet both culturally authentic and . . . scientifically sound.”41 However, the modernists do not essentially ground their framework in Western modernity without challenging it. They are still aware of the
37 Fundamentalist is a term not commonly used by Muslims. 38 Ibid., p. 7. 39 Ibid., p. 7. 40 Ibid., p. 119. 41 Ibid., p. 120. 30 practices of Western Orientalists. Stowasser therefore defines modernist interpretation as an interpretation “presented as historical accounts but [which] also address[es] the errors and falsification committed by Western Orientalists.”42 It seems that the modernists work within the Western frame of thought, yet they also point out that the Western view of Islam might be misleading and “lead to mistaking medieval Islamic traditions for Orientalist fabrications.”43
Indeed, it is new readings or new interpretations that give credit to the real value of the Qur’an. New Qur’anic readings, readings situated in historical, political, social, and cultural realities, provide a communicative ability that a text like the Qur’an must have, in order to prove its ability to stand the test of time. Recognizing changes in interpretation does not imply changes in the essence and form of the text. New readings (and this means plurality of views) provide a means by which Muslim communities can cope with the contemporary reality of dynamic and diverse Muslim societies. Stowasser states that some modernist Muslim scholars have taken the idea of reinterpretation to a bigger arena, which is the “re-interpretation of Islam, which includes new approaches to the Qur’anic text itself.”44
Social Reforms
There is a generalised world-view, more particularly in the West, that women in Muslim societies are powerless and marginalized. Esposito argues that: The study of women in Islam and Muslim societies is complex, reflecting the diverse and varied realities of Muslim women and Muslim societies throughout the ages. Alongside ideals embodied in the Qur’an and the traditions (hadiths) of the Prophet Muhammad, one must look at the actual condition of Muslim women in diverse time periods and sociohistorical contexts. The status of women in Islam was profoundly affected not only by the fact that Islamic belief interacted with and was informed by diverse cultures, but also, and of equal importance, that the primary interpreters of Islamic law and tradition were men (religious scholars or ulama) from those cultures.45
42 Ibid., p. 120. 43 Ibid., p. 121. 44 Italics, my emphasis, ibid., p. 121. 45 Ibid., p. xi – xii. 31 Many Muslim women scholars, such as Riffat Hassan, Amina Wadud, Amira Sonbol, Fatima Mernissi, concur with Esposito’s critique and challenge the broad applicability of terms such as powerless and marginalized.
Changes have occurred in the last few decades in the Muslim world and women have appeared more in the public arena and some of them have occupied leading public roles. In Saudi Arabia, for example, where women were once excluded from access to education equal educational opportunities for both sexes has taken place.46 Women in countries such as Indonesia, Malaysia and Turkey who have enjoyed relatively more freedom in the public sphere than their sisters in Arab counties push even more strongly for greater public space. The election of Megawati Soekarnoputri; the Nobel laureate Shirin Ebadi; Prime Minister Begum Khaleda Zia of Bangladesh and Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto of Pakistan also serve as examples of Muslim women taking leading roles in the public domain. Nonetheless, the acknowledgement of their extraordinary role in the Muslim world indeed does not automatically guarantee similar liberation for their Muslim sisters elsewhere. In some countries, Egypt, Sudan and Somalia for instance, FGM (female genital mutilation) is still widely practised and enforced in the name of Islam.47 And, despite enjoying equal educational opportunities as men (see above), women in Saudi Arabia still do not have the right to drive a car.
Thus the lives of Muslim women vary from being powerless, segregated or deprived of basic human and religious rights, to enjoying equal or sometimes more freedom that their non-Muslim sisters in different societies. These women are situated in a complex
46 See report from Ministry of Education, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia on education for girls section, Internet, http://www.moe.gov.sa, (15 November 2005). 47 In Indonesia, FGM receives a very little attention. See Andrée Feillard and Lies Marcoes, ‘Female Circumcision in Indonesia’, Archipel 56, vol. 1, pp. 337 – 367. In this article, Feillard and Marcoes discuss about the existence of female circumcision for Indonesian Muslim (baby) girls. Perceived to be inexistent, it does exist and is often done in secret or discreetly. However, until today, this practice remains unpopular and still lacks of documentation. Its operation varies from region to region, from “cutting off the tiny part of the clitoris” to “piercing with a needle or the edge of a knife to extract a single drop of blood” (p. 359). The question whether it is an obligation in terms of religion (Islam) or adat (culture) remains unanswered. Also, Indonesian female circumcision might also be viewed as an elitist approach to the notion of equality as such practice is conducted by few Muslims. It alo should be noted however that female circumcision in Indonesia might differ from the practice occurring in some African countries in which 15 % results in infabulation while the vast majority (85%) consists of clitoridectomy or excision. See Female Genital Mutilation, Amnesty International, Internet, http:// http://www.amnesty.org/ailib/intcam/femgen/fgm1.htm, (16 March 2006). 32 web of economic, political, social and cultural structures of which religion is only one aspect. The feminist movement not only brought a tremendous change to Western women, - but to Muslim women as well. The Muslim women’s movement has taken root in most parts of the Muslim world and the study of Muslim women in the Third World is no longer the exclusive domain of Western scholars, as many Muslim women scholars have begun speaking from within their own context. In Egypt, for instance, Malak Hifni Nassef, Mai Ziyada, Huda Sha’rawi, Doria Safik, Nawal El-Saadawi, and Alifa Riffat are the pioneers of such movements, defining and articulating the “territory” and the “discourses of female subjectivity” from a Muslim female perspective.48
The attempts by women to be articulators of their own identity continues, even within harsh regimes such as the Taliban (Afghanistan -1996 to 2001). Living in areas ruled by the Taliban, and from behind the burqa (a head-to-toe veiling with a mesh grid over the eyes, mandated by the regime),49 women consistently struggled to maintain their identity. As Cooke writes: “Afghan women, despite their passive portrayal, have long been active . . . joining other women in the Muslim world who have quietly declared their jihad, Arabic for spiritual and military struggle and sometimes considered one of the central tenets of the faith.”50 Their struggle - may be called “gender jihad”51- is a struggle in which: [W]omen who have long been dealing with the class-patriarchy conundrum within the global system are deconstructing history and religious texts to find
48 Leila Ahmed, Women and Gender in Islam: Historical Roots of A Modern Debate, Yale University Press, New Haven, 1992, p. 183. In this book, Ahmed records the historical discourses that shape women and gender in Middle Eastern societies. Ahmed argues that these discourses “shape and are shaped by specific moments and specific societies” (p.2), thus it is necessary to look at the root of such discourses socially, institutionally and verbally. 49 Amy Waldman, ‘Behind the Burka: Women Subtly Fought Taliban’, The New York Times, 19 November 2001. 50 Miriam Cooke, ‘Islamic Feminism before and after September 11th’, Duke Journal of Gender Law and Policy, Summer 2002, p. 228. 51 Hibba Abugideiri, ‘The Renewed Woman of American Islam: Shifting Lenses Toward “Gender Jihad”’, The Muslim World, vol. 91, Spring 2001. According to Abugideiri, “Gender jihad seeks greater complimentary between the sexes, and is based on the Qur’an. In short, it is a struggle for gender parity in Muslim society in the name of the divine justice; it is a struggle to end a long-standing gender regime that has paralysed Muslim women, preventing them from being Muslim leaders without having to add the qualifier “female” or “woman.” In fact, ‘gender jihad’ . . . calls into question the very legitimacy of Islamic leadership as a male-dominated sphere of activity” (pp. 2 – 3). In her article ‘Between Secular and Islamic Feminism’s Reflections on the Middle East and Beyond,’ Margot Badran states that the term gender jihad was first introduced by Omar Rashied of South Africa in his struggles against multiple oppressions facing the country in the peak of the anti-apartheid campaign in the 1980s, Journal of Middle East Women’s Studies, Winter 2005, 1, p. 16. 33 spaces of empowerment for women. Some are joining Islamist groups and are working within their logic; others are resolutely rejecting implication of such movements. All, however, are learning how to situate themselves at the nexus of religion, place and feminist practice. While challenging traditional interpretations of authoritative texts that have served to construct norms that discriminate against women, they continue to defend their communities against detractors. These women, among them Afghans, are not victims but rather strong individuals who are balancing national, transnational and feminist agendas in an attempt to construct a just society.52
Throughout history Muslim women have struggled against victimization, but historians have not emphasized such activity and their struggles are shadowy in the history of Muslim societies. The work of Assia Djebar, entitled Far From Madina (1991),53 can be seen as her effort to document the female engagement in Muslim society in Madina during and after the life of the Prophet Muhammad. Although this book is a mix of Djebar’s own stories, scenes, visions and recreations, Djebar also uses the works of the Muslim chroniclers in the first two or three centuries, such as Ibn Hism, Ibn Sa’d and Tabari,54 to support her argument of early female activism.
Mernissi writes that one of the conditions grounding the Muslim women’s movement is the blurring of class and sex privileges, resulting from the greater access women have to university level state-funded education.55 Although Mernissi writes from the Moroccan experience of the late seventies to early eighties her argument is applicable to the present day situation in most Muslim countries. Even in a country like Saudi Arabia where women enjoy less public space, in 2003 – 2004 female students made up more than a half of all university students. Indonesia has slightly less than half despite the fact that Indonesian Muslim females enjoy more public space than their sisters in Arab countries.56 What is taking place in Saudi Arabia is most likely a growing trend in other
52 Ibid., p. 231. 53 Assia Djebar, Far From Madina, Dorothy S. Blair (trans), Quartet Books, London, Translation copyright 1994. 54 The author’s foreword in Far From Madina. In the foreword, Djebar argues that although women in this early Islamic society make a brief appearance their contribution presence in Islamic history deserves acknowledgement. In those times the female presence tended to be overlooked and women were hardly documented. Women, the Family, and Divorce Laws in Islamic History, edited by Amira El Azhary Sonbol also records the female presence in Islamic societies such as in Egypt and Turkey in the Ottoman periods. Sonbol’s work is more historical than Djebar’s. However, these two books show that from the periods of early Islam, Muslim women have never ceased to engage in the dynamics of Islamic societies. 55 See Fatima Mernissi, ‘Introduction to the Revised Edition’ in Beyond the Veil: Male-Female Dynamics in Modern Muslim Society, Revised Edition, Indiana University Press, Bloomington, 1987, pp. xii – xiii. 56 See report from Ministry of Education, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia on higher education section, Internet, http://www.moe.gov.sa, (15 November 15). 34 Muslim countries: the eradication of sexual discrimination in terms of access to university education.
Mernissi comments that the expansion of educational opportunities for both male and females saw “the emergence of a new class: educated youth of both sexes.” This new class was and continues to be the result of three interplaying factors. First was the change of demographic conditions indicated by the “youthification” of the population. Second, the emergence of the welfare state: according to Mernissi the latter was crucial since as a political factor it changed the way the ruling class and the ruled class saw themselves. As Mernissi writes: A real revolution in the conception of the state had changed in the way ruled and rulers looked at themselves and political actors, at least as regards the welfare obligation of the state. As corrupt and inefficient as it proved to be, the national government did nevertheless carry out a mass educational program.57
The final factor according to Mernissi was cultural. This element changed how women in the late 70s and early 80s perceived themselves in society, for they began to realize their role in the socio-political order of their societies. These three factors encouraged women to be politically active in their own society. Nevertheless, such awareness did not exclusively belong to the educated class, as this change affected non-educated women as well. This politicisation of women brought women to a new perception of their own problems, an awareness which is as much relevant now as then, and which is not exclusive to Morocco where Mernissi bases her studies. Menissi argues; “Muslim women, illiterate and educated alike, are coming to diagnose and verbalize their problems previously identified and labelled as being emotional - as being essentially political.”58
The women’s movement in Muslim societies not only challenges the allocation of acknowledged political power, it also demands the redefinition of power sharing. As more and more Muslim women open the gate of the mutable realms of power and
For Indonesia, see Departemen Pendidikan Nasional (Ministry of National Education), Statistics section. The number given is actually for number of university graduates as a table referring to number of university students by sex is unavailable, respectively percentage of the graduates by sex will closely correspond to the percentage of students enrolled in universities, Internet, http://www.depdiknas.go.id (16 November 2005). 57 Ibid., p. xxiii. 58 Ibid., p. xiii. 35 religion, they affirm the equal gender relation that Allah (Arabic word for God) indeed promises in the book of revelation: that the nobility of a human being lies in his or her faith.59 It is this particular verse that foregrounds the possibility of the Muslim women’s movement. The equality granted by Allah becomes the basis of equality in gender relations. It is certainly this concept that Muslim women feminists have been articulating since the early twentieth century.60 In her autobiography - Dream of Trespass: Tales of A Harem Girlhood - Mernissi is constantly reminded by her grandmother that “Allah made us equal.”61 Her reminder is also a constant message to all women that they are created as men’s equal. Thus, in her attempt to locate the core of gender inequality, Mernissi comes to the conclusion that “if women’s rights are a problem for some modern Muslim men, it is neither because of the [Qur’an] nor the Prophet, nor the Islamic tradition, but simply because those rights conflict with the interests of a male elite.”62
The discourse about women’s movement in Muslim societies is indeed one challenging the male elite of the patriarchal societal system, changing the gender relations within which this discourse takes place. The discourse of equality articulated by Muslim feminists is profoundly rooted in the Qur’an itself. Based on this new approach to Qur’anic interpretations, gender relations in Islam need to be contested and redefined. Among the social reforms that the Muslim women’s movement demands is an acknowledgement that the status of Muslim women is diverse, changing and distinctive.63 Other reforms attack misconceptions about the so-called inalterable gender
59 The Holy Qur’an: Text, Translation and Commentary, Abdullah Yusuf Ali (trans), New Revised Edition, Amana Corporation, Brentwood, Maryland, 1989, (p. 1432). Qur’an, sura 49, verse 13 says “O mankind! We created you from a single (pair) of a male and female, and made unto you Nations and tribes, that ye may know each other. Verily the most honoured of you in the sight of Allah is the most righteous of you.” Ali explains this verse by stating that before Allah all are one, thus equal, and the one getting most honour is the most righteous. According to Ali, tribes, races and nations are just labelled so that people can be known by their differing characteristics. The Indonesian translation may carry a slight difference though the basic concept is the same. My own translation of the Indonesian version is “among you, the most noble person in the sight of Allah is the faithful one.” (p. 847) in Al Qur’an dan Terjemahnya, The Ministry of Religion of the Republic of Indonesia (trans), PT. Sari Agung, Jakarta, 2001. 60 Leila Ahmed, ‘First Feminists,’ Women and Gender in Islam, p. 169– 188. 61 Fatima Mernissi, Dreams of Tresspass: Tales of A Harem Girlhood, p. 9. 62 Fatima Mernissi, ‘Pref ace to the English Edition’ in The Veil and the Male Elite: A Feminist Interpretation of Women’s Rights in Islam, p. ix. In this book, Mernissi traces back through history finding that gender inequality in Islam relies on a tradition of misogyny. 63 Valentine M. Moghadam, Modernizing Women: Gender and Social Change in the Middle East, L. Rienner, Boulder, Colorado, 1993, pp. 5 – 8. 36 differences that regard women as different beings, resulting in the intensification of social barriers to female achievement. Women’s access to public space must be opened wide in order that women’s participation be accepted without prejudice. The improvement of the social status of women can be achieved by exercising a complete reorganization of women’s empowerment toward themselves: women’s control over their own selves, defining themselves in their own context, be it public or domestic. These are some of the social reforms for which Muslim feminists have been persistently agitating.
The Politics of the Veil64
The veil is probably the most discussed issue relating to concerns of gender and Islam. The English translation of hijab (Arabic, literally meaning curtain or “descended”)65 is inadequate to suggest the complexities and various meanings of hijab. Nonetheless the term will be used in the following discussion without ignoring the fact that hijab has more cultural, social and religious roots than its English translation infers, and that there is no single view of Muslim women writers on such issue.
There are various interpretations of veiling: some scholars give positive value to the practice of veiling for woman, others are against such practice. Some consider veiling as merely related to the way Muslim women dress, while Mernissi, for example, takes up this matter as being more than just a dress code. Mernissi places veiling in its historical context, returning it to its Qur’anic origin. Verse 53 of sura 33 is the first revelation of the conception of hijab, as it was revealed after the Prophet’s wedding to Zaynab Bint Jash. Exploring the significance of its conception within the history of revelation,
64 The veil here means the Islamic veil. In this respect, the Islamic veil and veiling are used interchangeably. In the later discussion, the Islamic veil will be addressed as simply the veil. As suggested by Fadwa El Guindi in Veil Modesty Privacy and Resistance, Berg, Oxford, 1999, the veil can appear in various forms from khimar (a head cover), jilbab (a long loose garment covering from head to toe, and face and feet are shown) to burqa (covering from head to toe including the face). The meaning of the veil is also ambiguous. At certain times and places, it may refer to headscarf, a transparent head cover, even a very stylish headdress. Limiting the veil to a single reference obfuscates its various forms, different historical, social and cultural contexts, as well as political articulations. Veiling is the veil donning. The authors cited in the discussion are mainly from Middle Eastern countries. 65 Fatima Mernissi, The Veil and the Male Elite, p. 85 37 Mernissi strongly argues that the descent of the message from Allah to the Prophet Muhammad is metaphorically represented by the descending “veil.” She also suggests that the veil symbolizes the separation between men; between the Prophet and Anas Ibn Malik who was at the entrance of the Prophet’s wedding chamber. The verse says: O ye who Believe! Enter not the Prophet’s houses - until leave is given you - for a meal, (and then) not (so early as) to wait for its preparation: but when ye are invited, enter; and when you have taken your meal, disperse, without seeking familiar talk. Such (behaviour) annoys the Prophet: he is ashamed to dismiss you, but Allah is not ashamed (to tell you) the truth. And when ye ask (his ladies) for anything you want, ask them before a screen (hijab) that makes for greater purity for your hearts and for theirs. Nor is it right for you that ye should annoy Allah’s messenger, or that ye should marry his widows after him at any time. Truly such a thing is in Allah’s sight an enormity.66
Based on the historicity of veiling, Mernissi draws the conclusion that the definition of hijab is three-dimensional: visual, spatial and ethical. Generally, hijab means to “hide something from sight,” “to separate, to mark a border, to establish a threshold,” and to “belong to the realm of the forbidden.”67 Moreover, Mernissi explains that the visual dimension of the hijab is, among other things the curtain that separates the umma (Arabic, meaning community of believers) and their caliph.68 Although Mernissi omits to mention that this does not literally mean that the caliph is seen behind the curtain, it does entail a separation between a caliph and his umma, for a caliph is the head of an elite class governing the community. A caliph is therefore visually separable from the umma. The spatial dimension marks the division between two spaces that become impassable. It metaphorically separates two opposing ideas. In Sufism, hijab means the veil that “blocks the knowledge of the divine.”69 For the ethical dimension, the veil may mean “the punishment,” hiding God from man, describing “the inability of certain individuals to perceive God.”70 In the case of the Quraysh, for example, their worship of idols likewise separates them from the Muslim worship of Allah, as evinced in the Qur’an verse 5, sura 41. In Mernissi’s opinion, it is odd that the early negative connotation of hijab as “the very sign of a person who is damned, excluded from the privileges and spiritual grace to which the Muslim has access, is claimed in our day as a
66 The Holy Qur'an: Text, Translation and Commentary, New Revised Edition, Abdullah Yusuf Ali, Amana Corporation, Brentwood, Maryland, 1989. 67 Mernissi, The Veil and the Male Elite, p. 93. 68 Mernissi, The Forgotten Queens of Islam, p. 35. 69 Mernissi, The Veil and the Male Elite, p. 95. 70 Ibid., p. 96. 38 symbol of Muslim identity, manna for the Muslim women.”71 Mernissi’s interpretation of hijab, and the various discourses of contemporary studies considering its meaning, indeed show that hijab is not independent of changing contexts.
Definitions of the conception of hijab vary, depending on the context and circumstances of the interpreters. Such variation is perhaps rooted in a still current controversy over whether hijab is Islamic or not. Any attempt to claim that the veil is -or is not Islamic should be based on a careful scrutiny of the verses in the Qur’an - sura 24: Al Nur: 31, and sura 33: Al Ahzab: 59 in which the ideal dress for women is mentioned. 72 Such debates emerge, in particular, from the sentences: “they should draw their khimar over their bosom,” and “they should cast their jilbab over their persons.” According to Fadwa El Guindi, at the time of the revelation khimar was a head cover, while jilbab was a long, loose garment.73 Whether khimar should be interpreted to mean to cover a woman’s bosom, or as a garment simply taken and used to cover the bosom, is still a controversial linguistic interpretation. al-Sayyid Marsot posits: [T]he passages in the Qur’an that deal with clothing simply specify that women were to cover their cleavage, and that both men and women were to cover their pudenda and dress modestly. It is only in the tafsir, the interpretations written by male scholars, using Bukhari and Muslim’s collections of the Prophet’s sayings as proof for their allegations that we find a saying attributed to the Prophet in which he silently approved the garb of a woman who covered everything except for her face and hands. Yet much as Bukhari and Muslim laboured to sift through quotes handed down by various people which were allegedly said by the Prophet, it is necessary to remember that these men wrote their works two centuries after the Prophet’s death, and that human beings are capable of error. Anything of importance is repeated in the Qur’an, so should the clothing of women have been of the least importance the Qur’an would have been spelled it out in no uncertain terms. What we need to spell out, is that clothing is culture specific, although it does make a statement.74
71 Ibid., p. 97. 72 The Holy Qur’an, sura 24: Al Nur: 31, translated by Abdullah Yusuf Ali, says: “And say to the believing women that they should lower their gaze and guard their modesty; that they should not display their beauty and ornaments except what (must ordinarily) appear. Thereof; that they should draw their veils [khimar] over their bosom and not display their beauty except to their husbands, their fathers, their husbands’ fathers, their sons, their husbands’ sons, their brothers’ or their brothers’ sons.” Another verse, sura 33: Al Ahzab: 59 says, “O Prophet, thy wives and daughters, and the believing women, that they should cast their outer garments [jilbab] over their persons (when abroad): that is most convenient, that they should be known (as such) and not molested. And Allah is Of-Forgiving, Most Merciful.” 73 Fadwa El Guindi, Veil Modesty Privacy Resistance, Berg, Oxford, 1999, p. 55. 74 Afaf Lutfi al-Sayyid Marsot, ‘Entrepreneurial Women’ in Feminism and Islam Legal and Literary Perspectives, Mai Yamani (ed), Itacha Press, Reading UK, 1996, pp. 35 – 36. 39 Since the passages are read in a particular time and space they cannot radically escape from the socio-historical contexts of the time they are revealed. By examining the temporality of the sura, Mernissi, in The Veil and the Male Elite, argues that one reason hijab was ordained for Medina because it was used to protect Muslim women against men’s harassments that forced them to practice ta’arrud - committing an act of zina (adultery). The verse 33: 59 ordaining jilbab was revealed at a time when life in the community of Medina - a mix of Muslims and non Muslims - was very harsh, particularly on the streets where women were easily harassed. Jilbab was then used to differentiate between Muslim women to whom ta’arrud was forbidden, and women believed to be slaves to whom ta’arrud was permitted.75 The notion of the veil for Muslim women is inseparable from the concept of ’awra (parts of a woman’s body that must be hidden). To veil means to hide ‘awra (Arabic, literally meaning “nudity”), it is also a response to “sexual aggression, to ta’arrud.”76 Therefore, the earlier signification of hijab that it functioned as a sign of protection and differentiation becomes one among a myriad considerations when examining the symbolism of the veil. The context in which the verses containing the veil are-revealed must be taken into account. The veil is no longer simply a matter of clothing, it has gone beyond a cloth covering a woman’s body and embodies more than just an ethico-religious significance. The veil occupies a locus - a position in which trajectories of social, cultural and religious attachments meet.
El Guindi’s Veil77 provides a profound and thorough examination of the veil, as it covers the trajectories of dress, body and culture and how its different significations appear. The ongoing debate on the veil emerges from the lack of historical findings on how women dressed before Islam and during the life of the Prophet Muhammad. What can be currently understood is that the veil is not exclusive to Islam: it existed long before Islam emerged. On the notion of the originality of the veil, or hijab, El Guindi argues:
75 Fatima Mernissi, The Veil and The Male A Feminist Interpretation of Women’s Rights in Islam, Mary Jo Lakeland (trans), Addison – Wesley Publication Company, Inc, Reading, Massachusetts, 1991, pp. 180 – 181. Mernissi also admits that even the meaning of jilbab vary is not clearly defined. According to Lisan al-’ Arab dictionary, “it can designate numerous pieces of clothing from a simple chemise to a cloak. . . . [it may mean] a very large piece of cloth worn by a woman; . . . a piece of cloth that a woman uses to cover her head and bosom.” 76 Ibid., p. 182. 77 Fadwa El Guindi, Veil: Modesty, Privacy, Resistance, Oxford, New York, 1999. 40 As far as is presently known, Islam did not invent or introduce the custom of veiling. Veiling for men and women had existed in the region prior to Islam – in Hellenic, Judaic, Byzantine, and Balkan cultures. Whether by adoption, reinvention or independent invention, veiling . . . has evolved a distinct function and characteristic meaning from that in the northern Mediterranean regions.78
Moreover, El Guindi suggests that in examining the conception of veiling, as revealed in the passages of the Qur’an, aspects of culture and society must be emphasized beyond the sole factor of gender. Factors such as “privacy, social and kinship relations, ranks, and the elements of building a new community [during the life of the Prophet]”79 are additional emphases to the notions of body and sexuality in respect to culture.
Commonly for many in the West the veil is immediately correlated with “seclusion” and “politically charged with connotations of the inferior ‘other,’ implying and assuming a subordination and inferiority of Muslim women.”80 Some American feminists still have problems in seeing the veil other than as oppression. Eleanor Smell, president of The Feminist Majority Foundation believes that donning a veil because of imposition or individual choice is submission, which for many Americans is equal to oppression as it represents shackles of cultural and individual behaviour.81 Others simply look it as a symbol of conservative Islam.82 Accordingly, within a Western framework, the veil becomes the most prominent symbol of “both the oppression of women (or, in the language of the day, Islam’s degradation of women) and the backwardness of Islam.” From the late eighteenth century to the mid-twentieth century, the majority of Muslim countries were colonized by Western powers. The veil in colonial discourse was often used as “the open target of colonial attack and the spearhead of the assault on Muslim societies,”83 an assault which insists unveiling is necessary as it is “the essential first step in the struggle for female liberation.”84 Ironically, Qasim Amin’s monumental book The Liberation of Women (Tahrir-i al Mar’a),85 considered as the first Muslim writing
78 Ibid., p. 149. 79 Ibid., p. 155. 80 Ibid., p. 157. 81 Mackenzie Carpenter, ‘Muslim Women Say Veil is more about Expression than Oppression’. Post- Gazette, Sunday, 28 October 2001, Internet, http://www.post-gazette.com, (16 November 2005). 82 David Hardaker, ‘The Rise of the Anti-Osama’, The Sydney Morning Herald, November 18, 2005. 83 Leila Ahmed, Women and Gender in Islam, p. 152. 84 Ibid., p. 154. 85 Qasim Amin, The Liberation of Women: A Document in the History of Egyptian Feminism, Samiha Sidhom Peterson (trans), The American University in Cairo Press, Cairo, 1992, pp. 35 – 45. 41 against patriarchal domination of women, works within an agenda similar to that of the Western discourse.
Leila Ahmed in Women and Gender in Islam points out that Amin’s arguments mimic the Western colonial narrative. Ahmed writes, “the fundamental and contentious premise of Amin’s work was its endorsement of the Western view of Islamic civilization, peoples, and customs as inferior, whereas the author’s position on women was profoundly patriarchal and misogynist.”86 Viewed from the Western colonial narrative, veiling is a symbol of oppression. Within the colonial discourse, since veiling is a symbol of oppression, unveiling then becomes heavily associated with the women’s liberation movement against patriarchal domination, and unveiling becomes a means to improve women’s status. However, because unveiling is proposed by the colonial West, the act of veiling is then utilized as a symbol of the anti-colonial and anti-Western. In resisting colonial domination, the return-to-the veil becomes an antithesis that signifies the anti-colonial resistance to Western domination. Ahmed comments that: “[the assumption] was incorrect in its broad assumptions that Muslim women needed to abandon native ways and adopt those of the West to improve their status.”87 Forcing veiled women to unveil is oppression in itself. Paradoxically, as the colonial discourse signifies unveiling, it is also the same colonial discourse that gives rise to the new meaning of the veil, as “a symbol of resistance” or as a part of “discourses of resistance.”88
An example for such resistance is the use of Islamic veiling by Algerian women as a symbol of struggle for independence against French colonization. Nevertheless, as a symbol of anti-colonialism, the veil only applies to women. The politics of the body appears to link closely to only women’s body (from head to toe): covering or uncovering. The woman’s body is no longer a matter of private life, but of the public and becomes a symbol of resistance, be it individual or communal. For men, to oppose Western colonialism does not necessarily mean altogether rejecting Western modes of
86 Ahmed, op. cit., p. 162. 87 Ahmed, Women and Gender in Islam, p. 166. 88 Ibid., p. 164. See also Azza Karam in ‘Veiling, Unveiling and Meanings of the “veil”’ in Thamyris: Mythmaking From Past to Present 3 (2) Autumn 1996, (p. 234). Karam addresses the similar issue as Ahmed. Based on her research of narrative discourses of immigrant Muslim women in Europe, she concludes that “veiling is part of ongoing power dynamic of competing discourse, especially discourses of resistance either to state interpretations or to hegemonic ideas.” 42 dress. Muslim men opposing colonialism often adopt Western dress without being seen as an advocate of colonialism. Adopting such Western dress for these men may mean a move toward modernity, making them more equal to the West, however, because man’s body is not so much a property of public life compared to woman’s, what men wear is hardly discussed as a symbol of resistance. The similar case occurred in 1980s Indonesia when Soeharto’s government banned women office workers wearing jilbab. Men were allowed to wear turbans and prayer caps. Within the context of resistance, the veil embodies a broad range of meaning: anti-colonial control to anti-colonial legacy (anti Western), anti-corruption of Westernisation, woman’s struggle for emancipation.
Giving a single meaning to veiling as merely an oppressive symbol for Muslim women is inappropriate, particularly where veiling is a matter of personal choice in countries such as Indonesia, Malaysia, Egypt, and Morocco.89 Ahmed suggests: Because of the history of struggle around it, the veil is now pregnant with meanings. As an item of clothing, however, the veil itself and whether it is worn are about as relevant to substantive matters of women’s rights as the social prescription of one or another item of clothing is to Western women’s struggles over substantive issues.90
The veil goes beyond clothing, becoming an articulation of a substantive matter of women’s rights. In the case of veiling by college Muslim female students in “secular” universities where veiling is not forced, such as in Indonesia or Egypt, it may be seen as an articulation of their strong political and social commitments to their own community in which Islamic movements are housed. The women are not invisible in their struggle for emancipation but, El Guindi writes, assert “their Muslim identity, career-oriented, modern and veiled.”91 The meaning of the veil is not static as it changes through its contexts and subtexts within which it is the women themselves denoting its meaning. Veiling is also grounded in different levels of class, social, political and economic position. Haideh Moghissi, in Feminism and Islamic Fundamentalism, identifies various
89 In Indonesian context, for example, majority of Muslim women are not forced to wear veil when in public places. However, there are cases when women are obliged to wear it, such as female students of pesantren (Islamic boarding schools) or in regions where shari’a is applied. In the past, Muslim females were often known to wear kerudung (headscarf), which only covers the hair while the neck remains opened. The veil in today Indonesia differs from kerudung as the veil (Indonesians call it jilbab) covers exclusively the hair and the neck, only the face, the hands and the feet are to be shown. There are cases where jilbab wearers only show their eyes (the hair, the neck and the face and the whole body are covered). See Chapter 4 for detailed argument about the practice of veil donning in Indonesian context. 90 Ahmed, op. cit., p. 166. 91 El Guindi, op. cit., p. 168. 43 meanings of veiling from several Islamic feminists such as Abu-Odeh, El Guindi, and Hoodfar documenting what the veil may means for the wearers who have adopted it by choice.92 When veiling is voluntary Moghissi posits it is an item of clothing, indicating the exclusive property of the private sphere, even where that privacy extends to include public arenas. As a matter of personal choice, comments Hoodfar, the veil is clothing that “may be worn to beautify the wearer,” in the same way Western women choose to wear make-up.93 For Abu-Odeh and El Guindi, veiling is identified as being related to woman’s sexual body. Abu-Odeh suggests that veiling for young women serves as a “remedy” for discomfort that women experience in their daily life, protecting them against sexual harassment. El Guindi sees veiling as a means for Muslim women to control their own bodies, to acquire “sexual space and moral privacy.”94 This control conversely results in the increase of their participation in the public sphere, at the same time signifying an act of anti-consumerism, symbolising women’s return to modesty.95 However, in Indonesian context, the notion of jilbab as an act of anti-consumerism might be questioned. There are veiled women symbolise their veiling as anti- consumerism act whilst there are those who “mix and match” their Islamic styles with colourful designs and branded clothing products.96 Within the framework that veiling signals women’s return to modesty, discipline and control, veiling grants women security and protects them against men’s lust. Using this reason for veiling still imprisons women, for it implies that the women are victims that should protect themselves against men. The so-called lustful men, on the other hand, are not socially obliged to censure their own behaviour in any way. From this perspective, it is indeed the patriarchal domination that ironically allows veiling to become a means of liberating women. The veil therefore occupies an important position in articulating women’s privacy and their choice of modesty as divinely ordained in the Qur’an.
Veiling embodies social and political statements. In the case of Islamist movement, whose female members adopt the veil, Gole writes, “Islamic veiling is a political issue in both Muslim and Western European countries,” functioning as “a challenge to
92 Haideh Moghissi, Feminism and Islamic Fundamentalism: The Limits of Postmodern Analysis, Zed Books, London, 1999. 93 Quoted in Moghissi, p. 41. 94 Quoted in Moghissi, p. 41 95 Ibid., p. 41. 96 See discussion below. 44 Western modernity” confronting the opposing realms “between religion and secularism, the private and public spheres, [and] particularism and universalism, . . . self and society, Western and Islamist.”97 Gole explains further that politically such veiling reaffirms women’s active appropriation, symbolizing their commitment to the way of life defined under Islamic religiosity. Since the majority of these women choose to don the veil, veiling can also be viewed as a rejection of the determination of already “established traditions.” In this way veiling is no longer associated with ideas of traditionalism,98 but rather as a signification of modernity. It is a transition “signalling entrance into, [and a] determination to move forward in[to], modernity.” Other scholars, such as Abu-Odeh, believe that veiling is a defiant act against “the social corruption of a Western-oriented market economy and . . . consumerism.”99 In urban populations, where Western influences create tensions between modernism and traditionalism, between “corrupted” Western and “purified” Islamic moral values, veiling is a pivotal mark for Muslim women indicating their being modern but not Westernised. For these women, choosing to veil indicates a cultural separateness from the West - representing a strategy of accommodating the social and political environments of their societies - where they can function more easily and become increasingly successful within their communities.100 Moghissi proposes that veiling acts as a tool to empower women. Yet she also calls attention to the diverse and changing meanings of veiling, and insists that veiling must be a choice and not an imposition upon women. In the case of Islamic fundamentalism, Moghissi notes that the practice of veiling embodies different connotations because it is mandatory, something to which she herself is opposed.
In terms of the imposition of the veil, it is worth noting how veiling is perceived under an Islamic government mandating veiling for its Muslim women.101 Those resisting veiling believe that just as an imposition of veiling to unveiled women is oppression, so is the imposition to unveil to veiled women. Those who accept veiling believe that since
97 Nilufer Gole, The Forbidden Modern: Civilization and Veiling, The University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor, 1996, pp. 3– 4. 98 Ahmed, op.cit., p. 225. 99 Moghissi, op.cit., p. 41. 100 Azzam, op.cit., p. 225. 101 In Indonesia, the most visible example is Aceh where the shari’a is applied. In Banda Aceh, the province’s capital, there are areas known as Kawasan Wajib Jilbab (jilbab compulsory areas). In these areas, women are obliged to wear jilbab, supervised by shari’a police officers. Fines are applicable when a Muslim woman found not wearing it. Recently the fines are not yet fully in practice, those found not wearing it are given jilbab to cover their hair and necks. 45 veiling is Islamic it is thus an obligation. Often called Islamists, these women (and men) believe that Islamic government is a necessity since it will return to “the sources of Islam to regain a purified vision, long since lost in the mire of worldly governments.”102 Examples of such governments, also often called “revivalist,” include Shiite Islamic Republic of Iran and Sunnite Wahhabi Kingdom Saudi Arabia. These women and men build their communities based on their strict notion of the return to and the revival of the imaginary golden past under the rule of the Prophet Muhammad and the caliph Ali Ibn Abu Thalib for Shi’ism, and the Prophet and the Four-Rightly Guided Caliphs for the Sunni, in which a just Islamic community was founded. According to Afshar, revivalism functions as a frame to process “the new, puritanical interpretations that are to counter centuries of misdeed and hardship and pave the way for the future.”103 Most Islamist women deem that Islam, if revived in the most purified way, will give them respect and opportunity to function both in the private sphere as mothers, wives and homemakers, and in the public sphere by providing them with education and training. According to the revivalists, Islam alone is capable of endowing them with models of idealised women such as Khadijah, Ai’syah and Fatima, the Prophet’s wives and daughter, thus Western examples are not necessary. For Islamist women the veil becomes an important means of pursuing the path to liberation: Islamist women are particularly defensive of the veil. The actual imposition of the veil and the form it has taken is a contested domain. Nevertheless, many Muslim women have chosen the veil as the symbol of Islamisation and have accepted it as the public face of their revivalist position. For them the veil is liberating, and not an oppressive force. They maintain that the veil enables them to become the observers and not the observed; that it liberates them from the dictates of the fashion industry and the demands of the beauty myth. In the context of the patriarchal structures that shape women’s lives, the veil is a means of bypassing sexual harassment and “gaining respect.”104
The different significations of the veil from the revivalist’s perspective are another layer of meaning which contributes to the already multiple symbols that the Islamic veil carries. What meaning the veil holds should be assessed depending on where women live, their context, and the way they seek to define themselves. In many countries where veiling is not required for women, the return-to-veiling movement gives an opportunity
102 Haleh Afhsar, ‘Islam and Feminism: An Analysis of Political Strategies’ in Feminism and Islam, p. 198. 103 Ibid., p. 198. 104 Ibid., p. 201. 46 to women to define their own identity. In this way, it marks their claim to their own agency. In societies where veiling is a norm for women unveiling also bears a similar signification of women’s agency. As a construction of a woman’s image, the veil stands as a crucial marker through which a woman is identified, recognized and perceived. Not only does veiling affirm a Muslim female identity, it also requires an observer to acknowledge the wearer’s religious identity. Yet the potential for veiling to denote more than religious reference is powerful. Contemporary developments have shown that the veiling movement is becoming increasingly charged with political symbolism, where religious practices and non-religious symbols are difficult to separate.
Some in the West see veiling as an oppressive act and there is great divergence among Muslims too. On one hand, that Western view reflects bias and hegemonic representation that in the end places Muslims as the “other”. On the other hand, from an Islamic perspective, allowing only one representation is in itself oppression. Narratives of meaning, including hegemonic meanings such as veiling as a “mechanism of seclusion”, are accepted as long as such meanings are voiced by the wearers themselves. Veiling should therefore be understood as “a function of diverse social, political, cultural and economic activism,”105 and of the development of an achieved status rather than an ascribed status for the wearer. Where veiling is voluntarily donned, its meaning marks the shift of the boundaries between self and other, increasing female agency. As veiling used to be the symbol of man’s control over woman, the justification and reappropriation of the contemporary veil movement, and its discursive practices “emphasize female self control and independence in ways, by and large, challenging the traditional and the orthodox determined position.”106
The veil is not reducible to a single meaning, but must be placed within the context, in which it appears. Thus women articulate their own meanings, their self-representation of the veil, in order to contribute to the multiplicity of meanings. In the Indonesian context, for example, when the veil (or jilbab in the Indonesian language) is donned by choice, women have no difficulty in adjusting to different contexts. Many farmers, such
105 Karam, op.cit., p. 235. 106 Karin Ask and Marit Tjomsland, ‘Introduction’ in Women and Islamization: Contemporary Dimensions of Discourse on Gender Relations, Berg, Oxford, 1998, p. 13. 47 as the members of Persis107 (Persatuan Islam, Islamic unity) in West Java, find no trouble working in the field wearing jilbab. Nor do the students of secondary or tertiary education in doing their physical exercises. As a student remarked, “everything depends on one’s niat (one’s determined will). When a girl has her niat to wear jilbab, she finds no difficulty in doing anything with her jilbab donned”.108 On the other hand, women believe that when donning the veil is a matter of force and without niat, it will certainly restrict her actions. Veils come in varying styles and modes enabling women to meet religious obligation with fashion. In Indonesia, women donning a variety of jilbab can be spotted everywhere from the street corners of big cities to villages in rural areas. The “fashionable jilbab” known as baju Muslim (Muslim fashion) can be bought almost everywhere, from department stores, often having a special section for baju Muslim, to traditional markets. Some women, young and old, choose to tailor their jilbab ranging from the simplest to the most extravagant colourful design. Many match their headscarves with branded clothing such as Polo, Guest, or Levi’s. Those who view veiling as an anti-consumerism act will look for the simplest and less-colourful design - usually dark colours and long, loose garments - whilst others will reason that since only the face, hands and feet are to be exposed, it is enough to simply match their headscarves with blouses and pants from a range of colours and prints, or with tight jeans and long-sleeve lycra tops.
Many women work and are attempting in their own way to negotiate religious observance, tradition, modernity, globalisation, consumerism and fashion and to mark an identity for themselves all at the same time. Clearly there is a difference between veiling as an act of choice, or veiling as a mandatory obligation. To wear or not to wear the veil is a woman’s choice for such choice is her attempt to show her charge of her own body and mark her adherence to Islam however she may choose. Both men and women, the Qur’an says, are asked to lower their gaze and keep their modesty. Men, too, do not hold to a monolithic view of veiling. In Indonesia, for example, some men see it as an obligation while others leave it for women to decide. In a like manner women have differing views on the growing of beards for men or the wearing of Islamic
107 Persis website, Internet, http://www.persis.or.id, (17 November 2005). Persis is commonly perceived to be the most scripturalist of Indonesian reformists. It was established in 17 September 1923 in Bandung, West Java, by K.H. M. Zamzam and H. Muhammad Yunus with the purpose of having a unity of Islamic thought, view and voice. 108 Interview with a secondary school student in 10 July 2005. 48 clothing known as baju koko.109 The heart of the discussion on donning the veil is the question of choice. Women wearing the veil carry the right to be respected for their choice in the manner by which they mark their religiosity and so do women without veil. Women themselves have their right to decide whether to veil, unveil, remaining veiling or remain unveiling.
Legal Reforms
The political and societal organization of Muslim societies has existed since the time of the Prophet Muhammad. The period after the exile of the Prophet from the city of Mecca to the city of Medina, known as the “Medina Constitution,” was the period in Islamic history where the Prophet established legal, ethical and societal codes for himself and his umma (community). The question of the way an Islamic state should be run during the life of the Prophet was easily resolved since the Prophet - besides the Qur’an - was the source of shari'a (Islamic law). However, after the death of the Prophet, interpretation became complicated for the Four Rightful-Guided Caliphs: Abu Bakar, Umar Ibn Khattab, Uthman Ibn Affan and Ali Ibn Abu Tholib. The caliphs had to search for answers and resolve societal problems based on the Qur’an and the Hadith (traditions of the Prophet), qiyas (analogy) of the early jurists when encountering problems not directly referred to in the Qur’an or the Hadith, and ijma (consensus of the Islamic jurists having profound knowledge of the subjects). Thus, basically shari'a in this sense is the law that is drawn from the Qur’an, the Hadith, qiyas (analogy), and ijma (consensus).110 The last source of shari'a, which an Islamic state may or may not apply is furu: a juridical decision based on the interests or needs of the public.111 Furu functions as a subsidiary source of figh (Islamic jurisprudence), which may or may not be applied in judicial considerations. Accordingly, Abdullahi Ahmed An-Na’im, in his
109 Contemporary Indonesian man’s Islamic clothing is named baju koko as it similar to the Chinese peasant long sleeves-shirt and pants covering the whole body except for the hair, the face, hands and feet. This clothing consists of long sleeve shirt and trouser or sarong. Its wearer often dons a special cap called topi haji (hajj cap, a cap usually worn by Middle-East Arabs). 110 Abdullahi Ahmed An Na’im, Toward an Islamic Reform, New York, Syracuse University Press, 1990, p. 19. 111 Asma Larif-Beatrix, ‘The Muslim State: Pursuing a Mirage?’ in Shari’a Law and The Modern Muslim State, Norani Othman (ed), Sisters in Islam, Kuala Lumpur, 1994. 49 paper entitled ‘Toward an Islamic Reformation: Islamic Law in History and Society Today,’ believes that due to its own nature, shari'a is complex, for it “encompasses every aspect of people’s lives - faith, rituals, ethics as well as the so-called strictly legal subject matter.”112 Thus, the complexity of shari'a contributes to the importance of shari'a in Muslim societies. However, the relationship between the society and the shari'a itself is not simple. The extensive change and progress, that many Muslim societies have undergone since the first Islamic state under the leadership of the Prophet Muhammad, then Islamic dynasties, followed by the colonization of most Muslim nations by various Western powers and then their independence, undeniably contested and challenged the existing shari'a. An-Na’im’s argues it is indeed this capability of the shari'a to be open to the possibility of change - to be dynamic - that is its core value.
There is a widespread belief that because shari'a is a divine law it is thus static and must be rigidly followed. An-Na’im and other Islamic legal reformists, however, argue that although shari'a is based on the Qur’an and the authentic Sunna (traditions) of the Prophet, it is not a divine law. Their contention rests on the fact that the other two sources of shari'a: qiyas and ijma are undeniably human, and therefore cannot be divine. Further, An-Na’im argues that the application of the concept, the methodology, principles and techniques of the shari’a are also human because they are developed by the jurists themselves. An-Na’im concludes “shari’a is the product of human reasoning upon a foundation of divine inspiration.”113
Since shari’a is a human product, its interpretations are necessarily self-evidently human. The systematic codification of shari’a by four madhab (Islamic schools), which belong to the Sunnis - Maliki, Hanbali, Hanafi and Shafi’I - had not been conducted until 150 to 200 years after the death of the Prophet Muhammad. As shari’a not only governs spiritual relationships (humans in relation to God—ibadat), it also deals with human-to-human relationships (muamalat). Shari’a regulating principles of muamalat are on the other hand, exclusively based on social occasions. Humans become the sole agent interpreting and applying shari’a regarding the realms of socialization. Consequently, shari’a relies considerably on man’s intellectual capability in
112 Abdullahi Ahmed An Na’im, ‘Toward an Islamic Reformation: Islamic Law in History and Society Today’ in Shari’a Law and The Modern Muslim State, p. 9. 113 Ibid., p. 11. 50 interpreting social problems using shari’a as the primary reference. It is within this framework, then, that shari’a is located. Although “a product of the divine will and knowledge,” shari’a “regulates and is regulated in its application by human will and understanding, which have only a limited reality.”114 Shari’a is grounded in the notion of this limited reality, a crucial point where legal reform is concerned. Shari’a is capable of changing, for it is not static within a specific time and place. As a human phenomenon, shari’a is contestable and dynamic, serving the necessity of relating contexts, making it time-bound, conditional, and historical and open for new interpretations.
Asma Larif-Beatrix argues that shari’a is “the product of that human and historical process of elaboration—the great impressive and intellectual tradition of Islamic legal culture, as it was developed by many of the best minds within Islamic civilization over fourteen centuries. . . . The sunna was not only codified more than two centuries after the Prophet’s death but . . . its interpretation was at the time also framed within certain, again historically, conditioned mental or intellectual limits.”115 Larif-Beatrix’s argument stresses that even the Sunna cannot radically escape from historical construction. John Bowen’s writes that shari’a- is best understood as: The interpretive struggle (ijtihad), to approximate the path or way, . . . determined by God, a path not completely knowable by humans. Despite popular Western ideas to the contrary, shari’a cannot be reduced to a single set of books. Humans can only engage in the fallible efforts to interpret and apply concrete cases the diverse, sometimes conflicting, often ambiguous signs given by God. Jurists and other scholars draw on multiple sources of law, including specific directives found in the Qur’an and hadith (the reports of the Prophet’s Muhammad’s statements and actions), general principles of equity and justice derived from the scripture, past traditions of interpretations, and the social norms found in the society.116
Not only does the historicity of the shari’a need to be taken into consideration but the importance of political culture also needs to be emphasized, for it functions as a legally important determination constructing the shari’a at the conjunction of “the empirical
114 Malcolm H. Kerr, Islamic Reform: The Political and Legal Theories of Muhammad Abduh and Rashid Rida, University of California Press, Berkeley, 1966, p. 21. 115 Asma Larif-Beatrix, ‘Islamic Reform, Muslim Law and The Shari’a State’ in Shari’a Law and The Modern Muslim State, p. 29. 116 John R. Bowen, ‘Qur’an, Justice, Gender: Internal Debates in Indonesian Islamic Jurisprudence,’ History of Religion, August 1998, v. 38 n. 1, p. 3. Italics mine. In the hierarchy of sources for Islamic laws or Islamic jurisprudence, Qur’an is the most important and Sunna comes in the second rank. 51 and the normative, the local and the divine, inform[ing] each other in the interpretive struggle.”117 Situating the shari’a in the locus of conflicting operations of socio- political, historical and cultural circumstances helps to explain the discourses from which the shari’a comes into being.
Since the death of the Prophet Muhammad the shari’a has been largely defined by elite male jurists and legal scholars. Therefore, issues of gender in the shari’a have not been interpreted from a female perspective, resulting in misconceptions on the roles of woman and their status in Islamic legal discourse. Female jurists, such as Amira Sonbol, have started to challenge the notion of the static shari’a by examining its historicity with fresh eyes, new research methods and new language skills.118 Legal reform that jurists like Sonbol propose opens the way to giving more room for women to view legal discourse from within their own paradigm. Sonbol’s findings are quite challenging, for she argues that in fact modernity, not just tradition, plays a large part in the continued subjugation of women in modern legal discourse. She contends that: There is no question that modernization has changed the situation of Muslim women dramatically and that the status of women has become one of greater openness and less seclusion. However, . . . the historical transformations of the last two centuries, although allowing women a greater public role, actually brought about a general deterioration in social maneuverability, especially for women. This deterioration was closely tied to the evolution of new state structures that fit the needs of new hegemonic elite combines, usually formed from alliances between foreign business interests and westernising national leaders. In the process of nation-state building, the hands of the state extended toward family and personal laws, standardizing, codifying, reforming, and modernizing them. The process had a profound impact on the status of women, creating for them, so to speak, a double jeopardy.119
Therefore, legal reforms aimed at liberating women from subjugation must not only overcome past traditions but also the current hegemonic political power of contemporary nation-states. In fact, the hegemonic ruling elite determines woman’s position more than the traditional ideology. Even within modern conditions, then, legal regulations can still act as a barrier to equality. Sonbol further argues that: The shari’a that came into being after the modernization of law and the reform of courts differed from the previous one in that it was designed to favor the new
117 Ibid., p. 3. 118 Elizabeth Warnock Fernea, ‘Foreword’ in Women, the Family, and Divorce Laws in Islamic History, Amira El Azhary Sonbol (ed), Syracuse University Press, New York, 996, pp. ix – xx. 119 Ibid., p. 7. 52 hegemonic order coming to power as part of the nation-state structure. It is a mistake to believe that the shari’a code applied by nation-states in the modern period is simply a vestige of the past and hence to regard traditional laws as the cause for the present subjugation of women, when in fact the causes of subjugation are located in the modern reforms and the handling of personal laws. Therefore, one should avoid seeing modern Muslim states being consciously involved in socialization to free their populations from the “shackles” of traditional customs because what they are involved in is the institution of new customs labelled as “shari’a” that deny previous freedoms while emphasizing earlier discriminations.120
Sonbol’s proposal for legal reform for Muslim women departs from the understanding that shari’a is a complete set of God-given law that Muslims inherit from earlier generations. Such a notion leads to shari’a reform for women only within the domain of political and economic spaces. Personal and family laws are ignored and left in the hands of traditional legal interpretations that perpetuate gendered oppression and woman’s subjugation. Rather, Sonbol argues that shari’a is located within the historical context of any given age. Similar to Bowen, Sonbol asserts that shari’a is “the body of acceptable laws of a particular community given legitimacy as the word of God delivered through a Prophet, but which are in actual fact the interpretations of local qadis (shari’a court judges) who reflect the urf (traditions) of the communities in which they serve, using appropriate figh [jurisprudential] interpretations that reflect the patterns of actual communal relations.”121
The prohibition on women’s participation in public life is said to be the root of gender inequality in Islamic societies. Stowasser, in ‘Women and Citizenship in the Qur’an’,122 writes that verses dealing with the hijab imposed on the wives of the Prophets (sura 33: 53) and regarding the wanton display of women’s beauty (sura 33:33), become the legal reference for interpretation limiting women’s space to the domestic domain. She notes that the emphasis in the two sura is indeed on the principle of modesty, as a substantial part of the Qur’an ordains modesty for both men and women, but, as a legal reference, the two verses are used to define not only women’s modesty, but are extended to include their segregation and seclusion from public life. Women’s modesty as stated in
120 Amira Sonbol, ‘Introduction’ in Women, the Family, and Divorce Laws in Islamic History, p. 11. Nation-state in Indonesia has tried to protect women’s status through social welfare measures and Marriage Act. 121 Ibid., p. 10. 122 Barbara Stowasser, ‘Women and Citizenship in the Qur’an’ in Women, the Family, and Divorce Laws in Islamic History. 53 the Qur’an is then interpreted as both physical and political invisibility.123 Stowasser argues that the interpretation limiting women’s space to the domestic domain contradicts the ideal that the Qur’an sanctions both sexes equally. Qur’an sura 60:12, on the women’s bay’a (pledge of allegiance), constitutes women’s declaration of faith and pledge of allegiance to the Prophet.124 As a crucial political statement, this verse alone, as Stowasser posits, acknowledges women as political actors, “enshrin[ing] the legal conditions of female membership in the umma [community] in terms of sins/crimes foresworn that are all applicable to all believers regardless of gender and punishment for which, if committed, is the same for men and women.”125
Interpretations of the shari’a vary between different countries and in some there is a blurring of the distinction between the public and private spheres, but it should be emphasised that class, culture and social structure engender different ideas about social norms and values. For example, where poor economic conditions necessitate women taking part in providing family income women have less segregation. In Indonesia the majority of women are not segregated, yet class elements should not be discounted. On the one hand, there are women from higher social classes who are currently restricted from entering public life. On the other hand, it is common to see lower class Muslim women active in the public domain, such as in the markets, or in the fields. Nonetheless, for the majority of Indonesian Muslim women the domestic sphere is still seen as their domain and this acts to maintain the traditional order of gender inequality. Interpretation of the distinction between public and private spheres for women is influenced by the different socio-political situations in which they are situated. In this sense existing reinterpretations provide clashing paradigms that are shaped by the political and economic needs of the ruling elite. Accordingly, such reinterpretation is problematic. In a society such as that of Saudi Arabia where women are largely secluded, the Saudi bring in Indonesian Muslim women as workers. Although in Saudi Arabia Indonesian women mostly work in domestic service, compared to their female Saudi counterparts they have greater access to the public domain. Class, economic and political aspects, and local and national culture are important considerations in any examination of the distinction between public and private in Muslim societies.
123 Ibid., p. 32. 124 Ibid., p. 29. 125 Ibid., p. 30. 54 Interpretation of the shari’a from a female perspective is necessary in order to promote gender equality and enhance the role of women in society. There is an urgent need for a greater understanding on the part of all Muslims that the rights of women need to be extended and legally protected. Through this women can raise their social awareness and improve their personal self-perception and self-determination for the overall national development of their countries. However, whether or not male scholars will accept interpretations of the shari’a from a female perspective is a challenge female jurists still face. An Indonesian Muslim feminist, Siti Musdah Mulia exemplifies such challenge by proposing a counter legal draft of the compilation of articles under Islamic Law (KHI, Kompilasi Hukum Islam) in 2004. Until today, her proposal remains controversial.126
Educational Reforms127
Qasim Amin’s 1899 text The Liberation of Women128 (Tahrir al- Mar’a) was among the first tracts to make a demand for educational reform for women. For Amin, providing equal education means giving women the ability to exert an immense influence on the nation’s progress, based on the premise that women’s status in society is “a reflection of the nation’s moral standards.”129 Thus, using Amin’s logic, liberating women by giving them equal access to education means the elevation of the nation’s status. According to Amin, the importance of women’s role in society signifies the level of civilization that a society has achieved: the more liberated the women are, the more civilized the society is. This evidence of history confirms and demonstrates that the status of women is inseparably tied to the status of a nation. When the status of a nation is low, reflecting an uncivilized condition for that nation, the status of women [is] also
126 See Chapter 5 for detail. 127 Education here means modern education beyond women’s education on domesticity. 128 Qasim Amin, The Liberation of Women A Document in the History of Egyptian Feminism (Tahrir-I al Mar’a). Samiha Sidhom Peterson (trans), The American University in Cairo Press, Cairo, 1992. 129 Ibid., p. 3. 55 low, and when the status of a nation is elevated, reflecting the progress and civilization of that nation, the status of women in that country is also elevated.130
On the benefits of educational reform Amin writes: It is important for a woman to be able to read and write, to be able to examine the basis of scientific information, to be familiar with the history of various countries, and to be able to acquire knowledge of the natural sciences and of politics. This knowledge needs to be completed by a thorough understanding of cultural and religious beliefs. Eventually her knowledge will enable her to accept sound ideas and to discard the superstitions and myths that presently destroy the minds of all women. . . . A woman needs to be educated so that she can have an understanding and a will of her own.131
Although Amin’s demand for educational reforms signalled an important shift in the educational discourse on gender, it was not a complete educational liberation for women. In the end, Amin’s educational reforms still aim to place women within domestic life, as he posits that “a woman cannot run her household well unless she attains a certain amount of intellectual and cultural knowledge” gained through education in the forms of “proper guidance and good example.”132 Amin’s view on educational reforms was highly influenced by the late nineteenth century colonial discourses on schooling girls. Lila Abu-Lughod in ‘The Marriage of Islamism and Feminism in Egypt: Selective Repudiation as a Dynamic of Postcolonial Cultural Politics,’133 criticizes Amin as an advocate of colonialism who uses “a particular kind of feminism to undermine his own culture along lines desired by the colonial powers.”134 Abu-Lughod questions the colonial context in which Amin’s writing is situated and concludes that Amin’s suggestions for women’s rights, education and work is a proposition to create a modern bourgeois family. Abu-Lughod points out: [It] is a form of family that some Western feminists, Marxists, and social theorists of the second half of the twentieth century have now come to criticise as a source of women’s subjugation because of the way it divides women from one another, gives them new tasks, places them under the control of husbands, and opens up the family to capitalist exploitation, state control, and new forms of discipline.135
130 Ibid., p. 6. 131 Ibid., p. 12 – 13. 132 Ibid., p. 12. 133 Lila Abu-Lughod, ‘The Marriage of Islamism and Feminism in Egypt: Selective Repudiation as a Dynamic of Postcolonial Cultural Politics’ in Remaking Women Feminism and Modernity in the Middle East, Lila Abu-Lughod (ed), Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey, 1998. 134 Ibid., p. 256. It should be added here that indigenous women too often wanted polygamy suppressed or regulated. 135 Ibid., p. 256. 56 Abu Lughod contends that Amin separates women into classes, “signalling his desire to undermine the solidarities of a relatively separate women’s world, distinguishing an emergent middle class, and dividing women by placing them into separate bourgeois nuclear families.”136 In a similar vein to other scholars’ discussions of Amin’s writing, Abu-Lughod finally concludes that Amin’s project is a domestication of women, relying heavily on the Western models of the time when the book was written.137 Amin wrote at a time when the cultural politics of women’s role had yet to be put into a discursive agenda, despite its limitations his contribution is still of value today. Although recent studies have documented that Amin’s writing was situated in a context where there were already women writers raising similar concerns138 his reforms, proposed as early as 1899, still serve as one of the bases for Islamic feminists demanding educational reform. In the case of Indonesia, at the beginning of the 20th century Kartini (1879 – 1904) raised similar demands for educational reform in order to improve the moral life of family and the nation. She also demanded education so women could have careers and not be forced to marry for economic support. This will be dealt with in a subsequent chapter.
Educational reform for Muslim women is not without challenge. For example, the majority of Afghan Muslim women living in areas ruled by the Taliban from 1996 to 2001 were banned from attending formal schooling: girls were expelled from schools and young women from colleges and the Taliban ordered that “all schooling was forbidden to girls over the age of eight.”139 Afghani women were not passive and many of them reacted strongly against the school banning and the denial of already existing rights to education. They sent their girls to secret schools where local women volunteered their teaching services. Despite the danger the women never ceased in numerous ways to struggle against their fate. Since the end of Taliban rule in 2001, Afghani women are moving from invisibility to visibility, from shadows to substance, seeking full participation in restructuring and transforming Afghanistan to a functioning, viable state.
136 Ibid., p. 259. 137 Ibid., p. 261. 138 Ibid., p. 261. 139 ‘About Face: An Inside Look at How Women Fared Under Taliban Oppression and What the Future Holds for Them Now’, Time, December 3, 2001, v. 158, i24, p. 36. 57 Some assume that liberating women through education means modernising them through Western education. Others maintain that education for women should be limited to the basic knowledge of running the household, the model as proposed by Amin. The general underlying purpose of educating women in Muslim societies is currently based on the notion that the nation’s reproduction depends on the reorganization of how, and under what circumstances, children will be born and raised. As producers of new kinds of individuals in the emerging social order, women therefore need to be trained and trusted to fulfil the task. Education for women, then, still largely means making them aware of the requirements of their so-called domestic roles, while their social roles seem to be neglected. As education has always been perceived as “a major factor in shaping a society and in enriching the cultural heritage,”140 educational reforms therefore means that educational opportunities for Muslim women are not limited to just household education, such as how to be a good wife and a good mother. Educational opportunities are to be extended to encourage women as active participants in social, economic, and political arenas within their community. Hence, such reforms can then accommodate the needs of each community, applying models using “indigenous ideas, concepts, myths, and idioms to explain and support the rights [of women],”141 as documented by women’s own needs and definitions. Reforms in the educational system will enable women to contest the male-oriented representations of the domestic, facilitating greater autonomy and independence from male authority in all aspects of life. Not only does women’s literacy enhance women’s emancipation and mobility by giving them more access to non-domestic roles, it also serves as a political and cultural negotiation since both women’s and men’s role and status are reflective of underlying social, political and cultural achievements of any given society. Although historically women from lower social and economic classes have been outside their homes, as they work in the fields or in the markets, being in the public arena does not necessarily mean that they enjoy greater educational access than women from other classes of society. Many of these women cannot enjoy access to education because of lack of economic support. Thus, struggles for equal access in term of education,
140 Hind A. Khattab and Syeda Greiss el-Daeiff, ‘Female Education in Egypt: Changing Attitudes over a Span of 100 Years’ in Muslim Women, Freda Hussain (ed), Croom Helm, London, 1984, p. 169. 141 Mahnaz Afkhami, ‘Promoting Women’s Rights in the Muslim World’ in Journal of Democracy, January 1997, v. 8 n. 1, p. 161. 58 economic autonomy, status, role, socio-politic, cultural participation, are to be undertaken, not only for women but also for men.
As a strategy to increase women’s power in all spheres of life, a reformed educational system departing from the traditional and orthodox model of educating women just to be good wives and mothers can develop a new critical mass among the female community. Mahnaz Afkhami, the former Minister of Women’s Affairs in pre- Revolutionary Iran and the Executive Director of ‘Sisterhood Is Global Institute’, asserts that such critical mass occupies a significant position in improving the quality of a civil community, giving women their own space to participate in defining the norms and laws of the community, politicising, designing, and defining concepts of freedom as it unfolds. Afkhami further posits that [m]any Third World Women, including those living in Muslim countries . . . have taken the lead in studying, developing, and implementing strategies to increase women’s power in all spheres of life. Realizing the importance of religion and culture in communicating human rights concepts and mobilizing women to political action, they are investigating the possibilities, among others, of 1) interpreting the [Qur’an] and the hadith (the traditions of the Prophet Muhammad); 2) educating the political elite and providing them with new interpretations of sacred texts that can be used as a basis for legislation and the implementation of change; and 3) mobilizing grassroots support and establishing dialogue between people at the grassroots level and national and international decision makers.142
Only through educational reforms can the goal “to modify traditional mores and laws to accommodate the requirements of women’s freedom, equality and human rights”143 be achieved. Afkhami’s proposition indeed explicates the need for a community to be dynamic such that it is no longer imprisoned in the nostalgic past. A dynamic civil society is fundamental in encouraging the establishment of equality and freedom for both women and men. Educational reforms need not only to cover the new definition of Islam under women’s own paradigm, but must also encompass the evolution of a civil society where women’s participation, equal to men’s, is sanctioned in public spheres as well as private.
142 Ibid., p. 161. 143 Ibid., p. 161. 59 Social, legal and educational reforms are among those that Muslim women need in order to achieve the notion of equality as divinely ordained in the Qur’an. Social reform covers gender relations, demands for equal access to the economic and political spheres and autonomy. Legal reform includes women’s demand for the reinterpretation of shari’a (Islamic law). These demands highlight some of the issues Muslim women have raised since women’s emancipation has articulated an agenda that calls for equality. Since Muslim women scholars realize that shari’a (as interpreted by men) supports men’s definition of Muslim women’s status and roles, they demand a female interpretation of the sharia in order to achieve an accommodation of women’s greater political and social involvement. Muslim women also demand educational reform that grants them access to more than just education on domesticity, but also access to the religious texts, providing them with the opportunity to scrutinize those texts from the point of view of women’s own experiences and perspectives. New readings of the Qur’an therefore need to be argued for strenuously for it is the book from which Muslims foreground the order of Islamic society.
The following chapter will discuss the notion of Islamic feminism(s) within a global context. This aims to examine the complexities that the term embodies. It also aims to look at the ways the notion of an Islamic feminism(s) affects the female perspective and the ways in which women create their own religious meaning. Looking at how global Islamic feminism(s) is viewed and then how Indonesian Muslim women bring the term into their own signification will reveal the relationship between the universality and particularity of the term.
60 Chapter 2
Theorising Islamic Feminism
In theorising Islamic feminism, this thesis compares Islamic feminist discourse with Western secular feminist discourse. Such comparison seems to be quite inaccurate. The appropriate comparison is with Western religious feminist discourse in which many common issues, such as the issue of whether women can be priests and rabbis, or hold leadership positions in church and synagogue may be found. However, there seems to be a gap in the publication of Islamic feminism about such inter-religious comparison. What this thesis lacks, then, is reference to the parallel discourse of Christian and Jewish feminists or feminists of other religions (not only the Western religious feminist discourse).
A homogenizing definition of Muslim women suggesting that they are backward, illiterate, segregated and victimized by patriarchal subjugation reflects a stereotyping of these women, and places them in a reality where questions of race, class, economic condition, and culture are often ignored. Chandra Talpade Mohanty argues that in scrutinizing gender issues in any given society, universality of framework should be avoided, for universalism places any scholarship as “ahistorical power structure.”1 The practice of veiling is a prime example of such misplaced universalism. As noted in the preceding chapter veiling is commonly regarded as suppression of women’s rights; unveiling is thus believed to be women’s assertion of their rights. As bald assertions neither view takes note of the particular circumstances in which veiling/unveiling takes place. The conception of purdah (segregation between men and women), for example, reflects a similar complexity as its significance varies across social, historical and cultural practices. The perception that all Muslim women are being oppressed by sexual segregation is, Mohanty argues, “analytically reducti[ve].” She further continues that any analysis concerning women and gender, in any given context, should be situated
1 Chandra Talpade Mohanty, ‘Under Western Eyes’, Third World Women and The Politics of Feminism, Chandra Talpade Mohanty, Ann Russo and Lourdes Torres (eds), Indiana University Press, Bloomington, 1991, p. 54
61 within more than the category of gender as a basis. Such analyses need to be grounded in the relations between “gender, race, class, and sexuality at a particular historical moment.”2 Gender issues in an Islamic context are, therefore, “not just a purview of women (but of women and men).”3 Mohanty suggests that the dynamic, fluid, fundamentally historical and everyday lives of women should be given substantial consideration in order to avoid the collapse of these women into a few frozen “indicators.” Not only does the locality of cultural practice have some bearing on gender issues in Islam, spacio-temporal contexts and the broad canvas of Muslim society also play an important role in shaping Islamic conceptions of women as individual and collective social agents.
In seeking to define Islamic feminism the rich vocabulary of both Islam and feminism, which results in multi-dimensional definitions and images, contradictions and debates, needs to be taken into account. The reason lies in the juxtaposition of the word Islam and feminism. Islam works in the trajectory of faith, while feminism is of secular origin. Islam is a religion whose community of believers (umma) are required to be totally submissive to the will of God, while feminism derives from a Western secular perspective. Many assert that Islam and feminism are not compatible, while others maintain that Islam and feminism are congruent. The debates concerning the compatibility of Islam and feminism make the term problematic. The academic response to the notion of Islamic feminism is also sharply divided. Some scholars believe that because the patriarchy is a matter of dominant consciousness, shaped by state, religion, class, media, language, culture and other socio-political forces Islamic feminism is not an oxymoron: other Muslim woman scholars reject the compatibility of Islam and feminism. Shahrzad Mojab, in ‘Theorizing the Politics of “Islamic Feminism”’,4 argues they are not compatible, since it is based on a “fundamental fallacy,” “treat[ing] Islam as the only authentic . . . road to gender equality and justice . . . [by] interrogating its central texts in search for an answer to the questions of women’s rights.”5 Since Islamic texts are largely written from the patriarchal perspective, “Islamic feminism and its
2 Mohanty, ‘Introduction: Cartographies of Struggle Third World Women and the Politics of Feminism,’ Third World Women and The Politics of Feminism, p. 21. 3 Ibid., p. 12. 4 Shahrzad Mojab, ‘Theorizing the Politics of ‘Islamic Feminism’, Feminist Review, Winter 2001, no. 69, pp. 124 –146. 5 Ibid., pp. 130 - 131.
62 various forms, ranging from fundamentalists to reformists, do not have the potential to be a serious challenge to patriarchy.”6 Furthermore, for those rejecting Islamic feminism, the terms are simply an “oxymoron.” Hammed Shahidian writes: If by feminism is meant easing patriarchal pressures on women, making patriarchy less appealing, ‘Islamic feminism’ is certainly a feminist trend. But if feminism is a movement to abolish patriarchy, to protect human beings from being prisoners of fixed identities, to contribute towards a society in which individuals can fashion their lives free from economic, political, social, and cultural constraints, then ‘Islamic feminism’ proves considerably inadequate. I define feminism in these latter terms, and for that reason, I consider ‘Islamic feminism’ an oxymoron.7
Contemporary scholars who are in favour of the term “Islamic feminism,” such as Leila Ahmed, Riffat Hassan and Fatima Mernisi, attempt to reconcile feminism with Islam. Anouar Majid, in ‘The Politics of Islamic Feminism’, argues that Islam and feminism are not necessarily two opposing terms, contesting each other. Majid writes: A careful articulation of an Islamically progressive agenda – democratic, anti- patriarchal, and anti-imperialist – might provide impetus for a new revolutionary paradigm. This new Islamic consciousness, firmly rooted in usable traditions of Islam without abandoning the parameters of faith. . . . This conception of Islam alone is capable of legitimising feminism in the Islamic world by posing a formidable challenge for clerical, orthodox Islam, which has stubbornly refused to extend more freedoms to women and minorities.8
In working within an Islamic framework feminism is being challenged “with the monumental task of contesting orthodoxies [both] simultaneously and dialectically.”9 Majid proposes a distinction between Islam as a pure religious belief, and political Islam.10 For Majid the adjective “Islamic” is problematic because it is heavily abused and corrupted, as well as being theoretically confusing. Majid criticises those who limit the term “Islamic” to a pure religious belief and insists that the adjective “Islamic” refers to more than just a religion. In her critique she cites Marshal G.S. Hodgson on the use of the term “Islamicate”. For Hodgson the term refers to “the social and cultural complex historically associated with Islam and the Muslims, both among Muslim themselves and even when found among non-Muslims.”11 What is “Islamicate” for
6 Ibid., p. 131. 7 Quoted in Mojab, p. 131. 8 Anouar Majid, ‘The Politics of Feminism in Islam’, Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society, 1998, vol. 23, no. 2, p. 324. 9 Ibid., 324. 10 See Mernissi, ‘Introduction: Was Benazir Bhutto the First?’ in The Forgotten Queens of Islam. 11 Quoted in Majid, footnote no. 3, p. 324.
63 Hodgson, then, is really much closer to Majid’s “Islamic,” exposing their apparent opposition as simply a lexical difference. Any attempt to theorise Islamic feminism must, therefore, move beyond Islam as a pure religion, but also beyond feminism as mere Western secular ideology and conceive Islamic feminism as dynamic with its roots in the historiography of Muslim societies.
As a part of a larger social movement (in this case the women’s movement), Islamic feminism nevertheless emerges within Islamic culture and society. Ignoring the socio- cultural progress that takes place within a given society means treating that society as frozen in time and place. Limiting Islamic feminism within a single perspective means “fail[ing] to locate Islamic society within [its] proper historical and geographical context, and it ignores the particularities of time and place central to the making of culture.”12 Acknowledging the dynamic and diversity of Islamic feminism is crucial in examining the discourses of feminism and human rights in the Islamic world and in exploring the indigenous models of emancipation for the masses in general and women in particular.
The writings of Muslim feminists about Islamic feminism are multidimensional in nature. Anne Sofie Roald identifies several categories of Muslim feminists: rejectionist, loyalist, revisionist, and liberationist scholars.13 Roald’s categorization is based on five hermeneutic approaches of biblical interpretations of Christian feminists, the categories which she then applies to Muslim feminists. Using Roald’s model, then, Nawal El Sadawi’s writings can be classified as rejectionist since they aim to reject the majority of Islamic sources because they are heavily permeated with patriarchal ideas. Amina Wadud and Riffat Hassan can be considered as loyalists and revisionists because their writings are literal readings of Islamic sources, founded on historical and cultural premises. Although Wadud’s and Hassan’s writings are not based on theological premises their writings are rarely contested since they are written within a framework mostly accepted by Muslim scholars: a framework of Islamic theology. Fatima Mernissi
12 M. M. Charrad, ‘Cultural Diversity Within Islam: Veils and Laws in Tunisia’, Women in Muslim Societies: Diversity Within Unity, Herbert L. Bodman and Nayereh Tohidi (eds), Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc., Boulder, Colorado, 1998, p. 63. 13 Anne Sofie Roald, ‘Feminist Reinterpretation of Islamic Sources: Muslim Feminist Theology in the Light of the Christian Tradition of Feminist Thought’, Women and Islamization, Karin Ask and Marit Tjomsland (eds), Berg, Oxford, 1998.
64 and Leila Ahmed can be categorized as liberationists whose writings demand a transformation of social order, aiming to liberate women from all oppressions through the promotion of an ideal of female struggle. Nevertheless, Roald admits that such categorization is not fixed. She further concedes that the current works of Ahmed and Mernissi take a different direction from their earlier writings. Their writings now focus and work within Islam: not rejecting Islam but refusing common interpretations of Islamic sources. The categories proposed by Roald indicate that the term Islamic feminism is a flexible definition as scholars have developed their varying arguments within an Islamic framework. The result is, Roald comments, that “many feminists, who previously struggled against female oppression in Western feminist terms have, therefore, now adopted a more favourable attitude toward Islam.”14 Roald further argues that since Islam has a fundamental role in Muslim societies, to attempt to reform a social order without working in an Islamic paradigm will necessarily fail.
Besides Muslim female scholars who currently write and work on Islamic feminism, other Muslim male, non-Muslim male and female scholars, such as John Esposito, Barbara Stowasser, and Miriam Cooke also maintain that issues of women and gender in Islam must be situated within an Islamic paradigm. Just as gender issues are not all about women, but about men and women, within the paradigm of Islam, gender relation is not the sole category that Islamic feminism is grounded on. Ahmed and Majid are among scholars who place Islamic feminism within the contexts of colonialism, post- colonialism, modernity, post-modernity, nationalism, capitalism, socialism, and other “isms” occurring within the community. Majid, for example, asserts that Islamic feminism is located within a complexity of forces in any given society. He writes: The feminist question in Islam is necessarily implicated in the crosscurrents of several contestatory discourses and ideologies, including women versus the patriarchy within Islamic communities, the secular West versus Islam, why certain forms of Islam are politically more acceptable to the West than others, the specificity of the Islamic feminists’ project, and the various ideological tendencies within Islamic thought itself.15
Majid’s argument is based on the premise that Islamic societies are, like other societies, “products of history; they bear the imprint of time and change.”16 For Majid, a re-
14 Ibid., p. 20 15 Majid, p. 324. 16 Ibid., p. 322.
65 conceptualisation of Islam as dynamic and progressive Islam, acknowledging the diversity and plurality of Islamic discourses is vital to erase the notion of Islamic cultures as homogenized, and to rethink an indigenous way to achieve women’s emancipation. Dialogues and liberation movements in the Islamic world can only properly function when Islamic feminism is rooted in the Islamic framework, critically redefining and thoroughly reassessing Islamic traditions.
The notion of Islamic feminism is contemporary, introduced and widely used from the early 1990s amid the growth of Western literature on women and Islam.17 Besides the Muslim and non-Muslim and Western scholars mentioned earlier, Iranian scholars have made an important contribution to the conception of an Islamic feminism. With the founding of the new theocratic state—the Islamic Republic of Iran—Iranian feminists added to the diversity of the women’s movement. Iranian scholars, such as Nayereh Tohidi, Haideh Moghissi, and Valentine Moghadam, started new discourses on Islamic feminism from an Iranian perspective, enriching the existing debates produced by secular, atheist or religious scholars. These scholars give a new direction to Islamic feminism; Mojab writes: Among the most significant developments in late twentieth century was the coming to power of a new theocratic state, the Islamic Republic of Iran, which has impacted the direction of the struggle for women’s rights especially in Islamic countries. It has also left its mark on the secular feminist scholarship of the West. This is, in part, because the Islamic Republic is distinguished from traditional theocracies such as Saudi Arabia by its formation as a state which replaced a western style, secular and tyrannical regime in the wake of a popular revolution. Deriving legitimacy from a mass-based revolution and a form of Shi’ism advocated by Ayatollah Khomeini, the Islamic state declared the existing gender relations un-Islamic and western.18
Nonetheless, the compatibility of Islam and feminism is also called into question in Iran. Valentine Moghadam outlines the divisions amongst feminist scholars.19 Haideh Moghissi, Hammed Shahidian and Shahrzad Mojab are among the prominent scholars opposing Islamic feminism. In the political spectrum of the Islamic Republic of Iran their tradition is rooted in the secular left. For these scholars the term Islamic feminism is a problem because in a theocratic government like Iran Islam is not a mere state
17 Mojab, op. cit., pp. 124 – 146. 18 Ibid., p. 129. 19 Valentine Moghadam, ‘Islamic Feminism and Its discontents: Toward a Resolution of the Debate’, Signs, Summer 2002, v. 27 n. 14, pp. 1135– 1173.
66 religion or a matter of personal choice, Islam is the legal and political system. Moghissi writes, “Islam in political rule is incompatible with the cultural pluralism that is after all the prerequisite of the right to individual choice.”20 Within this perspective, the conception of an Islamic feminism is impossible. The fundamental foundation for reform is absent because, as M. Kia argues, “the very structure of power is male dominated to an absolute degree, backed by the Constitution, an all male clerical system ruling the country, and a Shari’a written for an era long past its sell-by date.”21 The liberal feminist, Mahnaz Afkhami, also opposes the term, asserting that Islam and feminism are in contradiction. Acknowledging the fundamental basis of the Islamic theocracy, she and some other Iranian feminists believe that in Iran, “Our difference with Islamic feminists is that we don’t try to fit feminism in the Qur’an. We say that women have certain inalienable rights. The epistemology of Islam is contrary to women’s rights. But you can use what you need to [advance women’s positions]. I call myself a Muslim and a feminist. I’m not an Islamic feminist—that’s a contradiction in terms.”22
In contrast to Moghissi and Afkhami, Afanaseh Najmabadi, Nayereh Tohidi, and Ziba Mir-Housseini are among those advocating Islamic feminism within the Iranian framework. Najmabadi, for example, often writing in Iranian women’s journals and magazines, believes that “part of her enthusiasm for Islamic feminism, and especially for Zanan [a women’s magazine] lays in her belief that they have entered a common ground with secular feminists in their attempts to improve women’s legal status and social positions,” because Islamic feminism “has opened a new space for dialogue between Islamic women activists and reformers and secular feminists, thereby breaking down the old hostile divide between secular and religious thought.”23 Mir-Housseini’s celebration of Iranian Islamic feminism is based on the premise that “the women’s questions” have been asked from an Islamic perspective, resulting in a gender debate that has, as she argues, “nurtured not only a new school of jurisprudence, which is slowly trying to respond to social realities, but also a new gender consciousness.”24 Tohidi’s approval of Islamic feminism lies in her argument of women’s ability to
20 Quoted in Moghadam, p. 1141. 21 Quoted in Moghadam, p. 1143, italics mine. 22 Quoted in Moghadam, p. 1143. 23 Mogdaham, p. 1139. 24 Quoted in Moghadam, p. 1140.
67 renegotiate gender roles by compromising and creating their own synthesis. She argues that Islamic feminism destabilizes the clerical agenda both outside and inside the Islamic framework in numerous ways: [By] “subtlety circumventing the dictated rules (e.q., reappropriating the veil as a means to facilitate social presence rather than seclusion, or minimizing and diversifying the compulsory hijab and dress code into fashionable styles), engaging in a feministic ijtehad, emphasizing the egalitarian ethics of Islam, reinterpreting the Qur’an, and deconstructing [shari’a] - related rules in a women-friendly egalitarian fashion (e.q., in terms of birth control, personal status law, and family code to the extend of legalizing a demand for ‘wages for housework’).”25
Thus the protagonists for an Islamic feminism assert it is able to exist in an Islamic Republic. Moghadam takes a position between the two contesting views. She argues that the Iranian women’s movement is similar to any social movement, as it functioned as a major part of other reform movements long before President Khatami took over in 1997. Moghadam asserts that Iranian feminism is not substantially different from any liberal feminist movement worldwide because it targets women’s advancement and improvement within its political system.26 Without ignoring the difference engendered by changing legal and political environments, Moghadam believes that Iranian Islamic feminism shares similar notions to that of global feminism. She writes: “feminism is a theoretical perspective and a practice that criticizes social and gender inequalities, aims at women’s empowerment, and seeks to transform knowledge —and in some interpretations, to transform socio-economic structures, political power, and international relations.”27 The adjectival term “Islamic” creates a different category of feminism indicating not just the different context, but also the unique strategy necessary for women to pursue equality, transformation and empowerment in creating a just social order. Moghadam criticizes those rejecting Islamic feminism, since their disavowal narrows the diverse definitions of feminism. Saying that women cannot reach equal status in the context of Islam means denying women’s ability to negotiate and exercise their own agency. Any attempt to disqualify the legitimation of the diversity of feminism is, according to Moghadam, a fundamental mistake and not compatible with feminism. Different political ground requires different practice. For the women’s
25 Quoted in Moghadam, p. 1140. 26 Moghadam, p. 1146. 27 Ibid., p. 1149.
68 movement worldwide, Islamic feminism is then a term no more alien than Catholic feminism, Western feminism, Latin American feminism, Jewish feminism, radical feminism, cultural feminism, post-modern feminism, and so forth. These diverse feminisms are many parts of the feminist tradition as a whole, and differing categories does not necessarily mean the creation of absolute boundaries. They are, as Moghadam asserts, the multi-faceted nature of global feminism, legitimising the variety of regional manifestations as part of the evolving politics of feminist philosophy and women’s social movement.
Margot Badran posits that feminism must be contextualised within the framework of time, place, class and groupings by ethnicity and creed.28 Bouder agrees, arguing “feminists do not all think the same way or even about the same kinds of problems.”29 Echoing Badran’s view of the diversity of feminism, Mai Yamani, in Feminism and Islam, writes that Islamic feminism adds another layer to global feminism by “introducing a feminism which is “Islamic” in its form and content.”30 Although Yamani does not clarify her idea of “Islamic,” certainly her notion of Islamic feminism is similar to that proposed by Majid, Badran and Mogadham: it is feminism seeking women’s improvement which must have reference to Islamic values and norms. Yamani argues: Such feminism is unique in conjuring up delicate and challenging issues for political and religious authorities as well as for scholars in a world of a billion Muslims. Within that new overarching background which deals with Islamic laws and traditions, the category of “Islamic feminism” may stand its ground by the sheer diversity it includes: contributors to the debate have been considered “new feminist traditionalists, “pragmatists”, “secular feminists”, “neo- Islamists”, and so forth. For all these thinkers, however, there is a common concern with the empowerment of their gender within a rethought Islam.31
The categories and differing characteristics, as Yamani suggests, are diverse. Nevertheless the common ground that each aspect of Islamic feminism shares is the agenda seeking women’s empowerment. Within global feminism, adding “Islamic” to
28 Margot Badran, Feminism, Islam and Nation: Gender and the Making of Modern Egypt, Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey, 1995. 29 Quoted in Mai Yamani, ‘Introduction,’ in Feminism and Islam: Legal and Literary Perspectives, Mai Yamani (ed), Itacha Press, Reading, UK, 1996, p. 1. 30 Ibid., p. 1. 31 Ibid., p. 1.
69 feminism means receiving religion as a reference into an already multi-dimensional typology of feminism.
In every part of the world, women react toward their social and political conditions differently. Some may retreat to the assurances of religious conservatism, others may choose to struggle for the social order that best serves their need to create a better society. Various movements, including Islamic feminist movements, respond to certain conditions and contradictions between the ideal and the reality. Since such a response is circumscribed by the cultural politics of a society, feminist movements in the Muslim world, alongside other social forces, are struggles for civil and democratic rights in achieving equality for all.
Equality Before God and The Law
Muslim feminists, working toward their agenda of opposing any social or political force sanctioning gender inequality, reject fundamentalists who insist that gender inequality is divinely ordained.32 The relevance, importance and currency of gender equality in an Islamic context are in fact based on the primary source of Islamic texts, namely the Qur’an. This exposes the fundamentalist position as one without foundation. The Qur’an, sura 49, ayat 13, says: O mankind! We created you from a single (pair) of a male and a female, and made you into nations and tribes, that you may know each other. Verily the most honoured of you in the sight of Allah is (one who is) the most righteous of you. And Allah has full knowledge and is well acquainted (with all things).33
This verse alone, according to Jamal Badawi, asserts the foundation of spiritual and human equality before Allah (God). Badawi posits: The verse states that all human beings are created min thakarin wa-untha, which can be translated literally as “of male and female.” This means in pairs, as the Qur’an explicitly mentions elsewhere (e.q. 78:8). Each component of the pair is as necessary and as important as the other and hence is equal to him or her. . . . Variations in gender, languages, ethnic backgrounds and, by implication,
32 Dennis Kandiyoti, ‘Introduction’, Woman, Islam and the State, New York University Press, New York, 1990, pp. i – viii. 33 Qur’an. sura 49:13 in The Holy Qur’an Text, Translation and Commentary, Abdullah Yusuf Ali (trans), New Revised Edition, Amana Corporation, Brentwood, Maryland, 1989.
70 religious claims, do not provide any basis for superiority or inferiority. . . . Most significant and relevant to the topic at hand is the clear categorical statement that the most honoured person in the sight of Allah is the one pious and righteous. This precludes any other basis for superiority, including gender. . . . Nowhere does the Qur’an state that one gender is superior to the other. Some interpreters of the Qur’an mistakenly translated the Arabic world qiwamah (responsibility for the family) with the English word “superiority.” The Qur’an makes it clear that the sole basis for superiority of any person over another [in Allah’s sight] is piety and righteousness, not gender, colour or nationality.34
Badawi insists that equality before Allah is also followed by equality before the law for both genders. He writes that: “Justice is genderless. According to the Qur’an, men and women receive the same punishment for crimes such as theft (5:38), fornication (24:2), murder and injury (5:45).”35 Many Muslims and non-Muslims generally believe that near or total seclusion is a part of Islamic norms. However, Badawi strongly argues that such seclusion did not even exist during the time of the Prophet. During this time women were free to participate with men in acts of worship, in the market place, in the discussion of public issues, in political life and, when needed in the battlefield.36 The seclusion of women in the contemporary Muslim world is thus a product of particular socio-cultural interpretations. Badawi comments that it is of great importance to differentiate between the normative ideal of Islam and particular practices. Culture based-arguments informing religious interpretations of Islam, and therefore the Qur’an, should be questioned when assessing the realities of Muslims today. Any attempt to justify gender inequality in the name of Islam should be contested, since such justification seeks to manipulate Islamic ideals.
Feminist Theology
Riffat Hassan and Amina Wadud have also approached the question of gender equality from a rereading of the Qur’an and its exegeses, and provided a fresh interpretation of human creation which, importantly, sanctions gender equality. Such reading challenges the hegemonic interpretation of the orthodox belief that the Qur’an divinely ordains
34 Jamal Badawi, Gender Equity in Islam Basic Principles, American Trust Publication, Plainfield, Indiana, 1995, p. 12. 35 Ibid., p. 33. 36 Ibid., p. 32.
71 gender inequality. Both Hassan’s and Wadud’s in-depth work on human creation serves as an antithesis to the assumption that woman is created and made inferior to man. Working within a theological framework these scholars scrutinize the Qur’an and come up with new Qur’anic exegeses that may function as substantial grounds for any liberation movement, thus making religion a functional frame for liberation.
The inclusion of religion as a basis for any socio-political analysis is regarded as “feminist theology.” Not only does feminist theology enrich the notion of gender equality in an already multifaceted feminism, it also opens a greater possibility for women to reinterpret scriptures from their own experience. Marie Assaad, in Women, Religion and Sexuality,37 elaborates the aims of feminist theology. Across religions, notwithstanding the dissimilarities, feminist theologians share a common understanding that women need: [T]o be more involved in the study and interpretation of their religious scriptures and tradition, especially when they deal with woman’s role and sexuality. . . . to be more articulate in defining themselves and their faith experience, rather than letting others define for them. . . . to discriminate between the central and unchanging givens in religious teachings, and what has been incorporated in each religion through the powerful impact of culture, in particular the seemingly universal patriarchal values relegating women to inferior positions because of their being women. . . . [and] perhaps, . . . to scrutinize with greater care the deep psychological, social, and maybe economic reasons behind the perpetuation of those negative patriarchal values.38
“The woman question” is therefore put into a religious context. The application of feminist theology to Islam can no longer be ignored, despite the resistance of conservative clerics to incorporating the woman question into interpretations of the Qur’an. Women’s non-governmental organizations (NGOs) in many Muslim societies have taken important steps in promoting “the woman question”: Malaysia’s Sisters in Islam, Indonesia’s Rahima, and the internationally recognized WLUML (Women Living Under Muslim Laws), are among a few examples. A female perspective on religious practice is critical, for it traces the origins of gender-based discriminatory
37 Women, Religion and Sexuality: Studies on the Impact of Religious Teachings on Women, Jeanne Becher (ed), WCC Publications, Geneva, 1990. 38 Marie Assaad, ‘Introduction’, in Women, Religion and Sexuality: Studies on the Impact of Religious Teachings on Women, p. xi.
72 religious practices, “expos[ing] some of the time-honoured taboos about female sexuality, and contribut[ing] to the on-going discussion of women’s role in religion.”39
In any religious context, asking “the woman question” is of vital importance. According to Riffat Hassan, whose major works can be placed within the framework of feminist theology: The importance of developing what the West calls “feminist theology” in the context of the Islamic tradition is paramount today in order to liberate not only Muslim women, but also Muslim men, from unjust social structures and systems of thought that make a peer relationship between men and women impossible. It is extremely important for Muslim women activists to realize that in the contemporary Muslim world, laws instituted in the name of Islam cannot be overturned by means of political action alone, but through the use of better religious arguments. . . . [B]y means of feminist theology it is possible to equip and empower women to combat gender-inequality and injustice to which they have been subjected for a very long time.40
In the same article, Hassan admits that since the notion of modern human rights originates in the Western secular context, many Muslim feminists advocating gender equality often find themselves alienated from other Muslims as they are labelled “rebels” and “deviants”: their endeavours to implement gender equality fail because it is considered a Western idea. Muslim feminists have, however, begun to realize that the root of their failure lies both in their difficulties with Muslim culture and their own simultaneous inability to identify with the “secular” West. These women are “struggling to maintain their religious identity and personal autonomy in the face of the intransigence of Muslim culture, on the one hand, and the imperialism of Western, secular culture, on the other hand.”41 It must be noted here that within Western social lives there are also diverse views about the place of religion within secular societies. Hassan here only describes the generality of two opposing sides, Muslims with their strong commitment to faith and the West with its secularism. In attempting to reconcile two such extremes she suggests that it is vital to take the middle position, by extending significant support and recognition to “progressive Muslims who are far more representative of “mainstream” modern Islam than either the conservative Muslims on
39 Ibid., p. xii. 40 Riffat Hassan, ‘Feminist Theology: The Challenges for Muslim Women’, Critique, Fall 1996, pp. 52 – 53. 41 Ibid., p. 65.
73 the right or the “secular” Muslims on the left.”42 In fact, it is within this “median” that Islam predominantly resides and it must be emphasized that such a moderate “median” is itself dynamic, having the ability to be interpreted in a progressive way as a primary source of liberation for Muslims. Hassan points out: Islam is not . . . simply one of the factors which impact on the lives of Muslims. It is the matrix in which all factors are grounded. I do not believe that any viable model of self-actualization can be constructed in Muslim societies for women and men which is outside the framework of normative Islam deriving from Qur’anic teachings and exemplified in the life of the Prophet of Islam. Nor I do believe that any profoundly meaningful or constructive dialogue can take place between “the World of Islam” and “the West” without a proper recognition of what Islam means to millions of Muslim.43
In her groundbreaking article ‘Made from Adam’s Rib?’,44 Hassan traces the origins of human creation in the Qur’an. She also problematises woman’s creation as the central concern of feminist theology. Based on her examination of the Yahwist (Genesis) account of woman’s creation from Adam’s rib, and how it is interpreted in the Judeo- Christian tradition, Hassan comes to the conclusion that the account and its interpretation actually has a deep impact on traditional Islamic attitudes and ideas about women.
Most Muslims believe that Eve was created from Adam’s rib, most significantly Adam’s crooked rib, as is also believed in the Judeo-Christian tradition.45 However, after conducting a very careful examination of all sura (chapter) and ayat (verse) on the issue of human creation from a lexical and grammatical approach, supported by a number of Qur’anic exegeses on the same subject, Hassan radically argues that rather “these explanations centre on human reproduction, not creation.”46 On the linguistic analysis of the word nafs from the sentence khalaqakum min nafs-in wahidatin (He,
42 Ibid., p. 65. 43 Ibid., p. 65. 44 Riffat Hassan, ‘Made from Adam’s Rib?: An Analysis of the Woman’s Creation Question in the Qur’an and the Hadith with Comparisons with the Jewish-Christian Tradition’, Al-Mushir XXVII, 3 (Autumn 1985), pp. 124 – 155. See also by the same author, ‘An Islamic Perspective’ in Women, Religion and Sexuality Studies on the Impact of Religious Teaching on Women, Jeanne Becher (ed), WCC Publications, Geneva, 1990; ‘Muslim Women and Post-patriarchal Islam’ in After Patriarchy Feminist Transformation of the World Religions, Paula M. Cooey, William R. Eakin and Jay B. McDaniel (eds), Orbis Books, Maryknoll, New York, 1991, pp. 39 – 64; ‘Challenging the Stereotypes of Fundamentalism: An Islamic Feminist Perspective’, The Muslim World, vol. 91 no.1 &2 (Spring2001),pp. 55 – 69. 45 Riffat Hassan, ‘Made from Adam’s Rib?, p. 127. 46 Ibid., p. 140, italics mine.
74 Allah created you (plural) from one nafs), Hassan identifies that nafs is a feminine noun without feminine ending.47 Nevertheless, in at least twelve English translations she has researched, no translation of nafs as “her” is found. Most translators translate nafs as “his,” some as “its”, which from Hassan’s point of view is more acceptable but grammatically incorrect. She explains: Certainly no Qur’anic exegesis has suggested to date that nafs-in wahidatin might refer to woman rather than to man. Commentators, both classical and modern, have assumed that nafs-in wahidatin refers to Adam, designated as “man” by all but few Muslims. . . . [S]ome Qur’anic verses correctly translated and understood literally, indicate that Allah’s original creation was feminine in form. . . . I do not think, however, that, in full Qur’anic context, an interpretation of nafs-in wahidatin that points to an exclusively feminine creation source is correct. In the same way, it would be incorrect to interpret Adam as an exclusively masculine creation. Reference is made primarily to the creation of all humanity, both woman and man, from a single source. That Allah’s original creation was undifferentiated humanity is implicit in a number of Qur’anic passages.48
According to Hassan the Qur’an clearly focuses on human creation, not woman’s creation. She argues an interpretation that says woman’s creation is elaborated in the Holy text is certainly invalid semantically and linguistically.
Hassan further suggests that the common Muslim belief in this version of woman’s creation may be rooted in the Hadith literature. She writes: “a more acceptable explanation rests on the influence of the hadith (i.e. reports or sayings) attributed to the Prophet Muhammad.”49 The issue of woman’s creation is found in two hadith collections considered to be most authoritative, namely Sahih al-Bukhari and Sahih Muslim. Out of six hadith (three from Bukhari, the rest from Muslim), Hassan notes “four of them state that woman was created from a crooked rib and two liken her to a crooked rib.”50 Some of the texts, one hadith in Al-Bukhari’s collection and others from Muslim’s, say: Treat women nicely, for a woman is created from a rib, and the curved portion of the rib is its upper portion, so if you would try to straighten it, it will break, but if you leave it as it is, it will remain crooked. So treat women nicely.
47 An Arabic noun usually contains either a masculine or feminine ending [of the word] to determine its gender. 48 Ibid,p. 142 –143. 49 Ibid., p. 143, hadith is the plural form of hadith. 50 Ibid., p. 147.
75 A woman is like a rib. When you attempt to straighten it, you would break it. And if you leave her alone you would benefit by her, and crookedness will remain in her. 51
In examining the Hadith literature, Hassan asserts that one must carefully look at the isnad / sanad (the names of the transmitters), and the chain of transmission (muttasil, where the chain of transmission is uninterrupted, or mu’an’an, if it is possible to be interrupted). After carefully scrutinizing the Hadith literature using these two methods, Hassan observes that: The rib story originated obviously in the Yahwist tradition, yet none of these hadith mentions Adam. This eliminates the Yahwist androcentrism, but also depersonalises the source of woman’s creation. (i.e. “the rib” could, theoretically, be non-human). . . . The misogynist elements of the hadith, absent from Genesis, clash with teachings of the Qur’an, which describe all human beings as having been created fi ahsan-i taqwin, i.e. most justly proportioned and with the highest capabilities.52
Hassan’s thorough and detailed investigation of “the woman question” in the Qur’an and Hadith literature reveals an important notion: that as the source of ideal and normative Islam, the Qur’an describes human creation (woman and man) in a wholly egalitarian manner. The belief that woman was created from Adam’s rib is not Qur’anic. Hassan emphasizes that such notions derive from the Hadith literature, which is still surrounded by controversy given that hadith are thought to have influences from pagan Arab, Jewish, Christian and Hellenic traditions. Thus the Qur’an cannot be taken as the source of such hadith. In conclusion Hassan even questions whether these hadith really reflect the sayings of the Prophet Muhammad, as she writes: It is gratifying to know that these hadith cannot be the words of the Prophet of Islam, whom history portrays as a staunch upholder of the rights of women. Regardless of how male chauvinist Muslims project their own androcentrism and misogyny upon their Prophet, being the recipient of the Qur’an, which states that all human beings were made from a single source, how is it possible that the Prophet of Allah could say that woman was created from a crooked rib from Adam’s rib? 53
Most Muslims do not commonly recognize the concept of Original Sin unlike the believers of the Christian tradition. On this issue, which is otherwise known as the Fall of Man, Hassan also gives a detailed and careful explanation based on Qur’anic reading.
51 Sahih Al-Bukhari, Volume IV, ‘The Book of the Prophets’, quoted in Hassan, ibid., p. 147. 52 Ibid., p. 151, italics mine. 53 Ibid., p. 154, italics mine.
76 After scrutinizing three passages on the story of the Fall of Man, sura 2: Al Baqarah: 35 – 39, sura 7: Al A’raf: 19 – 25 and sura 20: Ta-Ha: 115 – 124, she arrives at the conclusion that “it becomes clear that the Qur’an regards the act of disobedience by the human pair in al-jannah (the Garden) as a collective rather than an individual act for which exclusive, even primary, responsibility is not assigned to either man or woman.”54 Within the Qur’anic theology that Hassan is working, the responsibility for the fall of man from the garden lies on Adam and “zawj” (literally meaning “soul” or “mate”). This correlates closely to the Muslims’ understanding that the presence of human beings on earth is not because of the fall of Adam but because human beings are destined to be vice-regents of God on earth. The idea of human vicegerency will be examined in greater detail in Chapter 7 when the works of the writer Titis Basino are discussed.
Another problematic concept related to women rests on the word qawwamun found in a number of Qur’anic passages. Translators often coopt and manipulate the word for their own vested interests. Two passages, sura 4: An-Nisa: 34, and sura 2: Al-Baqarah: 288 are commonly used as primary references for man’s presumed authority over woman. The translation is primarily problematised on the statement (part of sura 4:An-Nisa: 34) ar-rijall-o qawwaamuun-a ‘ala an-nisa, which in an Indonesian translation means “men are the leaders of women.”55 In an English translations by Maududi, on the other hand, the same statement is translated as “[m]en are the managers of women.”56 Interpretation of the word is the key as Hassan states: The key word . . . is qawwamun. This word has been translated variously as “protectors and maintainers [of women],” “in charge [of women],” having pre- eminence [above women],” and “sovereigns or masters [over women].” Linguistically, the word qawwamun means “breadwinners” or “those who provide a means of support or livelihood.” A point of logic that must be made here is that the . . . sentence is not a descriptive one stating that all men as a matter of fact are providing for women, since obviously there are at least some men who do not provide for women. What the sentence is stating, rather, is that men ought to have the capability to provide (since ought implies can). In other
54 Riffat Hassan, ‘Muslim Women and Post-patriarchal Islam’, After Patriarchy Feminist Transformation of the World Religions, Paula M. Cooey, William R. Eakin and Jay B. McDaniel (eds), Orbis Books, Maryknoll, New York, 1991, p. 47. 55 Al Qur’an Terjemah Indonesia, P.T. Sari Agung, Jakarta, Juli 2001. See also Rochayah Machali’s article discussing the word qawwamun translated linguistically, ‘Women and the Concept of Power in Indonesia’ in Love, Sex and Power: Women in Southeast Asia, Susan Blackburn (ed), Monash Asia Institute, Clayton, 2001, p. 9. 56 Quoted on Hassan, ‘Muslim Women and Post-patriarchal Islam’, p. 54.
77 words, this statement, which almost all Muslim societies have taken to be an actual description of all men, is in fact a normative statement pertaining to the Islamic concept of division in an ideal family or community structure.57
Another point to be noted, according to Hassan, is the use of the words ar-rijal (the men) and an-nisa (the women). These words are addressed to men and women in Muslim communities, not exclusively to husbands and wives. An interpretation justifying the role of the wife as a subordinate to that of the husband is invalid. Moreover, if the verse (4: 34) is carefully analysed, it says “ar-rijall-o qawwaamuun-a ‘ala an-nisa (the men are qawwamun of the women), Allah has preferred some of them (men) over some of them (women) because they support them from their means.”58 Men being qawwamun for, or over, women is not a precondition for all situations: it is conditional; “some in relation to some.” Some men, perhaps, may be qawwamun for women, some men not. The literal meaning of this statement, which according to Hassan is the most appropriate interpretation is that “some men are more superior to some others (men and/or women) and that some women are superior to some others (men and/or women).”59 This is in accord with a conditional context that some men may be blessed with more means, making them better providers than other men.
Riffat Hassan’s groundbreaking work was followed by Amina Wadud, with her publication, Qur’an and Woman Rereading the Sacred Text from A Woman’s Perspective.60 Wadud’s rereading, employing a hermeneutic approach, or hermeneutics of tawhid, as she calls it, problematises the Qur’anic particular and universal teachings. Wadud’s hermeneutics of tawhid intends: [T]o emphasize how the unity of the Qur’an permeates all its parts. Rather than simply applying meanings to one verse at a time, with occasional references to various verses elsewhere, a framework may be developed that includes a systematic rationale for making correlations and sufficiently exemplifies the full impact of Qur’anic coherence.61
In examining each Qur’anic conceptual term based on its language act, syntactical structures, and textual context for the purpose of defining parameters of meaning,
57 Ibid., p. 55. 58 My own translation of Al Qur’an Terjemah Indonesia. 59 Ibid., p. 55. 60 Amina Wadud, Qur’an and Woman Rereading the Sacred Text from A Woman’s Perspective, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1999. First published in Malaysia in 1992 by Penerbit Fajar Bhakti Sdn. Bhd, Kuala Lumpur. 61 Ibid., p. xii.
78 Wadud utilizes a dual process: “keeping words in context and referring to the larger development of the term.”62 With such methods, she provides a more comprehensive way of fashioning a pure linguistic analysis, such as the analysis of verbs, gerunds and participles, with regard to the general élan of the Qur’anic teachings. With such methodology, Wadud wants to contribute to “a gender inclusive reading to one of those most fundamental disciplines in Islamic thought: tafsir, or Qur’anic exegesis,”63 Besides functioning as a challenge to the gender bias of Islamic male constructions, Wadud’s work also offers a view of the concept of women directly from the Qur’an, contributing to what she terms “the global pluralist discourse.”64 By reviewing the Qur’an as it is, together with the principles of objective guidance, social justice and human equality that it offers, Wadud’s tafsir (interpretation) is significant in contributing to “the post- colonial, postmodern field of Islamic studies by its focus on gender as a category of thought - not just a subject for discourse.”65
On the issue of human creation Wadud states that nafs (“self”), as the origin of human creation, is a feminine form. In addition, Wadud, in agreement with Hassan, asserts that conceptually nafs is neither feminine nor masculine. As she scrutinizes sura 4: An- Nisaa: 1: “O Mankind! Be careful of your duty to your Lord Who created you from a single nafs, and from it created its zawj, and from that pair spread abroad [over the earth] a multitude of men and women,”66 Wadud concludes that: [The verse] establishes the origin of all humankind as a single nafs, which is a part of a contingent-pair system: that nafs and its zawj. In practical terms, this essential pair is man and woman. In this verse, the use of the words ‘men’ and ‘women’ means that the physical manifestations of the essential paired reality are multiplied and ‘spread abroad [over the earth]’.67
This Qur’anic account of human creation is pivotal since it offers a basic conception of gender equality that all human beings share a single point of origin, which is nafs, and from it, its zawj (“mate,” “spouse,” “group”) is created.
62 Ibid., p. xiii. 63 Ibid., p. xvi. 64 Ibid., p. xvii. 65 Ibid., p. xi. 66 Quoted in Wadud, Quran and Woman, p. 22. 67 Ibid., p. 22.
79 Wadud’s Qur’anic study is indeed a complete Qur’anic Weltanschauung (world view) of gender equality. More inclusive than Hassan’s work, Wadud’s work encompasses the majority of “the woman question” issues; such as the equal creation of man and woman, women’s position in the everyday world and the hereafter, and women’s rights and rules as addressed in the Qur’an, such as the concept of faddala (to be preferred, to give preference) and daraja (level, degree, step), divorce, polygamy, witness, inheritance and child care. Faddala in fact carries semantic significance in gender politics. The misinterpretation of the word faddala may encourage a fallacious justification of gender inequality, since it claims ordination for being revealed in the Qur’an. Regarding faddala, it is essential to look at sura 4: An-Nisaa: 34, in Wadud’s own translation: Men are [qawwamuna ‘ala] women, [on the basis] of what Allah has [preferred] (faddala) some of them over others, and [on the basis] of what they spend of their property (for the support of women). So good women are [qanitat], guarding in secret that which Allah has guarded. As for those from whom you fear [nushuz], admonish them, banish them to beds apart, and scourge them. Then, if they obey you, seek not a way against them.68
In discussing this verse, Wadud—once again in agreement with Hassan—comments that the word qawwamuna does not rest on one translation alone. Wadud lists numerous translations; “authoritative”, “superior”, “in charge of”, “maintainer”, “protectors” and so forth. Wadud argues that men being qawwamuna of women is not “an unconditional indication of the preference of men over women.”69 That men are qawwamuna ‘ala women is conditional, and so is faddala. Wadud posits: Faddala cannot be unconditional because verse 4:34 does not read ‘they (masculine plural) are preferred over them (feminine plural)’. It reads ba’d (some) of them over ba’d (others). The use of ba’d relates to what obviously has been observed in the human context. All men do not excel all women in all manners. Some men excel some women in some manners. Likewise, some women excel some men in some manners. So, whatever Allah has preferred, it is still not absolute.70
Wadud’s rereading of the Qur’an undeniably challenges the common readings of those who support the patriarchal social order that renders women subjugated to men. Referring to the examination of verse 4:34, there is no doubt that the Qur’an does reveal
68 Quoted in Wadud, p. 70. 69 Ibid., p. 71. 70 Ibid., p. 71.
80 gender equality. As understanding of “equal” and “equality” may vary, Wadud believes that the notion “women are equal to men” does not mean that they are the same: The Qur’an reveals a necessary and complementary distinction between men and women. However, . . . [Wadud takes this to mean] that they have the same rights and obligations on the ethico-religious level, and have equally significant responsibilities on the social-functional levels.71
In contrast to conservative interpretations, Wadud’s new reading of the Qur’anic teachings affirm gender equality. Her interpretation shows that the teachings reinforce women as members of the umma (community of believers) with ability to exercise their rights and responsibilities, and to fully participate in the life of the community. Wadud’s work marks the true value of the Qur’an: its adaptability to continual reinterpretation by each generation, in a fashion reflecting its holistic intent, in accordance with the realities of the present and the future. In Wadud’s understanding, shared with other moderate, progressive and liberal Muslims, it is indeed this interpretive possibility of the Qur’an that enables it to communicate with all Muslims across time, space and historical realities.
Hassan, Wadud and other Muslim feminists like them, also other Muslim scholars— both men and women—have been working in the framework of a feminist theology that authenticates the urgency of female reading of the holy Qur’an. Their work augments the growing body of feminist scholarship on the fundamental subject of women and religion. Working from within the perspective of a particular religion can reveal the gendered construction of not only female identity and subjectivity, but also of male. In the context of Islam, where shari’a (Islamic jurisprudence) is said to derive from the Qur’an, Islamic feminist theology can centre its arguments on the core of the problem, and bring forward legal rationales to the problem of gender politics. This, nevertheless, might seem to be contradictory with the core of Islam, which is submission. How can a woman be submissive yet challenging at the same time? The answer is clear. Submission must be meant and directed only to the will of God. How then does one know the difference between what is believed to be the will of God and what is not? In Nurcholish Madjid’s view, the will of God is the transcending norms that involves the profession of faith, which regulates the relationship between humans and God in terms
71 Ibid., p. 102.
81 of ibadah (worshipping), having the quality of being fitri (pure) or hanif (the right path) and in parallel with the values of humanity.72
In relation to the general élan of the Qur’anic teachings and the Hadith, it is often asserted by Muslims that the very foundation of the first Muslim community in Madina, is justice and equality. Through ijtihad Muslims are given room to conduct reform and renewal of earlier interpretations that are not in line with progressive and dynamic Muslim societies. Again, through ijtihad, feminist theology attempts to endow women with room to accommodate their own responses, and create their own discourses, enabling them to conceptualise their own selves.
Common Ground, Different Contexts
As Margot Badran in Feminist, Islam and Nation writes, “[t]here are multiple identities, multiple political projects, multiple ways of constructing culture and evoking historical memories.”73 The same goes for the historical realities of Islamic feminism. The different meanings of Islamic feminism to different women across ages, regions, classes and cultures result in the multiple dimensions and contexts of the term. It is crucial not to define Islamic feminism, or locate the Muslim women’s movement, within a single framework. There is no single definition to accommodate such a broad term. What is more essential is to identify how women position and view themselves, construct their agendas, and reconstruct their own experiences. Such positioning recognizes the commonality that women from various movements share.
Despite the varieties and complexities attributed to Islamic feminism, such feminism does not radically divert from the path of any other feminism. The stories of feminism are stories of intersections between feminisms and nationalisms, between national feminisms of the ex-colonized Eastern countries and the Western-dominated international feminisms, between global feminisms and indigenous feminisms. However
72 Nurcholish Madjid, ‘Keharusan Pembaruan Pemikiran Islam dan Masalah Integrasi Umat’ in Islam Kemodernan dan Keindonesiaan, Penerbit Mizan, Bandung, 1987, p. 213. 73 Badran, Feminist, Islam and Nation, p. 25.
82 these diverse feminisms share a commonality. Elizabeth Fernea, in In Search of Islamic Feminism, posits: Certainly women’s rights and freedoms are a fundamental goal of the feminist movement, but feminism has developed different elements as the years have passed: the idea of gender as continually constructed identity; and the idea of the legitimacy of a female view, a view that sees the world differently from the male, and can point to new directions in human thought, a woman’s view that seeks to restore women to their place in history.74
With regard to the complexities of feminism what is “of central relevance to understanding the condition of women” is, as Kandiyoti states: The ways in which women are represented in political discourse, the degree of formal emancipation they are able to achieve, the modalities of their participation in economic life and the nature of social movements through which they are able to articulate their gender interests.75
Similar to other women’s movements across the world, the Muslim women’s movement in the Muslim world or in the non-Muslim world, from Indonesia to India, from Egypt to Saudi Arabia is grounded upon the central idea that even those opposing the compatibility of feminism and Islam (such as Haideh Moghissi) agree on: Being a ‘feminist’ begins with the refusal to subordinate one’s life to the male- centred dictates of religious and non-religious institutions. Feminism’s core idea is that women and men are biologically different, but this difference should not be translated into an unequal valuation of women’s experience and men’s experience; biology should not lead to differences in legal status, the privileging of one over the other.76
Whether working within ‘secular’ Western notions of feminism or feminist theology, women are using a variety of strategies based on their existing situations to overcome discrimination. Muslim women who call themselves feminists, or those who refuse to be labelled feminist, agree that Islamic feminism “strive[s] to create equality, not for the woman as individual but for the woman as part of the family, a social institution still seen as central to the organization and maintenance of any society.77 From her visits to most parts of the Muslim world, Elizabeth Fernea identifies the common ground
74 Elizabeth Warnock Fernea, In Search of Islamic Feminism One Woman’s Global Journey, Double Day, New York, 1998, p. 421. 75 Kandiyoti, Women, Islam and the State, pp. 2 – 3. 76 Haideh Moghissi, Feminism and Islamic Fundamentalism The Limits of Postmodern Analysis, Zed Books, London, 1999, p. 140. 77 Elizabeth Fernea, In Search of Islamic Feminism, p. 416.
83 alongside the different contexts of Islamic feminism and what it may mean to women. Fernea elucidates how diverse Islamic feminism is: The woman question is a central question everywhere, and women are active, . . . grouping and utilizing a variety of methods to achieve goals of gender parity, dignity, public power, goals that have been challenged by the ruling patriarchal traditions. Many are rejecting the Western feminist label, while at the same time employing some of the ideas, some of the same strategies as Western feminists. For some, religion is given in the feminist/womanist movement, the path to equality; of these women, a minority do indeed call themselves Islamic feminists. Some Muslim women believe that women should cover their heads and dress modestly, and they find justification for this in the Qur’an; the focus of their efforts is not the veil but the evaluation of sacred texts, with an eye to reforming the law, and ‘creating the just society propounded by Islam.’78
Muslim feminists are not only working within the paradigm of their religion and their own particularity, as feminists they are participating in and creating a wider movement where secularists and non-Muslims are included. Fernea posits: Poverty, domestic violence, political participation, female circumcision, literacy, social class, discussion of the veil, appropriation of the written word, legal equality – these are all aspects of this wider movement, in which Islamic feminists are also involved. The strategies these women are using to address their problems, though often different from . . . the West, merit . . . respect, and offer . . . a new source of inspiration. They are creating something new and powerful out of bits and pieces of Western ideas and . . . [their] traditions. In their struggle for legal and economic equality they stress the viability of the family group, a sense of responsibility to the wider group, the importance of religious values, . . . combining elements of both East and West to develop several feminist ideologies of their own.79
Lila Abu-Lughod, in ‘Feminist Longings and Postcolonial Conditions,’ asserts that “feminism always occurs in particular contexts, historical and social.”80 Knowledge of women’s conditions, whether women themselves shape, or are shaped by the complex fields of forces within their community, are important to any women’s movement. One needs to know what one has and must confront before undertaking a necessary struggle. Equating feminism with revolution, Fernea uses the analogy of one of her female activist friends who said: “a revolution is like cooking; before you begin, you have to
78 Ibid., pp. 421 – 422. 79 Ibid., p. 422. 80 Lila Abu-Lughod, ‘Feminist Longings and Postcolonial Conditions’, Remaking Women Feminism and Modernity in the Middle East, Lila Abu-Lughod (ed), Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey, 1998, p. 23.
84 look into the cupboard to see what ingredients you have at hand to work with.”81 The locality and context in which women adopt feminism must be put into consideration, placing women at the centre of any social, political or cultural movement. However, working within Islam from the perspective of feminist theology institutes a more profound and diverse way of gaining insight into the woman question. Islamic feminist theology can serve as a base for the Islamic women’s movement and an understanding of from where the “derailment” of women derives. The politics of Islamic feminism must become indigenous to the region, pervading all domains of the umma, be it economic, cultural, social or ideological to become the context in which the struggle for women’s emancipation is located. The very broad parameters of Islamic feminism, therefore, will remain to be contested and redefined, accommodating the needs of both women and men to create a just society which is the promulgation of Islam.
Challenges to feminist theology are mostly from conservative, orthodox Muslims who position themselves as anti-Western and attack feminists by labelling them pro-West. The accusation by conservatives that many feminists reside in the West is simply not true. Not all live and occupy positions in academic life or organizations in the Western world. Many, such as Malaysia’s Zainah Anwar, Iran’s Shirin Ebadi, Morroco’s Fatima Mernizi and Algeria’s Assia Djebar, still live and work extensively in their own countries. Whilst it is true that much feminist discourse is produced in the West, yet much is produced and published inside Islamic communities. Ziba Mir-Housseini, for example, bases her work in Iran yet travels extensively in Western countries, whilst Mahnaz Afkhami lives in the US and travels regularly to Iran. Amina Wadud published her seminal work on feminist interpretation of the Qur’an in Malaysia while she was teaching there, and Riffat Hassan’s writings can be easily found in Pakistani journals. In this global world it is incorrect to say that Islamic feminist perspectives can only be found in Western academies and countries. In Indonesia, most feminist discourses on Islam are widely available in Indonesian languages, written either by Indonesian scholars and clerics, or by non-Indonesian with translation. It is true that feminist discourses circulate widely in Western countries, particularly in English-speaking countries in order to gain wider audiences, nevertheless such writings are also widely available inside Muslim societies. Further, the contributors to the debates are not only
81 Fernea, p. 414.
85 female scholars. Alongside female scholars such as Amina Wadud, Riffat Hassan, Fatima Mernisi, Mai Yamani, and others, are male scholars such as Jamal Badawi, Abdullahi Ahmed An-Naim, Anour Majid, Farid Esack, Sayyed Hossein Nasr who have international renown and whose writings have been translated into many different languages including Indonesian and Arabic.
As this chapter surveyed discourses of Islamic feminism in the global arena, the following chapters will assess the circulation of the discourses of Islamic feminism and women’s issues at the local level within an Indonesian context. Accommodating locality will serve to maximalise the opportunities and uphold the dissemination of Islamic feminism to wider audiences.
86 Chapter 3
From Global to Local: General Perspective of Gender Issues and Islam in Pre-Independence Indonesia
As various Islamic discourses on gender emerge within the global setting, so are such discourses emerging within an Indonesian context. This chapter examines the historiography of women, gender and Islam in colonial Indonesia. Since the focus of this thesis is on the narratives of selected contemporary Indonesian Muslim women writers and how they engage with the notion of women’s representation, identity, status and role, it is important to look at earlier ideas about gender, and the influence such ideas might have on the writer’s narratives. Literary reproduction is not isolated from the cultural, political and socio-religious contexts from which it comes. It can capture the dynamics of the society within which it is constantly shaped and, in turn, shapes the world-view of the authors, the readers and the community. Engaging in the sociological dimensions of literary production is crucial because literature and society are two sides of the same coin, continuously influencing each other. This chapter serves the function of outlining the sociological dimensions in which the writer’s narratives are placed.
In reviewing the historiography of gender issues and Islam what constitutes Islamic writing is still controversial. What does “Islamic” mean when the adjective is attached to writings? Does it need to reflect Islam as a category of religious belief or Islam as the spirit materialized in the writings? Chamamah Soeratno argues that “Islamic” here must mean more than placing Islam as a religion in a limited sense.1 Soeratno “broadens” the adjective “Islamic.” Parallel to Hogdson’s “Islamicate” and Majid’s “Islamic” discussed in the previous chapter, Soeratno proposes to extend “Islamic” to more than a religious conception. Basing her argument on Maududi’s view that Islam functions as a moral guidance in all facets of Muslim life, Soeratno concludes that Islamic values do not belong to a certain group or community, rather, Islamic values such as equality, justice
1 Soeratno, Siti Chamamah, ‘Tanggapan Atas Pembicaraan Uka Tjandraasmita’, Ruh Islam Dalam Budaya Bangsa: Agama dan Problema Masa Kini, Aswab Mahasin and others (eds), Yayasan Festival Istiqlal, Jakarta, 1996. Soeratno is a Professor of Indonesian Literature in Gajah Mada University, Yogyakarta. She is also an activist in Muhammadiyah, a leading Islamic organisation. 87 and humanitarian norms of liberty and democracy are universals for all individuals taking active participation in all aspects of life.2 Soeratno reminds us that the terms “Islamic texts” or “Islamic writings” should not be limited to those that encompass only Islamic elements in a rather limited sense, such as Islamic jurisprudence, or Sufism and its rituals. Instead, “Islamic” should become an active and dynamic element where its values reflect its expression in human life. Islamic values are values obliged by divine imperative for every Muslim to attain in his/her way called “jihad fi sabil Allah” (striving in the cause of Allah) through mandating justice and equality for all. When accepting Islamic values as universal, a writer who strives for equality and justice in her/his writing can be considered as an “Islamic writer” without necessary being a Muslim.
Another premise for categorizing writings as “Islamic” is proposed by Asma Afsarudin. Basing her arguments on the notion of what is Islamic she uses Hodgson’s term “Islamicate.”3 Afsarudin argues that “Muslim,” “Islamic” and “Islamicate” are nonetheless interchangeable terms describing: [S]ocieties and nation-states that maintain and/or have consciously adopted at least the public symbols of adherence or considerable segments to traditional Islamic beliefs and practices. Such societies or considerable segments within such societies may regard Islam as a civilizational-ideological construct on par with or complementary to the constructs of Western secular culture and feel themselves free to borrow haphazardly from both systems. They do not, however, found their greater part of their legal system on an Islamic basis nor attribute their formation to the realization of religious objectives (with very few notable exceptions).4
Islam, in this sense, becomes more of an “idiom” shared by the majority of the population and exemplified in collective celebrations, festivals and individual or communal rituals, and as such are the assumed characteristic of Islamic societies today.5 Although Afsarudin does apply a slightly different distinction to the terms “Muslim,” “Islamic” and “Islamicate,” her differentiation is only in a matter of time periods. For
2 Ibid., p. 268. 3 See my discussion on Hodgson’s and Madjid’s use of “Islamicate” and “Islamic” in the previous chapter. 4 Asma Afsarudin, ‘Introduction: The Hermeneutics of Gendered Space and Discourse’, in Hermeneutics and Honor: Negotiating Female “Public” Space in Islamic/ate Societies, Asma Afsarudin (ed), Harvard University Press, Cambridge, 2000. 5 Ibid., p. 4., Afsarudin grounds such characterization on the shared characteristics of Islamic societies based on the definitions given by Mardin and Arkoun and claims colonial influences as all pervasive without any detailed study of Indonesian societies to support this argument. 88 Afsarudin “Muslim/Islamic” signifies periods before Western influence or colonial invasion, while “Islamicate” covers epochs after such influence. However, she concludes that contemporary Muslim societies are “Islamicate” in the sense that Islam is used in “emotive, broadly cultural, and experiential terms, rather than in legal and theological terms.”6
Accordingly, a clear-cut categorization of what is “Islamic” and “non-Islamic” is not an easy one. Such blurring of distinction derives from an understanding that “Islamic” is not a category radically isolated from the spacio-temporality from which it is used to depict something, be it society, normative association, or even writing. One may conclude that Islamic writing is then any writing pertaining to any association with any Islamic/ate values. Such writing does not need to cover merely a sole definition of Islam by a certain group. Such writing opens a vast category, a vast association, serving as an open corpus interpretable and approachable from any direction. What is Islamic does not have to have a direct reference to Islam. A writing with no Islamic religious reference may well be justified in calling itself Islamic when it conveys the ethical message of Islam of equality and justice. The first and foremost requirement of Islam is to believe in Allah, who is “Rabb al-'alamin”, creator and sustainer of all peoples and universes, who sends revelation for the guidance of humanity to and through the Prophet Muhammad, preserved in the Qur'an and the sound Hadith. The term “Islamic narratives” should not be limited to only those claiming to be Islamic. Muslim writers advocating the advancement of women, gender equality, democracy and modernity work within Islamic narratives, even though such narratives might be viewed as marginal by traditional Islamic scholars.
Gender/ed Discourse and Islam in Indonesia: A Short Historiography
In this chapter discussion on the historiography of gender discourses in Indonesia will be limited to the ones concerning the life of Indonesian Muslims. This does not mean that ideas about gender relations within other religious contexts in Indonesia—such as
6 Ibid., p. 4. 89 Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism or others beliefs—are unimportant.7 Simply, it is because Indonesia has the largest Muslim population in the world that the intersection between women, gender, Islam and the Indonesian nation is so significant.
More than a decade ago Lies Marcoes commented on the vital need to have “more wide-ranging and in-depth studies of Indonesian Muslim women.” At that time, compared to the abundant resources on the lives of Muslim women from other parts of the world, such as Africa, Afghanistan, Iran and the Middle East,8 there were very few studies concerning Indonesian Muslim women. There was a particular lack of resources in the Indonesian language. The changes in Indonesian political life over the last few years are a significant cause for the abundance of writings on gender and Islam that now appear. Indonesian Muslim female and male scholars are now articulating their ideas about gender relations both through public speaking and their literary production. Nevertheless, despite the variety of views the writings represent two distinct opposing views.
One view sees biological distinction between men and women as the inherent basis for the different roles for men and women in their societies. Biology is used to relegate women to the private sphere and they are said to be more emotional and less intelligent than men. Conversely, because men are born with stronger physical ability than women they are considered less emotional and more intelligent than women and thus belong to the public sphere. Differences in terms of biology are used to ascribe psychological differences and this is used to demand differences in laws, rights and obligations.9 This is known as the complementary function: women are created to be the complement of
7 For a more sociological reference, see Arief Budiman, Pembagian Kerja Secara Sexual: Sebuah Pembahasan Sosiologis tentang Peran Wanita di dalam Masyarakat (Sexual Division of Labour: A Sociological Exploration of the Role of Women in Society), Gramedia Press, Jakarta, 1985. In this book, Budiman discusses about biological distinction between men and women, which is also discussed in this chapter. 8 Lies M. Marcoes, ‘The Female Preacher as a Mediator in Religion A Case Study in Jakarta and West Java’ in Women and Mediation in Indonesia, Sita van Bemmelen, Madelon Djajadiningrat-Nieuwenhuis, Elsbeth Locher-Scholten and Elly Touwen-Bouwsma (eds), KITLV Press, Leiden, 1992. Late 1999s, there were some writings on women and Islam in Indonesia such as by Andrée Feillard, ‘Indonesia’s emerging Muslim feminism: women leaders on equality, inheritance and other gender issues”, in Studi Islamika, vol. 4, no. 1, Jakarta, 1997, pp. 83 – 111, and ‘The Veil and Polygamy: current debates on women and Islam in Indonesia”, in Moussons, no. 99, Marseille, 1995, pp. 5 – 27.
9 Dr. Achmad Satori Ismail, ‘Fiqih Perempuan dan Feminisme’ Membincangkan Feminisme: Diskursus Gender Perspective Islam, Tim Risalah Gusti (ed), Risalah Gusti, Jakarta, 2000, p. 144. 90 men, and vice versa. In this view because men and women are naturally different they are therefore kodrati 10(Indonesian, meaning unalterable nature one is born with, or predetermined). Crossing the public and private spheres becomes impossible with kodrati. Men cannot and should not enter the private or domestic sphere, nor should women enter the public. This is considered gender equality ordained by Islam, and it seems this view justifies gender equality by reference to gender inequality. It is a view commonly held by traditional authorities that use religion to justify women’s subordination, and provoke hatred against those proffering alternative views on women’s rights.
Johan Meuleman, in his research on books about Muslim women circulating in Indonesia, classifies the above view as “apologetic discourse” because it attempts to define how Islam can provide eternal justice and equality for women’s emancipation, their social and spiritual roles, right and obligations, in comparison with other religions.11 In this view, since Islam is capable of endowing its believers with the principle of equality, feminism and women’s emancipation are seen as evil products of the West that all Muslim should fight against. Islam, thus, is not in need of gender equality as the shari’a has placed Muslim men and women in equal position.12 Meuleman concludes that such writings are used to sustain a traditional view and are mostly written within Middle Eastern settings. He observes that such books are principally irrelevant to the circumstances of Muslim women in Indonesia.13 What is important to note here is that Islam cannot be separated from the locality of the life of Muslims. The subject position of those interpreting and of those practising the religion—their culture, gender, race, ethnicity and class differences, needs to be taken into account.
10 Saskia E. Wieringa in ‘The Birth of the New Order State in Indonesia: Sexual Politics and Nationalism’ defines kodrati as “a religiously-inspired code of conduct based on women’s intrinsic ‘nature.’ The kodrat of Indonesian women prescribed that they should be meek, passive, obedient to the male members of the family, sexually shy, self-sacrificing and nurturing. To the end, their main vocation was wifehood and motherhood.” Journal of Women History, Spring 2003 vol. 15 issue 1, p. 74. 11 Johan Meuleman, ‘Analisis Buku-Buku tentang Wanita Islam yang Beredar di Indonesia’ in Wanita Islam Indonesia Dalam Kajian Tekstual dan Kontekstual, Lies. M Marcoes-Natsir and Johan Hendrik Meuleman (eds), INIS, Jakarta, 1993, p. 181. 12 Ahmad Zahro Al-Hasany, MA, ‘Islam dan Perempuan (Diskursus Islam, RA Kartini dan Feminisme)’, Membincangkan Feminism, p. 257. 13 Ibid., p. 183. 91 The opposing view criticises the belief that biology determines the complementary function of men and women as gender bias. These writings commonly represent the voices of Muslim feminists and other male and female scholars who challenge the traditional authorities by offering different interpretations and reinterpretations accommodating the challenges in contemporary society. Zainah Anwar of Sisters in Islam in Malaysia, writes: In responding to the international discourse on women’s rights, such Muslims, including women educated by traditional teachers, say that because men and women are not the same, there cannot be equality. Instead, they say that in Islam men and women complement each other and therefore what Islam recognizes is equity not equality. What this means is that because men and women are different, they have a separate and distinct role to play.14
Scholars like Anwar argue that natural differences cannot and should not become the locus for discrimination between men and women. Whilst men and women are endowed with different physiological functions their roles in society—separation into public and private spheres—are a matter of culture, and not nature. Interpretations by progressive Muslim scholars in Indonesia parallel those in other Muslim societies which argue that gender equality in Islam means similar opportunities given to both sexes in order to achieve justice and equality. Such feminist interpretations of the Qur’an assert the belief that ijtihad has and will always be part of Islamic scholarship.15 If the “gates of ijtihad” were closed in the late 11th or early 12th century certainly they are now truly reopened with the introduction of new exegesis of the Qur’an.16 The co-existence in Indonesia of oppositional discourses on gender equality is worth noting, as it marks the diversity of notions of equality as understood by Indonesian Muslims.
14 Zainah Anwar, ‘What Islam, Whose Islam?: Sisters in Islam and the Struggle for Women’s rights’ The Politics of Multiculturalism: Pluralism and Citizenship in Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia, Robert W. Hefner (ed), University of Hawai’i Press, Honolulu, 2001, p. 230. 15 More detailed who’s who of writings on gender discourse in Indonesian Islam can be obtained from Ulumul Qur’an, Edisi Khusus, no. 5 & 6, vol. V, Tahun 1994, p. 3. It was Wardah Hafidz who first introduced Islamic feminism in Indonesia. See Hafidz, W. ‘Feminism sebagai Counter-Culture’. Ulumul Qur’an, Edisi Khusus, no. 5 & 6, vol. V, Tahun 1994, p. 3. 16 The notion of “the closure of the gates of ijtihad” in the thirteenth century remains debatable to this day. This closure was introduced by Al Ghazali who believed that too many people with inadequate Qur’anic knowledge were claiming to be mujtahid (interpreter of the Qur’anic exegeses), leading to wrongful interpretations of the Qur’an. He, then, called for a closing of the gates. As a great scholar, his call was followed by numerous ulama, however there were still many who disagreed with his calling. Ghazali is commonly followed today by conservative and orthodox ulama. Modernist and progressive Muslims believe that those gates have never been closed even when Ghazali made his call in the early 12th century. The latter includes Imam al-Syaukani in mid 18th century declaring that the gates could never be closed, followed by the rector of Al-Azhar University Syekh Al-Maraghy. See KH Ibrahim Hosen, ‘Taqlid dan Ijtihad Beberapa Pengertian Dasar’, Artikel Yayasan Paramadina, Internet, http://media.isnet.org/islam/Paramadina/Konteks/TaqlidIH2.html, (30 November 2005). 92 Although writings on gender discourses in Indonesian Islam are a rather recent phenomenon—first appearing around the 1980s, writings on “woman issues” date back more than a hundred years. Kitab (Arabic, meaning book) ‘Uqûd al-Lujjayn17 by Imam Nawawi (Muhammad Ibn Umar al-Banteny al-Jawy, 1813 – 1898) is regarded as a “classic” source. As writings are, to a certain degree, reflections of the socio-historical circumstances of their societies, one may assume that written documentations of “woman issues” inscribed long before gender equality discourses come into being are heavily gender biased. This is true of the Kitab ‘Uqûd al-Lujjayn. This kitab is classified as kitab kuning (Indonesian, meaning yellow book). Kitab kuning are classical books recording exegeses and explications of Islamic teachings by ulama of pre-modern schools of thoughts.18 Although “secular” Muslims appear not to use this kitab, for students of pesantren (Islamic boarding school) and their surrounding communities, the book is very popular, While it is not the main text book it is read and serves as a reference for many Muslims in their family life, particularly in terms of husband-wife relations. The book prescribes what a Muslim wife and husband should and should not do in their marital relations. According to Nawawi’s interpretation, for example, the Hadith literature says a wife who refuses to have sexual intercourse with her husband, will be condemned by the archangel till sunrise.19 A recent critical rereading of Nawawi’s work has been conducted by the Forum Kajian Kitab Kuning (FK3, Kitab Kuning Studies Forum) — a forum for kitab kuning studies, which is chaired by the former Indonesian First Lady, Mrs. Sinta Nuriyah Abdurrahman Wahid. FK3 has recently published their study. On the question of the condemnation by the archangel, for example, FK3 says the Hadith needs to be read critically not textually. The teaching must be intended for both wife and husband, and not solely for the wife. Indeed, the meaning of al-la’nah (God’s condemnation to a sinner) given by Nawawi is misleading, as it should be understood in a social context as the loss of good deeds, compassion and peace in domestic life.20 FK3 believes that this kitab comprises exegeses of normative Islam that may be in conflict with the spirit of Islam in matters of justice and equality.
17 KH A. Mustafa Bisri, ‘Ini Uqûd al-Lujjayn Baru, Ini Baru ‘Uqûd al-Lujjayn’, in Wajah Baru Relasi Suami-Istri: Telaah Kitab ‘Uqûd al-Lujjayn, Forum Kajian Kitab Kuning (FK3), Lkis Yogyakarta, 2001, p. ix. 18 Masdar F. Mas’udi, ‘Perempuan di antara Lembaran Kitab Kuning’, Membincang Feminism: Diskursus Gender Perspektif Islam, Tim Risalah Gusti (eds), Risalah Gusti, Surabaya, 2000, p. 167. 19 Wajah Baru Relasi Suami Istri, p. 49. 20 Ibid., p. 50. 93 From the rereading of the Hadith literature that the kitab draws upon FK3 locates misinterpretations that reflect gender bias, which in turn leads to a promulgation of gender inequality.21
What FK3 has done is to show the way for similar studies to be undertaken on other textbooks in the kitab kuning series, particularly those touching on gender and power relations. Such new readings are behind the movement to disseminate new ideas of gender in the pesantren world. Husein Muhammad reports that several projects to raise awareness of gender issues within Islamic paradigm are currently being undertaken. It is vital not to ignore gender issues, as more than half of pesantren students are female. NGOs such as Yayasan Kesejahteraan Fatayat (Foundation of Fatayat Welfare) in Yogyakarta, P3M (Perhimpunan Pengembangan Pesantren dan Masyarakat, Coalition of Pesantren and Society Development), the Rahima Foundation, and, of course, Yayasan Puan Amal Hayati (Puan Amal Hayati foundation) are amongst notable organizations raising concerns about gender issues with pesantren women. These institutions often hold a number of forums, trainings and workshops for the kyais (Indonesian, Muslim clerics and, usually, the head of pesantren) and nyais (the wife of a kyai who can be the head of pesantren for girls), particularly the young ones, in order to provide them with information concerning fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence) and women.22 Many nyais and female graduates of the pesantren occupy public roles and are active in women’s organizations. However, Muhammad reminds us that not all pesantrens raise such issues in their programmes, many still teach and implement the discriminative and heavily gender biased kitab kuning without critically assessing and situating those kitabs within women’s rapidly changing situations.
Similar researches and studies are also being conducted at the academic level as Islamic scholars, such as Nasarudin Umar, Zaitunah Subhan, Masdar F. Mas’udi and Siti Ruhaini Dzuhayatin, are rereading and reinterpreting the classical texts, including kitab kuning and Quranic exegeses. Umar’s published dissertation Argumen Kesetaraan Gender: Perspective Al Qur’an (Gender Equality Arguments: the Quranic Perspectives, 2001), Subhan’s Tafsir Kebencian: Studi Bias Gender dalam Tafsir Al Qur’an
21 Ibid., p. xiv. 22 Husein Muhammad, ‘Pesantren and the Issue of Gender Relation’, Kultur: The Indonesian Journal for Muslim Cultures, vol. 2, no. 2, 2002, pp. 77-79. 94 (Interpretations of Abhorrence: Gender Biases in the Interpretations of the Qur’an, 1999), and Mas’udi’s Islam dan Hak Hak Reproduksi Perempuan: Dialog Figh Pemberdayaan (Islam and the Women’s Reproduction Rights: Dialogue on Empowerment Jurisprudence, 1997) and Dzuhayatin’s articles on the problems of gender bias in Islamic teachings can be deemed as central texts articulating gender equality by proposing new interpretations of Islamic texts such as the Qur’an itself, the Hadith literature and Qur’anic exegeses. As well, most State Institutes of Islamic Studies (IAIN, Institut Agama Islam Negeri) now have a PSW (Pusat Studi Wanita, Centre of Women’s Studies) as important research and teaching programmes. The most notable examples are the PSW in IAIN Syarif Hidayatullah Jakarta, and the PSW in IAIN Sunan Kalijaga Yogyakarta.23 Some of the pesantren putri (Islamic boarding school for girls), such as in Seblak Jombang, under the supervision of Lili Zakiyah Munir, the chair of Cepdes (Centre of Pesantren and Democracy Studies), run courses on Islamic feminism and gender issues.24
Muslim Women and Islam in Colonial Indonesia
Historical records show that before Islam arrived in Indonesia a few women in a few communities held important positions of authority as queens, leaders and priests.
Documents reveal that from 1641 to 1699, Aceh, a mainly Muslim region in Sumatra was ruled by a succession of queens. The last queen abdicated; she was removed from office after claims that a fatwa had been obtained from Mecca and was replaced by her husband. Although these female rulers had to be behind hijab (screen) in their public appearances, and the operations of their directives were through eunuchs, this does not diminish their important roles as decision makers for their people. During the reign of
Sultanah Tajul Alam Safiatuddin Alauddin in the seventeenth century schools for both
23 Today both IAIN Syarif Hidayatullah Jakarta and IAIN Sunan Kalijaga Yogyakarta have been changed into UINs (Universitas Islam Negeri, Islamic State University): UIN Syarif Hidayatullah and UIN Sunan Kalijaga. 24 Interview with Lily Zakiyah Munir at her house in Cempaka Putih, South Jakarta, 25 August 2004. 95 men and women were built for she believed that Islam sanctioned both men and women to acquire knowledge and in Eastern Indonesia, a Muslim queen ruled in 1856.25 All these examples celebrate participation in managing public affairs. However, in the latter periods, there was an absence in the historical record of strong female leaders compared to earlier (and lesser known periods). Women’s participation in developing and preserving private and public culture gradually degraded. They were regarded as a part of property, demeaning their once high political and social positions. They were placed under the authority of men and regarded as wives. In general, all of Indonesia’s ethnic groups defined leadership and public male as male preserve. Baried observes:
The image of Indonesian women . . . [had changed] from figures who held great responsibilities in society to those who were treated as respectable, adorable and honourable things. The consciousness of responsibilities women formerly held became progressively weaker, and in most cases finally vanished. In the village, for example, women assumed heavy tasks without having the right to act or decide on any issue relating to family and social life. This condition was exacerbated during the Dutch colonial period, when there was a definitive decline in women’s position in all walks of life.27
The diminishing of women’s role transpired despite their active role in economic affairs in what was a largely agricultural society. Their actions in contributing to and maintaining the sustainability of family economic life were downplayed and ignored. In the second half of the nineteenth century there was a great expansion in female paid labour yet women earned only fifty percent of a man’s wage. Women’s contribution to the family income was both in kind and money yet every decision concerning family life rested fully with men and women were simply obliged to follow.28
25 Baroroh Baried, ‘Islam and the Modernization of Indonesian Women’, Islam and Society in Southeast Asia, Taufik Abdullah and Sharon Shiddique (eds), Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, Singapore, 1986, p. 141. See also Mernisi in The Forgotten Queens of Islam. There is an evidence of two queens from Majapahit: Tribuwana (1329 – 1350) and Suhita (1429 – 1447), however these queens are not Muslim. 27 Baried, op.cit., p. 142. 28 See website of Kementrian Pemberdayaan Perempuan (Ministry of Women’s Empowerment), Internet, http://www.menegpp.go.id/menegpp.php?cat=list&id=gender&page=2, (28 November 2005) for figures on women-headed households. The 1974 Undang-Undang Perkawinan (marriage law) still places women’s participation to family economic regardless the amount of their contribution as secondary to their husbands’.
96 The early 1900s Indonesia saw the emergence of the first women’s movement in Indonesia, no doubt influenced by similar occurrences in many other parts of the world. The role of women within Islam began to be questioned. Was it ideal Islam or simply patriarchal practices of Islam that prevented women from attaining equality in education and political and economic life? Was it not the Prophet Muhammad who required his followers, both men and women, to seek knowledge? Was it not one of his wives, Aisyah, who led the war called the Camel War? These questions were circulated amongst women, and discourses on women and Islam in Indonesia started. The modernist Muslims were keen to reform Indonesian Islam by returning the religion to the “correct” interpretations based on the Qur’an and the Hadith teachings. Alongside the modernist Muslims in the movement there were also secular groups who voiced similar demands on some issues. Elsbeth Locher-Scholten comments on the nature of the women’s movement in the early decades of the twentieth century prior to independence: Like nationalism itself, the Indonesian women’s movement had become organized along various ideological lines, roughly divided by women themselves in a reformist-Islamic and a secular-nationalist section. While a few of the Islamic organizations counted its members by thousands from different classes, the numerous secular groups did so by hundreds or even tens, mostly women from the elite. Both groups were still united, however, in their focus on female education and the debate about (reformed) polygamy.29
Because Islam was pivotal in shaping the lives of the actors in the early Indonesian women’s movement the differences between women on interpretations of Islam’s teachings and values cannot be overlooked. One issue of contention was the role of Islam in the political realm. Because the Islamic and secular women’s organizations had differing opinions, the first national Women’s Congress (thirty organizations present) in December 1928 agreed to exclude politics from the agenda, focusing merely on social affairs.30 This meant the congress had limited their framework for women’s emancipation.
In line with developments in other countries in the early twentieth century, modernity meant modern education for citizens, and this included female citizens. However, in
29 Elsbeth Locher-Scholten, Women and the Colonial State: Essays on Gender and Modernity in the Netherlands Indies 1900 – 1942, Amsterdam University Press, Amsterdam, 2000, p.160. 30 Ibid. 97 colonial Indonesia this did not mean giving educational opportunities for all female colonial subjects. Modern education, which in this period was commonly regarded as western education, was exclusively for women of the priyayi class (Javanese bureaucratic elite) or women from the urban Islamic upper- or middle-classes. Co- educational vernacular schools were limited to a very tiny percentage of society and education for the lower classes was still largely left to the traditional schools, for example in the case of Islamic education, pesantren through the teachings of kitab kuning. Prior to the twentieth century Muslim girls were educated at home where they were taught to recite the Qur’an and read Arabic script.31 Pesantren were all-male institutions until the first pesantren for female students was set up in the second decade of the twentieth century.32 The decision of the first national congress of women in 1928 to put female education, despite not taking note of class, religious and adat (Indonesian, meaning local custom) differences, was still a significant step towards creating an awareness of women’s affairs beyond their domestic role.
On Polygamy33
It was Kartini who first started the discussion on the necessity of modern/western education for Indonesian women. Born in 1879, she was regarded as “a pioneer of women’s rights, education and personal freedom.”34 Through her letters of correspondence with her Dutch friends, written in Dutch and published in 1911 with the title Door Duisternis Tot Licht (Through Darkness Into Light) by J.A. Abendanon, whose wife was one of Kartini’s mentors, Kartini’s ideas came into public discourse amongst the literate elite. The letters subsequently went through several editions and
31 Cora Vreede-de Stuers, The Indonesian Woman: Struggles and Achievements, Mouton & Co., Printers, The Hague, The Netherlands, 1960, p. 63. 32 Zamakhsyari Dhofir, Tradisi Pesantren: Studi Tentang Pandangan Hidup Kyai, LP3ES, Jakarta, 1994, p. 54, quoted in Husein Muhammad, ‘Pesantren and the Issue of Gender Relation,’ Kultur The Indonesian Journal for Muslim Cultures, vol. 2, no. 2, 2002, p. 68. 33 Polygamy in this thesis is used as a term to indicate the state or practice of having more than one wife, rather than polygyny. According to Merriam-Webster Online, polygamy is a marriage in which a spouse of either sex may have more than one mate at the same time, while polygyny is the state or practice of having more than one wife or female mate at one time, Internet, http://www.m-w.com, (26 March 2006). 34 Jean Taylor, ‘Once More Kartini’, Autonomous Histories Particular Truths: Essays in Honor of John Smail, Laurie Sears (ed), Center for Southeast Asian Studies, University of Wisconsin-Madison, Madison, 1993, p. 156. 98 translations, including one into Indonesian by Armijn Pane. Kartini herself failed to enjoy the fame her letters brought her because of her early death in childbirth in 1904, seven years before the publication of her letters. Kartini, to a certain degree, inspired the succeeding Indonesian women’s movement. Her letters are evidence of her desire to question the condition of women “in the areas of medical and general welfare” and reveal her objection to polygamy.35
Many critical readings of Kartini’s letters place her ideas and worldview into much larger contexts of socio-political and cultural changes within society. Very few have included her into religious discussions, especially in the framework of Islam.36 Kartini like most members of her family was a Muslim.37 Not only does she write against polygamy in Javanese society, she also attacks this problem within Islamic discourse. Polygamy in Java, where Kartini resided all of her life, existed long before Islam was introduced to Java, yet it was clear to her that polygamy was sustained, became deeply rooted and institutionalised by Islam. Her struggle against polygamy and her demand for female education reflect many of the changes that Muslim women are still advocating for in contemporary Indonesia. For Kartini, polygamy was men’s subjugation of women, “an enemy” to be opposed:
35 Ibid., p. 159. 36 An article by Ahmad Zahro Al-Hasany, MA ‘Islam dan Perempuan (Diskursus Islam, RA Kartini dan Feminisme’. Membincangkan Feminisme: Diskursus Gender Perspective Islam, Tim Risalah Gusti (ed), Risalah Gusti, Jakarta, 2000, pp. 251 – 264 places Kartini in the Islamic discourse and feminism. However, I find his findings quite misleading. Zahro Al-Hasany believes that Kartini’s struggle is to find her way back to her religion, Islam, and that she is not a representation of liberal and secular feminism adopted from Western environment. Saying that Kartini is a Muslim feminist with not liberal Western influence is partially incorrect. Careful reading of Kartini’s letters undeniably shows that Kartini is very much influenced by Western feminism and secularism introduced to her by Stella Zeehandelaar and her other Dutch friends. In her letter to Zeehandelaar on November 6, 1899, Kartini illustrated her wish for the non-existence of religion since different religions contributed to conflicts. However, a letter to Abendanon on August 15, 1902 acknowledged her comprehension and acceptance of the notion of religion. All these letters are from On Feminism and Nationalism: Kartini’s Letters to Stella Zeehandelaar 1899 – 1903, translated and introduction by Joost Coté, revised edition, Monash Asia Institute, Clayton, Australia, 2005, and Letters of A Javanese Princess, translated from the Dutch by Agnes Louis Symmers, edited and with an introduction by Hildred Geertz, preface by Eleanor Roosevelt, The Norton Library, WW Norton & Company, New York, 1964. However, as is widely known the title Letters of A Javanese Princess is misleading and inappropriate. Kartini was not a princess in the sense of being a daughter of a king. She was the daughter of high-ranking official in colonial government. Her father was the regent of Jepara. Regent during the Dutch colonial reign was the highest official position given to the natives in order to help colonial administration of native affairs. 37 Her letters to Stella Zeehandelaar on November 6, 1899 took account of her confession being a Muslim, the faith she inherited from her ancestors without knowing what it actually was, but on her later letter to J. H. Abendanon on August 15, 1902 depicted her desire to learn the Qur’an and her comprehension of what religion meant for her. 99 And can you imagine what hellish pain a woman must experience when her husband comes home with another whom she has to recognize as his lawful wife, her rival? He can torment her to death, mistreat her as much as he likes for as long as he chooses not to give her her freedom again; she can whistle to the wind for her rights! Everything for the man, and nothing for the woman is our law and general belief.38
However, one must realize that debate over marriage in colonial Indonesia entered into public discourse through the Indonesian elite, particularly through the priyayi class and scholars having access to Dutch education and close associations with the colonial authorities. At the grassroots level, that is the majority of Indonesians, such debate seemed to be non-existent.
At other social levels—such as the Muslim merchant class—the attitudes to gender relations were more complex. As Dzuhayatin states with references to Kuntowijoyo and Alexander’s studies in 1993 and 1998: [G]ender relations among the juragan merchants (many of whom, it should be noted, came from more pious Muslim background than did court officials [of priyayi class] were more flexible, open and egalitarian. This is best seen in the fact that both sexes had access to productive activities. Home-based industries such as batik paintings, gold and silver smithing, and others were commonly conducted in the neighbourhood or household, enabling wives and the whole family to participate.39
Nonetheless, despite Dzuhayatin’s statement that access to productive activities may appear to be egalitarian, this does not automatically mean that women of that class are independent. The question lies in the idea of whether equal participation in economic production gives women equal share to status and position. Often, equal economic participation meant a “double burden” for women, as they had to support the family economy and maintain their domestic role at the same time.
Indonesian women of the elite class began to see polygamous marriage as an old traditional form that was not parallel to the ideals of the women’s movement. It was their belief that the European-Christian ideal of a perpetual monogamous marriage between a man and woman should be the norm. Their view was supported by the colonial authorities which sought to change the marriage traditions of indigenous
38 Letter to Zeehandelaar on 6 November 1899, On Feminism and Nationalism: Kartini’s Letters to Stella Zeehandelaar 1899 – 1903, p. 35. 39 Siti Ruhaini Dzuhayatin, ‘Gender and Pluralism in Indonesia’, The Politics of Multiculturalism, p. 258. 100 Indonesians in child marriage, arranged marriage, polygamy and Islamic divorce laws, to fit with Western norms.40 Responding to the demands of the Indonesian elite the Dutch colonial authorities put forward a draft on voluntary monogamous marriage for Indonesian Muslims, called the Draft Ordinance on Registered Marriage, in 1937. This draft was supposedly to work parallel to the Marriage Ordinance for Christian Indonesian legalized earlier in January 1937. However, as Locher-Scholten writes, the debate did not only touch on the religious disparity between the Christian colonial administration and its majority subjects, it was more complex: The struggle around this regulation can be considered to reflect one of the core aspects of colonialism, the cultural collision between coloniser and colonised, between Dutch Christianity and Islam. But the debate was more than a religio- political confrontation. It addressed the fundamental and the literally existential issue of marriage and gender relations. . . . Marriage and the position of women became the pivotal focus around which politics and ideals of female/male behaviour were formulated. In the draft and the ensuing debate, all parties concerned (the colonial government, Dutch and Indonesian women’s organizations, Indonesian nationalism and Muslim parties) voiced their opinions in this respect. All constructed their ideals of sexual politics, of marriage and morality. In doing so they also formulated a desired cultural identity with political implications. Moreover, the debate revealed the shifts of alliances between colonial authorities, Indonesian Muslim organizations and the Indonesian female elite.41
The draft was based on European civil law and the Marriage Ordinance for Christian Indonesian. Its intention was to protect women within those norms because “[m]onogamy was required, repudiation made impossible, and divorce relegated to the courts. [Thus] The preconditions for the Western ideal of a stable family were incorporated into the law.”42 As Locher-Scholten observes, however, the draft left the majority of Indonesian women who lived in rural areas out of consideration because it was aimed only at the small number of Indonesian women elite with western education, urban and nominal Muslims (to borrow Geertz’s term abangan) and Western women married to Indonesian Muslims. The draft did not succeed. Due to the strength of resistance from Islamic organisations, including urban-based Islamic women’s organisations, it was withdrawn from public discourse several months after its introduction. Had the draft been successful the colonial government would have
40 Locher-Scholten, Women and the Colonial State, p. 188. In the chapter ‘Marriage, Morality and Modernity The 1937 Debate on Monogamy’ the author provides an excellent discussion on the debate of monogamous marriage from various perspectives such as the Islamic and secular arguments. 41 Ibid., p. 188. 42 Ibid., p. 196. 101 benefited from its increased ability to fortify the colonial state using family life as the core of institutional means. Nevertheless the very introduction of the draft marriage law marked an important stage in the Indonesian nationalist struggle. It managed to generate nationalist sentiments amongst traditional and secular Muslims alike as debate and discussion ranged over the archipelago “in meetings inside and outside, in mosques, journals and periodicals.”43
Since the draft was not concerned only with social familial affairs but also the religious domain, most Muslim organisations, traditionalists and reformists, santri (in Gertz’s simplified classification of Indonesian Muslims, santri means practising) and abangan, men and women, political and non-political, were united against the draft. The protest was strengthened with the involvement of Islamic organizations such as the traditional Nahdlatul Ulama (NU), the reformist movement Muhammadiyah, Ahmadiyah (Indonesian section), and even the nationalists such as Partai Sarekat Islam Indonesia (PSII), and the Young Islamists Alliance (Jong Islamieten Bond). These united protesters were defending polygamy in Islamic marriage. The strongest opposition was articulated by NU representing the voices of traditional Indonesian Muslim. NU argued that the draft was government interference and the intervention of non-Muslims in Islamic law. According to NU since marriage laws were descended from God, making them perfect and sacred, human interference was not possible. It was therefore impossible to prohibit polygamy because it was sanctioned in the laws. From the Islamic perspective the practice of polygamy protected Muslims from “moral decadence” because it was “a protection of women from male sexuality.”44
Other organizations, such as the Indonesian division of Ahmadiyah, focused their opposition around the strict distinction between religion and state matters. Religion could not be undervalued by the state. Locher-Scholten writes: The ordinance stated that for all aspects, not mentioned in the ordinance, adat laws would prevail (art. I, sub 2); this implied that adat including Islamic law were secondary to the ordinance regulations and that the ordinance would supersede over Islamic law. This was not unacceptable to the true believer. The voluntary character of the ordinance did not make it more acceptable. What was
43 Adviser of Native Affairs to Director Department of Justice, 29-1-1938, no. 127/ca 3, Col., 2.10.54, file 615, quoted from Locher-Scholten, ff. no. 53. 44 Ibid., p. 200. 102 allowed (murbah) by the [Qur’an], could not be forbidden (haram) by the state. The government would thus encourage Muslims to act against the [Qur’an] and ultimately promote apostasy, a deadly sin.45
For the opponents of the draft marriage law the laws pertaining to personal and family life, to the private sphere of their lives, were “the very essence of Islamic identity”46. Even so, under the colonial government the realm of Islamic laws was reduced, for example, when the draft marriage ordinance was introduced, matters over inheritance were returned to secular courts such as in Java, Madura and Kalimantan. Thus, the scope of Islamic laws in personal and family more limited. Even more reason according to the opponents of the draft law for the colonial authorities not to interfere in marriage laws.
Importantly, across women’s organizations views were divided on the draft law. Support for the draft law came from secular organizations such as Parindra and Gerindo, and women’s organization like Istri Sedar, Istri Indonesia, Putri Budi Sejati, Sarekat Kaum Ibu Sumatera. It was the opinion of these organizations that the draft would promote gender equality and eliminate the vices of polygamy. On the other hand, however, Islamic women’s organizations such as Aisyiyah and the PSII’s women’s division opposed the draft. In their view the ideal model for Indonesian women was taken from Hadith literature where it is said “that if the first wife consents to her husband taking another wife/wives, she is awarded heaven in her afterlife.” Many Muslim feminists today have rejected this interpretation seeing it as a “wrongful” interpretation of the Prophet’s practice. The primary requirement of the practice of polygamy that of the husband’s ability to treat all wives equally in all aspects is, they argue, impossible to achieve. What Locher-Scholten terms ‘The Bangoen Affair’ was another important example of the divisiveness of debates concerning women and Islam during the colonial era. Bangoen was the name of a bi-monthly publication of Parindra. During the debate on the draft, Siti Sundari a woman journalist, wrote an article in which she argued that the draft was a “perfect solution” to the problem of polygamy because as “the True Religion of Mankind” “Islam did not prefer one gender over another.” Sundari went further by saying that if Muhammad had been alive today (at
45 Ibid., p. 201. 46 Ibid., p. 202. See also Sonbol’s argument on the personal laws in earlier discussion in Chapter 1, the legal reforms sub chapter. 103 that time) he himself would have suggested marriage law changes. Although Muhammad was the Holy Prophet, she argued, he was not God himself or religion itself, therefore when dealing with women he was just simply a man with his own sexual behaviour. In her article Siti Sundari provided examples of Muhammad’s sexual conduct.47 Muslim reaction was massive. Neither Soeroto’s (the magazine’s editor) nor Sundari’s defense of her writing helped her situation. She was accused of blasphemy to the holy figure of Muhammad and of insulting Muslims, thus closing any possibility of debate over the issues. In resolving the dispute, Sundari and Soeroto were asked to make a public apology. At first objecting, Sundari and Soeroto eventually pleaded guilty and apologized publicly. The debates over the marriage draft and the Bangoen affair attest to the complexity of the nexus between Islam and women’s lives in colonial Indonesia.
Although the two issues of child marriage and forced marriage were raised before the introduction of the draft on monogamy, the responses were minimal. Putri Mardika (Independent Woman) an association founded in 1912 whose aim was to give financial aids to intelligent girls to continue their education48 had included these issues in its weekly publication from 1915 to 1919. In contrast to the debate over polygamy, those two issues were never given serious consideration but simply left to customary law, away from the influence of notions of modernity.49 However, as small as the attention given to those issues, they were not neglected. The problem of child and forced marriage did not escape the attention of women’s organizations. Many Muslim women opposed adat (the traditional customs) such as child and forced marriage, polygamy and easy repudiation for divorce by men, because they believed that such adat were cultural particulars and not introduced by Islam. Some Islamic organizations, such as Muhammadiyah (1912), and Sarekat Islam (1912), aimed to reform and free Islam of adat practices. Although these two organizations were initially founded for economic purposes, gradually they extended their objectives to include social issues. The period 1912-1915 saw the establishment at the national, regional and local level of many social
47 Ibid., p. 204. 48 Cora Vreede-de Stuers, The Indonesian Women Struggles and Achievements, Mouton & Co., Printers, The Hague, The Netherlands, 1960, p. 62. 49 Ibid., p. 197. 104 organizations, all of them with the objective to improve the social position of women, particularly within the family.
Mrs. Abdoerrahman, wrote an article in Putri Mardika (Independent Woman) stating her opposition to child marriage. Mrs. Abdoerrahman not only demanded an end to child marriage: “We would rejoice with all hearts if it were forbidden for girls under the age of eighteen to marry. . . . If only our association could help to bring to end, and as soon as possible, this custom of ours which allows young girls, scarcely out of their infancy, to be forced to marry a man whom they did not know and even a man whom they cannot love.”50 She, following Kartini, voiced the need for educating girls. Her name seems to be hardly heard in the discussion of Indonesian Muslim women’s movements. From 1915-1918 Putri Mardika published many articles demanding an end to the traditional customs of polygamy, child marriage and forced marriage. Unfortunately, since child marriage and forced marriage did not directly affect the lives of all women, particularly the elite class, debates on the practices were negligible compared to the debates on polygamy. In terms of race relations, as child and forced marriages did not involve European women, there was less discussion of the problems.
The fact that class and race played an important role in colonial Indonesia becomes clear when we see that the problem of extramarital relations (such as pernyaian— concubinage or the cohabitation between European men with indigenous Indonesian women) was never meant to be elevated into public discourse, but kept only on the level of “official matters”. This made the presence of these indigenous women invisible and absent in the eyes of any legal regulations, although the colonial government regulated the status of children of inter-racial relations. Still, there were several demands by Indonesian Muslim organizations and individuals (Nahdlatul Ulama, Rasoena Said, Mr. T. Moh. Hasan), and by the secular (Pasundan Isteri) for the colonial government to proscribe concubinage: From these protests, it is obvious that concubinage was not approved by the elite who were able to state their complaints. In most cases, nyai came from the lower classes. Indonesian women and men who acted as their solicitors, originated from another social layer. It is also clear that, again, a mixture of gender perceptions, moral concerns, religious norms, and nationalist feelings were
50 Abdoerachman, ‘Kinderhuwelijken’ (Child Marriages), Putri Mardika, IV, no. 8 (August 1917), quoted in Vreede-de Stuers, p. 63. 105 coalescing. Concubinage in itself was not a reason to ask for government regulation. That was not at stake. . . . It was the Indonesian women without any legal status living with a non-Indonesian man that needed legal protection – if not for herself then for her children. The nyai had become a symbol of unequal race relations and disempowerment.51
It is obvious that concubinage was not the core of the problem, instead it was used as a struggle against colonial power. In this way “gender could be adopted and used as a nationalist strategy, expressing the demand of legal equality and moral purity of the new nation in opposition to the codes and practices of the colonial overlords.”52 Other than the ban on concubinage in the KNIL (Royal Netherlands East Indian Army) by the colonial government, in the end, no action legal or social was taken in response to the protests concerning concubinage.
It should be noted here that the term nyai in inter-racial relation carries a different meaning to its use in indigenous relations. The first was the label given to an indigenous woman who was commonly known to be a mistress of a Dutch man. This term embodies disrespect. In contrast, nyai to an indigenous man is the wife of a kyai, an Islamic cleric or scholar. Kyai usually head Islamic schools for boys and his wife (nyai) for girls. Nyai in this meaning embodies status and respect.
What is most important about all the debates is the repositioning of women’s issues in public discourse during the colonial era. In discussing and debating polygamy, child and forced marriages, and pernyaian Indonesian women posed their questioning into the heart of public discourse. The “women issues” that were formerly perceived as domestic were politicized creating a politics of gender that demanded public recognition.
51 Elsbeth Locher-Scholten, ‘Morals, Harmony and National Identity: ‘Companionate Feminism’ in Colonial Indonesia in the 1930s’, Journal of Women’s History, Winter 2003, vol 14, issue 4, pp. 7 – 8. 52 Ibid., p. 8. 106 On Female Education
As noted previously in this chapter Kartini, through her letters, put the demand for female education into public discourse.53 Yet her ideals did not only circulate on the rhetorical level for she established informal school for the daughters of her father’s staff—her father was the regent of Jepara, and continued to do so after her arranged marriage to the neighbouring regent.54 An advocate of personal liberty, female education, and the development of Javanese art and craftsmanship, Kartini’s name has ever since been directly associated with the Indonesian women’s movement. But her most notable demand was the urgency of female education. Only through education could women’s position be raised, she wrote: Raise the Javanese women, educate her heart and her understanding, and you will have splendid workers to cooperate with you in your noble work, your giant’s work, the work of civilizing and enlightening a whole nation. Teach her a trade, so that she will no longer powerless when her guardians command her to contract a marriage which will inevitably plunge her and whatever children she may have into misery. The only escape from such conditions is for the girl herself to learn to be independent. . . . It is not the least our intention to try to make European-Javanese of the Javanese by giving them liberal education; our idea is to develop the fine qualities that are peculiar to their race; to help them to gain by contract by contract with another civilization, not to the detraction of their own, but to its ennoblement.55
In her letters Kartini was addressing the Javanese but her message can certainly be extended to encompass all Indonesian women. Not only did Kartini aim to endow women with knowledge (Western education in particular), she also yearned for women’s empowerment seeing it as the only way possible to react against the bonds of patriarchal tradition. On 3 August 1964, Kartini was declared a “Heroine of National Freedom” by Soekarno, Indonesia’s first president, and her birthday on April 21st is celebrated as a national day. Kartini’s ideals have largely been taken as the embodiment of the Indonesian women’s movement: She is remembered in Indonesia as one of the first champions of women’s rights. In Indonesia the emancipation of women is closely allied to the emancipation of the entire population, and Ibu Kartini (‘Mother Kartini’) has been canonized not
53 Kartini’s letters were considered “private.” She never meant to publicize her letters but the publication of her letters by her Western friends made them “public”. 54 Taylor, p. 160. 55 Letter to Mevrow Van Kol, August 1901, Letters of a Javanese Princess. 107 only as defender of ‘her sisters’ but also as a patron saint for all modern Indonesians.56
Kartini is called Ibu Kartini, instead of Raden Ajeng Kartini.57 The term Ibu reflects a notion of motherhood, the ideal role for Indonesian women. It is also a substitution for the Javanese titles in the New Order while at the same time implying domestication of female public roles. In Indonesian history her actions are seen as equivalent to patriotism, for Indonesians call their land Ibu Pertiwi (motherland). Raden Ajeng—a title inherited only by aristocratic family—on the other hand implies rank in social order and if used places her above the rest of her people. Kartini set up schools for indigenous Javanese to provide education for those who were denied their education due to their social status and sex. In her letters she often questions and attacks the complex Javanese order of social classes similar to a caste system. Her ideals went beyond the boundaries of sex to the larger scheme of individual self.
Although Kartini was an early promoter (in fact considered to be the first) of female education, within a more Islamic framework the efforts of Rangkayo Rahmah el- Yunusiah (1900 - 1969), the founder of Diniyah School Putri (Madrasah Diniyah li al- Banat, established on November 1, 1923), are equally important. The school was an Islamic school for girls meant to elevate women’s self-worth in Rahmah’s own homeland, Minangkabau, a region in North Sumatra. Throughout her life, Rahmah dedicated her life to manage and develop her educational institutions.58 Quintessentially different from Kartini who came from a Javanese priyayi background, Rahmah grew up in a strongly Islamic educational environment in Sumatra. She was the daughter of a prominent ulama, and the younger sister of Zaenuddin Labay who had earlier introduced a modernized religious instruction in Islamic education at his own school. In 1912, Haji Rasul, the father of Hamka (Haji Abdul Malik Karim Amrullah) who had a leading role in the Islamic reform movement of Kaum Muda from 1920-1940, founded Diniyah School (Religious School), a modern Islamic school with the emphasis on self-
56 E.M. Beekman in the chapter Kartini (1879 – 1904): The Paradox of Colonialism’ in Troubled Pleasures: Dutch Colonial Literature from the East Indies 1600 – 1950, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1996, p. 398. 57 There is a song, composed by W.R. Supratman, dedicated to Kartini’s struggle entitled Ibu Kita Kartini (Our Mother Kartini). 58 ‘Pengantar Editor’, Ulama Perempuan Indonesia, Jajat Burhanudin (ed), PT Gramedia Pustaka Utama in corporation with PPIM IAIN Jakarta, Jakarta, 2002, p. x. 108 activity and self-knowledge.59 Later, Rahmah followed his path by setting up her own Diniyah School Putri for girls. Accordingly, Rahmah’s activities “fit perfectly into the Islamic reform movement of the Kaum Muda” that Taufik Abdullah defines as “a group of energetic and educated women who played an important role in the social and political movement of the Minangkabau.”60
From her experiences in the co-educational Islamic school of Diniyah School, where all instructors were male, Rahmah believed that the school did not adequately address women’s issues. She considered that woman’s problems were as complex as men’s. Yet, such women never received as much access or attention as men, resulting in intellectual inequality between men and women. She asserted that women in fact had a major importance in shaping and safeguarding the education of subsequent generations. Rahmah posited that women’s role was central to their household, and household was the pole of society, as society itself was the pole of the nation. Only through creating good households could a good society and state be achieved. Improving women’s quality and position could only be done by giving them special education taught by women; education for women by women and about women. She stated: Diniyah School Putri always attempted to provide religious enlightenments and progress for women who had been in difficulty in gaining adequate Islamic education because they were reluctant to ask the woman questions to male instructors. This caused women to be parted from Islam [as a religion], making them ignorant. Diniyah School Putri would endeavour to create and produce educated mothers [Ibu Pendidik] for Muslim sons and daughters so that they know how to devote themselves to God, their nation and homeland through self worth. This was also intended to make the religion [Islam] become the flesh and blood for our fellow civilians.61
Rahmah did not only work within the field of education for women, she was also politically active in the nationalist movement for Indonesia’s independence. She rebuffed the colonial offer to subside Diniyah Putri in order to maintain its independence.62 Her work was recognized internationally and in 1957 she was the first
59 Cora Vreede-de Stuers, ‘The Life of Rankayo Rahmah El Yunusiyah’, Indonesian Women in Focus: Past and Present Notions, Elsbeth Locher-Scholten and Anke Niehof (eds), second printing, KITLV Press, Leiden, The Netherlands, 1992, pp. 52 - 53. 60 Ibid., p. 55. 61 Rahmah’s speech in 15 years anniversary of Diniyah School Putri. Translation mine. Quoted in Junaidatul Munawaroh, ‘Rahmah el-Yunusiah: Pelopor Pendidikan Perempuan’ in Ulama Perempuan Indonesia, p. 11. 62Ibid., p. 25. 109 woman awarded the title Syaikhah, by Al Azhar University in Cairo. This highest title for Islamic scholars was originally given to men only, and Rahmah’s award made her equal to Syeikh, male Islamic cleric and scholars. Her name is juxtaposed with Kartini’s, and she is celebrated as the “Kartini of Islamic Institution” or “Kartini of Islamic Movement.”63 It should be noted here that despite their similarity in terms of struggling for girls’ education, Rahmah and Kartini presented themselves in different ways. If Kartini was tied in a polygamous marriage, Rahmah chose divorce from such a marriage. In terms of clothing, Kartini wore Javanese traditional dress called kebaya and sanggul for her hairdo as the ways Javanese aristocrat women normally dressed, whilst Rahmah as a Minangkabau woman was veiled. Rahmah was from urban middle class family and her ability to travel and work was related to her class background more than to her appearance as a veiled woman. Differences in their self-presentation are not important, for what is important is their strong commitment to women’s right for education and their struggles for better conditions for women. Rahmah’s struggle for female education is now mirrored by Islamic women’s movements all over the world.
Dewi Sartika (1884-1947) was another influential figure in the struggle for female education in colonial Indonesia. Dewi Sartika, like Kartini with her priyayi background, was from a menak family (West Javanese aristocratic family). Her father was a former patih (similar to vice-regent) of Bandung. In 1904, she led a school for women established by the Dutch in Bandung. Whilst Kartini’s school was an informal one, Dewi Sartika’s was under the colonial government’s authorization. Accordingly, Dewi Sartika can be seen as the first female principal in Indonesia appointed officially by the colonial government,64 making her school the first formal school opened for women in colonial Indonesia. Dewi Sartika’s school, first named Sekolah Istri (female school), then changed to Sekolah Kautaman Istri (school of decorous girls) in 1905, was open to the public but was not free from class distinctions as not all classes could attend. Sekolah Kautaman Istri was secular in its form, because religion (Islam) was not the framework for the curriculum: it was in contrast to the Diniyah School Putri established by Rahmah. Nonetheless, Dewi Sartika’s school had a significant role in the discourses of the women’s movement within an Islamic paradigm. Besides female skills such as
63 Ibid., p. 28 – 29. 64 Sukanti Suryochondro, Potret Pergerakan Wanita di Indonesia, CV. Rajawali in corporation with Yayasan Ilmu Ilmu Sosial, Jakarta, 1984, p. 81. 110 sewing, cooking, embroidering and baby nursing Islam was taught as a separate course. Sekolah Kautaman Istri was the first government-funded school to include religious instruction in its curriculum. The course covered only the reading and reciting of the Qur’an and basic Islamic knowledge such as praying and fasting during Ramadhan.65 Whilst Dewi Sartika’s school still emphasized domestic skills education, training girls to be decorous wives, her work for female education was progressive. In her struggle to improve women’s position Dewi Sartika wrote about and discussed women’s lives: she believed that “education for women was a conditio sine qua non, for the happiness and welfare of [Indies] society. . . . an [Indies] woman’s education was necessary to ensure that her children were healthy both physically and mentally.”66
Dewi Sartika was also concerned with other gender issues. From 1911-1914, under the auspices of Sarekat Islam, she delivered talks on female education and on prostitution, which she believed resulted from polygamy, for cultural practices of child marriage and polygamy would most likely end up in divorce, and divorce was an immediate path for women to join prostitution.67 She also called attention to the lower pay for female labourers and their need for equal pay and social security such as health insurance and maternity leave, all of which would keep them from prostitution. For her, female education was central to improving women’s status and security. Vreede-de Stuers comments: “Long before the feminist movement was organized, this young woman revolted against the injustice of less pay for women work equal to that done by men.”68 Thus, more than one hundred years ago, Dewi Sartika envisioned contemporary female labourers’ demands for social security, equal pay, and maternity leave. Indeed, Dewi Sartika continued what Kartini had started, but she moved beyond the boundaries of her own class by incorporating the needs of working class women in her struggles. Dewi Sartika’s famous axiom Nu bisa hirup (Sundanese, meaning you can live) underlined her belief in the need for women’s empowerment and independence.
The success of Dewi Sartika’s school’s role in improving women’s position was noted by colonial authorities. Subsequently, similar schools were set up in several places in
65 Rochiati Wiriaatmadja, Dewi Sartika, Departement Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan Direktorat Sejarah dan Nilai Tradisional, Proyek Investarisasi dan Dokumentasi Sejarah National, Jakarta, 1983/1984, p. 94. 66 Baroroh Baried, p. 144. 67 Ibid., pp. 111 – 112. 68 Quoted from Dewi Sartika, p. 110. 111 West Java: in Tasikmalaya (1913), Sumedang (1916), Cianjur (1916), Ciamis (1917), Cicurug (1918), Kuningan (1922) and Sukabumi (1926).69 In the broader scope of the women’s movement in Indonesia, these schools helped to generate the appearance of indigenous women in the public sphere. Although such schools by and large emphasized women’s skills in domestic affairs, the efforts to make women literate helped raise women’s status. In contrast to Qasim Amin’s ideal of Muslim female education in 1899 (see above), the new push for female education moved beyond the domestic sphere. The founding of the mesjid perempuan (women’s mosque)—later called Mushola Aisiyah—in Jogjakarta in 1920, and supported by Haji Ahmad Dahlan and his organization Muhammadiyah, could stand as an example of women’s efforts to create a greater awareness of women in Islam, and of women’s own awareness of their religiosity.70 After the founding of Mushola Aisyiah other women’s mosques were built throughout Java. Situating Kartini and Dewi Sartika in the discourses on women, gender and Indonesian Islam opens up the possibility of making space for women who are undeniably Muslim, but considered outside the domain of Islam because they are not “Islamic” enough.
Indonesian historiography on women in Islamic discourses does not stop at Kartini, Dewi Sartika and Rahmah el-Yunusiah. There is the presence of other women such as Rangkayo Rasuna Said (1910-1965) and Nyai Ahmad Dahlan (1872-1946). Ulama Perempuan Indonesia, edited by Jajat Burhanuddin, is one of the few books in Indonesian recording the names of these earlier Muslim women activists. What is important about this publication is that it situates their work in Indonesian historiography.71 Moreover, not only is the publication itself a rarity, the contents shed new light on women in Islam. The role of ulama perempuan (female clerics) is little known although ulama perempuan were long present in the Indonesian Muslim world. The word ulama is usually thought to mean male, never female, despite the fact that the word ulama is gender neutral.72 Documenting their work extends the world of ulama beyond merely clerical considerations. This attempt to locate and document ulama
69 Ibid., p. 81. 70 Quoted in Vreede-de Stuers, The Indonesian Woman, p. 66. 71 Azzumardi Azra, ‘Biography Sosial Intelektual Ulama Perempuan Indonesia’ in Ulama Perempuan Indonesia. This collection of biographies of female ulama in Indonesia is amongst the few documentations of women and their public roles. 72 Ibid., p. xxviii. 112 perempuan in Indonesia is vital to the historiography of women and gender in Indonesian Islam, and hopefully it is the beginning of a genre. Besides the names of women who are prominent figures in religious affairs, the book includes biographies of those active in social, cultural and political circumstances as well. The biographies call attention to their contribution in creating and shaping discourses on gender equality in terms of providing women with similar access as men in many domains of Indonesian life. These women ‘translated’ Islam into Indonesian settings. Ulama Perempuan records the stories of women from the colonial period to present day Indonesia. Juxtaposing women from different times signals the dynamic in which the women were and are located, and puts them at the heart of discourses on religious and social change in Indonesia. Other than Ulama Perempuan the lack of documentation on the work of women is disappointing. Researches to trace other women who struggled for women’s rights and to place them in Indonesian historiography still need to be undertaken. Looking at regional biographies or personal diaries might be one of many ways to accomplish the task.
113 Chapter 4
From Global to Local: General Perspective of Gender Issues and Islam in Post-Independence Indonesia
Woman Discourses and Islam in Post-independence Indonesia
Women’s participation in public life through their involvement in national movements reached its peak with Indonesia’s independence in August 17, 1945. The preparatory committee for independence (which included two female members) wrote the new constitution, which was indeed in the spirit of equality. The constitution did not recognize any sexual, ethnic or class distinctions, and endowed both sexes with equal rights and responsibilities toward the nation.1 However, parallel to the occurrence in Algeria, where women were treated as equal counterparts of men to struggle against the French colonial power, once the goal of independence was achieved the domestic sphere was again seen as the best role for Indonesian women. This was in opposition to the great demand from women to more fully participate in public life.
In the struggle for independence—known as the Revolution—women were regarded as equal partners with men working towards one goal: to serve the nation at all cost. In 1947 Soekarno, the first president of Indonesia, addressed the importance of women’s independence in his book titled, Sarinah: Women’s Duties in the National Struggle of the Republic of Indonesia: Indonesian women, your duty has come! Now join completely in the effort of saving the Republic, and later when the Republic is saved, join completely in the effort to establish a national state. Do not get left behind in the national revolution from the beginning to the end, do not get left behind later in the
1 The Indonesian constitution called Undang-Undang Dasar 1945 Article 6 mentions “presiden ialah orang Indonesia asli” (president is a native Indonesian citizen). The 1945 Constitution of the Republic of Indonesia, Department of Information, Republic of Indonesia 1989, Internet, http://asnic.utexas.edu/asnic/countries/indonesia/ConstIndonesia.html, (2 December 2005). The article was amended in 2001 saying that the president must be an Indonesian citizen since birth and he/she must never become a citizen of another country. Until today, there have been 6 presidents, mostly Javanese and 1 Makasarese. For the amendments, see The 1945 Constitution of the Republic of Indonesia, Unofficial Translation, Internet, http://www.indonesia-ottawa.org/page. php?s=1010fourth_amendment_const&type=pdf, (2 December 2005). 114 effort to set up a society of equal justice and social prosperity. In the society of social justice and social prosperity you will later become happy women, independent women.2
In Sarinah, Soekarno envisioned a just and prosperous society where all women were active and regarded as men’s equal partners working for a greater cause, rather than just in the realm of domesticity. Under the banner of nationalism, Soekarno endeavoured to move men and women together for the sake of nation building. However, it should be noted that Soekarno is a complex figure in relation to his views on women’s roles and issues. On the one hand, Soekarno called for reforms to improve women’s positions under the interpretations of Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh), such as in matters of women’s education, freedom of movement and the use of tabir (screen) in separating men from women, and in polygamous practices. On the other hand, at first opposed to polygamy, Soekarno himself later practised polygamy.3 The complexity of Soekarno’s views reflects the dynamics within the Indonesian women’s movement in the subsequent years after independence.
Once national independence was gained, Indonesian women experienced a decline in their roles: from active participation in public culture to mere domestic role: For in Indonesia, as elsewhere, once the period of struggle had passed and life, private and public, became stabilized, a deterioration began to show itself in the position of women. During the Revolution women were indispensable helpers entrusted with important tasks, including that of Minister; but once the situation was under control, women were competitors in the eyes of men, to be feared even, since they were now capable of managing public life as well as their own private affairs.4
Although the quotation above seems to be exaggerating, to a certain degree it is true that many women whose active involvement in national independence was diminished. Lyrics of a famous song entitled Melati di Tapal Batas (Jasmine in the border) by Ismail Marzuki, a patriotic song writer during the period of struggle for independence, tell the tale of Srikandi (a mythical figure)5 who joins men in the
2 Soekarno, Sarinah: Kewajiban Wanita Dalam Perjuangan Republik Indonesia, Inti Idayu Press – Yayasan Pendidikan Soekarno, Jakarta, 1984, p. 247. Translation and emphasis mine. 3 Colin, Brown, ‘Sukarno and the Role of Women in the Nationalist Movement’, Review of Indonesian and Malayan Affairs, vol. 15:1, 1981, p. 79. 4 Cora Vreede-de Stuers, The Indonesian Woman, p. 119. 5 Srikandi is a female character in Javanese epic Mahabarata. Srikandi was very skilled in war and fought on the side of the five brothers of Pandawa against the villain-enemy Kurawa. Soekarno also used this name for women who joined men in the struggles for independence. 115 struggle for independence. Srikandi is summoned to her home, to her mother’s lap, in order to help her with the work in the rice field. Certainly working in the rice field cannot automatically mean to not have a say in participation in public life, yet the idea of calling women home from public participation can be seen as a backlash against women’s effort for emancipation.
In 1938 the Women’s Congress incorporated a demand for voting rights for women into its agenda. In the 1945 Constitution of the Republic of Indonesia, women were given the right to vote and the right to stand as members of parliament and be presidential candidates; in the 1955 general election 17 women were elected as members of parliament.6 However, in the area of social affairs the enactment of Undang-Undang (Act) no. 19 of 1952 was a setback for the women’s movement. This Act said that for a civil servant practicing polygamy (not exceeding four wives), all his wives were eligible for widow’s pensions.7 Clearly this Act favoured polygamy by granting and securing the position of extra wives through a civil servant’s pension benefits. Many women’s organizations protested against the Act, and brought their opposition to the parliamentary arena through a heated discussion on the need for the enactment of new marriage laws. Nani Soewondo wrote an article in “Dimana Undang-Undang Perkawinan?” (Where Are The Marriage Acts?) contrasting the situation in Indonesia to Tunisia: It is with envy that we read in the newspapers that Tunisia, a country which has only just obtained sovereignty and whose population, like ours, is chiefly Muslim, has passed a bill which aims at protecting the interests of the family by prohibiting polygamy, by depriving the husband of his power of repudiation, and by forbidding child marriages.8
Nani Soewondo’s demands were not achieved. Even the request by some Islamic women’s organizations to open a discussion on the marriage laws was rejected and no new legislation came before parliament.
Women’s uneasy acceptance of the Act and their protests to the parliament serve as a replica of the debates on monogamy in 1937, that also centred on the abuses of
6 Khofifah Indar Parawansa, Hambatan terhadap Patisipasi Politik Perempuan di Indonesia, Internet, htttp:// www.idea.int/publications/wip/upload/CS-Indonesia.pdf, (2 December 2005). 7 Quoted in Cora Vreede-de Stuers, The Indonesian Woman, p. 127. 8 Ibid., p. 137. 116 polygamy and the easy repudiation of marriage from a man’s side. It was not until the enactment of Undang-Undang No. 1 Tahun 1974 on Marriage that Nani Soewondo’s question, “where are the Marriage Acts?” was finally answered. For Islamic marriages, this ordinance was an amendment of Undang-Undang No. 22 Tahun 1946 and Undang-Undang No. 32 Tahun 1954 on the obligation for registering Islamic marriage, repudiation and reconciliation under civil registration. Under this a marriage must go through two monitorings: religious codes and civil registration. This law promotes the principle of monogamy but still leaves considerable room for polygamy. A critic of the 1974 Marriage Law observes: [it fails] “to eradicate discrimination against women in marriage, leaving them subject to religious codes that, for instance, obligate Muslim women to accept [co-wives] and make divorce easier for husbands to initiate than wives.”9 Leaving personal and family laws in the hands of religious and adat (customary laws) courts indeed involves varying degrees of discrimination against women in terms of inheritance, children’s custody and other issues.10 It should be noted however that such laws are not necessarily indigenous to Indonesia, as there are similar interpretations across most of the Muslim world. Modern nation-state building in the Muslim world tends to ignore family and personal laws that interpret women’s positions and roles in society, and leaves them to traditional interpretations of religious codes and customary laws, thus endorsing gender oppression and enslavement.11
Under the 1974 Marriage Law, husband and wife purportedly enjoy equal rights and position within the family. However, the functional roles in public and domestic domains are still heavily segregated. The husband functions as the head of the family and is described as the sole breadwinner of the family. The reality is that based on the 1999 census, out of 4.3 million poor households in Indonesia, 0.5 million were headed by women. When this is coupled with the fact of lower wages for women because they are not considered to be the primary economic support, the “double burden” for women who have to support the family and at the same time care for the
9 Susan Blackburn, ‘Women and Citizenship in Indonesia’ in Australian Journal of Political Science, July 1999, vol. 34, issue 2, p. 191. 10 Ibid., p. 191. 11 See the previous section on legal reforms. See also Amira Sonbol, ‘Introduction’, Women, the Family, and Divorce Laws in Islamic History, Amira El Azhary Sonbol (ed), Syracuse University Press, New York, 1996. 117 household becomes clear.12 Indeed, despite its ideals of granting equal rights and position within the family that the 1974 Marriage Law proposed, the fact is domestic roles are still seen as women’s, and public roles as men’s. This does not mean a woman cannot develop a career outside her home. What is problematic is when her involvement and achievement in public life is not considered as important as that of a man. When a woman must work twice as much as a man to attain a certain position, and when one sex is privileged over the other, such conditions reflect the unequal opportunity and injustice given to the sexes.
Not until the enactment of Peraturan Pemerintah (Government Regulation) No.10 1983 (PP10/1983) that prohibited male civil servants exercising polygamy did women’s protests against the practice have success. Although the legislation was only for civil servants, women’s organizations perceived it as the state no longer endorsing polygamy. Also, under the law it was very difficult for civil servants to acquire a divorce as any change in matrimonial relations, such as divorce and remarriage, had to go through their supervisor. However, in everyday practice such regulation failed to achieve its ideals, “although intended to protect wives as well as to create a more harmonious state, the move went along with other measures that made civil servants’ wives uncomfortably dependent on their husbands. . . . Women were in effect moving from a small community of subordination to a larger one.”13 However, PP 10/1983 did not stop the practice of polygamy amongst civil servants.
Although the regulation obligated civil servants to submit their marriage to their supervisor, in theory making it impossible for them to have polygamous marriages, in practice, co-wives, or kawin siri, were taken. Kawin Siri or Nikah Bawah Tangan is a marriage legalized in terms of the shari’a, but not registered and recorded in the state administration of the Ministry of Religious Affairs. It is, so to speak, legal in terms of Islamic law, yet no civil law recognizes or legalizes it. Kawin siri is practiced mostly when the first wife refuses her permission for her husband to take a
12 ‘Bias Jender Dalam UU Perkawinan’ and ‘Undang-Undang Nomor 1 tahun 1974 tentang Perkawinan’, Dharma Wanita Persatuan, Internet, http://www.dwp.or.id, (5 July 2003). 13 Blackburn, p. 192. With the enactment of PP 10, for example, divorce is made more difficult as it must have permission from the husband’s official superiors; a wife is then subjected not only by her husband’s subordination but also bureaucratic and administrative subordination. When a wife files for divorce, she will need to have permission from her husband and his supervisors. 118 co-wife. Indeed, kawin siri is another form of women’s subjugation because it makes the position of the co-wives absent in the eyes of civil law. If there should be problems in the marriage, the wife has no legal position whatsoever. The husband can easily divorce her without providing her and/or their children any alimony, as civil laws give no legal recognition to the marriage including the offspring of the union as well as inheritance for the offspring.
The PP 10 is still a locus of controversial debates. While it was amended in 1990 and became PP 45/1990, there are continuing calls for the regulation to be revoked. On the one hand, Khofifah Indar Parawansa, the former Minister for women’s empowerment and Julia Suryakusuma, are amongst those who are demanding the repeal of this Act. Suryakusuma, a feminist who has researched the practice of polygamy amongst civil servants for approximately ten years, believes that the Act is ineffective because the bureaucratic process for a wife to file a divorce against her husband’s polygamy takes too long. On the other hand, Mrs. Sinta Nuriah Abdurrahman Wahid, the former Indonesian First Lady, and Mrs. Moeloek, the chair of Dharma Wanita Persatuan are amongst those who claim the Act is still necessary because in a number of ways it can legally protect women, although they believe the Act must be amended and revised.14 Both Mrs. Sinta Nuriah and Mrs Moeloek do not specify the amendments necessary; however, as an example, legislating under PP/10 that a civil servant will lose his job if found practicing kawin siri might be one way to amend the Act for better conditions for women.
Discourses of Women and Islam Under New Order State
The transition from Soekarno’s Old Order to Soeharto’s New Order was marked by considerable political turbulence. In Indonesian memory, the birth of the New Order is significantly a result of the communist revolt known as G30S/PKI, which resulted in the transfer of power from Soekarno’s Guided Democracy to Soeharto’s New
14 ‘Pro Dan Kontra PP 10’, Dharma Wanita Persatuan. 119 Order authoritarian regime. Many studies have been conducted analysing the role of the state during the New Order. Saskia Wieringa’s extensive research, however, focuses on the sexual politics of the era, putting considerable emphasis on the establishment of sexual politics by Soeharto’s regime in order to suppress women’s political participation.15 Nevertheless, Wieringa’s studies do not identify any element of religion, that is, the religious identities of the women of whom she writes. In Hefner’s Civil Islam: Muslims and Democratization in Indonesia,16 the author acknowledges the religious element. Hefner gives various details on the coup of September 1965 and the book depicts the role of Muslims in the massacre of hundreds of thousands of Communists. Unfortunately, Hefner’s does not make any gender differentiation in his finding. What role Muslim women played in the events that led to the establishment of the New Order regime is unknown, and until today there remains a gap in the documentation of Muslim women’s discourses of the period.
Soeharto was declared president in 1966 and his regime interfered greatly in the public and private lives of Indonesians, to the extent that a large number of state and private infrastructures became ideological and oppressive state apparatuses. His government “relied on authoritarian rule in pursuing political stability, economic growth and the security of the state.”17 Religion and religious life did not escape from this extension of state power. As Islam was the religion followed by the majority of Indonesians, its public culture and civil society were shaped by the entanglement between religion and the state. Kenneth George comments that the engagement between the state and the umma (community of believers) brought state control over the ways in which the umma defined themselves.18 Under the New
15 Saskia Wieringa, Sexual Metaphors in the Change from Sukarno’s Old Order to Suharto’s New Order in Indonesia, Working Paper Series No. 233, Institute of Social Studies, The Hague - The Netherlands, 1996. The Birth of the New Order State in Indonesia: Sexual Politics and Nationalism, Working Paper Series No. 332, Institute of Social Studies, The Hague - The Netherlands, 2001. Sexual Politics in Indonesia, Palgrave Macmillan in association with Institute of Social Studies, The Hague – The Netherlands, 2002. ‘The Birth of the New Order State in Indonesia: Sexual Politics in Nationalism’, Journal of Women’s History, Spring 2003 vol. 15, issue 1, pp. 70 – 88. 16 Robert W. Hefner, Civil Islam: Muslims and Democratization in Indonesia, Princeton University Press, Princeton and Oxford, 2000. See also ‘Public Islam and the Problem of Democratization’, Sociology of Religion, Winter 2001, vol. 62, issue 4, pp. 491 – 514. 17 Kenneth M. George, ‘Designs on Indonesia’s Muslim Communities’, Journal of Asian Studies, 57 (3) August 1998, p. 697. 18 Ibid., p. 698. 120 Order every element in society that was capable of being political was either shut down or banished because it might grow to be in collision with the state power. Such was the fear of the growth of political Islam that Liddle, referring to the period before 1998, observes: [T]the New Order government’s authoritarianism has deeply affected the formation and expression of Muslim values, beliefs, and attitudes. Islamic politics since the late 1960s has been so repressed, distorted and channelled that it is no longer possible to know which views enjoy broad mass support and which do not. Indeed, in the absence of open political organization and debate, most ordinary, non-activist Indonesian Muslims probably do not have well-defined positions on many issues affecting their lives.19
Kenneth George, moving beyond the political sphere takes the interference of state power to the discussion of social, cultural and religious life. He writes: “the state has . . . inserted itself into the public sphere as a religious authority of sorts: it offers judgments upon and legitimations of the role of religion in civic affairs and the daily life of citizens.”20 However, as George comments, like most communities the Indonesian Muslim community is porous, it is, therefore, not a closed community, immutable unaffected by constructions outside its boundaries: it is reactive toward changes taking place both inside and outside. Indonesian Muslims are “perhaps always concerned between co-operation and resistance.”21
Indonesian women, Muslim and non-Muslim, reacted in a similar pattern of co- operation and resistance against the New Order’s attempts to interfere in the ways they defined themselves. The establishment of Dharma Wanita—a social organization for the wives of civil servants and for female civil servants— exemplified the New Order’s approach. Julia Suryakusuma argues that Dharma Wanita played a crucial role in legitimising state control in the construction of womanhood in Indonesia by controlling “the activities of civil servants’ wives and ultimately those of civil servants, whose careers [were] affected by the performance of their wives in Dharma Wanita.”22 Although Dharma Wanita did not cover the
19 William R. Liddle in ‘The Islamic Turn in Indonesia: A Political Explanation’, Journal of Asian Studies 55 (3) 1996, p. 631, quoted on Kenneth W. George, ‘Designs on Indonesia’s Muslim Communities,’ p. 699. 20 Ibid., p. 699. 21 Ibid., p. 700. 22 Julia I. Suryakusuma, ‘The State and Sexuality in New Order Indonesia’, Fantasizing the Feminine in Indonesia, Laurie J. Sears (ed), Duke University Press, Durham & London, 1996, p. 99. 121 majority of Indonesian women its ideals were disseminated throughout the country because civil servants were deemed to be representatives of the state, and “should uphold the principles of the state and set an example for the rest of the society.”23 Through Dharma Wanita the state managed successfully to construct what Suryakusuma defines as the gender ideology of State Ibuism. State Ibuism, she argues, meant the domestication of Indonesian women as dependent wives whose existence was to serve mainly their husbands, their families and the state.24 Not only did Dharma Wanita become a channel for the dissemination of State Ibuism, other state-sponsored organizations such as the PKK (Pembinaan Keluarga Sejahtera, Family Welfare Guidance) largely played a similar role. The PKK worked exclusively at the village and grassroots levels, making it “the primary channel between the state and village women through which the official ideology is filtered.”25 Suryakusuma explains further: State Ibuism defines women as appendages and companions to their husbands, as procreators of the nation, as mothers and educators of children, as housekeepers, and as members of Indonesian society - in that order. Ibu means mother, but the term has been stretched to cover a range of roles. Respected women with no children are addressed as “Ibu.” While a broad concept, the state uses ibu in its limited, biological meaning. . . . The State Ibuism concept encompasses economic, political and cultural elements. It derives from the most oppressive aspects of both bourgeois “housewifization” and Priyayi [white-collar Javanese] Ibuism. As in Priyayi Ibuism, it commands women to serve their men, children, family, community and state. As in “housewifization,” women are assumed to provide their labor freely, without exception of prestige or power. . . . Given the image of the state as family, one might call the predominant gender ideology Bapak Ibuism (father-motherism), with bapak [father/man] as the primary source of power and ibu [mother/woman] as one medium of that power. . . . State Ibuism is part and parcel of bureaucratic state’s effort to exercise control over Indonesian society.26
State Ibuism fits both state paternalism and military ideology incorporating the state as “family” that necessitates sacrifice by its members for the sake of its welfare.
23 Ibid., p. 92. 24 Ibid., footnote no. 26. Suryakusuma’s notion of State Ibuism is discussed completely in State Ibuism: The Social Construction of Womanhood in the Indonesia New Order, M.A. thesis, Institute of Social Studies, The Hague, 1987. 25 Ibid., p. 101. 26 Ibid., pp. 101– 102. 122 For Muslims, this also fits perfectly with the orthodox-patriarchal interpretation of women’s role in Islam that sees biological differences between men and women as ordained, thus women’s “housewifization” as religiously predestined. As in colonial discourses, contemporary discourses in Indonesian Islam concerning women are very much in favour of men. Women are still perceived to be men’s inferior, physically and psychologically weaker, and thus unable to deal with public affairs. Such orthodox interpretations are based on the Qur’an Sura 4: An Nisaa’ verse 34.27
Clearly in contemporary Indonesia women’s role is deeply defined not only by state power implemented in the Marriage Law, but by Islam as well, which plays a crucial part in the process of women’s domestication. One must add that adat is still influential, especially in Javanese culture. As the Javanese comprise more than forty percent of the Indonesian population Javanese culture is largely dominant in Indonesian cultural lives. The role of women is reflected in three prominent Javanese adat beliefs. The first lies in the saying “konco wingking” (literally meaning companion whose place is in the back part of the house); the second in “suargo nunut neraka katut” (meaning a wife will go wherever her husband goes, to hell or heaven, making her a mere follower of the husband’s deed); and the third says women’s roles are “manak, masak, macak” (to breed, to cook, and to adorn herself for her husband) which correlate closely to women’s places in “kasur, dapur, sumur” (bed, kitchen, doing household jobs). Such Javanese notion of women’s roles and place indeed corresponds with Priyayi Ibuism that Suryakusuma so strongly attacks. Indonesian Muslim women must challenge these fundamental beliefs accommodative to women’s oppression in their endeavour for women’s empowerment. The Javanese conception of being pasrah (accepting any situation) as the best way to accommodate change seemingly cannot hold any longer.
Nevertheless, despite the institutionalisation of patriarchal state power, male interpretations of Islam and paternalism within adat, there is action within the Islamic community (from both men and women) for change, most notably since the 1990s. Muslim women had raised their voices before but in the mid-1990s—through
27 See Chapter 2. 123 activism—they managed to make their voices impossible to ignore. Since then both individuals and organizations are forging new paths for environments that are women friendly and accommodative to women’s own religious interpretations. As Istiadah writes: The 1990s is an important period for Muslim women in Indonesia because during recent years new Muslim forums and organizations were founded, new Islamic women’s organizations were founded, new Islamic books which are more liberating to women were launched and the existing Islamic women’s organizations rearranged their activities to focus more on women’s rights issues. . . . For the anniversary of Muslimat NU in 1994, this forum conducted a conference on women and published the papers as a book called Islam and the advancement of women. This means that Muslimat NU is no longer merely concerned with women and family matters but is also improving its activities concerning women’s self actualisation and women’s rights. In 1994 Pustaka Bandung publishers simultaneously published Indonesian translations of three famous Islamic books: Women in Islam, by Fatima Mernissi, Women in the Qur’an, by Aminah Wadud Muhsin, and Muslim Woman and Social Pathology, by Mazhar Ul-Haq Khan. . . . Indonesian people, especially women’s activists had an opportunity to have dialogue with Ashgar Ali Engineer, the Indian author of the Rights of Women in Islam and Riffat Hassan, a Pakistani-American Muslim feminist who is constructing a new interpretation of the Qur’an from a woman’s perspective. Young women Muslim intellectuals with a progressive outlook started to spread discourses to attack Islam and New Order patriarchal system. People such as Nursyahbani Katjasungkana, Wardah Hafidz, Nurul Agustina, Cici Farha Assegaf and Lies Marcoes have played an important role in this campaign.28
The 1990s has witnessed the shift from State Ibuism to a feminist discourse. This parallels with a discourse increasingly conservative in Islamist revivalist circles, making the works Nusyahbani Katjasungkana, Wardah Hafidz and others mentioned as counter discourse on female seclusion and polygamy expressed in more Middle Eastern literature imported into Indonesia.
In 1994 Ulumul Qur’an (UQ), a prestigious Islamic journal, published a special edition on the “woman’s question” in the Islamic environment, looking at psychological, sociological, cultural and religious issues.29 UQ documented a number of articles by Indonesian Muslim female and male scholars, ranging its
28 Istiadah, Muslim Women in Contemporary Indonesia: Investigating Paths to Resist the Patriarchal System, Working Paper No. 91, Monash University, Clayton Victoria, Australia, 1995, p.11. 29 Ulumul Qur’an Edisi Khusus, No. 5 & 6, Vol. V, Tahun 1994. 124 discussion from the notion of feminism, Islamic feminism, the evolution of shari’a, to anti-feminism. The scholars agree upon the universal ethical message of the Qur’an, which is the spirit of humanism, social justice and equality, emphasizing that the existing interpretation of gender relation is male biased.30 Many of the writers have also agreed that although women in Indonesia have enjoyed more freedom than their sisters in the Arabic world—exemplified by women’s dominant role in batik trading in Solo, for instance—their social, cultural and economic participation in public affairs is still largely ignored.31 However, not all articles are supportive of this criticism of Islamic societies as mostly male biased: some articles are in opposition to women’s movements. For example, in Ratna Megawangi’s article, ‘Feminisme: Menindas Peran Ibu Rumahtangga’ (Feminism Oppresses Housewife’s Role), Megawangi is very critical of feminism because (in her opinion) it generates nothing but another oppression: of housewives. Megawangi concludes that since women cannot liberate themselves from biological formation, gender equality is not necessary, as it creates more problems for women evidenced by the Cinderella Complex, in which women require men’s protection.32 Megawangi is critical of radical feminism’s call for equality between women and men at all cost, yet she neglects the very keystone of feminism, which is freedom in instigating women’s own voices.
Myra Diarsi, the chair of Yayasan Kalyanamitra, an organization that has undertaken much research on women’s problems, and also instigated gender training, opposes Megawangi’s ideas. Diarsi argues that Megawangi fails to grasp the true meaning of feminism as an idea and methodology that becomes very useful in looking at inequality.33 Diarsi asserts that indeed feminism was not anti woman’s role as housewife but considered it a productive profession that needed to be valued. What feminism challenged was not the role itself, but the hierarchy, ordination and
30 Didin Syafrudin, ‘Argumen Supremasi Atas Penafsiran Klasik QS al-Nisậ’:34’, UQ, Edisi Khusus, p.6. 31 ‘Perempuan Dalam Perbincangan’, UQ, Edisi Khusus, p. 50. 32 Ratna Megawangi, ‘Feminisme: Menindas Peran Ibu Rumahtangga’, UQ, Edisi Khusus, p. 37. Megawangi is a lecturer in IPB (Institut Teknologi Bandung, Bandung Institute of Technology). Her speciality is food and nutrition policy. Claimed to be a follower of Sufism, her writings are much influenced by the teachings of Bawa Muhaiyaddeen. See her biography in Membiarkan Berbeda: Sudut Pandang Baru tentang Relasi Gender, Mizan Pustaka, Jakarta, 1999, pp. 7 – 8. 33 ‘Feminisme Tidak Anti Peran Ibu Rumahtangga’. An interview with Myra Diarsi. UQ, Edisi Khusus, p. 33. 125 exploitation that such a role created that eventually benefited one particular gender. Feminism was against housewifization, as housewifization limited women to only domestic roles without giving them significant involvement in public roles. It also aimed to safeguard women from the so-called “double burden” (peran ganda), which saw women working both outside and inside the domestic sphere, while husbands were only obliged to work outside.34
Despite the arguments against her article, Megawangi crystallised her arguments with her publication, Membiarkan Berbeda: Sudut Pandang Baru tentang Relasi Gender (Leaving Differences as They Are: A New Perspective On Gender Relations), in 1999. Claiming that her publication functions as the counter-argument against feminism, Megawangi proposes a conservative view of gender relations: harmonious gender relations can be achieved if the nature of biological differences between man and woman are accorded similar respect. She writes: Here, it is seen that demand to respect the nature of women so they are treated specially . . . is parallel with demand to respect the nature of men so they too are treated with special treatment, following their predetermined nature. Both aspects need simultaneous attention, not only on one side. The majority of women need protection, commitment, love and compassion (except for those minority: feminists and female singletons). This demand is one of many manifestations of the feminine characteristics whose existence needs respect. In order that the channelling of feminine characters can work well, figures of men with nurturing habits are needed: characters of responsibility and protecting. Certainly, manifestation of these masculine characters necessitates object or locus where there are women (including children) who can guarantee that they are his and depend on him. A wife who says: “I am depending on you fully,” is an affirmation that her husband is a leader for her. If such mechanism works well in both the male and female side, a harmonious life can be built.35
Clearly, Megawangi’s argument is based on the premise that femininity and masculinity are natural constructions, while social, economic, cultural, political and geographical conditions are correspondingly ignored. In suggesting that man is a natural born leader and a woman his dependent, she places women in an inferior position. She is right in asserting that the family is a significant institution in social structures and that its role must be reinforced in order to build more egalitarian
34 Ibid., p. 33. 35 Ratna Megawangi, Membiarkan Berbeda: Sudut Pandang Baru tentang Relasi Gender, Mizan Pustaka, Jakarta, 1999, p. 214. Translation mine. 126 relations, yet her argument on the way to achieve such relations is extremely conservative: she demands that household jobs be regarded with respect and privileges this role for women. Her proposal of housewifization seems to be contrary to her own public role as a university lecturer since academic institutions are commonly perceived as promoting women’s roles outside the domestic arena.
Obviously Megawangi’s arguments touch merely upon the utopian level and totally overlook other conditions that are of major importance in shaping family life in Indonesia. In a family where economic conditions are such that there is no need of a wife’s income Megawangi’s ideas might suit, but they allow little room for choice. She also fails to see that her ideal family is rarely achieved because more than fifty percent of Indonesian families need the wife to work outside the home for family sustainability. Her lack of concerns over other contributing factors proves that her arguments are not so dissimilar with those of orthodox Muslims, who believe that biological differences alone can relegate gender equality. A Muslim herself, Megawangi supports her arguments with references from the Qur’an and Hadith to privilege “positive patriarchy,” emphasising that gender equality can be attained in batiniyah level (inner level), and not in lahiriah level (physical level). She concludes that in both man is levelled higher than woman for man is associated with positive, while woman with negative, therefore to be good means to be man, and such position is a holy ordination that must not be challenged in order to arrive at harmonious gender relations. Megawangi’s argument is also premised heavily on man as perfect husband and father who is not capable of domestic violence against his wife and children. Her argument radically neglects the reality in many Indonesian households where domestic violence, including marital rape, is not uncommon. Her proposal to give a different perspective in viewing gender relations is not ‘new’ but a repetition of the textual interpretations by Muslim scholars discussed earlier. For Indonesian feminists and those espousing equal gender relations, Megawangi’s publication is another celebration of patriarchal oppression of women.
The Islamic feminist movement in the 1990s was not the only movement in the life
127 of Indonesian Islam under the New Order. The end of the regime’s policy of depoliticising Islam towards the late 1980s was marked by the emergence of Islamic revival movements, such as the Dakwah (the call for God) movement, which began on university campuses. Within this movement there exists a wide spectrum of views between groups such as Hizbut Tahrir, Darul Arqam, and Tarbiyah (education) movement36, which is centred on university campuses. The Tarbiyah is the best known to the Indonesian public and has the largest number of members amongst groups in the Dakwah movement. Some groups in this movement call for Indonesia to be more Islamic—in the Middle Eastern way—with religious clothing, and segregation and limitation on women’s role. Others, like the Tarbiyah movement, take a quite different direction although many groups have a similar agenda: to establish Islamic government in Indonesia. The Tarbiyah is also known as “campus Islam,” as its major activists were university students and graduates who started their education or “indoctrination” training in the Salman mosque at the Institute of Technology Bandung (ITB), then inspired similar activities elsewhere, particularly on “secular” university campuses.37 Most members and supporters are largely from university life—many with strong technical and sciences orientations—who were educated in secular universities in Indonesia and overseas as part of a national campaign to modernize the nation. Tarbiyah sees Islam as “the only solution” to overcome Indonesia's multiple problems: through a return to Islamic moral principles; the Islamic way of life; and the establishment of an Islamic government (Islamic Caliphate). Members of this movement, through their student organization KAMMI (Kesatuan Aksi Mahasiswa Muslim Indonesia, Indonesian Muslim students front), played a considerable part in the collapse of Soeharto’s regime in 1998 and in favor of President Habibie. Moreover, KAMMI did not want a total shakeup of the regime contrary to other students movements.
36 Tarbiyah here is a name of a movement as opposed to the general meaning of tarbiyah (education). 37 Martin Van Bruinessen, ‘Genealogies of Islamic radicalism in post-Suharto Indonesia’, South East Asia Research vol. 10, no. 2, 117-154, Internet, http://www.let.uu.nl/~martin.vanbruinessen/personal/publications/genealogies_islamic_radicalism.ht m, (8 December 2005). ‘Post-Suharto Muslim engagements with civil society and democracy’, paper presented at the Third International Conference and Workshop “Indonesia in Transition”, organized by the KNAW and Labsosio, Universitas Indonesia, August 24-28, 2003. Universitas Indonesia, Depok, Internet, http://www.let.uu.nl/~martin.vanbruinessen/personal/publications/Post_Suharto_Islam_and_civil_soci ety.htm, (8 December 2005). 128 Many see the Tarbiyah movement as mirroring the Ikhwanul Muslimin38 (Muslim Brotherhood) of Egypt set up by Hassan Al-Banna in 1928. Many are also afraid that this movement might steer Islam to radical revisionism and revival, which is potentially dangerous for moderate Islam in Indonesia. However, in contrast to other Islamic revivalist organizations, the Tarbiyah movement, like the Brotherhood, is reformist, and relies heavily on modern interpretations of Islam concerned with democracy, civil society, human rights and equality of women, although these values are understood differently from common Western notions.39 The jilbab (veil) movement in secular university campuses, for example, is taken as a sign of religious freedom. Though the Tarbiyah believes segregation is necessary in public places, women are perceived as men’s equal, thus deserving rights of equal opportunities in public roles, especially in political participation. The group has many women activists, and although in their meetings males and females are separated with different meeting entrances, women are not to sit behind men, but they sit equal to men, in segregated space. In the 2004 election for members of parliament, PKS (Partai Keadilan Sejahtera, Prosperous Justice Party) whose core founders and members are of the Tarbiyah group allocated thirty eight percent of positions for female candidates.40 It was the highest percentage of female candidates for election of parliament members amongst any political party, passing the demanded quota of thirty percent for female representatives. However, if Tarbiyah discourses have strong influence on university campuses, such discourses are not without challenged. Muslim feminists’ discourses of coming from the same campuses and NGOs are their counter-discourses.
However, the Tarbiyah movement’s espousal of women’s issues in an Islamic setting complicates even more the dissemination of such issues to the Indonesian public. The
38 Ikhwanul Muslimin is not only an organization but also commonly regarded as a religious, political and social movement, calling for the return to an original Islam. Believing that most Muslims had been corrupted by Western influences, Ikhwanul Muslimin sees the Qu’ran and the Sunnah as laws mandated by God to be applied to all parts of the life of all Muslims, including the organization of the government and the handling of everyday problems. Muslim Brotherhoods have since been established in Middle Eastern countries. 39 Ken Miichi, ‘Islamic Youth Movements in Indonesia’, IIAS Newsletter, No. 32, November 2003. See also Ali Said Damanik’s publication Fenomena Partai Keadilan Transformasi 20 Tahun Gerakan Tarbiyah di Indonesia, Penerbit Teraju, Jakarta, 2002. 40 For comparison, PDI allocated 30% for female legislative candidates while PPP 25%. See ‘Dilema Para Caleg Perempuan’, Pikiran Rakyat, Sabtu 17 Januari 2004, Internet, http://www.pikiran- rakyat.com/cetak/0104/17/hikmah/lainnya04.htm, (9 December 2005). 129 Tarbiyah conceives that male and female are segregated in nature (biological construction) yet in that segregation lies irreplaceable equality in any sphere and any value. Segregation aims for self-discipline, including concealing the slightest demonstration of one’s sexuality in public. Women and men are segregated in public but can mix in the private sphere if bound in legal marriage. This conception suggests that Islamic values, regarding human sexuality, are a closed and silenced system. Indeed, although members of the Tarbiyah movement claim to reject feminism, in particular they reject liberation of women’s (and men’s) sexuality, as it is believed to be of Western origin, in fact they subscribe to concepts of sexual equality while maintaining sexual segregation. The rise of the Dakwah movement and its various groups has raised concern in Indonesian society that such groups may pose a threat to civil Islam. However, to see all groups in the Dakwah movement as militant, radical or even fundamentalist is wrong, the complexity of Islamic movements requires careful examination as within these movements groups are fragmented in terms of their interpretations of Islam and its application.
Contemporary Discourse on Women, Islam and Indonesia
In contemporary Indonesia, gender is pervasive in discourses about women’s roles in society. Although Megawati Soekarnoputri is popularly known to have no concern for women’s issues, her appointment as a candidate for Indonesia’s fourth presidency and then her election as the fifth president in 2001 proved that in Indonesia politics and women can no longer be isolated. How women struggled and what they were struggling for is now very much in the public arena. Press-liberation since 1998 was one of the contributing factors. Another was the changing environment in local and global contexts that have become more responsive and accommodating to women’s struggles against any oppression. Not only are Indonesian women becoming aware of their position, they no longer see themselves as the subalterns who cannot speak but view themselves as the subalterns who indeed speak.
130 The Need for New Qur’anic Interpretations
Nurcholish Majid, Ahmad Wahid, Masdar Mas’udi, Ali Yafie, Quraish Shihab and Wahid Zaini, KH Hussein Muhammad are amongst the progressive Indonesian Muslim scholars who believe that conventional interpretations of the Qur’an that privilege one sex over another are mere literal textual interpretations, lacking the real intention of the ethical message that the Qur’an brings of equality of all humans. Progressive scholars such as these disseminate a notion of gender equality that rests firmly upon their more contextual Qur’anic interpretations; they do not stand alone in their endorsement of contextual interpretations. International scholars, males and females alike, such as Ashgar Ali Engineer, Amina Wadud, Fatima Mernisi, Seyyed Hossein Nasr and others, whose books are easily accessible for Indonesian audiences, agree with their readings. Mas’udi identifies two kinds of verses in the Qur’an; fundamental and instrumental. Fundamental verses, verses that are fixed (qoth’i, literally means explicit, thus “clear-cut”, “decisive”) in the Qur’an are concerned with the principles of egalitarianism and equality, while instrumental (dzanni, literally means hypothetical, thus “uncertain”) verses as interpreted contextually explicate more on technical things, as exemplified by women’s dress code and inheritance. Mas’udi states that the determination whether a verse is fixed or instrumental depends on the content or level of meaning, and not linguistic formulation.41 The most popular quoted verse widely used and misused in relation to gender relation is Sura al-Nisaa verse 34, which in part says, “arrijalalu qawwaamuuna ’alan nisaa,” meaning men are qawwaamuuna of women. As was noted in Chapter 2 debate still surrounds the interpretation of the meaning of qawwaamuuna (men as leaders, protectors, maintainers, guardians, in charge of and superior to, etc). Indonesian modernists who attempt to give more contextual meanings for the word insist that its meaning must be contextualised in time and space. The 7th century Arab society where the Qur’anic verses were revealed was one
41 Istiadah, pp. 7 – 8. Also see Masdar F. Mas’udi, ‘Reinterpreting Islamic Teachings on Women’, Islam and the Advancement of Women, Lily Zakiyah Munir, Abdul Mun’im D. Z., Nani Soraya (eds), The Forum for Islam and the Advancement of Women, Cv. Tunas Pribumi, Jakarta, 1994, pp. 15 – 31. 131 of constant tribal warfare, contemporary Indonesia on the other hand, is highly urbanised, and nomadic and tribal segmentations are not a feature of Indonesian communities. Lily Zakiyah Munir believes that although textual readings (which privilege patriarchal domination) are still widely practiced today, the “true” Qur’anic spirit is one of gender and sexual equality.42 Mere textual readings of the Qur’an and Hadith, leaving off the revelation’s social-historical roots makes a reading partial and static, which in the end loses the deeper side of God’s message. New Qur’anic interpretations are more liberating for women: The drive in interpreting Al Qur’an is not to interpret women in male interpretations in biological, psychological or sociological meaning, but to make possibilities for women to act in their own free and conscious choices just like men. That women have traditional role or completely new role is not the problem. What matters is that women are free to choose and have their own decision.43
Drawing on the work of such seminal scholars as Fazlur Rahman, Amina Wadud and Ashgar Ali Engineer, Indonesian scholars are deconstructing the old/classical interpretations that are heavily male biased and argue that verse 34 Sura al- Nisaa shows no superiority of one sex over the other.44 Istiadah writes: Abdurrahman Wahid . . . argues that the word gowwamun in this verse has an anthropological meaning. By this he indicates that this verse is not the norm, rather this verse explains the situation at the time of this verse was revealed. Although Masdar F. Mas’udi and Quraish Shihab argue that women’s role as educator of the children is very important, they encourage women to participate in public life. Masdar argues that if a wife works for income, the income belongs to her and need not be shared . . .Quraish Shihab also emphasizes that the wife has a right to maintain her own property without her husband agreement . . . [while] [c]ommenting on a wife’s obligation to obey her husband, Ali Yafie argues that the husband’s consent is not absolute . . . a wife who refuses to have sex with her husband is not automatically sinful. If there is a ‘true’ reason it is not opposed to the religious norm.45
Istiadah concludes that the implication of such new readings by these leading Muslim clerical scholars is immense. Not only do these influential scholars
42 Lily Zakiyah Munir, ‘ “He is your garment and you are his . . .”: Religious Precepts, Interpretations, and Powers in Relations in Marital Sexuality among Javanese Muslim Women’, Sojourn: Journal of Social Issues in Southeast Asia, Oct 2002, vol.17, issue 2, p. 205. 43 Didin Syafrudin, p. 10. Translation mine. Didin Syafrudin is a lecturer at UIN Syarif Hidayatullah, Jakarta (formerly IAIN Jakarta). He has written numerous articles on “woman question” in Islam. 44 Ibid., p. 9. Syarudin’s interpretation of this verse is grounded upon Rahman’s, Wadud’s, and in particular Engineer’s reading of the verse, saying that “bimậ fadhdhalallậh lahum ‘ala ba‘dh (karena Dia (Allah) telah melebihkan sebagian mereka (laki-laki) atas sebagian (yang lain).” 45Istiadah, p. 8. 132 acknowledge the intense patriarchal system when they reinterpret the Holy Scriptures, at the same time they also raise women’s awareness of the gender biases of older interpretations. Istiadah is optimistic that the new readings will circulate widely amongst the public and not merely to the educated elite, because these particular male clerics enjoy a high position and respect from Indonesian Muslims.46 The 1990s became a departure point for more liberating interpretations of the Holy Scriptures that in the end will create more room for Indonesian women’s own perspectives.
Some New Readings: Revisiting Feminist Theology
Contemporary Indonesia is flooded with new Qur’anic readings and interpretations. Two prominent scholars, Zaitunah Subhan and Nasaruddin Umar, are Indonesian contributors to the new feminist theology paradigm discussed in Chapter 2. Both Subhan and Umar are lecturers at UINs (Universitas Islam Negeri, Islamic State University), making their writings highly valuable.
Zaitunah Subhan’s Tafsir Kebencian: Studi Bias Gender Dalam Tafsir Qur’an (Interpretations of Abhorrence Gender Biases Studies in the Interpretations of Qur’an)47 is highly regarded as one of the pioneering works on women and Islam written by an Indonesian Muslim woman. Subhan’s research is based on her readings of three major Qur’anic tafsir (interpretations) circulating in Indonesia—the works of Mahmud Yunus, Hamka, and the Ministry of Religious Affairs. She compares and examines inter-textually the three tafsirs: her work is a feminist reading of existing Qur’anic tafsirs by Indonesian ulama. On the verses related to issues surrounding women such as inheritance, women’s testimony, leadership and female place in the public sphere, Subhan argues that the three tafsir are heavily charged with gender bias; placing men as women’s superior. A more contextual reading, rather than a literal textual reading, reveals the ethical message of the Qur’an. On the meanings of
46 Ibid., p. 10. 47 Dr. Hj. Zaitunah Subhan, Tafsir Kebencian: Studi Bias Gender Dalam Tafsir Qur’an, LkiS, Yogyakarta, 1999. 133 the word qawwam for example, against the three Indonesian mufassirs (interpreters) who have translated the word as pemimpin (leader), Subhan reads it contextually, asserting that the word may mean “penopang, pengayom, atau penegak, penanggung jawab dan penjamin” (supporter, protector, or upholder, one who is responsible for, guarantor): meanings which exists only in relation to the condition of a man being the breadwinner of his family.48 Subhan concludes, in accord with other Muslim feminist scholars such as Riffat Hassan, Fatima Mernisi, Ali Asghar Engineer and the like, that careful readings of the Qur’an show no ordained sexual discrimination. That a woman is created from Adam’s rib; that a woman lacks intellectual reasoning; that a woman inherits half of a man’s portion; that a woman’s only place is within domestic walls; that a man is the leader in his household; and that a woman’s testimony is worth half of a man’s, are merely products of interpretations that benefit man’s domination over women. Other than biological differences, any sexual discrimination is socially constructed and therefore must be challenged and reworked in order to promote social justice and equality.
Nasaruddin Umar’s work is focused on his own interpretations of the Qur’an. In his extensive writings and discussions in numerous media, Umar is known for his premise that the Qur’an’s message is one of gender equality. His publications include, Argumen Kesetaraan Jender: Perspective Al-Qur’an (Arguments of Gender Equality: The Qur’an Perspective) and Qur’an Untuk Perempuan (Qur’an for Women). The latter is seminal for its title suggests that Umar’s interpretations of the Qur’an aim to protect the rights of women.49 Founding his tafsir on numerous classic Islamic texts and archives that serve as major references for Muslims, Umar proposes new readings using more critical methodologies—propagated by Western scholars such as Charles Sanders Pierce, F.D. Schleiermacher, W. Dilthey and others— covering semantic, semiotic and hermeneutic approaches, and Islamic reading methods such as theory of asbab nuzul (reasons of revelations) in Ulum al-Qur’an (Qur’anic sciences) of classic and modern Muslim scholars. Amongst his findings is that the non-standardisation of punctuation of Qur’anic rasm (Qur’anic writing) may contribute to different meanings. Different writing (rasm), and a different reading act
48 Ibid., p. 179. 49 Ulil Abshar-Abdalla, ‘Qur’an Untuk Kaum Perempuan’ in Nasaruddin Umar’s Qur’an Untuk Perempuan, Jaringan Islam Liberal and Teater Utan Kayu, Jakarta, 2002, p. vii. 134 (qira’ah), are influential in comprehending and drawing a legal system from Quranic sources,50 hence reading the Qur’an critically is of vital importance. The existing fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence) is derived from earlier Qur’anic interpretations that in Umar’s opinions are outdated. For instance, family law covering matrimonial law giving the husband more rights than the wife, inheritance law giving a bigger portion to the son, and political law restricting a woman’s right to have a political career need to be challenged with new readings that are more gender neutral. Verses in the Qur’an associated with gender relations based on his findings are not deterministic: applicable in all times, all spaces, for all men and all women. Those verses are rather implicit, allowing human logic to arrange distinctive gender roles for human’s own benefits, and giving freedom to people themselves to select which roles to which sex best works in order to attain reciprocal common good.51 Umar concludes that his efforts are nonetheless an itjihad, an interpretation that calls attention to, and is defensive of one sex—the female. For Umar, gender tafsir is interpretation to safeguard women’s rights, paving the way to women’s empowerment.
Muslim Women in the Eyes of Law: Their Rights in Private Spheres
In 1997 Masdar F. Mas’udi, a neo-modernist, has published Islam dan Hak-Hak Reproduksi Perempuan: Dialog Fiqih Pemberdayaan52 (Islam and Reproduction Rights: The Fiqh of Empowerment Dialogue). Mas’udi’s publication is highly valued for its authenticity and originality, as it is an interpretation of women’s rights in Indonesian Islamic settings. Mas’udi’s argument is that reproduction rights as women’s rights is hardly touched by Muslim scholars in the Islamic world, partly because it is a controversial issue for the Indonesian public, but mainly because it challenges the notion that reproduction issues should be a closed corpus discussed only within the walls of domesticity. In the introduction to Mas’udi’s publication Saparinah Sadli, a champion of women’s movements in Indonesia, posits that
50 Umar, p. 37. 51 Ibid., p. 100. 52 Masdar F. Mas’udi, Islam dan Hak-Hak Reproduksi Perempuan: Dialog Fiqih Pemberdayaan, Penerbit Mizan, Jakarta, 1997. 135 Mas’udi’s work demystifies general assumptions that women are emotional beings with no brain, while men are endowed with full rational capacity. Mas’udi uses as example a dialogue between two women, one a female student of pesantren, the other her mentor—ibu nyai, the wife of the kyai who usually chairs the pesantren, discussing women’s issues of reproduction rights from women’s own perspectives, and grounds the dialogue in everyday language with reference to verses of the Qur’an and Hadiths. Mas’udi sets out to prove that women are indeed capable of productive rational reasoning as well as men. In presenting his perspective, Mas’udi challenges the taboos of discussing sexuality in public because he supports the notion of woman’s body woman’s rights. 53 He believes that reproduction rights are women’s rights for any reproduction issue is concerned with woman’s body, locating her body in the centrality of any discussion.
One of the issues that Mas’udi touches is a woman’s right to decide the number of children she bears. This is closely linked to contemporary population problems in Indonesia. Indonesia is one of the most populous countries in the world and its population continues to grow rapidly. Mas’udi identifies this problem and engages with it, placing it within religious settings that affect the everyday lives of Indonesian Muslim women. He echoes the argument of one Indonesian Muslim woman pioneer of women’s rights, Maftuchah Yusuf, who asserts that one possible solution to population problems is granting women reproduction rights: “the wives [must] decide for themselves how many children they want and when they want them,” which in return will contribute to altering “female human resources into productive manpower.”54 Mas’udi outlines five rights that will enable women to be conscious of their reproduction rights and become empowered: the right to choose her marital partner; to enjoy sexual intercourse; to decide pregnancy and the number of children to have; and to initiate repudiation. The author strongly argues that Islam sanctions these rights for women, despite the fact that they are denied for women in many contemporary Muslim countries (including Indonesia) because the process of
53 Saparinah Sadli, ‘Sekapur Sirih’, Islam dan Hak-Hak Reproduksi Perempuan. 54 Maftuchad Yusuf, ‘Muslim Outlook on the Family in A Changing Society’ in Perempuan, Agama dan Pembangunan: Wacana Kritik Atas Peran dan Kepemimpinan Wanita, Lembaga Studi dan Inovasi Pendidikan, Yogyakarta, 2000, p. 108. Yusuf is a lecturer in Universitas Negeri Jakarta (Jakarta State University, formerly IKIP Jakarta), she is also an activist in Asian and World Conference on Religion for Peace. 136 decision-making in all issues still lies in the hands of men. Mas’udi concludes that in terms of gender relations, to achieve justice and equality Islam should be worked and reworked.
Nursyahbani Katjasungkana is amongst Indonesian Muslim feminists who put considerable focus on women’s position in legal system. A lawyer herself, Katjasungkana follows other feminist legal scholars in challenging the Marriage Law of 1974, which she believes is based on the concept of patriarchy because the role distinction between the husband and the wife explicated in the articles of the law produces inequality between the two.55 The application of shari’a (Islamic law) in Nanggro Aceh Darussalam (NAD—previously the province of Aceh), legalised under UU No. 44 Tahun 1999, and proposals for similar implementation in several local regions in Indonesia are controversial. Critics of shari’a implementation argue that women’s voices are never taken into account in deciding whether shari’a should or should not be implemented in a region. The contribution of more than half of the population seems to be intentionally subdued, and such silencing also take place in other aspects of the legal system that affect women’s lives. Katjasungkana argues that the Marriage Law in theory, limiting the practice of polygamy, still does not safeguard women’s rights since abuses and violations—the practice of kawin bawah tangan or kawin siri—still occur (as discussed elsewhere earlier in this chapter).
Katjasungkana’s critics are vocal, for in Indonesia family life is still regarded as the core of the community, sustaining its values, norms and traditions. However Katjasungkana is correct in demanding amendment of the Marriage Law as a matter of urgency, because its effect at both family and societal levels is immense, especially in terms of husband and wife relations. One should call attention to the issue of marital rape that in the consciousness of Indonesian Muslims seems to be non-existent. Not until recently did the issue of marital rape appear in public discourse. Previously, from an understanding that Islam requires the wife’s total obedience to her husband (based on one verse in the Qur’an, Sura An-Nisa verse 34 which says that in order to ensure her obedience, wife beating is sanctioned in Islam
55 Nursyahbani Katjasungkana, ‘Kedudukan Wanita Dalam Perspective Islam (Makalah Pembanding atas Makalah Bustanul Arifin)’, Wanita Islam Indonesia Dalam Kajian Tekstual dan Kontekstual, p. 60. 137 if the wife is conducting nusyusy—disloyalty and ill conduct), violence against the wife was not recognisable in the Islamic household. Although many scholars interpret the verse to mean wife beating should be conducted lightly and not intentionally to torture, many have misused the verse. However, contemporary Muslim scholars such as Riffat Hassan, Ashgar Engineer, Fatima Mernisi have begun to question the judicial legality of the husband’s right to beat his wife,56 and Indonesian Muslim feminists such as Siti Ruhaini Dzuhayatin and Farha Ciciek have begun to address such problem in Indonesian contexts. This is not an easy task for the fiqh in Indonesia is largely the product of classic interpretation. Drawing on statistics recorded by Kalyanamitra—an NGO working on women’s issues, Farha Ciciek’s studies57 show that rape is mostly carried out by those regarded as “protectors”, such as a father (in the case of a father raping his daughter), or an employer (in the case of the employer raping the female servant working for his family). Statistics on marital rape, where a husband forces his wife to have sexual intercourse, are unavailable, meaning that marital rape is kept secret within the domestic sphere, seemingly untouched by any legal system. When a case does manage to reach state authorities the authorities refuse to participate in resolving the case, claiming that it is a domestic matter. This is also true for domestic violence, abuse of wife or any other form of violence that happens in the domestic sphere.
Dzuhayatin argues that marital rape is not defined as such because marriage itself is defined in a patriarchal mode where the husband has power over his wife.58 If marriages were built on the concept of equal sexual relations, marital rape would be viewed as the imposition of force.59 Codification of the Indonesian legal system has yet to include articles concerning marital rape, but raising the issue in the public sphere is crucial if new and better gender relations are to be won for women. A verse in the Qur’an referring to the matrimonial relationship states: “they are your
56 Siti Ruhaini Dzuhayatin, ‘Marital Rape, Suatu Keniscayaan?’ Islam dan Konstruksi Seksualitas, Edy Santosa (ed), PSW IAIN Yogyakarta, The Ford Foundation and Pustaka Pelajar, Yogyakarta, 2002, p. 120. 57 Farha Ciciek, ‘Perkosaan terhadap Perempuan di Ruang Domestik dan Publik, in Islam dan Konstruksi Seksualitas, p. 114. 58 Dzuhayatin, ‘Marital Rape Suatu Keniscayaan?’ pp.123–124. 59 Ibid., p. 129. 138 garments and you are their garment….”60 This verse alone definitely guarantees mutual and equal nuptial relations in which both sides are endorsed with equal responsibilities and rights. Therefore, denying the existence of marital rape by saying that it is impossible in Muslim households is denying the very notion of equality and justice in Islamic teachings.
Jilbab: Between the Politics of Identity and the Body Politics
There has never been any discourse that puts Muslim women’s private matters into the public arena more than the discourse on jilbab.61 In Indonesia, jilbab is another name for terms such as chador in Iran, purdah in India or Pakistan, milayat in Lybia, charshaf in Turkey, hijab in some African-Arab countries such as Egypt, Sudan and Yemen.62 Although the term jilbab is not intended to be a simple translation of those terms mentioned there is a close association. In Indonesia jilbab is a head cover that considerably diverts from the type called kerudung commonly donned by Muslim women of an older generation although some younger female Muslims such as Yeni Wahid, the daughter of the former president Abdurrahman Wahid, wears it as well. Indonesia today is no different than many other Islamic countries in the growing number of female Muslims donning jilbab, especially in urban areas. In the mid- 1980s the wearing of jilbab was not encouraged by the state; words such as jilbab beracun (poisonous jilbab) were not uncommon and the wearing of jilbab was criticised as a manifestation of Arabic influence and not an Islamic one. The state even prohibited the donning of jilbab in public non-religious schools and government offices and female Muslim students of those schools were denied their schooling rights if they refused to unveil themselves and also female civil servants in their
60 Al Qur’an Sura 2 Al Baqarah: 187, in which Yusuf Ali elucidates “Men and women are each other’s garment: i.e. they are for mutual support, mutual comfort, and mutual protection, fitting into each other as a garment fits the body. The question of sex is always delicate to handle: here we are told that even in such matters a clear, open, and honest course is better than fraud or self-deception.” 61 Jilbab and veil or veiling in this discussion will be used interchangeably. As various as its meanings, it also come in various forms and styles. This discussion will not include the variety of its forms and styles because the purpose of this discussion is to provide a general perspective of veiling movement in Indonesia. In this respect, its various forms and styles are discarded. 62 Nasaruddin Umar, ‘Fenomenology Jilbab,’ Kompas Cyber Media, Monday, 25 November 2002. 139 offices. These students went on strike demanding their right to veil and to assert their identity as devout Muslims. Jilbab was used to signify that they were Muslims of the santri class and thus different from the non-santri class. Political and social shifts have changed the situation. Nowadays, the donning of jilbab is no longer seen as an adherence to a foreign mode of dress, or as symbolic of resistance to the oppressive power of the state, nor does it differentiate santri from non-santri, it is seen as choice. In her study of jilbab donning for Javanese Muslims, Suzanne Brenner comments: In Java the growing trend among women toward wearing Islamic clothing (“veiling”) challenges local traditions as well as Western models of modernity. Analysis of Javanese women’s narratives of “conversion” to veiling against the background of the contemporary Islamic movement reveals that veiling represents both a new historical consciousness and a process of subjective transformation that is tied to larger processes of social change in Indonesia. In producing themselves as modern Muslims, veiled women simultaneously produce a vision of a society that distances itself from the past as it embarks upon a new modernity.63
Brenner’s study, although limiting itself to the narratives of women from the educated middle-class (college and university students), indicates that veiling is linked closely with the politics of identity. Being modern, being a “good” Muslim, being non-Western are amongst the raison d'être of veiling. In the construction of one’s identity as a devout Muslim jilbab is seen as a form of acceptance of Islamic discipline and more religious commitment.64 Herein, jilbab symbolises the so-called “purification” of being a “true” and “good” Muslim through the exercising of self- discipline and self-obedience. Nonetheless, as in the global context, discussed in the preceding chapter, there are similar meanings of either imprisonment or liberation in the Indonesian context. The implementation of shari’a in Nanggro Aceh Darussalam requires both men and women alike to cover their bodies according to the standards set by Islam. This means that men must wear at least knee-length shorts or trousers and buttoned shirts while women are to don jilbab. In Banda Aceh, the provincial capital, shari’a police often carry out inspections in order to make sure that people have followed this regulation in public spaces. However, women become the main targets and men are rarely inspected. The implementation of shari’a is often
63 Suzanne Brenner, ‘Reconstructing Self and Society: Javanese Muslim Women and “the Veil”’, American Ethnologist, November 1996, vol. 23, no. 4, p. 673. 64 Ibid., p. 684. 140 criticised for it emphasizes symbolic meanings (such as veiling for women) rather than completely exercising Islamic ideals of social justice and equality. Interestingly, studies show that the majority of female sexual workers in NAD also veil themselves in order to cover their identity. In an attempt to gain respect and recognition in public life these women disguise their identity by masquerading themselves with an item of clothing that is commonly charged as a symbol of Islamic decency and morality.65
Some occasions also highlight the temporality of jilbab wearing. For example, jilbab wearing by Indonesian celebrities (actresses, movie stars, singers), especially in television programmes during Ramadhan (the fasting month). Such a trend is adopted more as a means of marketing strategy, than as religious commitment, for when Ramadhan is over these women simply unveil. Further, there are women who wear jilbab only when they go to work; others only on special or formal occasions such as weddings, religious celebrations and rites of passage celebrations. Jilbab donning on these occasions simply relates to the occasion. Certainly on formal occasions wearing jilbab can hold a statement of religious identity, but at the same time it is also a fashion statement.
Jilbab as an item of clothing indeed covers both private and public spheres in Indonesia, and there are diverse discourses on the significance of donning jilbab. Some scholars comment that the Qur’an and Hadith have no settlement on the obligation of jilbab wearing for women: seeing jilbab imposition as an institutionalised local practice rather than normative teaching. For these scholars women themselves should decide whether to veil or not.66 Others, such as Islamists, say that veiling is an obligation, those without it will be condemned to be kafir (non- believer, non-Muslim). For them, jilbab is the political manifestation of their resistance to secular government, and of their commitment to the establishment of an Islamic state in Indonesia. In charging jilbab with political meaning they thus pull it from the female private domain into the public arena.
65 Lily Munir (2002) quoted in Sri Rahayu Arman, ‘Jilbab: Antara Kesucian dan Resistansi,’ Jaringan Islam Liberal, Internet, http://www.islamlib.com, (21 March 2003). 66 In Indonesia, discourses on the veil are formulated in two divergent arguments; those who oblige it and those against it. Writings on both views are easily accessible (and abundant), either in Indonesian translation of Arabic sources, or in writings by Indonesian Muslim scholars. It is impossible to mention each work here. 141 Umar observes that jilbab may serve symbolically as a signification of fashion, privacy and resistance.67 However, as a clothing element attached to a woman’s body, jilbab should be included in the politics of woman’s body woman’s rights. The politicisation of veiling is an upshot of the plurality it bears; it may suggest an ideological conception of a certain group, it may play as a social phenomenon, it may be used as a sexual segregation, it may denote a patriarchal symbol, it may also represent a special restriction, it may engender self-empowerment, and so forth. Jilbab is then a pluralistic phenomenon, having layers of meanings and contexts, depending on the perspectives of the wearers. Simple reduction of symbols into one meaning may erode the complexities it builds and is built upon.
Muslim Women in Public Sphere: Active Participation and Education
Analogous to women in other Muslim countries, Indonesian muslimah (Muslim women) have long demanded a claim to public life. Although, as previously noted, Indonesian Muslim women traditionally enjoyed more freedom compared to their sisters in the Arab world, this does not automatically mean that they are granted equal access and authority in public realms. Still, changes are taking place. This is shown with the recent edict (Undang-Undang Pemilu 2004, General Election Act 2004) that compels political parties in institutions of people’s representatives to have at least thirty percent of women amongst the representatives. Although women make up more than half of Indonesia’s population, before the enactment of the quota their representation was much less then thirty percent (from 1999 – 2004 44 women were members of parliament – 8.8% of total members).68 The major reason for the lack of female political participation lies in the patriarchal hegemony in Indonesian cultural life that privileges men over women in political leadership, but poverty and the higher illiteracy rates of women are also critical factors.69 The imposition of quotas
67 Umar, ‘Fenomenologi Jilbab,’ p. 1. 68 Kofifah Indar Parawansa, ‘Hambatan Terhadap Partisipasi Politik Perempuan di Indonessia’, p. 5. 69 Percentage of persons aged 15 and over who can read and write (adult literacy rate) for male in year 2000 is 92 and female 82, UNESCO (United Nations Children’s Fund), Internet, 142 did not pass without a struggle, but nevertheless women are now recognised as political actors and their position is secured legally. The goal of women’s organizations is to reach a quota of fifty percent.
Defenders of women’s rights from the older generation of ulama, such as Ali Yafie, Quraish Shihab, Abdurrahman Wahid, Zakiyah Daradjat, Aisyah Hamid Baidlowi and Maftuchah Yusuf, and certainly other Muslim feminists of the younger generations, such as Masdar F. Mas’udi, Zainatun Subhan, Siti Nurhayati Dzuhayatin and Nursyahbani Katjasungkana, agree that women’s rights are to include women’s place in public spheres, and also agree that the exclusion of Indonesian women from the public arena was a product of socially and culturally constructed interpretations of the Qur’an and Hadith. Women are encouraged to become political actors by becoming town mayors and members of city councils, as well as leaders in the economic field. Alongside its enactment of quotas for political participation the state has introduced other measures to encourage women in public life: for example, Law No. 7/1984 on the Women’s Convention, and the Manpower Law No. 25/1997, amended to eliminate discrimination in work promotion and training, payment and social security.70 Nevertheless, disparity between the reality and the ideal is still wide, and the election of a female president did not stop the controversy over women’s roles. Moreover, there are differences between the views of the older and younger generations of scholars. Many of the older generation of ulama, whilst agreeing that women can involve themselves in public participation, insist they must not abandon their nurturing role of motherhood, or their domestic role based on their biological disposition as female: There are many things women can do, managing household, becoming a wife, a mother, an educator, taking care of children. Those are responsibilities and rights of women. Then, working or socialising, be it in economic sphere . . . or carrying a gun in a war. All we do should not deny our kodrat [predetermined sex] as women because it is as a woman that Allah grants a different physical condition. . . . However busy a woman is, she must spare sometime for her family.71 http://www.unicef.org/infobycountry/indonesia_statistics.html, (5 December 2005). 70 Sudjadnan Parnohadiningrat Ambassador of the Republic Indonesia, ‘Prologue’, Women in Indonesia: Gender, Equity and Development, Kathryn Robinson and Sharon Bessell (eds), ISEAS, Singapore, 2002, pp. xiii – xxv. 71 Zakiyah Daradjat, ‘Peran Ganda dan Kepemimpinan Perempuan’, Memposisikan Kodrat: Perempuan dan Perubahan Dalam Perspective Islam, Lily Zakiyah Munir (ed), Penerbit Mizan, Bandung, 1999. Translation mine. 143 On the other hand, those of the younger generation who are feminists by definition believe that gender is a matter of social construction; women’s domesticity thus must not hamper women’s involvement in public participation. It is for women themselves to decide which sphere they want to inhabit; whatever the choice, it is a reflection of women’s liberation in social, political and economic life. Dzuhayatin writes: Being married or single, willing to have or not to have children, choosing a career or being housewives are all issues that should be resolved on the basis of women’s own choices. No one has the right to interfere in these decisions. Not even the husband or the state has the right to assert control over a woman’s body or mind.72
What Dzuhayatin and other feminists of her generation offer is crucial, as it exemplifies a paradigm shift in the notion of women and their public positions. The growth of global discourses on women and development has had a strong influence on women’s movements in Indonesia, to the extent that the younger generation no longer sees domesticity as an obligation for women. For them, the notion of motherhood becomes less important in shaping women’s status; and a woman’s decision to get married or to stay single is not determined by women’s kodrat. However, in a country like Indonesia where motherhood is highly revered— grounded in the Hadith saying that paradise lies at the feet of the mother and that those who are not married are not Muhammad’s umma—celibacy, particularly female celibacy is not encouraged. Although there has been an increase in the marriage age for females, those choosing celibacy are usually frowned upon, partly because they are single, thus commonly perceived to be feminists, and partly because the ideal role of womanhood in Indonesia is becoming a wife and, more importantly, becoming a mother.
In the author’s interview with Haleh Afshar, a prominent feminist, a lecturer in politics and women’s studies at the University of York, United Kingdom and an expert on women in Islam,73 she commented that within contemporary interpretations
72 Dzuhayatin, ‘Gender and Pluralism in Indonesia’, p. 205. 73 Afshar has written books: Islam and the Post Revolutionary State in Iran (1994), under the pseudonym Homa Omid, and Islam and Feminisms (1998). A member of the Development Studies subject group and has edited 11 books; including Women, Globalization and Fragmentation in the Developing World (1999), edited with Stephanie Barrientos and Development, Women, and War 144 of Islam single woman had no place because Islam regards motherhood as the highest and noblest role awarded to women.74 Within such a framework, a woman’s choice of celibacy will certainly be rejected. However contextual readings of the words of the Prophet are not to be dismissed in interpreting his words within the framework of recent situations. In the Prophet’s time marriage was one means of protection: a man was responsible for protecting his female family members while a woman could gain protection through marriage. In the light of today’s situation in Indonesia, new readings of the Prophet’s sayings need to be contextualised so that the élan of his words will not transgress the spirit of justice and equality he promoted in the name of Islam.
Single Indonesian women today play a crucial part in contributing to the nation’s economic and social life. In 2003, more than half of all females aged fifteen and above engaged in the production of goods and services: in the same category the female activity rate is 56.3 percent compared to men.75 Although the data supplied by UNDP (United Nations Development Programme) does not specify the number of single females, given the large number of female labour force participants, certainly many would be single. Single women then cannot be excluded from national discourses on gender and Islam simply because they are not married. In spite of the divergent opinions about women’s issues and women’s own choices to marry or remain single, the urgency to keep up with the modernisation process has united the voices of the women of earlier and younger generations. They agree that women’s backwardness must be eliminated and women themselves must see self-improvement as an obligation.76 Only in that way can the many cultural and traditional practices and discriminatory laws that still hinder the on-going process of women’s empowerment be overcome.
(2004) edited with Deborah Eade, she is also a founding member of the Muslims Women’s Network. In 2005 she was awarded an OBE for services to equal opportunities. 74 An Interview with Haleh Afshar, Aberdeen, Scotland, United Kingdom, 10 September 2005. 75 UNDP, Internet, http://hdr.undp.org/statistics/data/countries.cfm?c=IDN, (8 December 2005). 76 Zakiyah Daradjat, ‘Peran Ganda dan Kepemimpinan Perempuan’, pp. 115 – 125, Aisyah Hamid Baidlowi, ‘Peran dan Tanggung Jawab dalam Pemberdayaan Kaum Perempuan’, pp. 125 – 132 in Memposisikan Kodrat, Yusuf in Peran Agama dan Pembangunan, and many other similar articles of younger scholars. 145 Mahnaz Afkhami identifies twelve points which can serve as a Platform for Action in improving women’s human rights: poverty, education, health, violence against women, effects of armed conflict, economic structures and politics, inequality of men and women in decision making, gender equality, women’s human rights, media, environment and the girl child.77 In her well-crafted “Platform for Action” she argues that one major way to make women come to a realisation that their rights are being denied is through education. Afkhami is correct. Education is an essential way through which women can gather experience and knowledge and implement gender equality. Education is a powerful means for social transformation. The state policy of implementing wajib belajar (an obligation for all Indonesian children—male and female—to join elementary education at least from year 1 to year 6) is critical in the drive for education as a means to social transformation. However, for a number of reasons including poverty, geographical isolation and the persistence of child labour, a sizeable number of Indonesian youth are still denied their right to education. In her platform to promote women’s right to education Afkhami does not nominate a specific type of education model but proposes: An educational model that forms the basis for the manual aspires to be multidimensional and to develop a framework that can easily be used to convey universal concepts in association with indigenous ideas, traditions, myths and texts rendered in local idiom.78
If Afkhami’s proposals are to be followed, models of educational reforms will need to take account of both local and regional issues. The implementation of regional autonomy (otonomi daerah) in Indonesia may well best suit Afkhami’s proposals. As regional autonomy “[is] meant to revitalise adat or local custom” and “[is] intended to support democratisation in accord with the spirit of reformasi: that is, not a return to old hierarchical structures, and gender-biases,”79 regional autonomy will render various models in local contexts. As various as the models may result one may expect a uniformity of such varieties, that is, with an underlying premise that education rights do not contradict the spirit of Islam of equality and justice. Regional autonomy, for instance, has seen the implementation of shari’a in several regions;
77 Mahnaz Afhkhami, ‘Claiming Our Rights: A Manual for Women’s Human Rights Education in Muslim Societies’, Muslim Women and the Politics of Participation: Implementing the Beijing Platform, Mahnaz Afkhami and Erica Friedl (eds), Syracuse University Press, Syracuse, 1997, p. 109. 78 Ibid, p. 109. 79 Robinson and Bessel, ‘Introduction’, Women in Indonesia, p. 7. 146 thus several interpretations, and where shari’a is implemented ulama and members of regional parliament are powerful in the interpretations.
Islamic Feminism in Local Perspectives
Parallel to previous discussion on Islamic feminism, Indonesians’ acceptance of this term is also varied. The shifting paradigm from Woman in Development to Gender and Development, helps to adapt the conception of Islamic feminism into Indonesian contexts. Indonesian Muslim feminists, including Wardah Hafidz, Lies Marcoes, Nurul Agustina, Farha Ciciek, Siti Ruhaini Dzuhatin, Saparinah Sadli and many other advocates of women’s rights, are using feminist perspectives to locate women’s issues as an integral part of national social issues. They are endeavouring to deconstruct the various normative religious notions of gender relations that are commonly used by the patriarchy to sustain their hegemony.80 These feminists no longer emphasise their stipulation of women’s opportunity in public participation, but they require equal gender relations in all aspects of lives. Unfortunately their work is not without challenge. The rejection of feminism, especially within the Islamic paradigm, strongly reflects societal perceptions that feminism is of Western origin, a construction designed by the “enemy” of Islam to attack Islamic values.81 Parallel with the global context, it is a perception of feminism typical of conservative and orthodox doctrines, while in accord with the global context Muslims of liberal or moderate doctrines tend to welcome the feminist movement. According to Wardah Hafidz, a leading Indonesian Muslim feminist, feminism can be classified as a counter-culture to set values in the society that are already deeply imbued with the authority of patriarchy.82 Feminism confronts the legitimacy of this patriarchy. In the end, feminism and its derivative—Islamic feminism—struggle in order to build a better society for both men and women where individual freedom is recognized and guaranteed under a non-discriminatory legal system. It is believed that Islam was
80 Budhi Munawar-Rachman, ‘Penafsiran Islam Liberal atas Isu-Isu Gender dan Feminisme’ in Islam Pluralis: Wacana Kesetaraan Kaum Beriman, Penerbit Paramadina, Jakarta, 2001, p. 391. 81 Wardah Hafidz, ‘Feminism sebagai Counter-Culture’, UQ, Edisi Khusus, p. 3. 82 Ibid., p. 3. 147 founded to eradicate any discrimination, creating an ideal community in which the underpinning ideology is justice and equality. Such was the community envisioned by the Prophet Muhammad, and Islamic feminism can be viewed as a rebirth of this vision.
The following chapter will discuss the historiography of female writers in Indonesian literary life. The chapter functions as a bridge between the notion of Islamic feminism and women’s issues in the global and local contexts and the ways Indonesian women writers take such issues into their writings.
148 Chapter 5 Muslim Women Writers in Indonesian Literary Tradition: Walking Their Path for Existence
The chapter explores the intersection of gender issues and Islam in Indonesian literature, and discusses how such issues are perceived, analysed and criticised. It is not intended as a detailed historiography of the works of all women writers, as selection and preference are necessary in order to limit the discussion to within reasonable bounds. Rather, the emphasis is on the general ways that women’s writing was, and is, perceived by its Indonesian audience. As part of the complex discourse on gender and Islam, Indonesian Muslim women writers are inseparable from the narratives they have created: narratives that focus on female characters and their responses to their surrounding adversities. Following the more general discussion of the writings of women, and about women, in the Indonesian literary tradition, the four Muslim women authors—Titis Basino, Ratna Indraswati Ibrahim, Abidah El Khalieqy and Helvy Tiana Rosa, whose writings are selected for a more in-depth analysis in Chapter 6 and Chapter 7, are then located within that same tradition.
Note: As Indonesians commonly do not carry their family name, where it is the one most frequently used, reference is to the first name.
Women and Writings in Indonesian Literature: A Brief Overview
Literature in Colonial Rule
It goes without saying that national language contributes considerably to the existence of national literature. As far as the emergence of Indonesian national literature is concerned,
149 A. Teeuw, a respected critic of Indonesian literature, suggests that sastra Indonesia modern (modern Indonesian literature) began in the 1920s with the adoption of Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian language) as the official and national language of Indonesia in 1928.1 Teeuw’s periodising of the history of Indonesian literary tradition beginning with the establishment of Balai Pustaka (a literary bureau founded by the Dutch colonial government in 1917); followed by Angkatan Pujangga Baru (Generation 1920s), Angkatan 45 (Generation 1945) and lastly Angkatan 66 (Generation 1966, as suggested by H. B Jassin) is well received by the majority of Indonesian literary critics. Such periodising is by no means rigid, and furthermore does not cover all individual writers. It is simply a means of categorising a certain period of literary development and to acknowledge a certain author or groups of authors who are largely associated with a given period.2
Despite Teeuw’s widely accepted periodising of modern Indonesian literature and its beginnings, Maier suggests a different view to include more than bahasa Indonesia texts as a starting point. The Malay language was known to be heteroglossia—it included all possible varieties, such as Dutch-Malay and Malay-Dutch.3 Used in different varieties within a single linguistic code, Malay literature also needs to incorporate writings of the Chinese in the Indies. In Tempo Doeloe Antologi Sastra Pra-Indonesia (1982) Pramoedya Ananta Toer similarly argues that all varieties have to be considered. However, Pramoedya classifies Dutch-Malay, Malay-Dutch and Chinese writings from the 1800s to the 1900s as pre-Indonesian literature, because the Malay used is Malay pasar (bazaar Malay) or “low” Malay and not the “high” Malay that the colonial government later ordered to be taught in schools.4 If Maier’s and Pramoedya Ananta
1 The ideal of having Indonesian unity, in nation, language and presumably culture was proclaimed at the all Indonesia Youth Congress, in Jakarta, 28 October 1928. The Sumpah Pemuda (Youth Oath) of 1928 is celebrated as an important historical event in Indonesia. 1 A. Teeuw, Modern Indonesian Literature Volume I & II, Martinus Nijhoff, The Hague, 1979. H.B. Jassin, Angkatan ’66 Prosa dan Puisi, Gunung Agung, Djakarta, 1968. 2 Alberta Joy Freidus, Sumatran Contributions to the Development of Indonesian Literature, 1920 – 1942, The University Press of Hawai’i, Hawai’i, 1977, p. 20. 3 H.M.J. Maier, ‘From Heteroglossia to Polyglossia: The Creation of Malay and Dutch in the Idies,’ Indonesia, No. 56 (October), 1993, Cornell Southesat Asian Program, pp. 37 – 65. 4 Pramoedya Ananta Toer, ‘Sepatah Kata Perkenalan,’ Tempo Doeloe Antologi Sastra Pra-Indonesia, Lentera Dipantara, Jakarta, 2003, 1982, pp. 8 – 26. “High” Malay refers to the Malay used in the books 150 Toer’s arguments on the relevance of language varieties are taken into account, then certainly Indonesian literature, with Malay writings as pioneer, would commence long before Teeuw’s proposal of the 1920s.
Teeuw’s classification, focusing only on narratives using “high” Malay or Malay taught at schools, discriminates against and marginalizes those publications using bazaar Malay. Pramodya’s selection of such narratives in Tempoe Doeloe -- F. Wiggers’s Dari Boedak Sampe Djadi Radja (1898), G. Francis’ Tjerita Njai Dasima (1896), H. Kommer’s Nji Paina (1900) and Kong Hong Nio (1900), F. Pangemanann’s Tjerita Si Tjonat (1900) and Tjerita Rossina (1903)—all commonly associated with Dutch-Malay or Malay-Dutch, and Tio Ie Soei’s Pieter Elberveld—associated with Chinese-Malay, still fail to be incorporated into mainstream Indonesian literary tradition. Writers of Dutch-Malay and Chinese-Malay background are not the only ones excluded: Bumipoetra writers (indigenous writers) also suffer similar discrimination. Writers such as R.M. Tirto Adhi Soerjo with Doenia Pertjintaan 101 Tjerita yang soenggoe terjadi di Tanah Periangan (1906) and Tjerita Njai Ratna (and his many other works including fiction, non-fiction and journalistic reports) are left out of the canon of Indonesian literature. Teeuw’s privileging of Balai Pustaka writers and the use of “high” Malay reflects the influence of colonial attitudes to the cultural life of Indonesia. For example, during the colonial period publications which were supportive of the nationalist movement and against colonial policies were labelled as bacaan liar, literally meaning “wild” books; such books were mostly written in bazaar Malay. Indeed, the use of language functioned as a means to channel anti-colonial sentiment; opposing “low” Malay (the colonized subject) to “high” Malay (the colonizers). Without the inclusion of both high and low Malay, Teeuw’s claim for the beginning of modern Indonesian literature does not stand on solid ground.
Zuber Usman, for example, arguing against Teeuw, comments that the writings of Abdullah bin Abdulkadir Al-Munsji (1796 – 1854), which were published by Balai
later taught at the colonial schools. “Bazaar” Malay was used by ordinary people in everyday communication and also in writings. 151 Pustaka in 1920, had earlier been written in Malay, the root language of Bahasa Indonesia.5 Besides Abdullah there were others such as Radja Ali Hadji and his sister, Siti Saleha. However, Usman is loath to include the latter two in modern Indonesia (sastra modern) literature due to their different writing contents. That is, if Abdullah’s writing suggests a break from a traditional standard, the other two are placed within that standard. Here, “modern” is taken to mean that the content of such writing is a critical analysis of the world surrounding its author, and not simply a description of it. Abdullah’s writings were a break from “traditional” writings because he inserted his own perspective, his individual sentiment into his writing. This was in contrast to the quality of kesusastraan lama (old literature, meaning “traditional” literature), which simply described the adat laws (customary laws) and the society. Although Abdullah’s work is still classical in style with the use of maka, syahdan, alkisah (meaning once upon a time), Usman argues that Abdullah’s modernity lies in his endeavour not to apply Malay “traditional” manners, like magical stories or stories created around royal characters or historical figures, hikayat (long prose narratives), syair (long poetic narratives) or poetic quatrains known as pantun, or religious works or Malay translations of foreign manuscripts. Following Hooykaas, Usman then places Abdullah as a pioneer in modern Malay/Indonesian literature.6
It should be noted that Teeuw, Maier, Pramoedya and Usman, make printed writings and not oral composition the focus of their classifications. The absence of oral composition in their categorisation is certainly problematic as the oral tradition was interconnected with writing in Malay literature. In a highly oral-based society such as early Malay, measuring literary tradition in terms of only the print-culture tradition could lead to a misunderstanding of the shift from oral to written composition.7 Amin Sweeney argues that it is necessary to study both oral and written tradition in Malay literature to avoid any attempt of “othering” Malay oral culture. He posits:
5 Zuber Usman, Kesusasteraan Baru – Indonesia dari Abdullah bin Abdulkadir Al – Munsji sampai kepada Chairil Anwar, Penerbit Gunung Agung, Djakarta, 1957, pp. 11 – 19. 6 Ibid., p. 18. 7Amin Sweeney, A Full Hearing: Orality and Literacy in the Malay World, University of California Press, Berkeley, Los Angeles, London, 1997. 152 Clearly, an understanding of the workings of oral composition, both stylised and nonstylized, and written composition, be it in the form of manuscript or print, can result only from a study of the interaction between those two forms in the context of Malay discourse as a whole. A comparison of material imposed in these various forms reveals certain distinctive features attributable to the nature of media employed.8
Arguably Sweeney’s proposal is crucial in scrutinizing the historiography of Malay literature, particularly Indonesian literature, which today is still highly based on the imposition of print-culture (sastra tulis) and still largely ignores oral literature (sastra lisan). Following Ong’s insight of orality as also literacy,9 Sweeney observes that oral literacy and print literacy are continuously interconnected. The fact that there has been no radical break in the shift from oral to print, he argues, has resulted in modes of expressions similar to those of oral composition such as paratactic, formulaic, copious and repetitive.10 Should oral composition be included in the Malay literary tradition? To do so would certainly change the timing of its development and history. However, the following discussion on the history of Indonesian literature is unfortunately still largely based on the documentation of printed writings, as the core of this thesis is to provide analysis of Indonesian Muslim women’s writings. However in Chapter 6, oral data: interviews undertaken by the author, will be used to build a bridge between the works of the selected women writers and the perceptions of their readers about their works. At the same time, the interviews will be used to examine the circulating discourses about Islamic feminism and women’s issues in Indonesia.
Very few women’s names appear in the corpus of kesusatraan lama. Siti Saleha published Syair Abdul Muluk, but little else is known about this poet. Her Syair, following the modes of “traditional” writing, unmistakably places her in contrast to Abdullah’s deviance from “traditionalism” in Malay literature. Another woman, Siti Rohana, is known to have written articles in the newspaper Sunting Melaju (Malay Edit)
8 Ibid., p. 305. 9 Walter J. Ong, Orality and Literacy: the Technologizing of the Word, Methuen, London, New York, 1982. 10 Sweeney, op. cit., p. 307. 153 in the early twentieth century.11 Kartini is well placed within the corpus of kesusatraan lama. Although she is generally placed in the corpus of Dutch colonial literature,12 her writings move beyond the language in which they are written. Kartini’s letters ceaselessly question the burden that adat laws place on one’s cultural and social setting, in particular one’s social class. Her style is melodramatic, but her letters express her rebellion against the socio-cultural conditions of Javanese women, and take the form of resistance to women’s positioning in society. As far as thematic content is concerned Kartini’s letters are her individual testimony, but they make a circular link between self and nation and for this reason she can be celebrated as a forerunner of modern Indonesian literature. A subsequent generation of writers—Pujangga Baru (New Writer)—were recognized for this seminal theme. Kartini is perhaps one of the most thought provoking writers dealing with gender issues in this early period of Indonesian literature. New research and investigation of historical archives is necessary to locate the names of other women writers to go alongside Kartini and Siti Saleha, so they too can have their place in the record.
The rise of modern Indonesian literature cannot be separated from the cultural and political upheavals taking place in colonial Indonesia. The intertwining of political and literary awakening was quite obvious with the founding of Balai Pustaka, when publications of writings in the Indonesian language paralleled the emergence of social and political parties such as Budi Utomo (Prime Endeavour) in 1908, Indische Partij (Indies Party) in 1911 and Sarekat Islam (Islamic Union) in 1912. The members of these parties were mostly students and intellectuals with a Western-oriented education, but also with nationalist ideals. These parties marked the ideals of Indonesian youth to break from the old traditions, in order to bring Indonesia to a new and better state: a state that was largely associated with the notion of modernity. Although at first such parties were basically social and not political, some of them later developed themselves into political parties important in the nationalist pre-independence movement.
11 Usman, op. cit p. 83. 12 E.M. Beekman, Troubled Pleasures Dutch Colonial Literature from the East Indies 1600 – 1950, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1996, pp. 392 – 412. The chapter ‘Kartini (1879 – 1904): The Paradox of Colonialism’ discusses Kartini’s letters and marks them as Javanese ideals, symbols of modern Indonesia. 154 It is noted however that Sumpah Pemuda did not automatically contribute to the rapid flourishing of Bahasa Indonesia. Teeuw comments that there were political and social obstacles to its adoption. For example, the word Indonesia was not freely used at it might correlate with the nationalist movement; for those with no access to education and no root in Malay or Sumatran culture, learning the new language would prove difficult; the literacy rate was very low and this meant a small readership and finally, book distribution was poor and the publication of prose and poetry connected to the development of nationalist ideas was also very minor.13 Nevertheless, the adoption of Bahasa Indonesia, however slow the process, acted as a vehicle for national and social unity and laid the groundwork for the development of modern Indonesian literature.
The 1920s Literary Productions: Breaking from the Past
In 1908 the colonial government established Commissie voor de Inlandsche School en Volkslectuur (Commission for Indigenous School and Folk Readings); this bureau became Balai Pustaka in 1917. The former was designed to advise the Department of Education on the kinds of literary materials suitable for the reading public, and the latter was in correlation with colonial policy effected by the Ethical Policy: to educate and develop natives to clerical and related positions to assist the work of the colonial administration. When it became Balai Pustaka its role was extended: Firstly it was intended to set a competition between a private publisher against the other or to prevent books published by general public, particularly from the Chinese that published cheap romance books. Secondly - which may be the primary - it aimed to instil colonialism in the soul of Indonesians. True, there were also old manuscripts and writings by Indonesians published by Balai Pustaka nonetheless there were many books amongst its publication portraying the prowess of the Dutch and the kindness of its government.14
13 Teeuw, Modern Indonesian Literature I, p. 24. 14 Usman, p. 25. See also Teeuw, Modern Indonesian Literature I, p. 14. 155 Usman does not provide book titles, but Sitti Noerbaja atau Kasih ta’ Sampai (1922) can be taken as an example of his insight on the role of Balai Pustaka.15 In this book the character, Datuk Maringgih, was presented as a villain as he resisted the colonial government imposition of tax on all colonial subjects. Despite its benefit to colonial sustainability, the institution played a significant role in the development of modern Indonesian literary tradition, as the use of Malay for books published by Balai Pustaka stimulated the development of Bahasa Indonesia. Notwithstanding Balai Pustaka’s censoring role of restricting political ideas or views contrary to the government policies, several political novels published by private publishers did appear during this time. Hikayat Kadirun (Story of Kadirun, 1920) by Semaun, Student Hidjo and Rasa Merdika (the Feeling of Freedom) also known as Hikayat Sudjanno (The Story of Sudjanno, 1924) by Mas Marco Kartodikromo, were published despite their strong criticism to the Dutch. In all of these novels a colonised individual had to choose between serving the colonial power and the nationalist movement. In all, the individual chose the nationalist movement.
The 1920s brought tremendous change in Indonesian cultural and social life. People, especially youth, were fascinated with the new ideas on Indonesian identity. Among those ideals was to break from the past, from the traditional engagement with cultural and social settings. Merari Siregar’s Azab dan Sengsara (Torment and Misery, 1921), and Marah Rusli’s Sitti Nurbaja are considered the icons of modern Indonesian novels of the 1920s. In Teeuw’s periodising the1920s writings and books largely published by Balai Pustaka are labelled Angkatan Balai Pustaka (Balai Pustaka Generation). Both Siregar’s and Rusli’s stories involve young people’s revolt against adat: in both stories revolt against forced marriage. Aminuddin and Mariamin in Azab dan Sengsara, Samsul Bahri and Siti Nurbaja in Sitti Nurbaja are young couples ordered to end their relationship because their families had already arranged marriages for them. Each of them was compelled to marry the one their parents had chosen. In the stories, violating adat meant chaos and the collapse of their lives. Men and women were confined in their adat, and
15 ‘Kisah Kekejaman Ibu Tiri Yang Populer,’ Kompas Cyber Media, Internet, http://www.kompas.com/kompas-cetak/0503/19/pustaka/1628488.htm, (20 December 2005). 156 not allowed to defy the roles that adat and Islamic laws had prescribed for them. Although the writers of these stories were men, their portrayal of the social constraints on women in 1920s Indonesia was vivid. Woodcroft-Lee’s observation on the female characterization of the early Malay (Indonesian) novels suggests: The women of the early Malay [Indonesian] novels . . . are either too good to be true, or else very bad indeed. Some . . . minor characters . . . are successful as ‘flat’ characters who provide the density of social relationships necessary to convey the impression of characters acting within a community, and they also occasionally add comic relief. It is the portrayal of major female characters that the reader feels the lack of a convincing “inner” life.16
The lack of “inner life” as suggested by Woodcroft-Lee, embodies an implicit message that since women are determined status inferior to men, they are comparable to “puppets” whose life, action and voices are very much controlled by a world outside than their own. Furthermore, female characters are seen to be unable to “feel”, to see the world from their own perspective, let alone executing their own ideas. Both Mariamin and Sitti Nurbaja are victimized by their own societies, by their own adat. Their forced marriages proved degrading for them; in the end Sitti Nurbaja chose death as a way out of her situation, whilst Mariamin, after asking for divorce, went back to her village, but she was ashamed because she was a divorcee.
Salah Asuhan (The Wrong Upbringing, 1928) by Abdul Muis, is probably the next most celebrated novel of the 1920s. The story of Hanafi, a Minang, Corrie, his French mistress, and Rapiah, (Hanafi’s Minang wife), is entangled with complex social and cultural forces of both the Minangkabau and Dutch worlds. Hanafi is Western oriented because of his Dutch education, and he leaves Rapiah and marries Corrie. Hanafi’s decision to violate his adat results in tragic circumstances: Corrie dies of cholera and he cannot win back Rapiah because she has moved to another city with her family. Despairing, Hanafi commits suicide. The story of Hanafi’s life reflects the ambivalence in the lives of Indonesian youth in the 1920s. “Traditional” adat laws still had a strong hold on youth, while new “modern” values associated with the West were yet to be fully accepted.
16 P. Woodcroft-Lee, The Woman Behind the Mask, A.N.U., Master of Arts in Asian Studies Thesis, 1975, pp. 119 – 120, quoted in Isla Winarto, Women Writers in Post-War Indonesia: An Analysis of the Works of Five Prominent Women Writers, University of Sydney, M.A. Qualifying Thesis, 1976, p. 28. 157 Hanafi’s Western orientation is seen to be the cause of his despair and, ultimately, his death. The story can be read as an admonishment to young Indonesians from the older generation that Western culture, represented by Corrie, is indeed incomparable to Eastern culture, embodied in Rapiah. East is not to meet West. Hanafi is not to move away from his adat and mingle with the Dutch, since his effort to become a “Dutchman” is rejected by the Dutch society he so cherishes. As a member of first generation of Indonesian nationalists, Abdul Muis presents his nationalism in the tragic story of Hanafi and Corrie, depicting “straightforwardly … the problem of racial and social discrimination.”17 In so doing, he highlights the conflicts between kaum tua, those of the older generation believing in adat, and kaum muda, those of a younger generation ready to break away from the confinement of adat.
In line with the previously mentioned novels by Siregar and Rusli, the depiction of female characters in Muis’ story is similar. Rapiah is submissive, unlike Corrie who disobeys the laws of her society. Rapiah does not show any objection to Hanafi’s betrayal of their marriage. Hanafi’s neglect of her and their son does not produce resentment as she patiently awaits Hanafi to return to her. Only when Hanafi dies does Rapiah learn that Hanafi’s failure to cope with his situation is due to his inability to negotiate between the East and the West. Because Rapiah does not want her son, Syafei, to live the same life as his father, she is obliged to nurture him in a “correct” way so Hanafi’s tragic life is not repeated. The story ends when Syafei, after his return from study in Holland, promises to cultivate his grandmother’s ricefields.18 Syafei’s choice of returning back to the East clearly shows the author’s strong message of the difficult negotiation between tradition and modernity. Syafei’s study in the land of the colonial may well be perceived as the ability of the younger generation to adopt the life of the West, and thus modernity, however his return to his grandmother’s ricefields symbolizes that one cannot radically escape from one’s roots. In postcolonial discourse, Hanafi is an excellent example of Homi Bhabha‘s notion of “mimicry”, which signifies the inability of a colonial subject to
17 Teeuw, op.cit., p. 63. 18 Abdoel Moeis, Salah Asuhan, Balai Pustaka, Jakarta, 2002, first published 1928. 158 resemble his master, for he is “not quite/not white”. He is almost the same but not quite white. Therefore, it is necessary for him to fail.19
Balai Pustaka’s publication of Salah Asuhan can be considered as its support against racial mixture between the colonial as subject, and the colonized as object. While Muis’ story is an admonishment about leaving adat, it also underlines racial category policy of the colonial era: the Dutch (white) as the superior class, foreign orientals, including the Chinese and the Arabs, as the second class, and the indigenous (Bumiputra) as the lowest class. Though such categories were not necessarily rigid, they generally applied. Bumiputra like Hanafi were not to be accepted into the colonial class because of race. Although there were inter-racial relationships in colonial Indonesia, such relationships were generally not well accepted, and Hanafi’s tragic end in the story might be read as a warning about mixed marriages. On the other end, Muis’ story can also be read as indigenous resistance of the West; particularly in the character of Syafei. Although having experience living in the Netherlands, Syafei’s Minagkabau heritage wins through. This emphazies the construction of self that becomes viable when it chooses the side of the indigenous after coming to the crossroads of East and West. Syafei has embraced colonial education, yet his true self lies in his ethnic/racial identity. Within such readings Salah Asuhan provides many twist and turn, thus enriching the complexity of its meanings.
The canon of Indonesian literature from the 1920s reflects the strong contribution of Malay writers of Minangkabau and other Sumatran background. Studies have shown that early Indonesian literature “is largely a product of the many Sumatran-born writers who have contributed their talent and leadership to every phase of its development.”20 It is therefore not surprising that such writers have played a conspicuous role in the building of Indonesia into a modern nation through the play of literary writings and imaginations. The characters of Hanafi, Rapiah, Samsul Bahri, Sitti Nurbaja, Mariamin and Aminuddin are laden with Sumatran adat background, and the most striking similarity of all is forced
19 Homi K. Bhabha, ‘Of Mimicry and man: The Ambivalence of Colonial Discourse,’ The Location of Culture, Routledge, New York, 1994, pp. 85 – 92. 20 Freidus, op.cit, p. ix. 159 marriage of young people that results in tragic death. More importantly, Siregar’s, Rusli‘s and Muis’ depiction of their romance stories are imbued with the conflicts of the age: between kaum muda (modernist youth) and kaum tua (adat and Islamic traditionalists – most Sumatrans of Minangkabau background were Muslims implementing the Muslim law in the area).
Rusli and Muis were university graduates: Rusli was a veterinarian and Muis a medical doctor; their Western education background played a great part in questioning of adat: With newly developed social consciousness, these men and women viewed their world in a new light, and much of what they had formerly accepted as a matter of tradition and obligation they now found senseless and oppressive. Moved to write, they were not mere observers, because the themes that are so typical of the so- called problem novels of this period were at the same time immediate to the authors’ personal experiences, if not actually a statement of them.21
Rusli, the author of Sitti Nurbaja was indeed retelling his own story; he was married in Java to a girl of his own choice, but had to submit to his parental will and adat by cancelling his first marriage and marrying the girl his parents had chosen. Muis’ disillusionment with government service is also highlighted in Salah Asuhan. Perhaps, it was his experience that inspired him to write of racial discrimination in his novel. Muis left government service to become a journalist and his political career reached its peak when he led Sarekat Islam.
It is true that the canon of early Indonesian literature is highly dominated by male writers, poets or dramatists. Women writers appear to be neglected. However erudite Kartini’s letters may be, they are identified within the genre of letter writing and, as noted earlier, because of her use of the Dutch language, placed within Dutch colonial writings. Other women writers that could be located in the early literary tradition in Indonesia include Nurani, Sa’adah Alim, Hamidah (under the pseudonym Fatimah Delais) and Sariamin (under the pseudonyms Selasih and Seleguri). These writers, in fact, do not solely belong to the period of Balai Pustaka, as they still continued to publish their works in subsequent years. For instance, Hamidah’s story Kehilangan Mustika (Losing a Jewell, 1948),
21 Ibid., p. 22. 160 discussed more fully below falls into this category. Both Noerani and Sa’adah Alim translated Western children stories such as Pinokio (1931), and Angin Timur dan Angin Barat (East Wind and West Wind, 194?), by Pearl S. Buck. Sa’adah Alim even published her own novel, Pembalasannya (Her Revenge, 194?), and a collection of short stories Taman Penghibur Hati (The Amusing Garden, 194?).22
Balai Pustaka published Sariamin’s works, Kalau Tak Untung (Unfortunate), and Pengaruh Keadaan (Impact of Circumstances), in 1933 and 1937 respectively. Kalau Tak Untung and Rusli’s Sitti Nurbaja appear to share a similarity: the difficulty for a young couple to build a conjugal relationship. However, in contrast to Sitti Nurbaja, adat is no longer pertinent as a theme in Kalau Tak Untung. In spite of the gap of social status between Masrul and Rasmani, the protagonists of the story—Rasmani comes from a poor family, Masrul a well-to-do one—they promise to marry. However, Masrul’s failure to find a good job and ensure his future, results in his decision to break off their relationship. His decision is also influenced by a rumour that Rasmani has accepted an offer of marriage from another man. Rasmani has waited faithfully for Masrul, but when she hears of his rejection she is shocked, and eventually dies. The tragic death of Rasmani solves the impossibility for the two characters to cross their social class lines. Winarto reads Masrul’s character rather differently: The problems arise as a result of Masrul’s inability to decide in mature fashion what his ideals in life are and how to go about attaining set goals. As a result of his mistakes, others like Rasmani, are caused such misery. A deeper idea being projected is that of fortune which rules one’s life in varying degrees. Some people who do not possess fortune in life are destined to unhappiness either through their own action or, in this case, inaction, or merely through the fact that they are not destined to be matched – “bukan jodoh”.”23
A strong idea of determinism seems to underline the life of Sariamin’s characters. Her other book, Pengaruh Keadaan, is very similar to Kalau Tak Untung. The story deals with the hard life of a Minangkabau girl, Jusnani, because of the ill treatment of her
22 Usman, op.cit, p. 83. 23 Winarto, op.cit., p.35. 161 stepmother and stepsister. With the help of a schoolteacher, Sja’ruddin, Jusnani manages to escape her stepfamily and find happiness in her marriage to Sja’ruddin.
The notion of one’s difficulty to break away from circumstances underlies both Kalau Tak Untung and Pengaruh Keadaan. Rasmani’s faithful devotion is a response to her inability to revolt against her determined position. The submissive character of Rasmani is a portrait of an individual’s prescribed roles in her society. Rasmani is a schoolteacher, yet, despite her education, she cannot overcome the status barrier between rich and poor. Sariamin does not give a strong character to Rasmani. Her devotion to Masrul is common for a girl in her society, for such devotion is a mark of one’s acceptance to faith. Jusnani also suffers from the same characterisation. She is not strong enough to overcome the ill treatment from her family, thus requiring the help of Sja’ruddin to gain her happiness.
Despite the criticism that Sariamin’s characters lack depth—resulting in static and stoical portrayals - Sariamin presents well the reality of most women in 1930s Indonesia. Her description of the life of women such as Rusmani and Jusnani, submissive though they are, rings true. Through her characters Sariamin challenges the condition of women at the time — the ascribed social status forced upon women—questions class and gender roles, and adds to our knowledge of the period. Sariamin was not only a novelist; she made her writing debut with a work entitled Betapa Pentingnya Anak Perempuan Bersekolah (How Important it is for a Girl to have an Education, year unknown), in a Sumatran newspaper. In order to hide from colonial anger and local opposition, due to her outspokenness in writing about societal conditions, she used a number of pseudonyms for her articles.24 Her political career as the Chair of the Bukit Tinggi Jong Islamieten Bond Dames Afdeling (Women’s Division of the Young Muslims’ Union of Bukit Tinggi) establishes her as a significant figure in Indonesian literature, a participant not only in literary production, but also in the women’s movement.
Another seminal work by a female author is Hamidah’s Kehilangan Mustika (Losing a Jewell, 1948), funded by De Brug Publisher, Amsterdam. Hamidah’s publication is
24 Winarto, op.cit., p. 33. 162 probably the first novel written by a woman on the matter of polygamy. Written using the first person narrative, Kehilangan Mustika signifies a dramatic shift in women’s writing. The “aku” (I) as the narrator uses multi-layered significations to the point that many critics consider this story an autobiographical account of the author’s younger days. As fictitious testimony, the I in the story remarkably unsettles the border between fiction and reality. The story involves the life of a young woman who agrees that her husband takes a second wife because their marriage is childless. However, unable to tolerate her husband having a co-wife, she proposes divorce and returns to her hometown. Written in a confessional manner, readers can access the real suffering and misery of the narrator, in particular in regard to having a co-wife, as she is entangled in the web of tradition and her desire to be independent. Hamidah, like Sariamin, gives a vivid account of the circumstances in which women are placed when a co-wife is taken, and also when a marriage is childless. When a marriage fails to produce a child, it is assumed that the wife is to blame, not the husband, and a woman’s value is grounded solely in her reproductive ability. Hamidah’s effort in Kehilangan Mustika to reveal the inner story, the confessions of a woman’s life, is commendable because, so early in the twentieth century, she dared to challenge the prescribed role for women as acceptor of her fate.
The Literary Productions of the Nationalist Movement
The 1920s focus on the struggles of young people, be it against adat or colonial rule–as in bacaan liar—gradually shifted with the coming of the new decade. The subsequent generation of writers, commonly called known as Pujangga Baru (New Writer), marked the period between the 1930s and 1945 when the Second World War ended. Writings of this period focused more on the efforts for independence than on adat. With the rise of nationalism sentiment in the colonised world, the nationalist movement in Indonesia, headed by Soekarno (later to become the first President), was united around the single issue of Indonesian independence. Literary life at that time was also strongly influenced by nationalist sentiment.
163 One of the prominent male writers of this period whose works revolved around female characters was Sutan Takdir Alisjahbana. His Layar Terkembang (With Sails Unfurled, 1937) captured wide attention with his depiction of his main female protagonist, Tuti. Tuti is very political and represents Takdir’s ideal “new” Indonesian woman who is willing to sacrifice all for the sake of the nation. In the story, the primary female characters—sisters Tuti and Maria—contrast the traditional and modern ideals about Indonesian women. Tuti is unmarried and independent, an intellectual whose activism is devoted to Putri Sedar (Conscious Girl), a woman’s organization developed to modernise and educate women in order to shape more independent women, Maria is more ladylike, a cheerful girl with a liking for flowers and domestic duties. Maria is engaged to Jusuf, a medical student. When she falls seriously ill, Maria’s last wish is for Tuti and Jusuf to marry. Takdir’s idealisation of modern Indonesian women in the character of Tuti is shown strongly with the death of Maria; a modern woman like Tuti would certainly be a more compatible partner for Jusuf who is from the kaum terpelajar (educated class). Tuti wants to be equal with men, for she believes a woman must be “a hundred percent free individual in anything.”25 The characters of Tuti and Jusuf represent Takdir’s ideal nationalist couple dedicated to improving the nation’s conditions. Using fiction as political agenda was not uncommon for writers associated with the Pujangga Baru era, as many were caught up in the excitement of this important historical period. Teeuw writes: In retrospect it is indeed difficult to deny that this Pudjangga Baru literature, however interesting it may be from a historical point of view, in the long run has only a restricted value, strongly linked as it is to the particular situation of its writers. . . [T]hese people gave what they had to give, they believed in and worked for the ideal of a new Indonesian literature, and at least by their work they stirred up Indonesian consciousness in this ideal.26
Belenggu (Shackles, 1940) by Armijn Pane stylistically rates as a breakthrough in the modern pre-war Indonesian novel. Teeuw argues this novel moved beyond the common theme of Indonesian stories, as it “neither offered the spectacle of good people fighting against bad, nor the conflict generations against the background of traditional society, nor
25 St. Takdir Alisjahbana, Lajar Terkembang, Tjetakan Keenam, Dinas Penerbitan Balai Pustaka, Djakarta, 1956, p. 52. 26 Teeuw, op.cit, p. 46. 164 proper behaviour and morality as clear and indisputable axioms. . . . the book does not make clear who is wrong and who is right , who is good and who is bad.”27 Pane’s novel relates the love triangle between Sukartono (Tono), a medical doctor, his wife Tini, a well-educated independent wife, and his mistress, Rohajah. Tono and Tini’s marriage fails because Tono believes a wife’s role is in the domestic sphere. However, Tini, a feminist by nature, struggles for equality between the sexes. Rohajah is a former prostitute whose submissive femininity charms Tono. Discerning her husband’s infidelity, Tini leaves Tono, opting for her own way, and Rohajah, realising that her sordid past might destroy Tono’s life also leaves. In the end Tono remains alone.
In the way the two female characters are presented in the story, Belenggu has a strong resemblance to Layar Terkembang. Female characters are simply divided into binary opposition: Tini and Tuti within the public sphere, active in women’s organizations and working towards gender equality, and Maria and Rohajah, living in the domestic world. Rohajah is even more submissive than Maria, because it is her role to provide pleasure for men. Unlike Takdir who privileges the survival of Tuti over Maria, Armijn has both Tini and Rohajah survive and walk their own way. Probably only a very small number of Indonesians enjoyed themselves as members of the educated intellectual class like Tono and Tini, but the story captures the conflict between old and new values. In letting both Tini and Rohajah choose their own way, Armijn also stresses his message that women’s roles were still in conflict.
A later work by Achdiat K. Mihardja, Atheis (1949), also shows a strong resemblance to the two previous works by Takdir and Armijn in that it contrasts two female characters, in this case Kartini and Rukmini. In Atheis, Kartini is depicted as modern, progressive, educated and able to create her own “paradise.” She is married to Hasan who is experiencing a moral dilemma; should he become an atheist or a religious devotee. At first Hasan courts Roekmini, his ideal woman: pious in her religion and modern and educated at the same time. However, Rukmini’s parents disapprove of their relationship and marry her to another man. Hasan is brokenhearted and moves to the city of Bandung
27 Ibid., p. 81. 165 where he meets Kartini, whom he marries. Hasan marries Kartini despite the gap in their social backgrounds—Kartini is a “city” girl, Hasan is a “village” boy. The characters of Kartini and Rukmini are idealised with their high education and modernity, yet they are a contrast in terms of their religiosity; Rukmini is very pious, Kartini is not. Moreover, despite her modernity Kartini suffers abuse from Hasan because of her friendship with another man, Anwar, and ultimately also suffers abuse at the hands of Anwar who attempts to rape her. Running away from Hasan, she feels weak, trapped, abused and “unable to control her own destiny.”28 The moral of Atheis is that Kartini’s education does not stop her from being abused by men, but also that the social and cultural norms of the time gave her no power to fight against such violence. Achdiat’s portrayal of his character Kartini, is indeed worthy of notice.
Literature in the Postcolonial Era
The 1945 Independence Period
During the Second World War the Japanese occupation (1942-1945) brought tremendous change concerning the use of Bahasa Indonesia. During the period of Dutch rule Dutch was the primary language, but when the Japanese occupation began Dutch was banned. Instead of employing Balai Pustaka as an overseer of book publication, the Japanese founded a cultural centre—Keimin Bunda Shidosho, which functioned as a severe Japanese censorship bureau.29 In effect, the Japanese occupation played a great part in the development of Indonesian literature, particularly drama and the application of symbolism in writings, because of the desire to avoid the very strict censorship rules. At the same time, the termination of the literary magazine Pujangga Baru, caused many
28 Achdiat K. Mihardja, Atheis, R. J. Maguire (trans), University of Queensland Press, St. Lucia, Queensland, 1972, p. 156. 29 Boen Oemarjati, ‘Development of Indonesian Literature,’ in Dynamics of Indonesian History, Haryati Soedadio and Carine A. du Marchie Sarvaas (eds), North-Holland Publishing Company, Amsterdam, 1978, p. 316. 166 young writers to look to other world literatures: [they felt] “themselves to be part of humanity as a whole, and their situation was experienced first and foremost as truly universal, and only in the second phase, if at all, as Indonesians.”30 In 1950, Surat Kepercayaan Gelanggang (Gelanggang Testimonial of Beliefs, a testimony written by a number of writers) was established as an expression of these young writers’ belief in themselves as the true heirs of humanity
Writers during the independence period are commonly labelled Angkatan 1945, or Angkatan Revolusi (Generation of Revolution) as they wrote during the struggles for Indonesia’s independence. The poet Chairil Anwar (1922-1949) is considered to be the most renowned of this period. His poems are possibly the most loved and remembered of all the works of his generation. The power of his works lies in his presentation in terms of language and style. In Chairil’s works, Bahasa Indonesia is used with full intensity, both in meanings and style. In prose writings, Pramoedya Ananta Toer is recognized as one of the most prominent writers of that period, and also for his continuing works. Keluarga Gerilya (Guerrilla Family, 1950) and Perburuan (The Pursuit, 1950) are amongst his best of the era, and they captured the attention of both critics and readers. Boen Oemarjati, an early female literary critic, comments that “[H]is work has a very strong autobiographical strain; his books are his experiences moulded into literature,” which, in turn, exposes “the socio-political and socio-psychological developments in Indonesia.”31 Indeed, most of Pramoedya’s works are either autobiographical or biographical. An example of the latter is Tetralogy Pulau Buru (The Buru Quartet, 1985), a series of four novels outlining the life story of Raden Mas Tirto Adhi Soeryo whom Pramoedya believes to be the most important pioneer in the early Indonesian nationalist movement. Pramoedya doesn’t only depict men’s involvement in the nationalist movement he also captures female character in his works of female representations, for example, Perawan Remaja dalam Cengkeraman Militer (Virgins in Military Prisons, 2001), Larasati (Ara) (2000), Gadis Pantai (The Girl from the Coast, 1987) and Panggil Aku Kartini Saja (Just Call me Kartini, 1997). His female characters are mostly portrayed as strong, very determined and
30 Ibid., p. 318. 31 Ibid., p. 323. 167 certainly not submissive. It was Pramoedya’s mother who inspired him to portray strong women because for him she embodied the spirit of the revolution.32 Gadis Pantai is his attempt to reconstruct the life of his grandmother who because of her circumstances had to fight to have her own life.33
There were other women writers published during this period but none of the works were regarded as pioneering. Some of them, like Walujati, Ida Nasution and Siti Nuraini are hardly mentioned today because of their early disappearance from the literary scene. Walujati did not publish after the end of Japanese occupation; Ida Nasution died at a young age and Siti Nurani’s work is undocumented.34 The work of others points to the difficulty of placing writers within time periods. For instance, Suwarsih Djojopoespito’s first publication, Buiten het Gareel (Out of Harshness) appeared in 1940 in the Dutch language, however, after the War she wrote exclusively in Bahasa Indonesia. Buiten het Gareel was first written in Sundanese and it was not until it was published in Dutch that it became widely known. Buiten het Gareel is a story of a girl involved in the nationalist movement, and Teeuw comments that it is similar to Takdir’s Layar Terkembang and Armijn’s Belenggu in dealing with “the struggle of modern Indonesian women to find their responsible place in modern society, especially within the bond of marriage.”35 Teeuw believes that Soewarsih’s work is the best pre-war novel by an Indonesian writer because of its strong female characterization. Suwarsih’s other works include Tujuh Cerita Pendek (Seven Short Stories, 1950), Empat Serangkai (A Quartet, 1954), and Siluman Karangkobar (The Demons of Karangkobar, 1964). The first and the last stories deal with a whimsical sort of world, but the second and third stories have a similar theme: a wife, disillusioned in her marriage because of her husband’s unfaithfulness and malice, comes later to a more content life. Teeuw observes that Suwarsih’s later works are very feminine in nature.36
32 Michigan Today, Summer 1999, Internet, http://www.umich.edu/~newsinfo/MT/99/Sum99/mt9j99.html, (23 December 2005). See his autobiography Nyanyi Sunyi Seorang Bisu, Lentera, Jakarta, 1995, 33 Pramoedya Ananta Toer, Gadis Pantai, Hasta Mirta, Jakarta, 1987, the book jacket. 34 Teeuw, op.cit., p. 212. 35 Ibid., p. 64. 36 Ibid., p. 212. 168 Other women authors include Arti Purbani who wrote Widijawati (1949); S. Rukiah Kertapati, Kedjatuhan dan Hati (The Downfall and the Heart, 1950) and Tandus (Barren, 1952), a collection of poems and short stories; Zunaidah Subro, Patah Tumbuh Hilang Berganti (One Thing Disappears Replaced by Another, 1950); Nursiah Dahlan, Arni (1953); and Ny. Johanisoen Iljas, Anggia Murni (1956). Unlike pre-war novels of the nationalist movement that often located women in the public sphere through their involvement in nationalist women’s organizations, most of the themes of these stories situate women within their private concerns: that is, love relationships, marriage, and family life. Most also have happy endings. It is worth noting that these authors write in the same manner as modern romance fiction authors: a girl in search of the love of a lifetime eventually finds it and lives happily ever after within her marriage. Rukiah’s Kedjatuhan dan Hati appears to be an exception for her character joins the Laskar Rakjat (People’s Army), but in the end she also chooses the domestic life, marrying a man chosen by her family. Nursiah Dahlan’s Arni moves a little beyond a simple romance tale, though it still largely deals with a women’s married life. Arni does depict the shift in a woman’s life from content to discontent when her husband took a second wife, but it is still a story resolved happily when the husband divorces the second wife, goes back to Arni who forgives him, and they live happily ever after. Polygamy is an issue that women authors often select for their themes, and from a gender perspective undeniably the character of Arni reflects the author’s view that it is better to live alone than to share her husband, but clearly marriage is still the best option for women.
In 1950 LEKRA (Lembaga Kebudayaan Rakyat—People’s Cultural Institution) was established as a cultural body of the PKI (Partai Komunis Indonesia—Indonesian Communist Party). LEKRA had a different agenda than Gelanggang Testimonial proclaimed earlier. If Gelanggang Testimonial’s aim was to seek humanism, LEKRA’s was based exclusively on social realism, privileging social Marxism agendas as the very core of literary writings, and Pramoedya was one of its supporters. Opposition to LEKRA’s social realism came when a literary magazine called Sastra (Literature) published Manifes Kebudayaan (Cultural Manifesto) signed by H.B. Jassin, the most
169 prominent literary critic in Indonesia, Trisno Sumardjo, Wiratmo Sukito and many others who privileged universal humanism. Sastra was banned. This was a period in Indonesian political life under President Soekano known as Guided Democracy, which was underpinned by the ideology of Nasakom (Nasionalis, agama, komunis— nationalism, religion, communism). Consequently all opposition to it was banned. This was a period of great tension between the supporters of universal humanism and those of social realism, but the PKI, and cultural bodies such as LEKRA associated with the PKI, were banned after the attempted coup of 1965
Social and Political Protests in the 1960s
Writers in this period of the New Order were named Angkatan 66. This was a term coined by H.B. Jassin to mark this period of upheaval in Indonesia’s political and cultural life.37 Ajip Rosidi, on the other hand, had earlier labelled it Angkatan Terbaru (the Newest Generation) because it had different features compared to generations of previous decades such as Angkatan Pujangga Baru and Angkatan 45, which, in his opinion, had too much external (Western) influence. Ajip argues that Angkatan Terbaru “[met] new values in local cultures previously ignored by writers of Pujangga Baru and Angkatan 45.”38 For Jassin, Ajips’ justification is wrong, as the term newest is hardly definable; the newest today is no longer new tomorrow. Instead, Jassin insists on the term Angkatan 66, a generation emerging due to its close attachment to the socio-political situation of the nation. Politically, generation 66 was born out of political unrest in society. Its birth is a political event. In addition to the political dimension, in literary area it has a value dimension, its literary merit. It is anti-tyrant, upholding justice and truth. And art is always anti-tyrannous, aspiring virtue. Justice and truth are transferred in art works, literary works. . . . Generation 66 brings about an awareness of those who have been subjected to despotism and abuse of truth and justice, moral and religious awareness, and such is not the nation’s awareness in racial terms as such
37 H.B. Jassin, Angkatan 66: Prosa dan Puisi, Gunung Agung, Jakarta, 1968. 38 Ibid., p. 1. 170 was caused by the sinfulness and despotism of Indonesian leaders themselves after the independence. The characteristics of the 66 literary works are social protest and then political protest. Social protest is at first related to colonial heritage but as things become worse no one takes the blame except the politics of Indonesian government itself that is not capable of running its government, economics and finance.39
Parallel to the generation of 1920s with the proclamation of Sumpah Pemuda, the growth of Indonesian literature has always been started by young people, has always been political, and also considerably accommodative to the changes in Indonesia’s social and political life.
The events of 1965 left a deep scar on the lives of many Indonesians. Through his short story Bawuk, in Sri Sumarah dan Bawuk (1975), Umar Kayam, a writer, lecturer and scholar depicts how an ordinary family’s life is forever changed by the coup of 1965. In most of his works, Kayam represents his female characters as strong and tough in overcoming any hardship women have to endure. The female character of Bawuk is no exception. Hassan, her husband, is on the run because he is a member of the banned communist party. As a member of the priyayi Bawuk is well protected within her family walls, but instead of hiding behind her sibling’s powerful position in the army she risks her life in order to find her husband. The story ends with Hassan dead and Bawuk missing, but for Javanese women of priyayi descent what Bawuk chose is extraordinary. She refuses to be shaped by her circumstances. She chooses her own way and completely understands her chances and the consequences of her choice.40 The two worlds of priyayi and abangan (proletarian) are opposed in this narrative. Faced with the dilemma of choosing between them Bawuk chooses the abangan world; it is her rejection of the constructed world offered to her by her parents, family and society. She personifies the very core of the feminist discursive that displaces the master narrative of women as socially constructed. In leaving her two children behind for the search, Bawuk challenges women’s identity as sole caretaker of the house and the children; in leaving the shelter of
39 Ibid.,p. xvand p.18 40 Umar Kayam, Sri Sumarah dan Bawuk, Pustaka Jaya, Jakarta, 1975, pp. 119 – 124. 171 protection she holds her destiny in her own hand, and in doing so constructs her own identity.
Many prominent writers of Angkatan 66 are still productive today. For example, the poets Taufik Ismail and Sapardi Djoko Damono, the prose writers Budi Dharma, Gunawan Muhammad and Danarto, the dramatist Rendra, and others too numerous to mention. Importantly, although the writing of the period was largely imbued with social and political protest, there were individuals with their own narrative features: the absurd realism of Danarto and Budi Dharma; Putu Wijaya’s estranged characters; and Motinggo Boesye’s sexual stories and, of course, women authors with their own distinctive narratives.
Of the female poets and authors, Toety Heraty, NH. Dini, Titie Said, and Titis Basino (discussed later in more detailed fashion), are the most mentioned in the canon of Angkatan 66. Toety Heraty is conceivably the foremost female poet in Indonesian poetry writings. Classified as part of Angkatan 66, Toety has been prolific ever since. Her long lyrical prose-poem, Calon Arang: Kisah Perempuan Korban Patriarki (Calon Arang: The Tale of a Woman Victim of Patriarchy), was published in 1999. Toety’s poetry is commonly recognised to be very individualistic in style, not following any rhythmical conventions and with a free use of language. Many critics and readers consider her poems to be feminine yet feminist in providing a challenge to the subordination of Indonesian women: [T]he application of the term “typically feminine” of her poetry would require further qualification. She is keenly aware of the unfavourable position of women – subordinate, discriminated against and dependent – in a society where men are used to having things their way. But at the same time she realizes that it is often women themselves who are to blame for this subordinate role, and fully deserve it because of their foolishness and empty-headedness.41
Calon Arang is the name of a widow witch who takes revenge because no one proposes to her daughter, Ratna Manggali. Toety’s work is seen as a vivid representation of “baseless, unjust prejudices against widows and divorcees, and the suffocating
41 Teeuw, Modern Indonesian Literature II, p. 120. 172 restrictions placed on women by the patriarchal system.”42 The story of Calon Arang has always been read as a destructive portrayal of a woman whose name is immediately associated with wicked rage and terror. The causes of Calon Arang’s rage have somehow escaped from the story. What one knows about Calon Arang is the terror that she disseminates in the neighbourhood. But it can be read as a tragic story of a mother whose love for her daughter enables her to sacrifice her own life. Calon Arang’s death occurs because of patriarchal deception and conspiracy.
The critically acclaimed author NH Dini uses the first person narrative to depict her female characters moving between two worlds: East and West. It seems that her narratives call on her own experiences as a former French diplomat’s wife. The vitality of her works lies in her employment of the first person narration, enabling readers to experience, feel and sense the world in which the characters live. Her female characters are young and modern women, who are “modest and submissive, in spite of a strong sense of dignity, withdrawn and reserved, and possess a subtle sensitivity, which makes them as responsive to kindness and gentleness as they appear to be shocked and repulsed by rudeness and hardness.”43 Many female readers, especially those of Javanese descent, can closely identify with Dini’s notions of femaleness, seeing them as convincing portraits of their own lives. As with other female authors Dini frequently explores the matrimonial relationship. In her stories Pada Sebuah Kapal (On a Ship, 1973) and La Barka (1975), for example, she questions the price a woman has to pay when she marries a foreigner.
Titie Said is another prominent female author. Her publication includes Perjuangan dan Hati Perempuan (The Strugggle and Woman’s Heart, 1962), short stories, essays in several women’s magazines such as Wanita (Woman) and Kartini, and her most renowned novel Jangan Ambil Nyawaku (Don’t Take my Soul, 1977). The latter, a
42 Barbara Hatley, ‘Literature, Mythology and Regime Change: Some Observations on Recent Indonesian Women’s Writings’ in Women in Indonesia Gender Equity and Development, Kathryn Robinson and Sharon Bessel (eds), Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, Singapore, 2002, p. 136. 43 Teeuw, Modern Indonesian Literature II, p. 178. 173 classic story of a woman struggling to overcome illness and adversity and win through, has been made into a film.
Women Writers and Popular Fictions of the 1970s –1980s
As has been noted it is difficult to place authors within a rigid timeframe. However, the feature of each generation, though relatively subtle, is apparent, particularly the fictional narratives written by women writers often labelled by Teeuw as “lady-authors.” The 1970s-1980s saw the appearance of many new authors, however, the following discussion will be limited to female authors whose works were closely associated with the general issues of the time.
From the 1970s on there was a significant growth of women’s magazines, such as Kartini, Femina, Dewi, Sarinah, and Gadis, all of which gave considerable space to women’s fiction. As well, newspapers such as Kompas also made room for short stories, and novels in serial form, which led to a boom in the so-called Sastra Koran (newspaper literature). Sastra Koran, in existence since the colonial era, referred to the publication of various genres of literary works in newspapers, usually in weekend editions or in literary supplements. In the 1970s and 1980s national political stability and economic development fostered the growth of a reading public and film industry. People who had lived in unstable social conditions since the beginning of the century now enjoyed a bit of luxury, such as reading colourful and glossy magazines, which had been extremely scarce in previous years. Toety Herawati observes: It was in the ‘70s that novel-writing flourished, paralleled with the boom in women’s magazines mentioned earlier. Many of these novels were published in book form after their publication in the magazines as serials. Preceded by Marga T., old and new names made their appearance: La Rose, Yati Maryati Wiharja, Marianne Katoppo, Iskaiah Sumarto, Sri Bekti Subakin, Totilawati Tjitrawisata, Titiek W.S., Sulistyowati Edison, Titi Said Sadikun and, last but not least, Nh.
174 Dini. Their style of expression differed entirely from that of their predecessors. They wrote in a light, popular style, easily comprehensible and enjoyable.44
The transfer from book to film focuses more attention on these women authors. Popular writing, which is previously seen to be marginal, begins to develop into a new body of Indonesian literature. However, critics often denigrate them as writers of popular fiction rather than literary fiction. The stories of domesticity and private affairs are alleged to be inferior to men’s public narratives. Jacob Sumarjo, as quoted by Toety Heraty, for example, identifies their works as popular novels in opposition to literary novels because their narratives are “more the achievement of a craftsman and not a product of creativity.” Sumarjo, however, argues that “the women’s “pop” novels are more delicate and as such “not endangering morality,” unlike those with “pornographic” tendencies . . . which are the characteristics of popular novels written by male colleagues.”45 According to Sumarjo the narratives in popular fiction suffer from a lack of the originality and uniqueness that literary narratives must embody. However, Sumarjo appears to be sympathetic to this genre. Despite all his criticism he believes that the mature use of language packed in complex plot is full of surprise, suspense, humour and colloquial discourse, making these narratives “meaningful” and “functional.”
Largely telling about love life experiences and man-woman love relationship, these writings, by and large, ignore social and political issues that women have to face in maintaining their existence.46 As romance is placed in the top rank of thematic significance, such popular writings relinquish the dynamic and complexities of women’s position in society. Female vision employed in the narratives is a limited romantic one. Critics have noted that as such these women authors are writing female characters as a projection of how men look at women. This is obvious in the romantic pop novels, in which the portrayal of women never goes beyond a girl in search of an everlasting love; she may be urban and educated, yet she is content to be male dominated. The Javanese
44 Toeti Heraty, ‘Women’s Issues in a Patriarchal Society: Novels by Indonesian Women’ in Emergent Voices Southeast Asian Women Novelists, Thelma B. Kintanar, Ungku Maimunah Mohd. Tahir, Koh Tai Ann, Toeti Heraty, University of the Philippines Press, Diliman, Quezon City, 1994, p. 122. 45 Ibid., p. 124. 46 Ibid., p. 125. 175 adage that says a girl should not have as high an education as a man, for in the end her place is in the kitchen, is perfectly suited to the stories of Indonesian romance fiction.
There are indeed many authors that can be seen as sastra pop (popular literature) writers. To name a few: Ike Soepomo, Maria A. Sarjono, La Rose, Mira W., and probably the champion of all, Marga T, as she is known to be one the forerunners of this genre. Marga T’s Karmila I and II (1975) received a great deal of attention and was made into a film. Karmila, like most popular fictions, is set in an urban setting, styled in easy reading fashion, revolves around the love relationship between a girl and a young man, and closes with a happy ending. Again, typical of Indonesia’s popular narratives, the protagonists enjoy a quite respectable social position: they have tertiary education and come from wealthy families or at least middle-class. What should be noted in the story is the rape of Karmila by Feisal, who later marries Karmila because she becomes pregnant. Karmila does not seem to have the reader’s sympathy even though she is the victim of rape. The reason for the lack of sympathy is because directly after the birth of her child Kamila refuses to fulfil her motherhood role. Tineke Hellwig critically reads this scene: [T]he story is focalized so as to create more reader sympathy for Feisal, who shows his regret and is humble, than for Karmila, who is indifferent and even heartless toward her son. When Karmila finally realizes that she has responsibilities as Fani’s mother, this insight is presented as the best she could have. Even though rape brought them together, Karmila remains faithful to Feisal as the first man in her life and the father of her child.47
The fact that Karmila is raped but the reader’s sympathy goes to Feisal is a conflicting terrain in the light of feminist reading. The portrayal of Feisal as the villain simply disappears. He even reappears as a hero who, at the end of the story, saves Karmila from her denial of motherhood. Despite Karmila’s success as a female doctor, her femaleness is not complete unless she fulfils her motherhood role—her kodrat. Until then, she will forever lack the reader’s sympathy. Here also, sexual division of labour is perceived as mainstream gender ideology, its violation means disrupting order. As Krisna Sen observes for Indonesian cinema, disorder is often viewed as criticism of a working woman facing a crisis. To overcome disorder, a woman must come to the realisation that
47 Tineke Hellwig, In the Shadow of Change: Images of Women in Indonesian Literature, Monograph no. 35, Centers for South and Southeast Asia Studies, University of California at Berkeley, 1994, p. 185. 176 her occupation in the public sphere (Karmila’s profession as a medical doctor) neglects her “natural” positioning in the private sphere (motherhood). Restoration of order can only happen if she repositions herself to private occupation (motherhood).48 This is the theme of Karmila; she finally accepts her motherhood role, therefore embracing her ideal femininity and lives happily ever after.
This does not mean that in this period Indonesian literature was fully preoccupied with romantic novels. Though small in number there were other more literary writers, many of whom are still productive today. Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim is one example and she will be discussed later in a more detailed manner. As with Sastra Koran, the emergence of popular novels helped to increase the numbers of the Indonesian reading public. When this type of novel first appeared in the 1920s it was known as roman picisan (“dime novels”). Roman picisan were romance stories, usually in paperback edition, and the name derives from the price of the story in the colonial period; one picis (one pence in Dutch colonial currency) for one book. In the 1970s the name roman picisan was hardly ever used because very few people knew what picis meant, thus the genre was renamed. Even today, the popularity of this genre is indeed largely linked with the cheapness of the price. In urban areas there are shops where these novels and comic books can be rented or bought for a cheap price. When novels such as Karmila, and Kabut Sutera Ungu (Silky Violet Mist, 1979) by Ike Soepomo, were made into movies, they were box office hits.
Women’s writings, regardless of the genre, may function well as women’s effort to authorise their female gaze on their own body and experience. Within the domain of the politics of feminist reading, women’s stories, by women, will determine how texts are perceived in looking at what it means critically to be a woman or man. The many kinds of women writings, be it sastra pop (popular literature) or sastra serius (sastra berbobot, serious literature) deserve attention because their writings are providing documentation of women’s concerns, and this reveals the intertwined relationship between the author, society and the reader. Toety Herati’s long poem Calon Arang and Ike Soepomo’s Kabut Sutera Ungu are perfect examples of such intertwining. Toety’s work is known to be part
48 Krishna Sen, Indonesian Cinema: Framing the New Order, Zed Books, London, 1994, pp. 131 – 156. 177 of sastra berbobot, while Ike’s is sastra pop. Nevertheless, they both express a similar notion of what it means to be a janda (widow). A janda has always been subjected to prejudices and ill treatment in society. As an older widow, Calon Arang is victimised by her portrayal as a wicked witch, and as a younger one, Miranti in Kabut Sutra Ungu is continually seen as a seducer. Hellwig posits how a janda is perceived in Kabut Sutra Ungu: A (young) janda is considered to be a woman who has nothing to lose – neither her husband nor her virginity – and who tries to lure married men astray. Jandas [widows] are distrusted by their own sex, not by men, who to are prone to have extramarital affairs. Miranti’s experience is that no matter what a janda does, she is viewed with suspicion.49
The recording of the widow’s positioning by Toeti Herati and Ike Soepomo, despite the differences, shows that women’s writing of any kind is respectful of identity politics. These writings signify implications of both individual and social levels in which an identity is perceived. A widow is stereotyped by double marginalisation, by her own sex and by men. The picture of a janda may well function as a channel for both authors to show a “denigrated identity” that has been taken for granted by social norms, and to show also that such identification is loaded with patriarchal oppression. Janda is a signification of oppression for a duda (widower) is never subjected to similar denigration. A widow, who is assumed to be independent of men, is seen as a threat, thus, necessarily, she will have to be caged by a derogatory identity such as wicked witch or seducer. The perception of janda in the world’s largest Muslim society is certainly problematic. It is frequently stated in the Qur’an, that janda, orphans and the poor are those primarily deserving shelter and a guarantee of protection from all societal members. Regarding janda in a deprecating way is against the spirit of the Islam. In Indonesian life there is a weight of cultural meaning attached to the name janda, which heavily reveals patriarchal domination over the Islamic spirit of equality and justice.
49 Hellwig, op cit, p. 182. 178 The Pendulum of the Millennium: Liberation of the Generation 2000
With the fall of Soeharto’s New Order regime in 1998 new channels of liberalism emerged. Women’s political, social and cultural activism flourished. The present generation of writers, Angkatan 2000 (Generation 2000), positions many young female writers at the heart of mainstream literature: they are classified as writers of sastra wangi (“perfumed” literature). The name comes because the members of this group, such as Ayu Utami, Djenar Mahesa Ayu, Fira Basuki, Dewi Lestari, Nova Rianti Yusuf, and others, are female, young, beautiful, attractive, very urban-centred and cosmopolitan. The very name sastra wangi distinguishes their narratives from their antecedents. If the Balai Pustaka generation is marked with the conflict between the individual and adat, the Pujangga Baru with the nationalist movement, the 1945 with humanism, 1966 with social and political protest, and the 1970s-1980s with popular fiction, generation 2000 is identified with liberalism in every aspect of their writings. The writings are often harsh with no pretence to morality, and full of everyday slang and social references.
Ayu Utami, the most popular of the canon50, is known for bringing the discourse of sex into her writings. Her novels Saman (1998) and Larung (2000) “display wildness and openness, which gives a very spacious room for freedom.”51 Issues previously taboo are relocated from the private to the public world. This new trend in Indonesian literature was entrenched with the publication of Dewi Lestari’s Supernova, and Djenar Mahesa Ayu’s Jangan Bermain Main dengan Kelaminmu (Don’t Play with Your Genital, 2001). Drawing on a cosmopolitan world they know very well, these writers place their stories and novels in “urban settings, peopled with hip intellectuals whose speech is sprinkled with English phrases, no different than the young executives gathering for a drink at a café after work.”52 The language used is fresh, alive, and loaded with colloquial speech narration; covering all topics from sex, drugs, homosexuality and politics. The audacity
50 The word canon here is used to mean “mainstream” meaning books widely read, very popular and often become “the talk of the town.” Canon itself is problematic as it is indefinability: canon by whom, whose definition, whose categorization, whose politics etc are far from concensus. 51 Korrie Layun Rampan, Angkatan 2000 Dalam Sastra Indonesia, PT. Grasindo, Jakarta, 2000, p. iv. 52 Lie Hua, ‘Sastrawangi’: RI’s ‘chick lit’ or literature lite? The Jakarta Post, 27 October 2004, Internet, http://www.thejakartapost.com, (17 April 2005). 179 of these young writers is highly valued, as they construct new images of young modern Indonesian women who are unconventionally reactive in responding to the problems of modern life. Hatley posits: The range of themes addressed by women fiction writers in recent years has greatly expanded; their freer representation of sexuality includes among other things considerable reference to lesbianism. And several texts by women authors appearing during the last few years challenge the archetypal images . . . of faithful wife, alluring but threatening temptress and monstrous widow-witch. The new interpretations boldly refute accepted, age-old meanings. What is suggested is both a perception of ongoing social force of gender assumptions embodied in these ancient symbols, and a commitment to opening up new visions of ‘female’ and ‘male’ by dismantling them. Other writers, meanwhile, create new myths for this new time, from the flow of daily life or from futuristic images.53
In the hands of these writers, images of women deviate considerably from previous images of submissive women victimised by patriarchal domination. Nevertheless, as groundbreaking as the images in sastra wangi are, because their characters are members of the burgeoning urban middle- and upper-classes with higher education and global experiences (many of the settings are placed overseas in New York, London and Singapore), they seemingly refer to only a small number of Indonesian women. Other stories need to be translated to the concerns of the majority of Indonesian women— suburban and rural—who are, by and large, still victimised by patriarchal domination.
Contemporary Indonesian writing has also seen the emergence of the so-called “chick lit” (chick literature), a genre in popular writing different, although often assumed to be similar, to the more serious sastra wangi. Sastra wangi writings have philosophically deep narratives, but still lack moral pretension. “Chick-lit” writings on the other hand, have hilarious narratives dealing with women facing modern problems in their work and social life. “Chick lit” narratives are always set in urban environments, and have stories of young cosmopolitan working women aged in their twenties or thirties concerned with issues such as fashion, shopping, sex, and the search for “prince charming.” Unlike the highly romanticised fiction of the 1970s/80s, “chick lit” is humorous and very lite reading; the book covers are always in pastel colours with illustration a la Barbie. “Chick
53 Hatley, op.cit., p. 131. 180 lit” is not of Indonesian origin. It first appeared in Britain with the publication Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones’ Diary in 1999. This was followed by Melissa Bank’s The Girls’ Guide to Hunting and Fishing in 2000 and a series of “chick lit” writings, Being Single and Happy. The Indonesian translation of these books only appeared in 2003, but was immediately followed by local Indonesian “chick lit”, frequently cited as Lajang Kota (Urban Single). Writings of Lajang Kota are such as Fira Basuki’s Ms. B’s series: Panggil Aku B (Call me B, 2004) and Will You Marry Me? (2004) and Alberthine Endah’s Jodoh Monika (Monika’s Soulmate, 2004).
“Chick lit’s” popularity is viewed cynically by a number of literary critics and feminist activists. Gadis Arivia, an outstanding feminist, and the founder of Jurnal Perempuan (Women’s Journal) believes that “chick lit” is utopian for Indonesian settings. Indonesian women are still much troubled with gender issues such as domestic violence, child labour and problems with a gender-biased legal system, but “chick lit” largely ignores ideological and social realities discriminative to women. Accordingly some feminists say that “chick lit” is a betrayal of the feminist movement.54 Despite the feminist criticism of “chick lit”, numerous female readers are infatuated with such stories and the genre’s popularity is increasing. Unlike romantic narratives where female depiction is always “perfect”—beautiful, dutiful, faithful and willing to finally accept patriarchal domination, “chick lit” stories are tales of middle-class female white collar workers who struggle to maintain their job and career. They are “not perfect”—not that beautiful, not that smart, but they are obsessed with physical perfection. The “not perfect” produces strong identification with readers, creating a fictional reality closer to the reader’s reality. However, as realistic as it may seem “chick lit” represents only a very few women living in cosmopolitan regions.
The discussion of women writers in the Indonesian literary canon will be continued in the following chapter focusing on the selected four Muslim women authors—Titis Basino, Ratna Indraswati Ibrahim, Abidah El Khalieqy and Helvy Tiana Rosa.
54 ‘Kisah Keseharian Perempuan dari Langit’, Kompas Cyber Media, 17 April 2004, Internet, http://www.kompas.com, (20 April 2005). 181 Chapter 6
Authors, Their Worlds and the Female Traditions
The variety of themes that contemporary Indonesian female authors deal with is extended by those who are not classified as members of either sastra wangi or “chick lit.” Abidah El Khalieqy and Helvy Tiana Rosa, and their older counterparts Titis Basino and Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim are among this group of women writers. If most sastra wangi’s characters are urban-centred, the characters of the four authors vary from traditional older women to young modern figures. The four can be classified as Muslim writers whose narratives vividly account for religious identification and whose works are known to be part of Islamic writings. Helvy Tiana Rosa argues that Islamic writing aims to enlighten its readers on the discourse of truth and love: love to God and all humans. Admitting that her definition is too wide, she then adds that the morals of such writings must be justifiable within the parameters of Islamic faith. Open sexual talk, for example, is indisputably non-Islamic because the discourse of sex in Islamic environments should reside in the private arena and never brought to the public arena. Furthermore, Islamic writings are universal in truth, justice and humanity.1 This is where the four writers depart from the writers of sastra wangi or the even more popular “chick lit.” Their writings can be deemed as a canon counter-discourse because they depict many more Muslim women identities; young, old, urban and rural struggling to maintain and challenge their prescribed roles. Their stories are balanced, but at the same time a threat, as they reveal how their female characters negotiate their daily lives in a male dominated society where women’s roles are firmly affixed to that of men.
Helvy’s short stories centre on young Muslim females and their struggles to preserve their religious identity, making her a prominent figure in the tradition of Indonesian Islamic writing. Abidah’s works show a similar trend but she emphasizes pesantren scenes in her narratives. In comparison to Helvy and Abidah, Ratna and Titis write in a
1 Helvy Tiana Rosa, ‘Lagi, Soal Sastra Islam’, Segenggam Gumam: Esai Esai tentang Sastra dan Kepenulisan, Syaamil, Bandung, 2003, pp. 1 – 11. 182 more general manner. Nonetheless, their religiousness, though subtly presented, becomes more obvious when a critical reading is employed. Both authors’ narratives commonly take place in suburban or rural settings with stories of women facing problems in their day-to-day lives. In addition, if Ratna often illustrates women who are essentially patronised by men, Titis always ends her novels with a short poem to illustrate that humaneness lies in the hand of God: only God can control a person’s life. Titis’ works end with the narrator’s submission to destiny, typical of the Javanese philosophical conception of nrimo (one’s life is predetermined by one’s own destiny). Moreover, in these writers’ works, the Arabic words imported into their Indonesia, such as the use of Allah instead of Tuhan (both meaning God) are quite common.
Besides the four selected writers,there are certainly other writers, Kartini, Saadah Alim (1897 – 1968), Titi Said (b. 1935) are to name a few. Although issues appeared in their writings are not so dissimilar than these selected four: Kartini, mentioned earlier, raises several issues such as her demands to improve women’s roles and status through education, while Saadah Alim and Titie Said (b. 1935) write mostly fictions about women as mothers and wives,2 none of these writers is classified as writers conveying religious identity, except for Marriane Katoppo with her religious world of Christianity. Women writers in Indonesia are regarded as women writers, and readings of their works seldom (for not to say never) touches religious identity.
Unless otherwise stated the following explanation is primarily taken from interviews with each individual writer; published interviews and newspaper clippings which add some clarification are noted.
Titis Basino P. I.
Titis Basino P. I. (P. I. stands for her husband’s name Purnomo Ismadi) is the oldest of the four. This eighth of nine children of the Javanese Basino Atmodiwiryo family was
2 Korrie Layun Rampan, ‘Wanita Cerpenis Indonesia’, in K.L. Rampan (ed). Dunia Perempuan Antologi Cerita Pendek Wanita Cerpenis Indonesia. Bentang Budaya, Jakarta, 2002, pp. ix – xxvi.
183 born in Magelang, Central Java, January 7, 1939. She then spent her childhood in Madiun, and moved to Purwokerto with her family where she finished high school. Her writing career started during her secondary education as a writer of majalah dinding (high school magazine posted on the school wall). Her tertiary education was at the Fakultas Sastra (Faculty of Letters) Universitas Indonesia, Jakarta, where she graduated Sarjana Muda (equivalent to B.A) in Indonesian literature in 1962. She then had a short career (1962-1963) as a flight attendant with the national airline, Garuda Indonesia.3 Titis spent her earliest childhood under Japanese rule and grew up in postcolonial Indonesia where she enjoyed the opportunity of having tertiary education. Experiencing the ways Indonesia shifted from a colonial to postcolonial society certainly enriches her knowledge of societal changes, and how a society perceives and deals with such changes. Her work as a flight attendant also provides her with opportunities to experience public life and make contact with people of different backgrounds. Although her later choice of housewife was a different route from her modern job as flight attendant, seemingly Titis has always positioned herself in the public sphere, exemplified by her career choices of flight attendant, writer, and as the Chair of a literary documentation organization.
She is currently living in Jakarta, her adopted city since 1958. Although she comes from a large family Titis only has four children. The Javanese saying “banyak anak banyak rejeki” (having more children means having more “windfalls” or “incomes”), does not seem to be largely followed in post 1960s Indonesia because Titis’ generation was usually influenced by the government’s comprehensive family planning program. To a certain degree, it can be said that through her writings Titis campaigns for the family planning program. In her works, family size usually consists of parents with two or three children: a nuclear family description. In identifying her fictionalised families as nuclear she takes a new direction; the “modern” family is nuclear, as opposed to the “traditional” extended family. In terms of family size the 1970s generation has even less children: from more than two children per family to just two children at the most per family. In Titis’ case, having fewer children compared to her parents gives her more
3 This career links her with another prominent author, NH. Dini, who also once worked as a flight attendant. 184 time to pursue her chosen career as she finds more time to write.4 Furthermore, because her children have their own families, she finds that her presence at home is no longer compulsory, thus she devotes most of her time to public roles.5
In the 1960s Titis wrote short stories for the literary magazines Horison and Sastra, but her professional writing career began with her first novel publication, Pelabuhan Hati (Harbour of Heart, 1978). For the span of 10 years, from 1986 to 1996, due to personal reasons and family request, Titis devoted herself to her domestic role and produced very little work. She started writing again in 1997 following the death of her husband in 1996, and up to the present day she has produced at least 20 novels and numerous short stories. Among others are: Di Bumi Aku Bersua Di Langit Aku Bertemu (In Earth I Meet in the Sky I Encounter, 1983); Bukan Rumahku (Not My Home, 1986); Welas Asih Merengkuh Tajali (Compassion Embraces Love, 1997); Mensucikan Perselingkuhan (Purifying an Affair, 1998); Aku Supiyah Istri Hardian (I am Supiyah Hardian’s Wife, 1998); Tersenyumpun Tidak Untukku Lagi (Your Smile is not for Me, 1998); Tangan Tangan Kehidupan (The Hands of Life, 1998); Terjalnya Gunung Batu (Steep Rocky Mountain, 1998); Garis Lurus Garis Lengkung (Straight Line Curved Line, 2000); Aku Kendalikan Air, Api, Angin dan Tanah (I Control Water, Fire, Wind and Earth, 1998); Mawar Hitam Milik Laras (Laras’ Black Rose, 1999); Sukma dan K. Wekas (Sukma and K. Wekas, 2000); Hari Yang Terbaik (The Best Day, 2000); Jala (The Fishing Net, 2002); and Tabu Pernikahan (The Marriage Taboo, 2003). In 1998, her novel Dari Lembah ke Coolibah (From Valley to Coolibah, 1997) won a literary award from Pusat Bahasa (The National Language Centre), and it also won The South-East Asian Writers Award. In 1999, the Malaysian government awarded her the Mastra Prize, a competitive literary award.6 Still pursuing her writing career, she is also the Chair of the Executive Board of Pusat Dokumentasi Sastra H.B. Jassin (H.B. Jassin Centre of Literary Documentation) in Jakarta.
4 Reduction on family size shows rapid demographic change that must influence women’s time spending for the family. 5 It should be noted that imposed family planning might also jeopardise women’s agency if they have no say about their reproduction rights. 6 ‘Education about Asia’, vol. 6, no. 1, Spring 2001, p. 1, http://www.aasianst.org/EAA/her.htm 185 Titis’ narratives always depict women’s world, women’s problems and how they deal with them, creating exclusively a female perspective. Typical of her stories are the deceptive relationships in which women are victimised, yet from this victimisation they rise to self-empowerment. Titis believes that her portrayal of female characters is her way of “painting what, who and how women truly are.”7 She adds further that she aims to narrate women’s position as both “positive” and “negative” object. “Positive” means that a woman is an equal partner of a man, without her support no man can ever achieve success, while “negative” means that men often take advantage of women. Although most of her works deal with deception and infidelity, Titis strongly disagrees with bringing the discourse of sex into fiction. In her view the sexual relationship should never be spoken of publicly. She choses dialogue as her best way to illustrate romantic and intimate relationships. An example of this attitude is found in her novel, Rumah K. Seribu (The One Thousandth House, 1998). Acclaimed by literary critics, this novel celebrates platonic love. A leading critic, Eka Budianta, observes that the novel substantiates that “love without sex is a luxury in its own.”8 Titis believes that writing about sex will only jeopardise her position as a writer of serious literature and she refuses to incorporate sex into her narratives. In her opinion sex is only for popular literature and is often written in a vulgar manner almost bordering on pornography. She argues that serious literature aims to enlighten its readers by suggesting new dimensions of approaching a problem; in this way a writer may function as a psychological interpreter of human problems.9
Titis’ commitment to communicate female perspectives and concerns has entered a deeper stage as she always utilises first point narrative, using “aku” (“I”) as the narrator. Her consistency to always use the first person narrator deserves attention. Male writers too employ the same technique, yet when portraying women’s issues or presenting women’s voices, women’s own words and perceptions of their own situations will bring greater authenticity. The use of “I” as the narrator is crucial for women authors as they can justify the female perspective from both the author and narrator. Within the perspective of feminist reading she has also privileged female body experience through
7 ‘Titis Basino P.I.,’ Profil Perempuan Pengarang Peneliti Penerbit di Indonesia, Korrie Layun Rampan, Titiek WS, Matheus Elanda Rosi Ds (eds), Kelompok Cinta Baca, Jakarta, 2000, p. 411. 8 Ibid., p. 410. 9 Titis, Profil Pengarang, p. 411. 186 the use of the female perspective. The “I” pointed out in the narrative signals an opening, a room in the narrative where readers are free to enter, and where they can easily associate themselves with the narrator. Titis gives women a voice, a voice that some women are unable to use. In particular, she gives a voice to women who are deceived by their husbands’ infidelity. She says in one interview: Since they cannot scream so I let those people know how women feel while being deceived through infidelity. There are many men having extra marital affairs but their wives just cannot get angry or cannot say no. I write so that those people can read.10
As Titis revealed further in the interview, her stories are not just pure imagination, many of them are real, based on real stories of real people. She tries to help these women by suggesting her way of reading their problems and bringing them to life in her literary production. Titis’ method of putting real stories to fiction reflects and exemplifies representations of the real. Her power lies in the fact that she does not only represent women of a linear singularity, but different women following the historical changes that these women experience. Accordingly, Titis’ protagonists move from the mature age widow in Dari Lembah ke Coolibah, to the young dutiful wife in Jala. Her flexibility in moving from one woman to the other structures an end to a fixation of identity meant to reflect all women all the time. Titis’ characters are largely from a lower-social class who struggle to maintain equilibrium when their families undergo chaos caused by the husband’s betrayal. Reading Titis’ various women thus aims not merely to uncover her “truth”, but also to investigate how such concepts of truth are formed, particularly in the ideological representation of the women characters: how they are manufactured and re-manufactured by the author using real stories of women she knows.
Although Titis celebrates the multiplicity of a woman’s role in the society: “A woman must be able to be anything; a mother, a friend, a lover,” she also states “a woman brings numerous images with her: her social, cultural and political status, which regrettably are often forsaken.” Nevertheless, like most women of her generation, she believes women are not to escape from the conception of kodrat, thus the sexual division of labour. For her, woman’s proper place is at home, and it is a woman’s duty
10 An interview with Titis Basino in the foyer of Pusat Dokumentasi Sastra H.B. Jassin, Jakarta, 1 June 2004. 187 to take care of family matters because of her natural role of motherhood and domesticity. Although encouraging women to occupy public roles through education and labour, she insists that women’s primary roles are as wife, mother, homemaker, and as worker adding to the family income, but never as the family breadwinner, which should be primarily in the hand of the husband.11 The most distinctive feature in her narratives is the issue of polygamy and betrayal through extramarital affairs. In coping with such catastrophe her female characters manage to stand upright and in the end it is the female figure who restores the disorder to order; her women are strong, independent and very self-empowered. Titis is a feminist in the sense that she is aware of constraints placed upon women due to their gender, how women sustain their existence in times of chaos, and how women yearn to remove these constraints and build a more equitable gender system.
Although many male authors deal with issues of female empowerment, often these male texts privilege emotional responses and fail to explore the psychological reactions of women to issues such as polygamy and man’s infidelity. Titis’ representation of reality fiction—her use of “I” as the narrator in all her books— shows how women can be in control of their own experiences. She advances that the strength of her characters comes from their deep faith in God. All her characters are Muslim and they are always looking to maintain their religious commitment, reflective of her own belief that it is only God we must be submissive to, since God is the owner of all things.12 Religious identity is embodied in Titis’ female characters and her works add to the many ways of reading Muslim women and their representations in literary fictions.
Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim
Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim, or Mbak Ratna as she is frequently called, is one of the most productive short story authors in the Indonesian literary world. Born in Malang, East Java, April 24, 1949, she has produced more than 300 short stories and a novel in the
11 Interview with Titis Basino, 1 June 2004. 12 Interview with Titis Basino, 1 June 2004. 188 thirty years of her writing career. Unlike Titis who experienced the Japanese – Titis was only 3 when the colonial era ended era, Ratna is the product of independent Indonesia. However, like Titis she comes from a large family; she is the fifth daughter out of children of the Saleh Ibrahim family and is unmarried.
Ratna lives in Malang where she undertook all of her education from elementary to tertiary level. She was enrolled in the Fakultas Ilmu Administrasi (Faculty of Administration Science) at Universitas Brawijaya (Brawijaya University) Malang, but withdrew when she lost interest. Ratna is often invited to numerous seminars and conferences including the International Seminar of Disabled People in Sydney, Australia; the International Women’s Congress in Washington, USA in 1993 and in Beijing, China in 1995; and Leadership Training MIUSA (Mobility International USA) in Eugene, Oregon, USA in 1997. Ratna is also an activist in social organizations: she chaired Yayasan Bakti Nurani Malang (an NGO for disabled people) from 1977-2000; was the founder of Masyarakat Entropic Malang (Entropic Society Malang, an NGO concerned with environmental issues); and is a researcher for Yayasan Kebudayaan Panjoeng (Panjoeng Cultural Foundation, a foundation to develop the local cultures of Malang). She also founded Kajian Ilmiah Forum Pelangi (Forum Pelangi Scientific Studies) and a journal called Naraswari, which concentrates on issues of women and gender equality. She was awarded Wanita Berprestasi (Highly Distinguished Woman) by the Indonesian government in 1993. She has won several awards for her work from women’s magazines and newspapers such as Femina and Kompas, and is also a prize winning poet.
Since she started writing in 1975, numerous of her short stories have been published in collections, including Namanya Masa (His Name is Massa, 2001); Noda Pipi Seorang Perempuan (A Spot in a Woman’s Cheek, 2003); Aminah Di Satu Hari (Aminah in One Day, 2002); Lakon di Kota Kecil (Drama in a Small Town, 2002); and Bukan Pinang Dibelah Dua (Unidentical Twin, 2003). Her novel is entitled Lemah Tanjung (Lemah Tanjung, 2003). Ratna is probably part of the sastra koran tradition, as her works were scattered in various newspapers such as Kompas, Jawa Pos before being issued in collections of short stories. Her productivity and activity are remarkable for she has a physical disability and needs to dictate all her works to her secretary. In her early
189 childhood, Ratna suffered from poliomyelitis, which left her with little use of her hands and legs, and to help her move around she uses a wheelchair. Despite her physical disability she is indeed one of the most prolific authors in Indonesia.
Ratna’s writing focus is on women whom she knows well. She believes that her narratives help shape the women’s movement because they also function as counter discourse of the masculinity that is rooted in the Indonesian public discourse. She writes: I think this country is characterised as masculine because of its fondness to the symbols of violence. As an illustration, the biases of patriarchal ideology in this country produce a huge impact penetrating inside this country’s system, meaning that this country represents itself as male. And what kind of women is raised by such masculine tradition? As a result, as always they [women] become silent mass and marginal members. Whether we are aware or not, men in this country still believe that women’s roles are within domestic social. In all stories the super hero is always male.13
Ratna believes that literature is a powerful means to protest against such marginalisation and victimisation, because resistance writings are a powerful media against injustice and oppression. Through writings, Ratna concludes, she can break the mass silence of women, and enunciate the injustices forced upon them.14 In order to bring women’s voice into public hearing, she then attempts to smash women’s marginalisation by repositioning them from the periphery to the centre. She exemplifies this in her newest novel Lemah Tanjung, a novel based on true story. All female characters in the novel are resisting domination forced on them. For example, Ibu Indri, one protagonist in the novel, never stops her struggles to protect the only green area in her city against attempts to transfer it into a shopping mall. Ratna’s retelling of Bu Indri’s story marks her struggle to place one local woman’s history into the public memory. This is exactly how Ratna positions her role as an author: believing that with her writings she can record the history of the women’s struggles and bring it to the public’s attention: I am interested not because I am a historian but because I am trying to be one. The hero is Ibu Indrasih, she is now terribly ill that she can no longer walk, still with her three children and our group, she keeps on fighting to this day. Talking
13 Ratna Indraswati Ibrahim, Sastra Dan Gerakan Perempuan, paper presented on a seminar held by Jawa Pos, 19 April 2003 in Graha Pena Surabaya, p. 1. 14 Ratna, Ibid., p. 2. 190 about history, I am trying to record this local history. . . . So it is a true story. . . . But because I am not an expert in history, I attempt to concoct it into fiction.15
In her effort to document local history Ratna brings locality right into the centre of public mind, retelling local hero stories that are commonly marginalised simply because of their anonymity. In writing these stories, Ratna ruptures the notion of history as grand narrative by presenting and documenting alternative stories of ordinary people with extraordinary struggles.
A literary work is the soul of its author, Ratna strongly believes. However it is a product of literary imagination, the factuality in this so-called imaginative world is still reflective of the real: the represented real of its author and her surrounding world, creating the world in it a reality of its own. Through her stories Ratna presents us the revival of social realities in fiction. Her fiction is not a product of literary imagination per se rather her fiction shows a reality and awakens our dreams in a story. In an interview, Ratna reveals that her narratives are based on factual researches, which are then blended with her imagination, and certainly her reading of such experience.16 Furthermore, the politics of her works lies in her goal to treat her fiction as a witness of injustice. She states: I can see and feel the masculinity of the social “texts” which totally harass women socially. And I think it is all caused by patriarchal hegemony that has grown long enough in this country. As a result, I am challenged to write short stories as witness to those injustices.17
Ratna’s short stories are shaped to tell the tales of injustices and repression in Indonesian lives, more particularly in the lives of women. Ratna says fiction is a reflection of culture. The more women write from their own perspectives, especially in fiction, the more they are aware of their domestic and public roles, and this awareness will empower them to defend their rights out of men’s exploitation.18
15 An Interview with Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim, 20 July 2004 at her home in Jl. Diponegoro No. 3, Malang, East Java. Translation mine. 16 Interview with Ratna, 20 July 2004. 17 Eko Bambang Subiantoro, ‘Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim; Menulis Cerpen Mengabarkan Kenyataan’, Jurnal Perempuan No. 23, 2002, pp. 103 –114. 18 Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim, Sastra dan Gerakan Perempuan, p. 2. 191 The foremost depiction of female characters in Ratna’s narratives is of marginalised and victimised Muslim women who largely dwell in rural areas, especially in Malang and its surrounding areas. According to her these women are forgotten or assumed to be unimportant, but they are typical of around seventy percent of Indonesian women.19 It is therefore, she states, her privilege to bring them to life in her stories, narrating their pain and misery. Her narratives indeed project a variety of images of Indonesian Muslim women. Her refusal to portray urban and cosmopolitan women who are autonomous individuals, as in sastra wangi writings, breathes soul to the women who are not urban and who are still by and large victims of patriarchal domination. She reminds us that feminism still has a long way to go to finally reach its ideal of justice and equality for all women. In Ratna’s opinion, tradition is the notion of women’s domestication, whilst modernity situates them in public social arenas: tradition relates to women’s dependence, modernity independence. Ratna believes that Indonesian women want to be just like Cinderella; rescued by a prince charming from their problems who will defeat the wickedness of those around them, then marry them. If we talk about women in Indonesia, one of her feet is in the traditional sphere, the other in the modern, she herself is ambiguous [ambivalent]. . . . But in my opinion, women in Indonesian society still largely hold male ideology. They still believe in the Cinderella complex.20
Paralleling the situation of Indonesian women with the Cinderella story is crucial as this strongly suggests that the ideal of Indonesian women is approximately similar to that held by women in the Western world. The Cinderella story is not of Indonesian origin yet many Indonesian women identify themselves with her situation and want to have a happy ending just like Cinderella. Ratna uses such stereotypes in her narratives, and in doing so, aims to raise the awareness of her readers of how women are constructed in society, and of the ways women are able to empower themselves against such discrimination.
Claiming her writings to be counter discourse to sastra wangi which frequently use open sexual discourse, Ratna insists that there should be no such talk in women’s writings, for it is the language of man that sees sex as open and vulgar. Women’s language is more lyrical and refined, closer to affection yet unemotional. Her opposition
19 Interview with Ratna, 20 July 2004. 20 Interview with Ratna, 20 July 2004. 192 to sastra wangi is made clear when she says that it is erroneous to juxtapose sexual liberation and feminism. Sexual liberation (the most salient feature of sastra wangi) is a narrowly defined feminism. The danger of exposing sex and sexual activity openly lies in the presumption that it is what being feminine is about. For Ratna, femininity is God given, thus open exploration will reduce its beauty. She observes that vulgar sexual discourse is undeniably written in bahasa laki-laki (male language), as opposed to bahasa perempuan (female language).21 This is the trap that she wants to avoid in her writings. Writing in female language and privileging female experiences is her essential proposal.
Ratna refuses to be labelled a feminist, but in her writings she puts “the woman question” into her attempt to critically read and attack the sexual division of labour because she believes the division is reflective of patriarchy and gender bias, not of the natural order. For Ratna, Islam personifies justice and equality as revealed in the Hadith literature, but in most of the Muslim world, women are historically limited to domesticity and denied their public rights. Like other Muslim female authors, Ratna believes that it is not Islam that is oppressive to women, it is the culture, and Islam alone is protective of freedom and the rights of women. Documenting social history in her narratives challenges culturally biased notions of women’s role.
Abidah El Khalieqy
If the previous two authors belong to older generations (Angkatan 66 for Titis and Angkatan 80an for Ratna), Abidah El Khalieqy and Helvy Tiana Rosa are of Angkatan 2000, as their narratives began to appear in mid 1990s.22 Both wearing jilbab, their claim to their religious identity is not only apparent in their narratives but also in the authors’ persona.
21 Interview with Ratna, 20 July 2004. Bahasa perempuan here is not meant to be congruent with écriture feminine (women’s writing) of French theorists such as Héléne Cixous, Luce Irigaray or others. According to Ratna, female language here means the language used by women to express women’s experiences. 22 Korrie Layun Rampan, Angkatan 2000 dalam Sastra Indonesia, PT Gramedia Widiasarana Indonesia, Jakarta, 2000. 193 Abidah El Khalieqy is not only known as a prose writer but also as a poet. Indeed, she started her writing profession first in poetry then moved onto prose writing. Abidah was born in March 1, 1965 in Menturo, Jombang and comes from a big santri family of seven children.23 Growing up in Jombang, the capital of pesantren, she was exposed regularly to the Islamic discourses. Soon after she finished Islamic elementary school, she continued her study in a pesantren putri (pesantren for girls) of Persis (Persatuan Islam) in Bangil, East Java, for six years. Within this period she began to publish short stories and children’s stories in newspapers and magazines under the pseudonyms Ida Arek Ronopati, Idasmara Prameswari or Ida Bani Kadir. Pursuing her secondary education in Jakarta and Klaten, Central Java, she then moved to Yogyakarta for her tertiary education. She graduated from IAIN (State Institute of Islamic Studies) Sunan Kalijaga. In Yogyakarta she was an active member of Komunitas Teater Eska (Eska Theatrical Community) and Lingkaran Penyair Yogyakarta (Yogyakarta Poets Circle). She was invited to the APWLD forum in Kuala Lumpur (Asia Pacific Forum on Women, Law and Development) in relation to her thesis on the commodity of women’s physical values in the perspective of Islamic law (a study on the advertising area). Abidah not only involves herself in writing but also in the feminist movement: she is a supporter of both global and local feminist movements and belongs to Kelompok Diskusi Perempuan International (International Women Discussion Group).
Abidah is currently living in Megowo, Yogyakarta, with her three children and husband, Hamdy Salat, who is also a poetry and prose writer. Like most women of her generation Abidah has a small family in comparison to older generations.24 Abidah’s writing achievement is notable. Her countless short stories, poems and essays have been published in several magazines such as Horizon, Republika, Gadis, Amanah, Ulumul Qur’an and many others. Her poems were included in ASEANO: An Anthology of Southeast Asia Poems, in 1995. In the same year she was invited to represent Indonesia
23 If santri is gender-neutral, santriwan is male and santriwati is female. 24 The total fertility rate of those born post-1970s declined from 5.6 children per family in 1967-70 to 2.85 children in 1994. An Indonesian family with parents aged 30s – 40s today commonly has not more than three children, and seemingly the younger generations will continue to do so for decades to come. ‘Indonesia Family Planning, Family Welfare and Women's Activities’, Family Health International, Internet, http://www.fhi.org/en/RH/Pubs/wsp/fctshts/Indonesia1.htm, (28 December 2005).
194 at the ASEAN Writer’s Conference/Work Shop on Poetry in Manila, Philippines. In 1997 she participated in Bengkel Kerja Penulisan Kreatif Majelis Sastra Asia Tenggara (MASTERA) in Jakarta, a writing workshop for ASEAN literary writers. The following year she was invited to read her poems at the secretariat of ASEAN, and received a literary award from the regional government of Yogyakarta. She was also invited to numerous poetry readings in several cities in Indonesia. Her publication, in addition to some poetry anthologies, incorporates prose works like Ibuku Lautan Berkobar (My Mother the Burning Sea, 1997); Menari di Atas Gunting (Dancing Above the Scissors, 2001); Perempuan Berkalung Sorban (Woman with the Sorban Necklace, 2001); Atas Singasana (Above the Crown, 2003); and the latest Geni Jora (Jora’s Fire, 2004,) which won the second prize for 2003 novel writing conducted by Dewan Kesenian Jakarta (The Jakarta Arts Council). Her poems about women and abortion were translated into English by an Australian poet Geoff Fox and published in cyber-album in 1998.
A recognised Indonesian literary critic, Budi Darma, has compared Abidah’s work to Taslima Nasreen’s, the Bangladesh woman author whose works are mostly regarded as blasphemy to Islam. But far from Nasreen’s radicalism, Abidah’s presentation of Islamic gender ideology is subtle, yet voicing strong challenges to Islamic patriarchal interpretations.25 Most of her works are weighted with women’s issues located within Islamic perspectives, and she continuously criticises formal and informal institutions entrapping women in the shackles of their gender. The strongest theme in her narratives is her call for social change and female empowerment to occur within the sanction of Islamic doctrines. In Perempuan Berkalung Sorban, published under the auspices of YKF (Yayasan Kesejahteraan Fatayat, Fatayat Welfare Foundation) and the Ford Foundation, Abidah powerfully takes issues of women’s right to education and reproduction into account. She says that her interest in feminism is based on her experience of what she sees and senses: If we see injustices how can we be silenced? . . . What is happening in our world? So, how can we be alert of all those? Perhaps, if I speak about those problems in my writings at least I have participated with my friends or those having concerns with problems of injustices and discrimination.26
25 Back cover of Geni Jora by Abidah El Khalieqy, Matahari, Yogyakarta, 2004. 26 Interview with Abidah El Kalieqy, 7 July 2004 at her home in Maguwo, Yogyakarta. 195 Her narratives are laden with “the woman question”, and she constantly creates and recreates her female characters as those who react and offer counter responses to patriarchal oppression.
Abidah’s engagement with Islamic feminism started when she was an active member of Yayasan Kesejahteraan Fatayat (YKF), an NGO seeking to empower women. She posits: I try to keep myself informed about the advance of feminism either from the Western world or from the Islamic world such as the Middle East. . . . I am currently active in YKF, an NGO aiming for women’s empowerment. This NGO is not affiliated with NU, although most members are also members of NU. With this NGO, we are redefining Qur’anic exegeses, researching on how to create guidelines of fiqh perempuan [Islamic jurisprudence from women’s perspectives] in pesantren similar to those done by Sinta Nuriyah with her Forum Kajian Kitab Kuning.27
Abidah believes that the best way to disseminate the notion of feminism, be it Islamic or any other is through literary writings, since narratives are reflections of everyday lives that the readers can easily identity with and make meaning out of. Her narratives are her tools in reacting against injustices and discrimination against women, which in the end she hopes can inspire readers to create better conditions. The best way to vocalise her feminist views is through writings because she can use her own language, the woman language: The more I develop my knowledge and interest on feminism, the more I like discussing about it as it is now actual and I think I have to start writing about it. I know some writers who have no concern about it. . . . Then, I wrote with my own language, which means that I have full authority on bahasa perempuan (female language), utilising that female language which is not masculine. Masculine language colonises almost all spheres both knowledge and literature. . . . Actually, what I feel [about the masculine hegemony of the language] is not coming only from actual discourses that are in circulation but also because my friends around me feel the same way. Thus, I must begin entering that sphere [feminism].28
Similar to Ratna, Abidah argues that bahasa perempuan (female language) is not only crucial, but also accurate in presenting women’s own experiences and views. It creates a strong identification that suggests a resistance to the essentialising agenda of identity
27 Interview with Abidah, 7 July 1995. 28 Interview with Abidah, 7 July 2004. Abidah’s definition of female language is similar to Ratna’s. 196 politics created by the dominant male culture.29 Of course, the problematic of female language is complicated when women project language assumed to be women’s but is, instead, a projection of hegemonic male language. In this case, women write of men’s perception rather than their own genuine perception. Nevertheless, through careful reading and scrutiny the problematic of female language can be identified and reassembled in order to provide entry into self and language. Abidah refers to Nawal Sa’dawi’s books, specifically The Hidden Face of Eve, which corresponds to the views she wants to articulate in her writings. The core of her narratives lies in the spirit of equality, though it may appear in different shapes through different literary characterisation or different poetical expression.
Abidah’s prose works are usually set in a pesantren background. The pesantren world is the world she knows well, and the language of pesantren is her mother tongue. She even calls herself “santri minded.” Her intention is to bring to life a pesantren world that has been largely ignored and marginalised by a number of writers. Only a very few writers, such as Huda Huzairini and A.A. Navis, take account of the pesantren world. The pesantren world is normally regarded as exclusive world, estranged, closed, very conventional and traditional. It is assumed to be a closed world because only those of santri background and family live there. Unless one wants to have an education in Islamic teachings, ordinary Indonesians do not usually live within a pesantren area. It can be said that the role of Abidah’s writings is to bridge the pesantren and ordinary Indonesian world, linking the imaginings of the general Indonesian public to the factual life in the pesantren world. She is thus situated among these very few writers who explore the dynamics of pesantren life against the grain of the received view of the outside world. Her narratives are her readings of the personal experiences of those living there, though they are not necessarily hers. Abidah sets her latest work, Geni Jora, in Middle Eastern regions like Morocco, Damascus, Palestine, Lebanon and parts of Israel for similar reason. Because most contemporary Indonesian fiction is set in the Western world, Abidah chooses the Middle East world as it was a centre of civilisation and the birth place of three great religions, making it very worthy of attention.
29 Interview with Abidah, 7 July 2004. 197 Her challenge to orthodox interpretations of women’s role and position in Islamic society brings criticism from various ulama. Her novel, Perempuan Berkalung Sorban, is an example. The first edition of this novel—about 3000 copies were distributed free to NGOs, pesantrens, religious and social organizations, and kyais—was controversial when first launched in 2001. Many in the invited audiences, which included kyais, showed their disagreement with her story which touched on women’s right to education, and the not to be spoken of issue of women’s reproduction rights within Islamic tenets. Most significantly her criticism of kitab kuning was condemned. Kitab kunings in Abidah’s perspective are conditional and should not be rated more importantly than the Qur’an. The fact that many of those living in pesantren make more primary use of these books than the Holy Book is her reason for criticising them. She notes further that what she criticises is the culture in which the world of the pesantren people reside; a culture which is in principle oppressive to women because it limits them solely to the domestic domain, and denies their rights to education and reproduction choice. For Abidah this is against the core of Islamic teachings. What Abidah articulates in her narratives is crucial. She promotes balancing the sociological with the theological, a perspective that will provide the flexibility for Islamic doctrines to face various challenges presented by social changes, while reflecting the transcendental essence of Islamic spirit.
Helvy Tiana Rosa
A short story and essay writer Helvy’s world is unknown to most Indonesian women. Her days are filled with activities other than as a housewife. Born in Medan, North Sumatra in April 2, 1970, Helvy moved to Jakarta in her teens, where she finished her secondary and tertiary education. She received her B.A. from Universitas Indonesia in Arabic literature. Recently she was awarded her Master Degree in Indonesian literature from the same university. In her undergraduate years she founded a contemporary Muslim theatre (1991), and she directs her own plays. These include: Aminah dan Palestina (Aminah and Palestine, 1991); Negeri Para Pesulap (The Magicians’ Country, 1993); Maut di Kamp Loka (Death at Loka Camp, 1993); Fathiya dari Sebrenica (Fathiya from Srebrenica, 1994); Pertemuan Perempuan (Women’s Meeting, 1997, co-written with M. Syahida); and Luka Bumi (Earth’s Wound, 1998, co-written with Rahmadianti). Between 1991-2001 she was Executive Director of Annida, an
198 Islamic teenage magazine. In 1998 she participated in Bengkel Cerpen Maestra (Majelis Sastra Asia Tenggara, Southeast Asian Writing Workshop in Jakarta), and the following year she was invited to join Bengkel Penulisan Cerita Anak (Children’s Stories Writing Workshop) conducted by Pusat Perbukuan Depdikbud (Centre of Books of the Ministry of Education and Culture). In 1999 also, as a delegate of Horison literary magazine she went to Johor Bahru, Malaysia, to attend Pertemuan Sastra Nusantara X(Nusantara Literary Meeting X). She has travelled extensively to cities in Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, Brunei Darussalam, and Thailand where she discusses her works. Along with nine other women she was awarded Best Muslims by Amanah, a Muslim women’s magazine. In 2002 she was invited to read her works at Al Azhar University, Cairo, Egypt. In 2003 she was invited to read and discuss her works at the Singapore Writer’s Festival, shortly followed by travel to the USA to present her works at the University of Wisconsin and the University of Michigan. She is now a member of the Executive Board and Literary Committee of the Jakarta Arts Council, and also a member of the scholar’s board of Partai Keadilan Sejahtera (PKS, Prosperous Justice Party, a growing Islamic political party in Indonesian politics). She is also the Chair of Forum Lingkar Pena (FLP, Pen Circle Forum), a literary organization founded in 1997 with a current membership of more than 5000 spread around 120 cities in Indonesia and overseas. This organization aims to support, guide and train its members to be writers. To date FLP through its own publishing house, Lingkar Pena Publishing House, has published at least 300 books written by its members.
Currently, Helvy lives in Jakarta, with her twelve-year-old son Faiz and her husband, Tomy Satryatomo, a television journalist. In her home she has established a public library called Rumah Cahaya (literally means “light house”, it is also an acronym for a house for baca dan hasilkan karya, reading and producing works). As with Titis and Abidah, compared to her parents, Helvy has a much smaller family. All three authors, to a certain degree, are products of the family planning program, which affects women's empowerment (women’s economic and social autonomy) within and outside the family, and this works in the case of Helvy, Abidah and Titis. Having more time for themselves, they create worlds both inside and outside their home, freely moving between the private and public spheres.
199 Helvy started writing at the age of ten and since then she has produced more than 200 short stories and numerous essays. Besides anthologies with other authors, her publications include: Segenggam Gumam (A Hand of Words, 2003); Lelaki Kabut dan Boneka/ Dolls and The Man of Mist (2002); Wanita yang Mengalahkan Setan (The Woman who Defeats Satan, 2002); Titian Pelangi (Path of Rainbow, 2000); Hari-Hari Cinta Tiara (Tiara’s Days of Love, 2000); Akira (Akira, 2000); Pangeranku (My Prince, 2000); Manusia-Manusia Langit, (The Sky Humans, 2000); Sebab Sastra yang Merenggutku dari Pasrah (Because Literature Snatches Me from Submission, 1999); Ketika Mas Gagah Pergi (When Mas Gagah Leaves, 1997); McAlliester (a novel translated into English and published in London by Moslem Press, 1996); Pelangi Nurani (Rainbow of Conscience, 2002); Nyanyian Perjalanan (Songs of Journey, 1999); Hingga Batu Bicara (Until the Rocks Speak, 1999); and Lentera (The Lantern, 1999). Her works have been translated into many languages including English, Arabic, Japanese and German, and some have been transferred into comic book form. Her short story Jaring-Jaring Merah (The Red Nets), along with nine other short stories was included in the best stories for the ten-year period 1990-2000 by Horison literary magazine.
Many writers feel a sense of social responsibility in advising their readers on problematic social issues. Within this perspective, books become a vehicle for the social concerns of the writers. Helvy undeniably voices her concerns about social issues in her stories. Although her work is limited to short stories (Helvy reasons she does not breath long enough to produce a novel) they reflect two important thematic lines: her love of God, and the struggles of the oppressed. She sets her narratives within the domain of Islamic literature because she believes it is indeed accommodative to such themes: Literature is not something dreadful, difficult and the like. For me, Islamic literature is defined as unlimited literature in which all writings are accommodated to the belief in God. It’s very simple. But such definition should not narrowly limit us in our writings. Islamic literature is indeed liberating: it is how we can call for goodness implicitly and explicitly within the framework of aesthetics. . . . Islam is universal and rahmat bagi sekalian alam (rahmatil lil `alamin, a blessing for the whole universe) and the concept I am following is that writing should enlighten its readers or minadz dzulilmat ila annuur (out of darkness to enlightenment).30
30 Helvy Tiana Rosa, ‘Napas Saya Tidak Panjang, Koran Tempo, Oktober 2003, p.16. 200 Helvy’s mission is to “enlighten” her readers and she hopes that after reading her works they will understand her messages. She wants her writing to function as a source of knowledge, or at least to inform and clarify something that was previously unknown or “obscure.” Her writings must convey purpose without abandoning aesthetic aspects. She strongly believes that ideal interpretations of Islam are meant to be enlightening because the coming of Islam is believed to have ended the age of jahiliyya (ignorance, commonly associated with darkness). Islam and aesthetics are thus two entwined themes embodied in her narratives. Aesthetics is the medium through which “truth” is presented. Her narratives are not limited to only serving Islamic ideals, but also universal ideals, because Islamic values carry universality in their practices.
The significance of Islam reverberates in Helvy’ stories, because she believes that Islamic ideals build justice and equality, so do her narratives. Nevertheless, saying that she wants to bring a social chance is too idealistic. Her missionary ideal is that through her writings, at least one individual is enlightened, meaning that after reading her works a reader will endeavour to have a better condition, or at least desire a better state. The maxim of her writings is implied in her website—www.helvytianarosa.com,31 where she writes that she wants to reach a better state in every breath she takes, in every communication she makes, in every work she produces, for writing is the channel communicating her ideas.32
Sebab Sastra yang Merenggutku dari Pasrah (Because Literature Snatches Me Away from Submission) is the title of her collection of short stories that explicitly articulates the author’s real purpose for her writings. She states: Because literature snatches me away from being submissive. When information about the Islamic world is distorted in various media, when global conspiracy strikes, when Muslims and I suddenly are in the state of “helplessness,” I don’t want to surrender. I struggle through literature [my writings].33
31 This website is currently inaccessible. 32 Although Helvy was once a member of PKS (a political party) board of advisory, she refused to be called as a political activist. In an interview, she revealed that she would prefer to be known as a writer who has strong concerns about women's inferior position in Islamic societies. She never mentions herself as a political activist. Her involvement with PKS was because she was doing a favour for friends: it was only temporary, and unintended. She said that she would rather stay away from any political involvement. 33 ‘Pengantar’ in Sebab Sastra yang Merenggutku dari Pasrah, Helvy Tiana Rosa, Gunung Djati, Jakarta, 1999, p. 4. 201 Helvy claims that her narratives are her way to act in response against any injustice and discrimination experienced by oppressed men and women; she examples this with the struggles of the Palestinian people against Israel’s occupation. She argues that the media, especially the Western media, often depicts the Palestinian freedom fighters Hammas as terrorists while Israel, the colonial, is never given such a label.34 As a result she explores many war stories in conflict areas where Muslims are repressed victims, as in Palestine, Afghanistan, Azerbaijan, Chechnya, Bosnia Herzegovina, Kosovo, and some regions in Indonesia such as Aceh and Poso. Helvy’s short stories are fictional, but her pen is a powerful means to react against these injustices. In writing her war stories she always undertakes research in order to provide vivid illustrations and accurate local colour.35 She creates what is often termed “resistance literature.” Her portrayal of those resisting any discrimination, oppression or domination is her way of communicating the injustices that these Muslim communities have suffered. Through her writings she creates a counter discourse against distorted information. In so doing, she seeks different endings than that of the distorted portrayals, as her endings are “already implicit, contained within the narrative analysis and construction of the conditions and the problematic of the historical situation itself.”36 Helvy offers different insights and analysis of the circumstances of repression and domination by erecting symbolic foundations of her own. Her foundation is irrefutably her single most important consideration: the construction of Islam as a liberating agent, which is powerfully embraced by her and her fictional characters.
The representation of the Islamic world that Helvy illustrates in her stories is never meant to be monolithic. In an interview she states that a Muslim woman is not solely represented by one wearing jilbab, for a veiled woman is one of the plural faces of Islam, especially in Indonesia.37 She believes it is capitalist law that always homogenises all representations. Although all her book covers are illustrated with veiled women, she argues that it is the desires of the publishers to always render muslimah as women with veils in order to commodify representations for the benefit of profit taking.
34 Interview with Helvy Tiana Rosa, 4 June 2004, at Universitas Indonesia, Jakarta. Translation mine. 35 ‘Helvy Tiana Rosa’ in Profil Perempuan Pengarang Peneliti Penerbit di Indonesia, p. 156– 157. 36 Barbara Harlow, Resistance Literature, Methuen, New York and London, 1987, p. 79. 37 Interview with Helvy, 4 June 2004. 202 Similar reasoning is applied as she comments on some bookstores’ placement of her books under the category of NORI (Novel Remaja Islami, Islamic Teenage Novels). She says that the readership of her stories is not intended to be only teenagers, although most of her stories objectify teenage characters and lives. Her works, she insists, are not “teen lit” (sastra remaja), a genre similar to “chick lit” but targeted teenage readers and they do not target a specific audience.38 The term Muslim is not exclusive to adults, this term is neutral regardless of one’s age, class, culture or other category except in indicating one’s religion. Narratives of the politics of religious identity mostly depict the lives of adult Muslims, hardly ever are they about Muslim teenagers. But Helvy argues that teenagers too experience a complicated and dynamic religious identification process, perhaps more vibrant because teenagers are in the process of becoming adults. In portraying the life of teenage Muslims in her writings, Helvy certainly enriches the variety of contemporary Indonesian literature.
Indeed, Helvy draws Muslims from various standpoints. However, her most depicted character is a female character facing problems in sustaining her religious identity, particularly in war conflict areas. Her war stories are narratives of women of the resistance, and she relocates them from the context of their real historic struggles to fiction. In so doing, she exhibits aspects of their lives linked to the affairs of the world that are influential to their struggles. Reasoning why women are her tools, she says: I want me to be in my works that is why my protagonists are usually females. Moreover it is time to depict females proportionally in literary writings. It means that if literary writings about war have female figures, history too will record many women as heroes. Actually I am not a feminist, I just want women to be valued and have important roles. Also, there is awareness in my writings that my protagonists are empowered women. Intentionally I do want women to be my protagonists.39
Despite her attempt to display empowered female figures in her narratives, she refuses to be called a feminist. Her presence in her works signifies her role as an actor in promoting Islamic ideals. Women’s empowerment in her fiction even goes to a higher level as it transgresses the male domain. The story of female jihad is a vivid example of this. The notion of jihad in Helvy’s writing holds various meanings—from an actual participation in war, to a more-subtle emotional struggle such as maintaining one’s
38 Interview with Helvy, 4 June 2004. 39 Interview with Helvy, 4 June 2004. 203 religious identity. She believes any struggle against any injustice, subjugation and domination is the very notion of jihad itself. Within such a perspective her role as an author telling the narratives of struggle is her own jihad.
The portrayal of women’s jihad is an impulse toward a new reading of jihad. Jihad is commonly regarded as men’s action in public sphere. In Helvy’s narratives women, including young girls, nevertheless undertake this so-called men’s action. In doing so, these women and girls destabilise and challenge the prevailing tradition. Helvy presents her heroines as active individuals whose responses undermine the received ideal of “true woman” as weak, meek and emotionally ruled. But more directly, she unmasks the ideology that women belong in domestic roles, by presenting women fully participating in social and public affairs. This also shows her belief in the strong bonds of the Muslim community (ukhuwah islamiyah, Muslim unity). For that reason she creates a world supportive to Muslim women’s struggles, a world of strong Muslim relationships that demystify the conventions of sentimental fiction with which women’s stories are often identified. Helvy’s war stories blatantly expose the casualties, terror and violence of war. Her works are a celebration of self-empowerment, and the assertion of an alternative moral vision that challenges the simplistic notions of morality associated with true womanhood, such as female passivity and physical weakness. For these reasons, through her narratives, Helvy might be calling for a new definition of female morality grounded in the heroines’ experiences in maintaining their religious conviction. Such a notion of morality would not be founded solely upon woman’s physical and biological makeup, but on more complicated contextual grounds. Thus Helvy uses her narratives to free women from the confinement of the private sphere, and to rewrite the history of ideas about women’s morality.
The four selected writers show their own characteristics. However, they seem to share similarities. With the exception of Ratna who remains unmarried, they all differentiate themselves from their parents’ family size by having fewer children. They also write from an exclusively female perspective, often using a first person narrator. Most importantly, in their attempts to raise women’s issues in their writings in relation to the idea of women, gender and Indonesian settings, they believe that Islam is grounded in justice and equality. The message of Islam disseminated by the Prophet Muhammad is
204 in itself ideal, yet its practices across regions and cultures may move to totally different directions than those intended by the Prophet. Islam, these writers argue, is not oppressive, not to women, not to anybody. It is its practices, often mixed with local cultures, customs and social structures, housed under the name of orthodox interpretations, which are oppressive and discriminative to women, privileging one sex over the other. These four writers walk in the same path in spreading the message of justice and equality of Islam, although it is manifested in different ways: Titis through the framework of Sufism, Ratna through her blatant attacks on masculine oppression of women, especially lower-class women, Abidah through her challenges to orthodox interpretations, especially those living in the pesantren world, and Helvy through her women’s jihad against oppression and injustices. These writers create possible responses of how can women react to oppressive circumstances. Such reactions may be well read as their attempts to construct and develop women’s own agencies from many available and possible ways. Their different methods are worthy of merit, as such difference underlines women’s diverse circumstances. Women are not at all monolithic, women are not of single identification; they are fractured and fragmented and divided along various lines of class, social structure, culture, political and economic setting, producing various subject-positions and self-constructions. In their varieties of narratives these writers contribute new Islamic-based interpretations of gender-relations and the politics of gender. Furthermore, the more the use of Arabic words related to the teachings of Islam in daily vernacular, for example, might represent a sign that Indonesian cultural life is changing and being reoriented. More Indonesian Muslims today frequently assert Arabic words in their daily conversations. Words such as insya Allah (God will), alhamdullillah (“All praise is due to Allah” to show gratitude to God), and assalamu ‘alaikum (“may peace be with you” for greetings amongst Muslims), wallahu’alam (“God knows best” when asked for an opinion) are more commonly used than ten years ago. However, in which direction such an orientation might go we will have to wait and see.
The discussion in the next chapters attempt to dissect the works of the four writers mentioned above. Due to word limitations not all of their works are analysed but the discussion will cover issues that constantly appear in the narratives.
205 Chapter 7 Representation, Identity and Religion: Images of Muslim Women, Their Lives and Struggles in Fiction (Part I)
Women writers now occupy a prominent position in the modern Indonesian literary canon. With the growing popularity of both serious and popular literary works, a younger generation of authors such as Ayu Utami, Dewi Lestari, Fira Basuki and Jenar Mahesa Ayu now enjoy a much larger readership. Women authors write narratives engaged with issues of women’s identity whether it be social, cultural or religious (as exemplified by Titis, Ratna, Abidah and Helvy, discussed in the preceding chapter), yet the issue of religious convictions seldom surfaces within the domain of literary criticism. Most literary criticism analysis on the canon of Indonesian literature overlooks aspects of religious convictions for examples, Membaca dan Membaca Lagi Reintepretasi Fiksi Indonesia 1980 – 1985 (Reading and Reading Again Reintepretation of Indonesian Fictions 1980 – 1985, 2004) by Pamela Allen, emphasises the works of 3 prominent writers: Pramoedya Ananta Toer, Y.B. Mangunwijaya and Putu Wijaya read from the perspectives of social realism, neo- regionalism, anti-intellectualism, postmodernism or postcolonialism. In the Shadow of Change Images of Women in Indonesian Literature (1994) by Tinneke Hellwig, focuses on images of women and gender-related issues and not on religious identity. Kritik Sastra Feminis Teori dan Aplikasinya (Feminist Literary Critics and its Application, 2002) by Sugihastuti Suharto, is an exclusive reading of the portrayal of women in some Indonesian fictions through the construction of the gender hierarchy socially and culturally. Sastra Indonesia dalam Enam Pertanyaan: Esai-esai Sastra dan Budaya (2004) by Ignas Kleden also overlooks the politics of religious identification.
206 Notwithstanding the numerous works, which have been produced by Indonesian Muslim authors, Islamic convictions apparently receive little standing in the study of modern Indonesian literature. The politics of religious identity are hardly ever explored and examined, though such politics frequently appear in numerous writings. The limitation is not exclusive to Islam. This, perhaps, results from the restrictions applied during the Soeharto regime, when discussions about differences in SARA (suku, agama, ras, antar- golongan, ethnic, religious, race, group and class) were banned. From the mid-1960s to the mid-1980s Soeharto viewed Islam, in particular, as a set of political principles around which its followers might mobilize and organize then jeopardise his authoritative control. Writings on religion came under strict limitation and surveillance. The prohibition proved to be effective; discussion was silenced and religious identities became invisible in public discourse. The required religious education at all levels of public schooling under the New Order has made a wide impact, making Indonesians monolithic then they were before.
Despite the restrictions some Indonesians managed to raise issues of religious identity in the public arena. In 1970, Nurcholis Madjid (1939 – 2005), one of Indonesia’s most notable Muslim intellectuals, proclaimed in his now famous speech Islam Yes Partai Islam No (Islam Yes, Islamic Political Party No), that the spirit of democracy should be based on the spirit of nationalism and not faith (religion), thus Muslims should not vote for merely Islamic political parties, they were free to vote for non Islamic political parties as well.2 This was a controversial speech. On the one hand, there was support for Madjid from those who thought his speech was a vehicle to create room for Muslim intellectuals, but, on the other, he was seen to be accepting the state ideology, Pancasila, (five basic principles) as Islamic. Thus, some opponents accused him of being a supporter of Soeharto. In the1980s while undertaking his doctorate degree in the United States Madjid was again controversial, arguing that Islamic teachings were not in support of an Islamic state par excellence. The polemics of his argument was triggered by an article by Amin Rais in Panji Masyarakat magazine entitled, Tidak Ada Negara Islam (There is No Islamic State), which was based on Madjid’s correspondence with Muhammad Roem, a prominent politician and
2 ‘Cendekiawan Muslim Milik Bangsa’, Ensiklopedi Tokoh Indonesia, Internet, http://www.tokohindonesia.com/ensiklopedi/n/nurcholis-madjid/index.shtml, (4 January 2006). 207 statesman.3 When he returned from the United States in 1984, Madjid proposed his seminal concept of masyarakat madani (civilised society based on tolerance, pluralism and democracy). This gained him more supporters and placed him amongst bapak bangsa (the nation’s fathers).4 Today, Madjid’s ideas are still controversial. Moderate and liberal, educated Muslims support and spread his ideas, specifically through his Paramadina Foundation; the more scriptural and revivalist, such as members of DDII (Dewan Dakwah Islamiyah Indonesia—IndonesianIslamic Preaching Council) still consider him to be an apostate of Islam.5
If Madjid’s case is an example of Soeharto’s restriction of SARA, the literary domain suffered similar repression. Issues of religious identity are indeed problematic. Many writers run the risk of being labelled an apostate (as was Madjid), or being called blasphemous. Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses (1988), the works of Nawal El Saadawi (b. 1931) and Taslima Nasreen (b. 1962) are amongst the examples. In the history of Indonesian literature the publication in Sastra (literature) magazine in 1968 of Langit Makin Mendung (the sky becomes cloudy), a short story by Kipanjikusmin (a pseudonym), is an example of the challenges which face authors when they write about religion. The story involves Muhammad the Prophet who was at that time dwelling in Heaven, along with other “retired” prophets. Knowing that too few Muslims came to Heaven, Muhammad and the other prophets petitioned God to be sent to the world to conduct a small research. Muhammad’s request was granted, and he and the archangel Jibril (Gabriel) impersonated eagles and landed in Jakarta. The story continues with a description of the gruesome, chaotic and restless conditions in Jakarta prior to the 1965 communist coup. The conditions upset the Prophet, especially after he found out that the majority of Indonesians were
3 Tidak Ada Negara Islam: Surat-surat Politik Nurcholish Madjid - Mohamad Roem, Agus Edi Santoso (ed) with introduction by Ahmad Syafii Maarif dan Adi Sasono, Djambatan, Jakarta, 1997. 4 Nurcholis Madjid, Dialog Keterbukaan: Artikulasi Nilai Islam dalam Wacana Sosial Politik Kontemporer, introduction by Fachry Ali, 1st Printing, Jakarta, Paramadina, 1998. Also, Andi Faizal Bakti, ‘Nurcholis Madjid and the Paramadina Foundation’, IIAS Newsletter, No 34, July 2004, p. 22. 5 R. William Liddle, ‘Media Dakwah Scripturalism: One form of Islamic Political Thought and Action in New Order Indonesia’, Toward A New Paradigm Recent Developments of Indonesian Islamic Thought, Mark R. Woodward (ed), Arizona State University Program for Southeast Asian Studies, Tempe, Arizona, 1996, pp. 323 – 356. In this article Liddle still uses DD for Dewan Dakwah while now it is commonly known as DDII (Dewan Dakwah Islamiyah Indonesia). 208 Muslims. The controversy around the story lies in the personifications and appearances of God and the Prophet Muhammad. According to the Kejaksaan Tinggi Sumatera Utara (Attorney General of North Sumatera) this was heresy and destructive of Islamic moral values.6 The magazine was banned, and H.B. Jassin the Chief Editor was sentenced to a year’s imprisonment, even though he argued that the story was never intended to personify God and his messenger, it only aimed to picture an idea of God and the prophet, and to show how the prophet would react in seeing our vices, and this certainly was not an insult to Islam. Jassin appealed to the High Court, but a final decision had not been reached at the time of his death in 2000. Until today the identity of Kipandjikusmin remains a mystery, although he did write an apology for his story in 1968: Actually I never meant at all to insult Islam. My real goal is very personal as I aim to communicate with God, the Prophet Muhammad, paradise and so forth alongside laughing at the stupidity of Soekarno’s regime. But indeed I have failed; using a short story to deliver my criticism was wrong. Consequently, Muslims responded to it as an offence to Islam.7
The sensitivity of religious issues, along with government restriction, stopped many authors bringing them into public discourse through their writings. However, the fall of the Soeharto regime in 1998 has opened an opportunity to bring the politics of religious identity into Indonesian public discourse. At the present time considerable freedom is enjoyed for the discussion of religious identity, however, such freedom is not limitless. The recent banning by the Minister of Religious Affairs of discussions about the reformed counter legal draft compilations of Islamic Law/Family Code (discussed later in more detail) is a good example. The draft was deemed to be controversial and capable of causing social instability. Further, the recent issuing of fatwas (religious statements) stating, among other things, that religious pluralism and liberal Islam are haram (forbidden), is yet another example. The fatwas themselves are controversial; many are against them, while some, particularly the scriptural and revivalists are strongly supportive. However, never in
6 Pleidoi Sastra Kontroversi Cerpen Langit Makin Mendung Kipandjikusmin, Muhidin M. Dahlan and Mujib Hermani (eds), Melibas, Jakarta, 2004. This book includes the short story Langit Makin Mendung and other stories by Kipandjikusmin, all newspapers articles about the controversies of this story. 7 Kipandjikusmin’s explanation was published in Harian KAMI 26 October 1968, and Jassin’s was in KAMI, 24 October 1968. These quotes are taken from an article by Tjahjo Nuswantoro ‘Langin Makin Mendung: Mempersonifikasikan Tuhan’, Adil (Solo), Tahun 37 No. 14, 19 November 1968, in Pleidoi Sastra, pp. 220 - 221. 209 Indonesia have fatwas been subjected to such strong public debate: something unimaginable during Soeharto’s rule. The wide circulation of the debates over the fatwas in the public arena does show that the Indonesian public today has more room to channel their opinion compared to past years, although this “room” is still restricted, evidenced by the attacks from Islamic groups such as FPI (Front Pembela Islam, Islamic Defender Front) to the headquarters of JIL (Jaringan Islam Liberal, Liberal Islam Network) in mid 2005.
In Teeuw’s opinion, Hamka (1908 – 1981) is the champion of Muslim writing because his works, in principle, embody the representation of Islam through literature. In the history of early Indonesian literature there are other Muslim writers, for example, Nur St. Iskandar, Tulis St. Sati, Abdul Muis, Bahrum Rangkuti, but they receive less stature because, according to Teeuw, unlike Hamka their narratives “[cannot] be called typically Moslem (literature).”8 However, Teeuw does not further typify what is “typically Moslem literature,” so his inclusion of only Hamka and not the others seems to be very narrow. In- depth scrutiny of early Indonesian narratives shows that often authors portrayed the struggles that people had in keeping to their Islamic values; that is, the struggle to maintain their religious identity within changing social conditions.9
Atheis (Atheist, 1949) by Achdiat K. Mihardja (discussed in Chapter Five) is not only a story of gender relations within Islamic tenets, but can also be read as the struggle of maintaining, or reconstructing, one’s Islamic identity. Achdiat’s story is based on Hasan’s (fictional) manuscript of his autobiographical testimony in which he relates his theological fluctuation from being a believer of Islam to an atheist, and finally to a believer. Hasan is unable to maintain his conviction; he drifts back and forth between his faith and his friends’ Marxist/Leninist materialism. In the end he suffers a tragic death at the hands of the Japanese military. Nevertheless, before he dies Hasan returns to his faith by saying “God is great”.10 When Achdiat’s novel was published in 1949 it was amongst the first in the genre
8 A Teeuw, Modern Indonesian Literature, pp. 138 – 139. 9 See my discussion on Islamic writings in previous chapters. 10 Atheist, Achdiat K. Mihardja, R. J. Maguire (trans), University of Queensland Press, St. Lucia, Queensland, 1972, p. 179. 210 of “testimonial writing.” It was also the first writing dealing with in-depth psychological conflicts and inner theological struggles. The novel brilliantly captures the new nation caught in the conflicts of changing worlds: between the feudalism of Javanese society and the modern proletarian community of young people; between religious conservatism with its weight on spiritual devotion and the emerging materialism; and between superstition associated with the village world and the rationality of urban life. Hasan does not live only in Achdiat’s imaginary world, or in the past, he personifies the way many Indonesian Muslims today rationalise their religious identity and cope with the dynamics of Indonesian society.
A younger generation of authors, such as Mochtar Lubis (1922 – 2004), Ali Akbar Navis (1924 – 2003) and Kuntowidjojo (1943 – 2005), have portrayed the dynamics of religious identity in their narratives. Navis’s short story, Robohnya Surau Kami (The Decline and Fall of our Local Mosque), for example, involves Muslims’ attempt to rationalize their religion. The dual responsibilities of being a good Muslim are presented well through the conflicting characters of Kakek (grandfather), whose life is devoted to serving God, and Ajo Sidi, whose life is devoted to worldly duties. Navis’s narrative well captures the reality of the historical moment of the text. Navis satirically criticises the common misconception of Islamic belief that it should be concerned solely with the spiritual realm and not the worldly one. For Navis, Islam works both ways; it is the language providing the harmonious relation between humans and their Creator, and amongst humans themselves.11 The anecdote in the story where the personified God speaks to Haji Saleh (a character similar to kakek), clearly illustrates the author’s points. When Haji Saleh asked God whether it was wrong for him to worship his Creator, God himself answered: No. You did wrong in spending too much time on the cultivation of your soul. You prayed because you were afraid of going to Hell, but you forgot your fellow Muslims and your family. You were put in the world to live as part of a community, but you were too selfish.12
11 See my previous discussion on the core of Islamic theology in chapter 1. 12 A. A. Navis, ‘The Decline and Fall of Our Local Mosque’, p. 125, in From Surabaya to Armageddon Indonesian Short Stories, Harry Aveling (ed and trans), Heinemann Educational Books (Asia) Ltd, Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Hongkong, 1976. 211 Kakek’s commits suicide as soon as he learns the story of Haji Saleh and God’s message; this represents the conflicts Indonesian Muslims communities were experiencing when the story was written in 1957. Even so, as old as the story is the conflicts Navis depicts still capture the present day reality of Indonesian Muslims who need to negotiate and balance the spiritual and material worlds.
Religious issues do not only attract prose authors to capture them in imaginative worlds. Poets like Taufik Ismail (b. 1935), Emha Ainun Najid (b. 1953), Mustafa Bisri (b. 1944), Abdul Hadi MW (b. 1946), Sutardji Calzoum Bachri (b. 1941) and others, have also enriched the dynamics of the politics of religious identities in Indonesian contexts. These poets are renowned for focusing their literary merits on exploring issues in Islamic tenets, ranging from theological convictions to social criticism. Mustafa Bisri, often called Gus Mus, for example, is a kyai, calligrapher, painter and a prose-writer, believes that Muslims will naturally produce works that are reflections of Islamic values.13 According to Gus Mus literary labelling such as Islamic or Sufistic has no meaning if the works and their producers are not Islamic in nature; the creator of the art is most important.14 Arahmaini, a modern art artist, maintains that the role of Islam is extremely vital in building attitudes, values and even culture itself, and art can function as a medium to channel subjects which cannot be spoken about in other mediums. She believes that Islam is a liberating theology providing room for Muslims to perceive it critically.15
In looking at Islamic art in Indonesia, Kenneth George shares the view of Gus Mus and Arahmaini. George argues that Islam and state are essential in shaping Indonesian cultural life. And this is seen with government-sponsored projects such as the Al-Qur’an Mushaf Istiqlal from 1991 to 1995, and state-sponsored festivals such as Festival Istiqlal I in 1991
13 An interview with Mustafa Bisri in Wajah Wajah Muslim Indonesia (Faces of Indonesia’s Muslims), a documentary film produced by Mediaalliance and Metro TV PT. Media Televisi Indonesia, 2004. This film contains interviews with Indonesian Muslim scholars on various subjects such as gender issues, education, the role of Islam in Indonesian politics and economics and so forth. Interview with Mustafa Bisri is in Episode 3: Nafas Islam pada Seni dan Budaya di Indonesia (The Spirit of Islam in Art and Culture in Indonesia). 14 Ibid. 15 An interview with Arahmaini is in Episode 3: Nafas Islam pada Seni dan Budaya di Indonesia (The Spirit of Islam in Art and Culture in Indonesia), in Wajah Wajah Muslim Indonesia (Faces of Indonesia’s Muslims). 212 and II in 199516. However, with President, Soeharto opening and closing the festivals the state legitimised its role as the sole authoritative figure in shaping public culture. George was writing before the fall of Soeharto when the state still had repressive control over public culture, though, even then, artists and the umma in general still attempted to find room for constructing their own religious identity. As noted earlier, there is now greater freedom in public discourses and Islam is not the only discourse on the politics of identity, discursive notions of nation and nationalism (as suggested by George) also function as essential contributing factors. The interests and agendas of various social, political and cultural actors within the society play a significant role in shaping the life of public culture. Indeed, within such perspective, Islam is not simply a religious ritual; the spirit of Islamic values can be reflected in all aspects of life, art and cultural expressions.
Contemporary Indonesia is now abundant with literary and art works, be it poetry, prose production, art, or popular production, which deal with the subjectivity and politics of religious identity, in particular of Islamic identities. In major bookstores such as Toko Buku Gramedia (Gramedia bookstore), there are sections specifically for the display of NORI.17 Separate sections for Islamic books are not uncommon in most bookstores.
Most of them, Hooker observes, are panduan literature, guide writings mostly “directed to women, [which] set out the ideal duty and conduct expected from and required of proper devout Muslim women.”18 Such books, most of them printed in paperback form, are translations of Arabic sources or original stories by Indonesian authors. The growth of Islamic writings has also impinged on children’s literature. Aku Anak Soleh magazine (I am a Devout Child, published by Mizan Anak) provides both instructions on how to be a devout Muslim child and stories (mostly in comic book form) of a proper Muslim way of
16 Kenneth M. George, ‘Designs on Indonesia’s Muslim Communities’, The Journal of Asian Studies, Vol. 57, No. 3 (August 1998), p. 697. George defines mushaf as: “a written incarnation of the official closed corpus of the Qur’an and commonly is graced with artful calligraphic styled and deeply textured illuminations. It must be written in Arabic, authenticated and inspected for errors by Qur’anic scriptural authorities” (p. 694). 17 Islamic teen novels. See Chapter Six. 18 M.B. Hooker, Indonesian Islam Social Change through Contemporary Fatãwã, Asian Studies Association of Australia in association with Allen & Unwin and University of Hawai’i Press, Honolulu, 2003, p. 125. 213 life. The stories are usually taken from everyday experiences, but popularised stories from the Qur’an are also available. Islamic popular magazines such as Ummi and Amanah (for adult females) and Annida (for teenage females), and tabloid newspapers such as Nurani for female readers are easily accessible. Islamic popular songs, better known as nasyid have scores of audiences as well. Nasyid ranges from modern popular bands such as Smada and Hadad Alwi, to traditional gamelan groups, like Kyai Kanjeng.
Thus the life of present day Indonesian Islam is no longer defined solely through the spiritual life; it has penetrated to areas previously defined as “secular.” During the fasting month of Ramadhan, Indonesian television channels are crammed with Islamic programmes: from sermons and quiz shows to soap operas known as sinetron Ramadhan.19 Such sinetron are not that different to other sinetron, but the female actresses wear jilbab and the stories occur in Ramadhan. Nonetheless, despite the vast availability of Islamic productions in guidebooks, magazines, fiction and popular works, works on the politics of Islamic identity within Indonesian settings are still limited. Discussion on the resurgence of Islamic elements in all art production forms is largely conducted on academic campuses and within NGO organizations. This also applies to issues concerning women and Islam and their conditioning within Indonesian contexts as portrayed in fiction writing. The following discussion of the works of four major Muslim Indonesian female writers aims to fill in some of the blanks. The narratives of Titis Basino, Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim, Abidah El Khalieqy and Helvy Tiana Rosa are posited to be rich sources for revealing the construction of Indonesian Muslim women’s identities.
Readership and Reader’s Responses
Readership in Indonesian is always problematic. In comparison with its huge population readership is considerably small. Based on the 2000 Population Census conducted by
19 Sinetron is Indonesian term for soap opera on television. It is an acronym for cinema electronic. 214 Badan Pusat Statistik (BPS-Statistics Indonesia), the literacy rate of the population over 10 years of age was 89.92% of total population, but the reading public was quite low, 17.47% of the literate rate. The reading public was those who read newspapers and/or magazines.20 The small numbers of the reading public is, perhaps, partly due to the lack of access to printed material and, as suggested by Amin Sweeney, because the literary tradition of the Malay world tends to be orally oriented rather than writing/reading oriented.21 Accordingly, more people aged over 10 years of age watched television (87.47%) and listened to radio (43.72%).
Reader-responses signifies how texts are constructed and, further, how the same texts impact on their readers. In looking at how context and/or environment determine reader- response. It is essential to carefully select the location of questionnaire distribution. This is to follow Roland Barthes’s seminal proposal that plural meanings of a text lie also on its reader’s positions conditioned in various circumstances.22 For that reason, 400 questionnaires were distributed to students of Fakultas Sastra (Faculty of Letters) of UNAIR (Universitas Airlangga, Airlangga University) Surabaya, and Fakultas Adab (Faculty of Humanities, comparable to Fakultas Sastra in public universities) of IAIN (Institut Agama Islam Negeri, State Institute of Islamic Studies) Sunan Ampel Surabaya.23 The aim of the different distribution locations was to locate the significance of
20 ‘Education, and Accessibility to Mass-Media’, BPS Statistics Indonesia, Internet, http://www.bps.go.id, (2 February 2005 and 30 May 2005). 21 Amin Sweeney, A Full Hearing Orality and Literacy in the Malay World, University of California Press, Berkeley, Los Angeles, London, 1987. 22 Roland Barthes, ‘From Work to Text,’ in Image Music Text, Stephen Heath (trans), Fontana Press, London, 1977. 23 Still supervised by the Ministry of Religious Affairs, recently at least 3 IAINs: IAIN Syarif Hidayatullah Jakarta, IAIN Sunan Kalijaga Yogyakarta, and STAIN Malang (Sekolah Tinggi Agama Islam Negeri, State Islamic Higher Education) have become public universities and renamed as UINs (Universitas Islam Negeri, State Islamic University). These UINs have similar faculties to other public universities under the Ministry of National Education. However, IAIN Sunan Ampel Surabaya as are most of the IAINs and STAINs across Indonesia still in the process of change. Some UINs and IAINs have also non-Islamic affiliated faculties such as faculties of science, education, psychology, commerce and so forth. The core faculties of UINs and IAINs are Tarbiyah (Education), Syari’ah (Islamic Law), Adab (Humanities), Usulluddin (Religious Studies) and Dakwah (Proselytisation or Social Works). However, with the application of campus autonomy, subjects offered within each faculty have expanded to include “secular” sciences such as mathematics, or educational management in the faculty of Tarbiyah or added new faculties such as faculty of science, psychology and so forth. Within the Fakultas Adab, for example, often non-Islamic subjects such as English and translation are taught as well. 215 environmental difference. This was to answer the question: would students from similar faculties but different tertiary environments contribute a different degree of recognition of female authors writing on women’s issues within an Islamic paradigm? UNAIR is regarded as a secular State University under the supervision of the Ministry of National Education, whereas IAIN is under the supervision of the Ministry of Religious Affairs. All IAIN students are Muslims while UNAIR students are predominantly Muslims. For the survey however the questionnaire was distributed only to Muslim students.
The survey was conducted from April to May 2004. The method used to select the respondents was random sampling. Respondents were personally approached and asked to allocate 30 minutes of their time to fill in the questionnaire. In calculating the response and the type of analysis performed, frequency tables were applied using the SPSS program.
Out of 400 questionnaires distributed, 387 were collected (210 from UNAIR, 177 from IAIN). Of the 387 respondents 280 are female (72.4%) and 107 male (27.6%) whose age, on average, was under 20 years: 62% under and 38% above. Respondents from both UNAIR and IAIN were predominantly female: 72% of UNAIR respondents and 73% of IAIN. Here, it is shown that although the numbers of female respondents from both UNAIR and IAIN are different, they are significantly similar in percentage compared to the male respondents. Sex is indeed an important variable as the questions posed for the respondents centred on the issues of women’s problems in Islamic perspectives, to include the issues that the four authors deal with in their respective narratives, and the influence upon the respondents after reading their stories. Since the survey did not include male authors and their works, it is difficult to pinpoint reader’s familiarity with the work of male writers, but female readers had a higher degree of familiarity with female authors than the male readers. In other words, sex category is an important bond between the readers and the authors, although this does not necessarily mean that male readers will prefer the works of male authors. Nevertheless, the finding shows that the sex and gender of the readers, and what they read, is intertwined, indicating the process of identification that takes place between the readers and their readings. Women as readers of what other women have written on the issues of women’s lives and women’s struggles will develop a women’s culture, an 216 awareness of their experiences and of the experiences of other women, which will help them shape and reshape their own identity.
Forty two point five per cent of total respondents, comprising 42% of UNAIR and 43% of IAIN, were familiar with and had read at least one of the four authors examined. These respondents were overwhelmingly female, as male readers were only one third of the total number (14% out of 42.5%). Given the small overall number of Indonesian readers, the fact that the respondents’ familiarity with the reading materials was nearly half of the sample is presumably because the survey was conducted amongst students of the Faculty of Letters whose engagement with the reading habit is considerably higher than students of other subjects. What is interesting though is the similar number of actual readers from both UNAIR and IAIN. This shows that the educational major of IAIN respondents (Islamic Studies) did not make for a stronger engagement with Islamic issues presented by the four writers: IAIN students were not necessarily more familiar with, nor did they have a greater knowledge of, issues related to women and Islam than did UNAIR students. This, perhaps, indicates that issues of women and Islam in Indonesian contexts are not concerns exclusive to students of Islamic studies. The Islamic section (Sie Kerohanian Islam) of UNAIR’s student body regularly holds discussions, academic and non-academic, on subjects ranging from Islamic shari’ah to feminism in Islam. IAIN also has a student association.24
Of the four writers, Helvy Tiana Rosa was best known (24.8%), followed by Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim (7.5%), Abidah El-Khalieqy (5.4%), and Titis Basino P.I (4.1%). The youngest of the four, Helvy, commonly narrates the lives of young Muslims girls in their teens or early twenties in her short stories. The age gap between Helvy’s characters and their readers does not lie widely, and some readers no doubt grew up with Helvy’s stories, as she was previously the chief writer/editor of a famous Islamic teenage magazine Annida. Ratna, Abidah and Titis, on the other hand, portray women, but not teenagers, of various ages. In particular, Titis hardly ever writes narratives using teenagers or young adults; she
24 Based on the field survey and informal interviews with members of IAIN and UNAIR Muslim students associations in 20th April and 4th May 2004. 217 mostly depicts the lives of adult Muslim females and their marriage lives. However, very few of the university students were married.
Interestingly enough, while 42% of the respondents believed that the writings of the four authors worked within Islamic contexts, only 25.6% thought they focused on women issues. However, 24.8% believed that they promoted women’s rights through their writings. Problematical images of fiction may also present problems when reading the texts. How true is fiction and how fictitious is truth may circulate in readers’ minds as they decide whether the fiction they have read embodies a large degree of truth in its accurate representation. It is difficult to divorce one from the other. Nonetheless, the survey clearly shows that fiction is a privileged site of representation that can overcome the dichotomy of fiction/fact: 24.8% of respondents found that the texts conveyed agendas of promoting women’s rights, and 25.6% also insisted that women’s issues were portrayed in those fictional texts, a signifying marker connecting the women’s actual world and fiction.
Responses to Individual Writer
The following discussion will examine the responses to each individual author’s work: to find what issues each author mostly represented and what influence their work had upon the respondents.
Sixty per cent of the readers responded that some works of the four writers did reflect the contemporary situation. In more detailed numbers: 74% of Helvy’s readers, 57% of Abidah’s readers, 54% of Ratna’s readers and 50% of Titis readers perceived that the narratives of their authors were engaged with issues of contemporary Indonesian Muslim women. One question posed to the respondents was: what issues were mostly pictured by the four writers in general? Abidah’s actual readers (70 respondents) replied that her writings largely worked on issues of violence against women. The percentages were: domestics violence (15%); discrimination against women (12.41%); polygamy (10.34%); 218 women and their religious, societal and cultural piety (9.6%); other issues such as women’s rights and responsibilities, their lack of education and intellectual capacity were each less than 9%. Helvy’s actual readers (99 respondents) believed that Helvy’s narratives involved issues such as women’s rights as women’s reproduction rights (12.44%), women and their religious, societal and cultural piety (11.05%), violence against women (11.52%), women’s responsibilities in social, political, economic and cultural spheres (10.59%), and women and war in conflict areas (9.67%); other issues such as women’s sexuality, women’s roles and gendered based labour division each achieved less than 9%. Ratna’s actual readers (60 respondents) answered that her works mostly involved issues concerning polygamy (14.17%), domestic violence (11.02%), discrimination against women (11.02%), and women’s rights (10.23); other issues such as kodrat, women and their lack of education and intellectual capacity, as well as other issues were less than 9% each. Titis’ readers (51 respondents) responded that issues presented in her writings were women and their responsibilities (12.37%), women’s kodrat (11.34%), violence against women (9.2%), women’s responsibilities (8.2%) and other issues concerning women’s education and intellectual capacity, polygamy, sexuality and so forth less than 8% each. These percentages significantly show that the top issues that these women authors are dealing in their works are violence against women, women’s rights and responsibilities, polygamy, discrimination against women and women in war in conflict areas. It is interesting that the responses on issues such as women’s sexuality and sexual division of labour, for example, are relatively small compared to other issues. This, presumably, is because discourses concerning sexuality are hardly taken into the public arena, and the division of labour between men and women is seen as naturally constructed.
Another interesting ratio is whether the four writers challenge or reinforce the already established identities of Muslim women in Indonesia. Forty two point nine per cent of all readers found that the works of the writers were a challenge toward perceptions of Muslim women identities overall, and more particularly in Indonesian contexts. The percentages were as follows: 52.8% of Helvy’s readers, 45.2% of Abidah’s, 39.4% of Ratna’s and 30.3% of Titis’. This was despite the fact that, in some cases, the narratives might move beyond the borders of Indonesia, such as in Helvy’s and Abidah’s stories where the settings 219 take place in other places of the world. In responding to the question of the affect of the texts after reading, 23.87% of the actual readers found that they felt some influence on their understanding of gender issues after reading the works of the authors: 29.62% of Helvy’s readers, 24.46% of Abidah’s, 21.05% of Ratna and 17.94% of Titis’. The numbers, although relatively small, do show that the narratives are informative about gender issues. However, more in-depth surveys need to be done to measure the degree of effectiveness of such influence. Whether, for example, narrative could actually play a role in promoting an ideology presented in the text, either implicitly or obviously. To a certain degree, Abidah, Helvy, Ratna and Titis have succeeded in creating text-reader-author relationships, which channel the authors’ agendas through their writings.
As responses to the works of Titis, Ratna, Abidah and Helvy have been examined, it is now necessary to look at the ways the discourses of these writers are presented, in order to find out how they have contributed, through their characters, to identity politics.
Women and Their Marriage Lives in the works of Titis Basino P.I
Titis is a very prolific author. During the span of her writing career, she has published at least 15 novels with a first edition publication of 1000,25 yet, despite her productivity, she is less well known than the other writers. Perhaps the major issues in her narratives are the ones less favoured by the respondents, as she mostly depicts women and their marriage problems, and the majority of the respondents are young. Nevertheless, marriage is one of many areas where women in Indonesia are believed to have unequal status and Titis’ narratives reveal the roles women play in their marriage lives and what conflicts such roles produce. Most of Titis’ novels are sequels of two or more on a particular theme. The
25 Interview with Titis Basino P.I., on 10 February 2005. 220 stories selected are analysed through a feminist reading of the identity politics of the main characters who are the voices channelling women’s aspirations and desires.
Spiritual Love
Dari Lembah ke Coolibah (From the Valley to Coolibah, 1997), Welas Asih Merengkuh Tajali (Love and Compassion Reaches Self-Disclosure, 1997) and Mensucikan Perselingkuhan (To Purify Affairs, 1998) have a single theme: recounting the life of a middle age widow named Noor. The story unravels Noor’s struggles in order to make sense and meaning of her middle-age. After the death of her husband, Noor travels to Mecca (haj) where she meets a young uztad (Islamic teacher) named Ahmad and they develop a relationship, even though Ahmad is married with two children. Their relationship is purely emotional. Unexpectedly, while working in Mecca as a counselor for those performing haj, Ahmad goes missing and is presumed dead. Noor returns from the haj and starts a hotel business with the money and land inherited from her husband; the hotel is very successful. Believing Ahmad to be dead his wife decides to remarry. Ahmad, after having had plastic surgery, appears a year later as Hamid. Ahmad tells Noor that his disappearance and plastic surgery are for security reason and he is determined not to tell his family about it for their own protection. Ahmad simply tells Noor that he is wanted by a group of criminals for destroying their operation. Knowing this, and not wanting to ruin his wife’s new family, Hamid proposes to Noor and they are married. New face, new identity and new name are his choices to save him and his family. Despite later meeting his father and brother Ahmad remains Hamid, and only on his death (seven years after his marriage to Noor) does Noor reveal his identity to family, including Hamid’s ex-wife.
221 Taufiq Ismail writes that this story is an interesting observation of the roles of faith in upper-class society.26 Indeed, not only does it talk about faith, but also the surrounding issue of how a Muslim woman establishes her identity in new settings: as a successful business woman, as a wife and as a member of the social elite. Noor’s story is reminiscent of the conjugal relationship between Khadijah and Muhammad. Similar to Khadijah, Noor is 14 years Ahmad’s senior; when they marry she is 60, Ahmad 46. The striking similarities between Khadijah and Noor also refer to their respectable position in society, their wealth and their business skills. For Noor, Hamid is not only a husband he is also her spiritual guide for her faith. Noor itself means light while Ahmad is commonly the shorter name for Muhammad. Metaphorically, Ahmad for Noor is her means to her spiritual search for divine love. As allegorical light, Noor reflects her desires to reach God, and in God alone that she will surrender her faith and life. Accordingly, love that develops between Noor and Ahmad is not about lust, rather it is the spiritual love or mahabba that Allah is the sole owner: “this jar of love left here belonged only to God.”27
The story of Noor and Hamid exemplifies the complexity of feminism and masculine domination. Despite being very self-empowered and having social and economic achievement, and as a feminist who puts forward women’s emancipation and equality, Noor cannot radically escape from her feminine status; that she is still a woman, a wife, whose primary domain is the domestic. In Hamid’s eyes, she is destined to be with man as his company, and to be his servant. However, Noor does not easily accept this position. She rejects his opinion and says: “Togetherness or oppression. It is no longer the time when women have to follow all men’s wills. Yet, from the time she wakes up to going to bed,
26 Titis Basino P.I., Menyucikan Perselingkuhan, Grasindo, Jakarta, 1998, on the back cover. 27 Ibid, p. 187. 36 Titis, Menyucikan Perselingkuhan, p. 105. Italics mine.
222 man is still on top, dasar nasib (what a destiny).”36 This is an example of problematical gender relations for Indonesian Muslims. Noor knows her feminine nature, thereby her gender roles and status, and is willing to commit for it, but at the same time she is very critical about it. For Noor, the companionship between man and woman runs the risk of turning into oppression, especially when the discourse of destiny (kodrat) takes control. Noor has indeed strong awareness of the ideological conception of kodrat, which determines the fate of Indonesian women, yet her struggles against are clear when she comments on women’s position: Although having a wife, if he finds a different woman, a man will love to be with that woman. Although she was his ideal, he would still find another. Who asked the wife to keep being elegant? Who asked the wife to be submissive in sexual intercourse? Who? All were the husband’s demands. But, when he found a beautiful, smart or stupid and chic woman, he would go and get her.37
Noor is critical of the politics of women’s positioning and her endeavours in her life fight against such positioning. She manages her own affairs, refusing Ahmad’s money to pay for her needs. As a successful businesswoman she has no difficulty in keeping her own accounts. Nevertheless, what she does is quite challenging for she refuses to devote her life solely to Hamid, dividing equally her time to business, domestic duties, accompanying her husband when travelling overseas and humanitarian activities. She supersedes Hamid in a number of ways including in her physical appearance and achievements. If Hamid has to fight strongly against old age, Noor seems not to age, staying beautiful, as if age cannot touch her. Therefore, Hamid’s death is predictable, leaving Noor to find her own way to locate her position in the higher spiritual search.
Welas Asih Merengkuh Tajali (1997), the title of the second book in the series, seems to justify Noor’s spiritual journey, emphasizing women’s equal role in spiritual arenas. Tajali is derived from Arabic tajalli meaning self-disclosure. This term, according to Murata, is commonly employed by cosmologists to explicate the relationship between the universe and God.38 Within this Gnostic experience, woman is the perfect way of coming to God
37 Titis Basino, Dari Lembah ke Coolibah, Grasindo, Jakarta, 1997, p. 95. 38 Murata, S. The Tao of Islam: A Sourcebook on Gender Relationships in Islamic Thought. State University of New York Press, Albany, 1992, pp. 92 – 93. 223 through love: love that is directed only to God. Titis summarises Noor’s experience by saying that in learning God’s holiness one needs to be small, to be materially non-existent, to be nothing, just light, and when one becomes the one who knows, one will be strong and resilient, and in approaching God, one will lose all material existence. Accordingly, Noor needs to disclose herself in order to fulfil her desire of Gnostic attainment, admitting her longing to be with Him, sacrificing all her worldly life so that His lights and love can penetrate into and forever inhabit in her soul.42 Noor says: “welas asih telah merengkuh tajali” (love and compassion have reached self-disclosure);43 Noor realises that spiritual love is only in existence through love and compassion, and that her self-disclosure to love (God’s love) enables her to witness God’s self-disclosure (tajalli). “He who knows himself knows his Lord,”44 or rather for Noor, she who knows herself knows her Lord. In the end, Noor becomes she who knows and experiences God’s love in the highest and most spiritual way.
Marriage: Perfect Sexual and Soul Union
Marriage in Titis’ views sums up the whole purpose of the creation of man and woman. The sexual act between man and woman taking place within the bonds of legal marriage is perceived not as human being’s satisfaction of sexual desires, rather it is seen as an act which “the human being is overwhelmed by the power of pleasure, thereby gaining a foretaste of the bliss of the paradisaical relationship with God.”45 Murata believes that the core of sexual conduct lies in the philosophical ideal which Ibn al-‘Arabi calls “the greatest self-disclose.” Marriage is then fundamental as it not only channels the very nature of human syahwat (Indonesian, meaning sexual desires, from Arabic shahwa, meaning
42 Titis Basino, Dari Lembah Ke Coolibah, Grasindo, Jakarta, p. 149, and Welas Asih, p. 141. 43 Welas Asih, p. 139. 44 Murata, p. 227. 45 Ibid., p. 187. 48 Titis Basino, Di Bumi Aku Bersua Di Langit Aku Bertemu, Pustaka Jaya, Jakarta, 1983, p. 161.
224 appetite), but it also symbolises a perfect act of religious submission. Marriage is then not merely a locus of obedient corporeal bodies—the realities of masculinity and femininity—it is taken to a higher degree of the union of souls; the union of nafs (the source of creation).
The significance of soul over the body is reflected in most of Titis’ works. The death of Hamid does not stop Noor’s longing for their next meeting in the after life for their souls will reunite in the after life. This corresponds to the conception of jodoh (soul mate); a belief that the majority of Indonesians still hold. It is similar to the idea of “Marriage made in heaven,” a destiny over which human beings have no control.
Jodoh is not necessarily meant for relationship between man and woman, it has also extended to imply something which is meant to be the only one. In Di Bumi Aku Bersua di Langit Aku Bertemu this concept strongly emerges. The story tells the lives of two sisters, Yulia and Tiara, who have contrasting dispositions and physical appearances. Yulia devotes her life to her husband and children; Tiara chooses to be a successful career woman. Yulia simply accepts her arranged marriage, Tiara independently finds a husband of her own choice. Yulia is very attractive, Tiara less so. Yulia happily devotes her life to her family (her husband, two children and her mother), whereas Tiara lives alone (her husband is dead) and is devoted to her work. A few years younger than Yulia, Tiara is ill but has not revealed her illness to her family; she dies before she reaches thirty. Yulia recalls the moment when death approached her sister: Tiara knew she surely would die and never asked to get better only said the greatness of God. God is great. Yes, those words she said, not that I asked for healing. She was really at ease and ready. How strong was this sister of mine, until her last minute she still taught me to be brave, content and courageous. I would not forget that moment when her face was shining as if she was seeing a beautiful thing there, in the sky. Was it paradise? I just heard her words that on earth we met in paradise we would encounter.48
Death for Tiara is not something to avoid and she has been preparing herself for when death comes. Tiara welcomes death wholeheartedly for it enables her to be reunited with her husband, for their two souls to be reunited. In terms of husband and wife relations, the Javanese conception of garwa also embodies the understanding of the eternal relationship
225 of soul mates. In this belief a husband is a garwa for his wife and a wife for a husband. Garwa means sigaring nyawa, half of the soul. When one dies, and as long as the other does not marry again, their souls will reunite in the hereafter, similar to the conception of jodoh. As submission to God’s will becomes the core of Islamic doctrines, Tiara’s submissive act to her life and death and her jodoh is sufficiently justified. Such submission reaches its peak when Tiara shows her ability to be a perfect servant of God’s will, without challenge.
Titis’ portrayal of Muslim’s obligation of servanthood which is central to Islam reflects what most Indonesians believe: the ever present reality of God in everyday life. According to Khaled Abou El Fadl, “religious convictions . . . affect the way reality is defined and comprehended . . . [it is] among the most powerful forces affecting human determinations, choices and possible courses of behaviour . . . an essential frame for all normative judgement.”49 Hence, in El Fadl’s conception God is a significant force in constructing the perceptions of reality and defining the choices that a Muslim must make when confronted with the possibilities of identifying her/his religious stand, balancing her or his submission to God and responsibilities as God’s vicegerent on earth. Thus, any kind of subjugation to any human authority is necessarily displaced and refuted. This is not unproblematic, however, as it raises the question of Islamic authenticity. On the one hand, claims of Islamic authenticity can be made by particular groups in particular times, and this has been proven with several cases ranging from Islamic fundamentalism to liberalism. On the other hand, Islam is never monolithic. Islam has shown many faces across space and time, and there is room for negotiation and reconciliation by acknowledging the dynamics of human interpretations and their fallibility. When the notion of servanthood is contextualised Islam opens room for a substantial constituency favouring justice and equality, and certainly disclaims any oppression as un-Islamic. In looking at issues concerning women, the two basic concepts in Islam, ‘adl (just) and ma’ruf (virtue,) need to be seen from the perspective of the social actors—in this case women—who can authenticate their own agency.
49 Khaled Abou El Fadal, Islam and the Challenge of Democracy, Princeton University Press, Princeton and Oxford, 2004, p. 110. 226 Titis’ characters find a strategy to construct their own identities within their religiosity; they also find ways to empowerment while living in a patriarchal dominated world. The discourse of identity, which Titis presents in her four novels, politicises a discursive mode of the text; it moves from different types of women but rests on one single line that places female subjectivity within a feminist reading of religious attainment.
Polygamy and Infidelity
The problematic perception of polygamy within the domain of female subjectivity and identity is also one of the unique characteristics of Titis’ writings. Of the four authors only Titis shows a consistency in depicting polygamy and women’s reactions to it. In Indonesia’s Islam cultural politics, polygamy issues are perhaps the most difficult to deal with. The institutionalisation of polygamy within the fiqh is not strongly challenged, although this does not necessarily mean that women condone it. During the November 2004 Muktamar NU (NU Congress) in Boyolali, Central Java, women activists launched a strong protest to the organizing committee because the meals for the participants were supplied by the Wong Solo restaurant whose owner was an active propagandist of polygamy; he himself had four wives, the number sanctioned in Islamic jurisprudence. Sinta Nuriyah Abdurrahman Wahid argued that the aim of the protest was to defend the true Islamic shari’a and bring justice for all kinds, particularly those who were under oppression such as women, minority groups and the poor.50 She stated that polygamy was violence against women’s rights and as such was legally opposed by the United Nations. In reaction to the Polygamy Award51 of July 2003, Muslim activists put anti-polygamy objections into their agendas; the activists strongly protested the ceremony, proclaiming
50 Kompas Cyber Media, 29 November 2004, Internet, http://www.kompas.com/gayahidup/news/0411/29/035011.htm. (29 November 2004) 51 Polygamy Award is an award given to the best practitioner of polygamy (to men only). 227 that it was an attempt to undermine the women’s movement and it is necessarily un-Islamic its nature said Maria Ulfah Anshor.52
The Department of Religious Affairs introduced a new marriage act, known as Counter Legal Draft Kompilasi Hukum Islam (KHI – Compilations of Islamic Law/Family Code), outlining a zero tolerance policy to any violence against women. The intention of the draft was to rectify the currently applied KHI—in particular it targeted polygamy and advocated women inheriting the same portion as men. Siti Musdah Mulia, the chairperson of the team set up by the Ministry of Religious Affairs to write the draft, stated that the KHI was not based on basic Islamic principles such as principles of equality (al musawah), fraternity (al- ikha) and justice (al-adl).53 The prohibition of polygamy, the permission for a woman above 21 years of age to conduct a marriage without the consent of a wali (the bride’s father, brother or a male family member from the father’s side), and permission for interfaith marriage were amongst the changes introduced in the draft. The reaction to the proposed changes was enormous as they were immediately taken as a breach of the interpretation of the existing fiqh; this was particularly so in the case of polygamy. Moderate and progressive Muslim scholars argued that the draft could be “part of a revolution in shari’a”, whereas mainstream and right-wing scholars argued that the draft was heresy. In reaction to the controversy the Minister of Religious Affairs, on 14 February 2005, issued a ban on discussion of the draft revision of the Islamic Family Code. A coalition of twenty-seven women’s NGOs protested, arguing that the ban was contradictory to Islamic principles, which tolerate differences in opinions.54
Even amongst activists of women’s movements and feminists themselves there are varying views about the prohibition of polygamy. Siti Ruhayani Dzuhatin, the Chair of Women’s Studies in the State Institute of Islamic Studies, argues against the prohibition because she
52 The Wall Street Journal, 24 November 2003, Internet, http://www.polygamyinfo.com/intnalmedia%20plyg%20216wallstreet.htm. (25 February 2005) 53 ‘Siti Musdah Mulia: Poligami Haram karena Eksesnya’ Tempo, 11 – 17 Oktober 2004, p. 120. 54 The Jakarta Post online, 28 October 2004, Internet, http://www.thejakartapost.com/detailnational.asp?fileid=20041028.CO3&irec=2, (28 October 2004) 228 believes polygamy should only be limited, not prohibited.55 Julia Suryakusuma, a well- known feminist, proposed a resolution to the problem in her article, ‘Poligami ala feminist.’ She believes that being “a part time wife” will give her more freedom to exercise her own needs while sharing the household responsibilities with the other wife(s). Moreover, she advocates that new wives should be relatively older than the first wife because older women tend to be more self-wise and experienced in dealing with psychological problems such as jealousy and competition among wives, in this way, the tensions amongst wives can be reduced to a minimum.56 Although it is presumed to be satirical, the article does offer a new way of looking at polygamy practices by creating new meanings out of such “dubious” practices.
It is not clear in Titis’ narratives whether she agrees with or opposes polygamy. In her short story entitled Dia (Her), Titis depicts the emotional responses of a woman dealing with a polygamous marriage. The story reveals the psychological responses of the first wife whose husband takes a second wife; the suffering she has to endure: Each time he left I felt a terrible loneliness. It was almost as though I had a wound that left no scar. I tried not to let my health deteriorate however. There was no question about what would become of the children. They would be taken to their father’s other wife. It was for this reason that I was careful to disguise my emotions and maintain the harmony in our home—a home without a husband. Whether or not the children understood this sacrifice I’ll never know; they were too young to express such thoughts. I simply went about life swallowing my pride with rice.57
This voice probably represents the most natural response of a first wife, examining and essentialising the notion of sacrifice, which is not uncommon for Indonesian wives having no legal recourse against a husband’s polygamy. On the one hand, her sacrifice can be read as woman’s position under man’s domination—nasib, which Titis frequently writes about in most of her works. On the other, if it is read against the grain, it indeed shows a woman’s strength to endure pain and suffer. Nevertheless, as strong as she might be, her response to
55 ‘Dari Poligami sampai Kawin Beda Agama,’ Tempo, 11 – 17 Oktober 2004, p. 121. 56 ‘Poligami a la ‘Feminis’, Julia Suryakusuma, Internet, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/islamliberal/message/7753, (2 March 2005) 57 Titis Basino, ‘Her’, In the Surau Seven Islamic Short Stories From Indonesia, eds. Soejono Dardjowidjojo and Florence Lamoureux, Southeast Asia Paper No. 21, Southeast Asian Studies, Centre for Asian and Pacific Studies, University of Hawai’i at Manoa, 1983, p.38. 229 polygamy illustrates the positioning of a woman victimised by the practice of polygamy, particularly when religious determinism takes control: A husband has the right to practice polygamy, and this was a test of my tolerance for it. I devoutly believed that as a woman I was destined to accept and protect. I had believed that, and also considered the fate of my children, I would merely have asked for a divorce and left him.58
In this narrative it seems that it becomes the woman’s responsibility; that it is her natural raison d’être to sacrifice at all cost for her family and her children, but never for herself. This correlates to the conception of kodrat, which requires women, especially mothers, to be submissive and sacrifice for the good of all family members. In other words, “harga perempuan” (woman’s value), is always measured from her familial identity.
The final resolution of Titis’ Dia is quite challenging. The reconciliation established between the first and the second wife indeed illustrates an acclamation of the female ability to stage a dialogue between two women who desire to navigate their familial politics within the settings of polygamy. The two wives meet at a women’s convention, and this meeting completely changes the first wife’s repudiation of her competitor and she accepts her wholeheartedly. Rivalry has turned into sisterhood: [N]ow I was being vindicated by the very one who had been the cause of my misery. I appreciated her where I have once feared her. . . . now I was impressed with the graceful manner in which she protected her rival’s feelings. . . She also had a right to a husband, even though fate decreed that he also be mine.59
Again, fate, or nasib, is the primary locus for women and they are expected to act within it, implying that religious submission and servanthood are the core modes of religious commitment. The heroine’s final acceptance of polygamy may be seen as a backlash against feminism; however, the problematic issue of polygamy, exemplified through Titis’ characters, deserves further examination. Titis’ representation of the heroines who authenticate their female agencies through polygamy and sisterhood render these women subjects at the centre of speech, of female voice. Their negotiation with nasib, kodrat and domestication, enables them to secure a place in broader social activism as they leap from
58 Ibid., p. 40. 59 Ibid., p. 41 230 domestic life to a more public life. Both the first (older) and the second (younger) wife are activists of women’s organizations, and having a co-wife means more time to work in their organisational activism: as the first wife says, “I felt like a new woman.”60 In this narrative, there seems to be a conception of hierarchy: the first wife receives more than the second. In reality, however, when polygamy is practiced without the consent of the first wife, commonly the second wife is more privileged. Whether the first, the second, the third or the fourth wife is more privileged, such a hierarchy certainly defies the concept of justice and equality, because polygamous marriage is supposedly to apply equality and justice to all wives and all children.
The achievement of Titis’ heroines—self-empowerment through polygamy, should not be immediately perceived as what all women in polygamous marriages achieve. Dia reflects particularity of specific women under specific circumstances. That the practice of polygamy can lead to violence against women is supported by research. The Jurnal Perempuan (JP, Women’s Journal) no 31 (2003) had a special edition on polygamy— Menimbang Poligami (Measuring Polygamy)—based on studies and researches conducted by women activists and women NGOs. In this special edition polygamy is criticised, confronted and also defended from a variety of female perspectives, including because of its historiography and roots in different religions such as Hinduism and Christianity. Nevertheless, the strongest emphasis was on polygamy as violence against women: be it as state policy in legitimising polygamy, as state violence against women, or polygamy as domestic violence. The studies also showed that women of all social and economic classes experience violence because of polygamy.
Titis’ works, Pelabuhan Hati (Harbour of Heart, 1978), Aku Supiyah Istri Hardian (I am Supiyah, Hardian’s Wife, 1998) and its sequel Tersenyumpun Tidak Untukku Lagi (Your Smile is not for Me, 1998), depict the victimisation of women because of polygamy. Pelabuhan Hati, which first appeared in short story form entitled Meja Gambar, is a classic narrative of a wife’s fidelity against her husband’s infidelity and polygamy. The early
60 Ibid., p. 40. 231 nuptial years of the characters Rani and Ramelan were without significant problems. However this changed when they achieved better economic and social attainments. Ramelan, an architect, promised Rani a new and better house and out of curiosity Rani, without Ramelan’s permission, went to see the house for herself; she found Ramelan there with a young girl. Later Ramelan admitted to Rani that the girl was his younger wife. In other words, Ramelan had taken a second wife without Rani’s consent. Rani asked Ramelan for a divorce and the story continues with Rani’s struggle as a single mother with small children to survive and to cope with the pain and her denigrated status as a janda muda (young divorcee).
Similar to Rani, Supiyah in Aku Supiyah Istri Hardhian and Tersenyumpun Tidak Untukku Lagi experiences the victimisation of polygamy. Behind Supiyah’s back, Hardhian, Supiyah’s husband, takes two other wives: the twins Fitri and Fatma his former students. Supiyah, however, copes with Hardhian’s infidelity in a different way to Rani. If Rani is a representation of a housewife lacking economic resources, Supiyah has a stronger bargaining position. Like her husband, she is also a university lecturer and financially able to support herself and her family; the absence of Hardhian’s economic support did not significantly affect her financially but Supiyah feels humiliated and betrayed because she is a respected member of the intellectual community. Moreover, it was still Supiyah who needs to sacrifice for her children’s sake and find ways to cope with her emotional turmoil stemming from such circumstances: Yet, everyday I ignored Hardhi’s behaviour, which neglected our household and me. The children did not feel that something was wrong as all of their needs were well fulfilled, so they kept continuing their schooling perfectly. With the courage of the waves of the Indian Ocean, I felt alive again. And from my prayers to the One, I forgot my sadness. Teaching at the faculty was my happiness and revived my pride; maybe my students too felt the changes in me.61
Supiyah’s ability to survive after her husband’s betrayal was not without difficulty. Hardhian’s marries a second and third wife and Supiyah divorces him. However, her divorce leaves a psychological mark as she still loves Hardhian, even though she marries Sofyan, a wealthy widower. Her marriage to Sofyan is her way of revenging Hardhian’s
61 Titis Basino P.I., Aku Supiyah Istri Hardhian, Grasindo, Jakarta, 1998, p. 66. 232 betrayal, proving that she too is a compatible opponent for Hardhian in the battle, but also that she is in need of a man to secure her position as a married woman, not a janda.62 In her imagination, Supiyah dares to construct a world comparable to a man’s where she can practice polyandry by marrying both Hardhian and Sofyan. Nevertheless, it is just an imaginary construction, the practice of polyandry in Islam, as in other religions, is completely prohibited and is condemned as immoral.
Rani in Pelabuhan Hati is another characterisation of a victimised woman because of infidelity and polygamy. In marrying his second wife, Laksmi, Ramelan completely ignores the emotional and economic needs of Rani and their children. Not only does Rani lament the favouritism shown by Ramelan to Laksmi, the younger and more attractive wife, the children too perceive the mistreatment suffered by their mother and are also despondent: I sent my children to school by paddy cab. I no longer familiarised my children by using the car and so no longer reminded them of their father. Gradually I erased the memory of having a father from my children’s minds. At first, the children still waited for their father’s coming home from his office, but I told them that the one who was waited would never arrive again because he was busy with his project out of town. Milk and meat gradually disappeared from the dining table. Since I never spoiled my children, they did not really feel that they had lost nutritious food important for their growth.63
Economic change also becomes an expression of desertion. Ramelan’s polygamy did not only cause his family financial and psychological problems, it also caused Rani to have the denigrated social status of janda. When Rani decides to turn her house into a boarding house for male students in order to have more income she is perceived as a wicked seducer who preys on young men. The accusation of her being janda gatal (seductive widow, literally meaning “itchy widow”) also comes from Ramelan, who offers her money if she will end her boarding house. Ramelan says that Rani has become the talk of the town without realising that Rani is indeed the victim of his act. Rani refuses Ramelan’s money thus claiming her independence: Rani’s suffering has made her stronger and she is no longer afraid.64 The rest of the story depicts Rani’s empowerment and the ways she sustains
62 Titis Basino P.I., Tersenyum pun Tidak Untukku Lagi, Jakarta, 1998, p. 143. 63 Titis Basino P.I., Pelabuhan Hati, Pustaka Jaya, Jakarta, 1978, p. 18. 64 Ibid., p. 49. 233 herself and her family as a single woman. Sadly, her agency can only be achieved after she is psychologically and financially abused through her husband’s abandonment.
The stories of Supiyah and Rani show that polygamous marriages are open to abuse. They also clearly picture the inability of husbands to disseminate justice, the very condition of polygamy: “If you fear that ye shall not be able to deal justly with the orphans, marry women of your choice, two, or three, or four; but if ye fear that ye shall not be able to deal justly (with them), then only one.”65 A literal reading of the verse provides that justice must characterise the practices of polygamy, yet in reality these two conditions are hardly achievable. Indeed, the two stories leave the clear impression of injustice and inequality. Also, polygamy, as the verse suggests, can only be justified under particular circumstances, particularly in relation to a man’s inability to deal justly with the orphans. Being an orphan in seventh century patriarchal Arabia was parallel to being left without protection and at risk of abuse. Polygamy is permitted only when a man fears he cannot justly treat the orphans, then as he fears of his inability to treat his wives justly, monogamy is obligatory. It can be argued that if the condition foregrounding polygamy fails to exist, monogamy is superior. Furthermore, Calislar, quoted by Benard, asserts that the role of polygamy in early Islam was designed as a “welfare project”, protecting widows whose husbands were killed at wars and to be their breadwinners as well.66 Taken into a broader framework, those early polygamy practices, Calislar adds, aimed to create alliances for political or charitable causes, rather than simply personal ones.
In scrutinising polygamy today many Muslim feminists, including activists of women NGOs in Indonesia, propose that it should be restricted because it contributes to injustice and domestic violence against women. In the special edition of Jurnal Perempuan (see above) LBH Apik, an NGO for legal advocacy and justice for women, which dealt with women victims of polygamy: physical, sexual and economic abuse, and abandonment of
65 Sura An-Nisaa verse 3, The Holy Qur’an English translation of the meaning and Commentaries, King Fahd Holy Qur’an Printing Complex, Al-Madinah A- Munawarah, Saudi Arabia, 1410H, p. 206. 66 Cheryl Benard, Civil Democratic Islam Partners, Resources, and Strategies, RAND, National Security Research Division, Santa Monica, CA, 2003, p. 16. 234 themselves and their children called for the practice to be banned completely.67 Although the KHI emphasises the concept of justice in legitimising polygamous marriage; a husband must treat all wives and children equally and the first wife’s consent must be obtained before any subsequent marriages, the same codes still secure the possibility for a husband to practice polygamy without the consent.68 In other words, the religious court can issue the consent if the first wife refuses to do so. Here, the state clearly supports polygamy even though the state says it promotes monogamy.
In Indonesia, culture, religion and state interference have deeply institutionalised polygamy; simply banning it is thus both paradoxical and complicated. Women’s responses to polygamy are also far from a consensus. Some argue that, because polygamy results more in madharat (vices) than maslahat (virtues), it should, therefore, be entirely prohibited. Others reason that it should be limited, and yet others argue for a compromise: applying an idealised condition that it must provide justice amongst the wives. The latter also argue that polygamy fosters a domestic environment of shared responsibilities, thus easing the household and economic workload for women. Yet another concern about the practice concerns the status of children. Most of Titis’ narratives concerning polygamy considerably neglect the presence of children, and the impact that the absence of a father has on them. The absence of in-depth portrayals of children in most of Titis’ stories can be reasoned as the author privileging women’s responses to polygamy. Perhaps the absence of children in Titis’ narratives shows that when polygamy is practiced, children are never taken into account. Polygamy is a “grownup thing” and children are considered to have no part in it. Indeed, such an attitude ignores the way the practice affects all family members, including children. The neglect of the fate of the abandoned children seems at odds with the importance of woman as mother in both the New Order era, and in Islamic values.
67 ‘Poligami sebagai Bentuk Kekerasan yang Paling Nyata atas Harkat dan Martabat Perempuan sebagai Manusia di dalam Hukum, Sosial Budaya dan Agama’, Cuplikan Siaran Pers LBH-APIK tanggal 24 Juli 2003, Jurnal Perempuan, No. 31, 2003, p. 119. 68 Vony Reyneta, ‘Kebijakan Poligami: Kekerasan Negara Terhadap Perempuan’, Jurnal Perempuan, No 31, 2003, p. 12. 235 Titis never blatantly criticises polygamy but she does present multi-pictures of polygamous practices, the affect upon women’s lives and the ever-present despair that pervades households. Titis reveals her multi-allegiances—for and against polygamy—through narratives where her characters have room for self-disclosure. Covering information on various female responses of polygamy Titis paints women’s voices of objection, anger or compromise as they deal with Islamic tenets of spousal responsibilities. In capturing women’s responses to polygamy Titis never develops extreme one-dimensional characters of good and evil, instead she works on multifaceted representations of these women. In her narratives Titis reveals polygamy as dynamic and therefore in need of careful scrutiny and contextualisation. It seems that in her narratives Titis implicitly impresses the notion of female subjugation, yet her narratives commonly end with female self-fulfilment and satisfaction at their ability to make choices for themselves. She creates heroines who take action to obstruct gender bias, declining to play forever the role of victim, even in matters where room for choice is limited; Titis’ characters show the ways women exercise their agency.
Gender Hierarchy in the Narratives of Ratna Indraswati Ibrahim
The characters in Ratna’s short stories are multi-dimensional women who deal with and negotiate their politics of positioning in a male-dominated world. Ratna has published eight collections of short stories, each with an initial print run of 1000; the biggest sales were for Bukan Pinang Dibelah Dua and Lemah Tanjung (no figure mentioned). As well there are around 300 other short stories scattered in various newspapers.69 Her stories commonly rest on the personification of rural women, whom she believes to be the closest representations of the majority of women in Indonesia, and as such her stories are based on and inspired by rural women’s true stories: her texts impart the real conditions of rural women. In her narratives Ratna asks a number of core questions about domestic violence: why are women
69 Interview with Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim, 12 February 2005. 236 silent in the face of domestic abuse; is this silence cultural or natural; is the victimisation of women largely due to the existence of a gender hierarchy where men are ranked above women; if so, in what way(s) can women confront such positioning; and why is the number of female victims higher than the number of male victims?70 As she asks these questions in her narratives Ratna criticises the social, cultural and religious constellations, which sustain the patriarchal system and subjugate women. The debate between tradition and modernity also enriches Ratna’s narratives; she constantly portrays various women in today’s Indonesia whose roles are very much coloured by their engagement with conflicting visions of tradition and modernity. As such, her narratives reveal the contentiousness of the debates within feminist writings and readings on authenticity, identity, struggle and community. The following discussion will look at some of Ratna’s short stories, but it will also examine her novelette, Bukan Pinang Dibelah Dua, and her most recent novel, Lemah Tanjung, within the context of feminist readings.
Valuing the Price of Woman: Female Subjectivity, Identity and The Body
Some, if not most, of Ratna’s narratives centre on the discourse of women’s bodies and this is the reason for incorporating her works within the perspective of Muslim female politics of identity. Opinion is still divided as to how, or indeed whether, such an issue should be talked about. How a woman’s body is perceived, by whom, and for what agenda, is still very much subject to interpretation. One the one hand, it is largely assumed that within Islamic values women must be covered, and their body discourses must be de-politicised. On the other hand, it is argued that to follow the “woman’s body woman’s rights” concept, means women can have their own voice about their own bodies. Ratna’s work deserves attention for showing the variety of discourses. In her stories her female characters are not clearly identified in terms of what they are wearing, although some of the characters are
70 The 1997 census by BPS Indonesia stated that 53.46% per 100.000 population in rural areas, and 46.52% of urban areas were household victims –as women are more likely to be victims of domestic violence, it is assumed that the number presented undeniably refers to females. BPS Statistics Indonesia, Internet, http://www.bps.go.id/sector/socwel/table6.shtml, (2 February 2005).
237 clearly not jilbab wearers. Thus, Ratna’s narratives do not emphasise the way characters dress; of more importance is how their body politics are read and signified within the societal constellation. As discussed previously the choice of wearing jilbab or not should be left to women to decide, because Muslim women are composed of various classes, cultures, and their interpretations and practices of the ways they make meanings out of their religious commitments consequently vary. Ratna’s stories, which involve discourses of the body within the politics of Muslim women’s identity, are significant for the variety of ways of seeing women; in particular the way a husband views a wife, as he is largely believed to be the sole proprietor of his wife’s body.
In her introduction to the collection of her short stories entitled Noda Pipi Seorang Perempuan (A Spot in a Woman’s Cheek) Ratna states that most of her writings are interconnected within a single grand theme: the disempowerment of those marginalised, such as children, women and the elderly, by a superior power; be it the superiority of the state, the patriarchy, or even the feudalism legitimised by the New Order regime speaking only in the name of authority and dominance.71 Her short story Noda Pipi Seorang Perempuan (A Spot in a Woman’s Cheek), in the collection of the same name,72 exemplifies her argument clearly. This story narrates the fear of a wife who believes she is no longer attractive because she has a spot on her cheek. She tells herself that once she was beautiful, but not now: She now felt a heavy burden placed on her. There was no one complimenting her beauty any more. Then, even as a child, she had something to be proud of. Once again she looked at herself in the mirror. She started to complain, “You see, how ugly this spot on my cheek.”73
The character believes that her previous respect was because of her beauty, and she wants cosmetic surgery to correct her blemish. When her husband declines her request for surgery she is furious, and finds another man who desires her and who confirms that she is still beautiful. When this other man asks her to be his mistress she suddenly realises that she
71 Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim, ‘Secangkir Kopi’, Noda Pipi Seorang Perempuan, Tiga Serangkai, Solo, 2003, p. viii. 72 Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim, ‘Noda Pipi Seorang Perempuan’, Noda Pipi Seorang Perempuan, pp. 9 - 13. 73 Ibid., p. 9. 238 does not want to betray her marriage, and decides to tell her husband that her intention was merely to prove to herself that she is still beautiful, even with a spot on her cheek. She finally decides to accept the spot as a mark on her body.
Noda Pipi Seorang Perempuan is tactical, in that it brings the notion of woman’s body right to the centre of the representation of women in Indonesian literary and cultural expressions. In Ratna’s argument, woman’s beauty, which is indeed much appreciated by women themselves, evidenced with the numerous women’s magazines mostly dictating tips to be physically attractive and beautiful, is problematic. The valuing and devaluing of women in terms of their beauty is sustained in a society where femininity is articulated only through their bodies. The body narrative in women’s literature calls into question this necessarily “true” vision on women’s value because it proposes the articulation of women’s bodies through female narrative voices which aim to ascertain that women’s bodies are not only the affair of women. Women’s bodies are a battlefield where the politics of female positioning is debated and polemicised. Body narratives suggest that a woman’s body can never radically escape from the male gaze, signifying that women are, by and large, identified under man’s eyes. Nevertheless, from the male gaze women can, in turn, look at their own bodies, which signals the gaze returned and a commemoration of valuing their femaleness. In other words, woman’s identity operates in a circular motion of how woman devalues herself from male gaze from which she returns the gaze and enables herself to value her body. She then becomes visible, turning herself from observed and passive object to active subject defining her ownership of the body.
The main character in Noda Pipi remains nameless throughout the narrative. By not naming her main character—not making her a special individual—Ratna shows that the problems of woman’s beauty are applicable to all women, making it central to woman’s identity. The nameless woman of Ratna’s story generates a dichotomy. On the one hand, the nameless woman involves a lack of identity, of personhood, that is essential for any individual. On the other hand, the nameless woman transports herself from specific to general agent. This is the same for the husband who also remains nameless throughout the story. The parallel of
239 the nameless husband and wife (of man and woman) acts progressively, playing the gender politics of equality between nameless man and nameless woman.
Rambutnya Juminten74 (Juminten’s Hair) also focuses on the politics of woman’s body. Ratna admits that this story was created as a result of patriarchal ideology imposing a husband’s authority on his wife’s body, in this case, her hair.75 In this story, hair also functions as a metaphor for a woman’s identity, body and beauty. The story recalls how Juminten must submit her wish to model her hair to her husband. Panuwun, Juminten’s husband, never ceases to remind her that she beautifies herself for her husband only. Juminten wants to have her hair cut for easier care, but Panuwun declines her request saying that with long hair she would look like Nawang Wulan, a beautiful goddess. Despite her allergy to the shampoo Panuwun gives her, showing her loyalty to Panuwun Juminten continues to grow her hair. Juminten’s long hair attracted Nardi, the son of Panuwun’s employer, and through jealousy Panuwun limits Juminten to their home. She is forbidden to leave their house without his escort, even to join a female congregation of Qur’anic reading and reciting (pengajian). Some villagers supported Panuwun’s decision, while others said that Panuwun oppressed his wife. Believing that the problems are all because of Juminten’s hair, despite her protest, Panuwun finally orders Juminten to have her hair cut very short.
An Indonesian proverb says that hair is a woman’s crown. This, by and large, places woman’s body central to female identity, in that the body is parcelled and policed through a discursive system, which establishes identity through a relationship process between parts of the body and assigned cultural meanings. Hair, representing the body, becomes a fragmented agent in determining the sexual identification, strongly suggesting that parts of the body must implement specific functions, and be situated in appropriate places, to be considered normal. This is what Judith Butler calls, the “integrity” and “unity” of the body. Drawing her reading from Monique Wittiq’s theory on sex and gender, Butler posits that “numerous features [of the body] gain social meaning and unification through their
74 Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim, ‘Rambutnya Juminten’ in Lakon Di Kota Kecil, Penerbit Jendela, Yogyakarta, 2002, pp. 68 – 75. 75 Ratna Indraswati Ibrahim, ‘Secangkir Kopi – Pengantar Penulis’, Lakon Di Kota Kecil, pp. ix – xi. 240 articulation within the category of sex [consequently] ”integrity” and “unity” of the body, often thought to be positive ideals, serve the purposes of fragmentation, restriction and domination.”76 The cultural meaning assigned to this material body part pervades body politics and hair becomes a metaphor for the social. Because it is part of her body Juminten has no right over her hair; she must relinquish her ownership and is subjected to her husband’s order. Hair, then, signifies fragmentation, restriction and domination at the same time. Although Ratna does not explicitly state the significance of Juminten’s hair with interpretations of women’s beauty in Islam, this, however, correlates to a verse in the Qur’an restricting a woman to display her beauty and ornaments only to her husband and those not eligible to marry her.77 Although there is no consensus about what constitutes “beauty and ornaments,” the institutionalised interpretation of this verse in Indonesian contexts emphasises that a woman should not display her beauty other than to her husband. Panuwun’s rule for Juminten clearly shows the application of this verse. Public admiration of Juminten’s hair must certainly be prohibited and declared to be a breach of refined manners. As this was caused by Juminten’s hair, placing the blame on Juminten alone is necessary. The problematic body part in the story stimulates subject position and narrative paradigm in which contemporary women take up the body through literary practices. The body story, for the author, the character and the reader, functions simultaneously as a personal and political, psychological and ideological boundary of meaning, a subjected agency through which identity and objectification emerge. The corporeal body is turned into a cultural “body” in which oppressive cultural identification is clearly visible and articulated. This short story is indeed interesting, as the author illustrates the repression and the marginalisation of the female body by unfolding the power of domination, and directly scrutinising the body and its cultural meanings. In so doing, this particular story is in itself a cultural critique of the patriarchal hegemony, and at the same time it creates an awareness of the relationship between a specific body, the cultural “body,” and body politics.
76 Judith Butler, Gender Trouble Feminism and The Subversion of Identity, Routledge, New York, London, 1990, pp. 114 - 115. 77 Sura An-Nur verse 31, The Holy Qur’an English Translation of the Meaning and Commentaries, King Fahd Holy Qur’an Printing Complex, Al-Madinah A- Munawarah, Saudi Arabia, 1410H, p. 1012. 241 Delimitation and Definition of Female Identity
The problematic nature of woman, her body (and hence her sexuality), is not the only subject of Ratna’s writings. Woman can also be subject of subjectivity, through which the universal human subject has been culturally secured, and she too can embody the complexities of her cultural assignments. With her narratives Ratna attempts to picture such subjectivity through representation and thus into identities, which are secured by narrative representations. In her stories Lebur (Melted) and Bunga Mentega (Mentega Flower), she speaks of the assigned identity of a “true woman”: the language of martyrdom and tireless self-sacrifice that often supersedes physical and emotional discomforts. The women in these stories are labelled by others as “true women” who are sensitive to suffering, eager to sacrifice themselves to others, willing to serve as vessels for another’s will.
Lebur78 engages the story of Liana who has to accept a man’s marriage proposal against her wish. Liana wishes to accept Jono’s proposal but the timing is not right: she is not ready for marriage as she wants to have a job of her own to enable her to finance the education of her younger siblings. As the eldest child, her mother (her father is deceased) relies heavily on her. This is typical of Indonesian values: culturally the eldest child has more responsibility for helping the family’s financial sources. When she fails to find a job Liana has no choice but to accept Jono’s proposal for Jono has promised her, and her mother, he will finance her siblings’ education. Here, economic hardship becomes central in defining female identity. Liana must surrender her own wish and submit to the family’s interest. Jono’s wealth and Liana’s poverty are juxtaposed to give readers the clear idea that the politics of economics is closely intertwined with the shaping of female subjectivity and identity. Liana is by no means unaware of her situation but she is incapable of reacting against her economic positioning: If her job application were accepted, she would sail in the blue ocean together with the seagulls, she would go to a town in Kalimantan and that town would be far away
78 Ratna, ‘Lebur’, Aminah Di Satu Hari, Galang Press, Yogyakarta, 2002, pp. 87 – 95. 242 from her parent. . . . [she said to herself] “My God, I don’t love Jono! Am I selfish? Oh God, if I refuse Jono’s proposal it means that I don’t want to help my family. Now with this flame of love of mine I knock on Your door. Which door could I enter so that I could give You this love . . . God, which door could I enter? Then as if there was a voice, “Here all doors are never closed, as long as you want to enter.” 79
Liana gives up her freedom because of economic position and, most importantly, to be a “true woman” who is expected to sacrifice her own will. Her identity has already been delimited; martyrdom is a female affair. However, from a character who begins the narrative in a marginal position, Liana finally is able to reverse the narrative dynamics and call into question her victimisation, by turning and consoling herself that she (like Titis Basino’s characters) is searching for the love of God. In so doing, she is able to manage her sacrifice, because she believes that, perhaps through her sacrifice, she will be able to attain God’s love. Liana’s sacrifice, to a certain degree, is a form of restriction and delimitation of female freedom. However, instead of feeling hopeless and subdued she reacts against such confinement by submitting herself to the greatest power, which Muslims believe in—the love of God, and because of this she is prepared to endure the oppression forced upon her. The value of this story lies in its ability to explore subtly the cultural norms of oppression, which largely delimit female space, without blatantly attacking such oppression. Ratna informs readers of the marginality and exploitation endured by Indonesian Muslim women.
Bunga Mentega80 is another narrative of the restriction of female space and freedom. The story concerns Rusmini, a junior high school teacher, who has to give up her dream of becoming a flight attendant because of her sex. In this story public and domestic space is sharply divided: only men can occupy public space, women must stay in domestic. Because of cultural norms Rusmini abandons her yearning to “see the world”: she has to reside in the domestic world and take care of her ill mother, whereas her brother is given the opportunity to “see the world.” “I just want to see the world,” she could only say it to her brother. She [Rusmini] never wanted to do anything [but be a flight attendant]. But, since that night, she dreamt of wearing the uniform of a flight attendant and travelling around the cities
79 Ibid., pp. 87 –94. 80 Ratna, ‘Bunga Mentega,’ Aminah di Satu Hari, pp. 41 – 51. 243 of the world . . . [and] one day she would write her journey in every corner of the world.81
Ratna’s story reveals the cultural norm: adventure is not women’s world, only men can travel and be adventurous. The division of female domestic and male public is seen as a natural division. Rusmini’s brother, Rahman, decides to quit his university studies and see the world. “A man must see the world before getting married,”82 their mother replies when Rahman tells her of his decision. But when Rusmini mentions that her application to be a flight attendant has been accepted, her mother and all family members simply say: “It’s better for you to be a teacher and accompany your mother at home. If you and your brother want to travel around the world whom will your mother stay with?”83 For Rusmini her identity has already been fixed and sealed: be a teacher and have marriage as the ultimate goal. Even in a society where Rusmini’s ability to work as a teacher underlines the claims of offering equal opportunities for social mobility for women, marriage is still regarded as the only means for women to improve their status and form their identity.
Rahman is expected to freely traverse geographical boundaries before entering married life in which a man is considered an adult: a full member of society. It is different for Rusmini. To be fully regarded as a societal member she must perform her domestic obligations. It is culturally determined that, as a daughter, Rusmini must care for the elderly, and experience confinement, because she is a woman. Although as a teacher Rusmini occupies a job outside the home, her dream of extending her world beyond her family is restricted. Her world is fixed between her family and her teaching job, and although she dreams of leaving her family behind and pursuing a career of her own choosing it is not possible. Opposition to her living outside her family world functions as both sign and proof of the culture’s devaluation of women. It is indeed interesting that Ratna uses “the female job” in juxtaposing the strict dichotomy between domestic and public spheres. Flight attendant is largely regarded as woman’s job as it mainly provides service and care, which are closely associated with the female world. Ratna’s narrative indicates that women are delimited
81 Ibid, p. 45. 82 Ibid., p. 42. 83 Ibid., p. 43. 244 within a constructed world of domesticity. In her story she critically accommodates where society has placed women even though their work appears to be different. Her story shows that the sharp division between women’s and men’s spheres is a powerful means of reinforcing dominant patriarchal ideologies, but it also shows that the subject status of women embodies tactical reinterpretations of those ideologies.
Within the defining of women’s identity, one discursive practice contributing to such defining is the limited freedom given to women. If men are supported in extending their private territorial boundaries, women are not. If freedom is associated with men, women are associated with restriction. Women are defined as wives, mothers and bearers of future citizens, rather than in terms of social roles, which portray them as full social beings endowed with autonomy, social control and prestige in their own right. Freedom is certainly a contested arena, strongly administered to ensure that it will not contradict women’s domesticity. The story Bukan Pinang Dibelah Dua (Not an Identical Twin) reflects the problematic of female freedom and independence. The story, mostly through a monologue of the narrator, Yana, illustrates her struggle for freedom. Yana has a twin sister, Yani. They have a similar physical appearance, personalities, achievements and expectations; Yana wants to break this definition. In so doing, she has to leave her home and family. She leaves home and works as a typist for Nuke, her relative, who at the age of forty is still single. Yana says to her family: It’s time for me to be myself. There is only emptiness here. Mom and Dad never take me as Yana who has different opinion and style from Yani. Mom and Dad are just like most people believing that twins have exact tastes and opinions in everything. You can’t treat me like Yani who is smart in everything she does. With leaving this house, people will be able to distinguish me from Yani. I hope Mom and Dad can respect our different principles.84
Yana’s choice to leave home was not supported by her parents who believed being a typist was a marginal occupation, and one that would not secure her future. Yet Yana deliberately chooses this job in order to prove to her parents and society that she is different to Yani. Her desire is to be a writer and have autonomy outside the shadow of her famous family name, “I am Yana and I don’t want people to know me because of my family’s big name. . .
84 Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim, Bukan Pinang Dibelah Dua, Grasindo, Jakarta, 2003. 245 I will start from scratch. I will gain success with my own effort.”85 Freedom and independence is Yana’s greatest goal. In her society, however, autonomy for women is always a suspect. An autonomous woman not subject to man’s control is regarded as potentially threatening to the male-dominated social order. Yana’s quest is then not an easy one, especially when she decides to break off her relationship with Indra, her fiancé, before leaving for her new job. She is persistent in her efforts to move on and attain autonomy. For her, independence is the freedom to choose, or not to choose, the alternatives that life brings,86 and to exist without any constraint.87 Yana’s search for autonomy does not stop as the story ends. As Nuke finally decides to get married, her employment is no longer necessary and she feels betrayed with Nuke’s wedding. Yet, she completely understands that Nuke does what society expects, and Nuke has her own freedom to choose what is best for her. Nuke’s brother, Priambodo, reminds her that freedom and youth are interconnected: that as a young girl she needs to “see the world,” to leave home to become her own self.88 What is most important in this story is Yana’s claim to her own female identity: she sees the possession of self as the essential core, which is only gained through the possession of freedom and autonomy through her own agency.
Yana’s method of resistance includes her effort to construct herself as different to Yani. Among other things, her difference is manifested when she decides to become a fiction writer, despite all the criticism from her family. She suppresses the modes of power, which undermine the construction of her identity, by choosing a profession regarded as marginal by her family. Unlike Yani who lives her life controlled by her rationality, her sister and parents often mock Yana because they consider her life full of nonsense imagination. According to her sister she is a daydreamer. Whereas Yani chose to settle her life within her family’s security Yana intends to live outside it: she prefers to live a life that might generate unexpected results. She also refuses to reside at “home” and takes an alternative path to live by her own ideals, though such ideals require her to make her own living and
85 Ibid., p. 9. 86 Ibid., p. 14. 87 Ibid., p. 23. 88 Ibid., p. 83. 246 surrender her bourgeois family background. For Yana, difference becomes her trope; it enables her to separate herself from her sister, and herself from others, and she uses this to make sense of herself. The binary oppositions presented in this text, such as rational/imaginary, home/away, settle/unsettle, function as a process of differentiation, division and splitting which constructs subjectivity and identity, and this is best understood as a process which is always in the making, is never finished and complete. As William Connolly argues, it is difference through which all identities are formed: one knows one’s self through one’s difference from some other and all identities are simultaneously threatened by the difference(s) of the other.89 However, Yana’s difference is not entirely substantiated. Ratna leaves Yana’s story open and it is not clear whether Yana has achieved her difference. Thus, the readers are reminded that the process may never be completed, because the contingent nature of identity is ambiguous and contested. Yana herself does not know where her choice will lead, but she knows that she has to leave Nuke’s house and go to a new place. Her search for identity is never meant to be settled, and this notion of unsettling creates her modes of resisting any delimitation of female identity.
The In-between-ness
Best known as a short story writer, Ratna expanded her talent by publishing her first novel, Lemah Tanjung, in 2003. This novel, based on a true story, concerns the struggle of local residents—led by an environmental activist named Ibu Indri—to preserve the only green area in the city of Malang, Lemah Tanjung. The novel narrates the story of Gita, the main character, whose involvement in Ibu Indri’s struggles enables her to resolve the problematic of her identity. Gita is married to Paul, who is of Chinese descent, and they have a teenage daughter, Bonet. In 1998 Indonesia experienced political and social upheavals, and Chinese Indonesians were targeted. Because of the fear of becoming a possible target Paul emigrates to Perth, Australia, and asks Gita and Bonet to follow him immediately he finds a secure
89 William E. Connolly, Identity/Difference: Democratic Negotiation of Political Paradox, Cornell University Press, Ithaca, 1991. 247 place for them to settle. The story occurs in this “waiting period” when Gita is unsure about her decision to leave the city and the people she loves most. Her acquaintance with Ibu Indri (often addressed as Bu In) secures her ability to be an agent in constructing her conception of identity and community. From Bu In, Gita learns the meaning of struggle and she begins to question the social roles and responsibilities expected of women. Furthermore, she starts to participate in public life. Bu In’s struggles open her eyes and she moves from merely a domestic role to public engagement, becoming aware at the same time of her changing state of consciousness; reflecting her understanding of herself and her situation as related to her social and biological condition. Without saying no to the system which positions her, Gita focuses on positively constructing her own system in order to make meaning of her life and choices. Thus characterized Gita, in seeking justice and support and an awareness of gender formation, is working within a feminist agenda.
The novel opens with Gita’s wish to show Bonet the beauty of fireflies: she writes to a reader’s column in a local newspaper enquiring about places to see fireflies. Bu In responds to her letter and their acquaintance begins. Gita and Bonet go to see the fireflies in Lemah Tanjung; this area is in dispute, because the local government intends to develop it for shopping malls, whereas Bu In and her group of environmental activists insist the area must be left as a home for various endangered species of birds and plants. (The story ends without resolution of the dispute). The more Gita sees of Bu In’s struggles to preserve Lemah Tanjung, the more she is inspired by her strength and empowerment. Bu In is a middle-aged widow with three grown up children and a lecturer at the Akademi Penyuluh Pertanian (APP, Academy of Agricultural Trainings), which was previously located in Lemah Tanjung before being moved to another area, Randu Agung. Bu In opposes the development of Lemah Tanjung because it is the only green area in the city where nature is preserved.
Gita’s story is a story of migration and border crossing. Gita’s husband, Paul, had never thought of himself as a “keturunan” (a Chinese descendant), as his mother was Sundanese.
248 Identity was not a problem; Paul simply accepted it. Although ethnically/racially90 he was different to Gita, culturally and religiously he was not. He converted to Islam long before he met Gita and he wants to raise his children in Malang seeing it as a still secure and natural place. The 14th of May1998 riots changed his mind. Paul is forced to see that ethnically he is different to Gita, and that due to this difference he will be treated differently. Paul witnesses the atrocities against the keturunan and their families: his female cousin is raped, and he and his cousin just manage to escape an angry mob of rioters trying to kill them. It is then that Paul begins to question his identity and ethnic difference. Paul believes that he is no longer accepted as an Indonesian, a pribumi (native)92 and he decides to follow his two brothers who had earlier emigrated to Australia. For Paul, despite his conversion to Islam, his ethnic appearance proves more important in the eyes of the wider community than his religion and social position.
Gita is also forced to an awareness of ethnic difference, which at first seemed to be unproblematic. But her new awareness of the difference makes her position difficult. On the one hand, she wants to close this gap between her and Paul, be it ethnic or spatial difference, thus following Paul will bridge the gap. On the other hand, the idea of displacement worries Gita. She does not want to leave Malang, because it is linked closely to her identity. However, Gita feels her attachment to Malang is no longer secure and she eventually crosses the geographical border and migrates to Australia. Being not actually settled and rooted in a fixed identity she will become one of those migrant identities moving between two different borders—people with different identifications. Her voyage must then be rooted in two poles, Indonesian and Australian. Her Indonesian identity is at risk with her spatial displacement, Gita understands this and it drives her to empowerment: “Yes, I know, sooner or later, I must leave Malang, for how long I can’t be sure. Perhaps, before leaving this beloved town, I must do something.”93 Gita decides to create history, her own and her homeland’s. Her border crossing is reflected not only in her travel, but also
90 In Indonesia, Chinese descendants are believed to be ethnically rather than racially different. Racial difference is only applied to Westerners whose appearance is racially Caucasian. 92 Ratna, Lemah Tanjung, Grasindo, Jakarta, 2003, p. 8. 93 Ibid.,p.21
249 in her decision to marry Paul where she moves beyond her own ethnicity, which is Javanese. But, her most powerful border crossing is perhaps her movement from the domestic to the public arena—from “housewifization” to social activism.
What Gita does for the rest of the story is not merely empowerment on a personal level, but social and political levels as well. Previously focusing on just domestic affairs, Gita becomes an environmental activist joining and supporting Bu In’s struggles. In her association with Bu In and her NGO she meets numerous activists, including Mbak Syarifah, who later also becomes a mentor. Mbak Syarifah is perhaps the author’s persona in the story, although Ratna denies this similarity, saying that Mbak Syarifah is too puritan to be her persona.94 Like Ratna, the disabled Mbak Syarifah is an activist in numerous NGOs, particularly NGOs whose agendas oppose inequality, injustice and victimisation. Through Mbak Syarifah, Gita learns to be critically aware of any injustice surrounding her. The story is then taken to a more social and political level. It is no longer a story about Gita per se; it becomes a powerful apparatus to critically assess the political and social condition of the nation, particularly the chronic conditions of the nation caused by Suharto’s regime. The name Syarifah metaphorically constructs an image of nobility in Muslim identity, as Syarifah derives from the Arabic syarif meaning noble: to be syarif is to be able to trace the family genealogy to the Quraishi tribe of the Prophet Muhammad in seventh century Arabia. However, in the story Mbak Syarifah is not simply a reference to Arabic descent, rather, her name signifies a personality that, despite physical disability, has a noble quality. It thus parallels her actions to the struggles of the Prophet when promoting justice and equality to the early Muslims. In so doing the narrative connects gender to the ideal struggles of Islam and gives women symbolic importance in striving toward social justice.
When Paul admits he is having an extra marital affair with an Australian journalist, a friend whom they met in Bali, Gita feels betrayed and focuses more on her activism. Gita offers a divorce to Paul who is devastated with the offer and immediately suggests reconciliation, as he is aware his affair is caused by loneliness. Gita is still reluctant to follow Paul for she is
94 Interview with Ratna Indraswati Ibrahim, 20 July 2004. 250 deeply involved with Bu In’s community. She believes that even if Paul no longer loves her, she will never feel lonely, because she will still have Bu In, Mbak Syarifah, her best friends and her family at her side through happiness and sadness. Gita strongly trusts in their comradeship. As Mbak Syarifah keeps reminding her, they all met in similar disempowered circumstances where they had to battle against injustice. Moreover, her engagement with Bu In’s struggles marks her attempt to root an identification emerging from rejection against injustice. Through her association with Bu In and Mbak Syarifah Gita has developed an awareness of how her identity is constructed. She says to herself: I am Paul’s wife who should be following him wherever he is. In fact, I prefer to stay here. If I choose to keep on staying in Malang with Bonet, people and myself will consider me to be unfaithful. . . . We are angry with the domestic-social roles [given to us as women] which taught us, whether are aware or not, that we should only want to be just a housewife. We are never taught to be ambitious upon career.95
Gita’s response to such positioning is her effort to ensure that she can create a new identity, which will accommodate her strategies to challenge the old system. Gita believes that her choices and actions are valuable not only for herself, but for others as well, and that her struggles will be continued by the younger generations. Indeed, Gita has taken her struggle to the higher level. For her, her actions are levelled to nilai-nilai luhur (highly-valued norms). Gita tells her daughter that she wants to “use my time with things beneficial to others.”96
During her journey to manufacture and establish her new identity Gita meets challenges and hindrances. Most of her friends are surprised that she engages with Bu In’s community. They believe she should just follow her husband, be a mother to Bonet and concentrate merely on domesticity. During these times of despair and disillusionment Bu In is a heroine in Gita’s eyes: one who does not easily let herself be bent by circumstance, and she became Gita’s source of resilience: “Bu In, lately I feel like just giving up,” [Gita lamented to Bu In]. “I admire you. You never seem to be giving up.” [Bu In answered] “Sometimes I do want to give
95 Ibid., p. 89. 96 Ibid., p 376. 251 up. But, when I am feeling despair, Mbak, I take a pause and pray to God to give me strength and blessing in what we are doing.97
Bu In’s perception of her struggles is typical of Muslims, who believe that any action they execute is framed within the conviction that they are vice-regents whose actions necessitate God’s sanction. This also illustrates the theme of religious obedience for Muslims. Ratna’s continual message in her narrative is that within religious boundaries, struggle against injustice is part of God’s will. Although no characters in the story mention their resistance (the dominant theme of the novel) can be regarded as jihad (to fight in the path of Allah), when Bu In’s environmental struggle to revive a sense of nature in everybody’s life is modelled and idealised, jihad is implicit in the text. Bu In’s jihad is in civil activism, as jihad here is never considered to be taking up arms to uphold a specific supremacy. Bu In’s jihad is unmistakably militant in the sense that she persistently maintains her struggle. Admittedly the war evoked in the story is certainly metaphorical, but the struggle it connotes is no less real. The reality of Bu In’s struggle lies both in the narrative and the Real, as this story is based on a true story and on a true female heroine, Bu Indrasi.98
The story ends with Gita’s decision to finally follow Paul to Australia: she reasons that she is Paul’s wife and her place is at his side and Bonet’s. The narrative decision is not a surprise, because, as Ratna admits, Gita, like any Indonesian wife, still places herself in between two divergent roles: between the traditional role of domesticity and the more modern role of social activism.99 Gita could not totally reside in the public arena and neglect her domestic responsibility, even though advancing to the new system guaranteed her a greater role in public affairs, because she was still constructed within the prevailing old system.
Gita, like Yana and most of Ratna’s female characters, desires to travel and leave the domestic territory. Travel is significant in Ratna’s narratives. This correlates to the last of the five pillars of Islam: the hajj, the pilgrimage. One hadith says that one must seek
97 Ibid., p. 265. 98 Interview with Ratna, 20 July 2004. 99 Ibid. 252 knowledge even if one needs to travel to China. Travel for hajj and seeking knowledge becomes essential embodying movement between space and time. The Prophet himself had to undergo a hijrah (the Prophet’s emigration) to find a place where the practice of Islam was not constrained. Travel may be interpreted as crossing confined boundaries, connecting points of departure and return. For Muslims, travel, be it literal or symbolic, allows simultaneous self-positioning in the local and the global: it also allows movement back to the past and then back to a transformed present. Gita’s travel is symbolic of such movement. Malang is the point of departure, then travel to Australia, and then back to Malang again: she desires to return to Malang later as she gets older—as point of return— but her return certainly will be a transformed one. Her movement between points of departure and return narrates her in-between-ness, as she moves flexibly across geographical boundaries, which oscillate between destination and origin. Yet, she retains deep connections with a specific place, her homeland. For Gita, travel is an indispensable part of her material and spiritual identity: identity which is constructed between two poles; between rooting herself in a specific territory and pointing towards another territory, a projected place where travel must be undertaken to connect the gap between Malang and Perth. However, this travel always anticipates return to a realm where the “fixed” point of departure and return is re-imagined and further travel inspired. Through the story of Lemah Tanjung, it can be argued that contemporary forms of identity cannot be simply regarded as continuing the past, although the past undoubtedly shapes present forms. In the context of this story, identity, to a great extent, is generated by the new environments individuals find themselves in. Elements of identity are selectively redefined, reconstructed, created or dropped. Identity thus has to be regarded as a multi-faceted, dynamic and malleable construct. It is formed, maintained and modified by social process and social interaction.
Lemah Tanjung is a remarkable story of how women like Bu In and Mbak Syarifah make meaning of their life in their own way. Gita takes them as her role models. What may be odd in this story is Gita’s decision to become involved in the community’s efforts to create a better environment when her husband is a victim of ethnic/racial injustice by that very same community. She seems to blind herself to her husband’s fear, and to his plight and fear of relocation. Malang appears to be an unjust place for people like Paul. Indeed, 253 Ratna’s portrayal of racial injustice against the Chinese (which reached its peak in the May 1998 riots) is worthy of notice, because, through her narrative, Ratna shows the affect the atrocities have on individuals. Paul’s fear of discrimination leads him to leave the country: at the same time it shows the problematic position of Chinese Indonesians within Indonesian society. Chinese Indonesians however, are not monolithic; as with the wider society, they too are composed of a variety of classification: for example, totok, peranakan and keturunan.100 Most Chinese Indonesians largely practice traditional Chinese beliefs and are generally adherents of Christianity or Buddhism. Muslim Chinese are a minority within a minority, and as such there is an unease about their ethnic identity. “[T]he Chinese Muslims are almost like a buffer zone; not fully integrated in either of them, not fully liked by any of them.”101 Jacobsen suggests the marginalisation of Chinese Muslims results from various causes; partly from the reinforcement of Dutch colonial law racially separating the Dutch, foreign Orientals and indigenous Indonesians in terms of class and economic status, (the Dutch included Chinese Muslims as indigenous), partly from Sukarno’s and the New Order’s discrimination policies toward the Chinese; and resulting also from internal discrimination of other Chinese toward Chinese Muslims. Those who convert to Islam are seen “as endangering the societal position of other Chinese as well as offending the latter’s sense of ethnic identification.”102 Paul exemplifies the minority of the minority. Within such circumstances his flight to Australia is justifiable, although the story never clearly reveals whether he will make his adopted country his own, for he still proclaims himself to be an Indonesian, admitting that his nationality even grows stronger whilst living in Australia.103 The story ends with the departure of Gita and Bonet to Australia, whether or not they will move back to Malang is never resolved.
This narrative is not only about the struggle of a local environmentalist hero, but it also tackles the violence against the Chinese, the problems within inter-ethnic marriage and the
100 Totok and peranakan are the two major labels. Totok commonly refers to China born recent Chinese migrants to Indonesia, who still speak Chinese: peranakan or keturunan are acculturated ethnic Chinese. Yet another label is Cina perantauan, meaning migrated Chinese. 101 Michael Jacobsen, ‘Islam and Processes of Minorisation among Ethnic Chinese in Indonesia: Oscillating between Faith and Political Expediency’, Asian Ethnicity, Volume 6, Number 2, June 2005, pp. 71– 85. 102 Ibid., p. 83. 103 Lemah Tanjung, p. 15. 254 uneasy identity construction of those crossing both geographical and ethnic/race boundaries. Gita is not blind toward Paul’s misery: she makes an effort to help Paul overcome his fear and guilt at not being able to help his relative when she was raped. In a consultation with a psychologist she is told that it is necessary for Paul to help himself recover from his trauma.104 Paul is a victim of social and political construction; he is a victim of political disturbance, because of the failure of the state to protect its citizens by creating a more tolerant and assimilated society. In a world where injustice takes place, such as that experienced by Bu In and Paul, Gita is called to play her part in the struggle against that injustice.
Gita has made an attempt to join the fight against injustice through her involvement with Bu In’s community. Although her engagement is not part of stopping the anti-Chinese sentiment that victimises her husband, her activism underlines her effort to be against any oppressive power relations. Bu In is in a minority, just like Paul. It can be argued that in a parallel position, Gita is also fighting for Paul, wishing that if she can tell Paul about Bu In’s courage she can convince him that he too can be like Bu In.105 Gita believes that seeing Bu In’s resilience will enable Paul to solve their problems: the gap between them and his loss of his sense of belonging. Gita does not want Paul to go to Australia: she wants him to stay with her in Malang and fight, with her, against ethnic discrimination by showing the public that she and Paul, despite their ethnic difference, can create a tolerant and harmonious relationship.
In most of Ratna’s stories the state has a crucial role in victimising its citizens. In Lemah Tanjung, for example, it is the state that endangers the lives of its citizens by destroying the only green area in the city, and it is also the state’s racial policy that endangers and marginalizes the life of people like Paul. After the resignation of Soeharto, subsequent presidents (Habibie, Wahid and Megawati) introduced new regulations allowing Chinese to practice their traditions: such as publishing books and newspapers in Chinese, freely learning and speaking Chinese in public, and celebrating Chinese holidays. Since then,
104 Ibid., p. 8. 105 Lemah Tanjung, p. 9. 255 Chinese culture has appeared more and more in Indonesian cultural life. Most importantly, with the abolition of official discrimination against the Chinese, it is expected that everyday discrimination against the Chinese will gradually disappear and the Chinese will live their lives more easily and be fully assimilated within society. Whether or not anti- Chinese sentiment will totally disappear from the Indonesian mind, only time will tell. The politics of belonging is an on-going process, which requires the engagement of all societal elements, and it flourishes only in conducive environments.
Through her narratives Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim presents women who challenge meta- narratives, which write them out of the social and cultural present. Her narratives question the social, political, cultural, and religious placement of women, and at the same time demonstrate the ways that women manage to construct their own identities. Her writing functions as a vital weapon in attacking the injustices that most women in Indonesia— particularly in rural areas—experience, because of the autocratic power exercised by the state and the influence of patriarchy. In investigating the relationship between domestic and local sources of oppression of women, and exposing the dangers of women’s invisibility in their social and cultural lives, Ratna’s writing makes women visible. Bringing the body discourse into fiction is crucial as it elevates reader’s awareness that body politics can be a channel to question received gender construction. Ratna’s stories constantly insist on women’s right to claim a place in the annals of their people, while at the same time arguing that the various women she captures in her stories are not of a single identity, but of many possible speaking positions. Ratna attempts to understand, then challenge, women’s positioning in cultural, social and political constellations.
256 Chapter 8 Representation, Identity and Religion: Images of Muslim Women, Their Lives and Struggles in Fiction (Part II)
Abidah El Khalieqy and Her Feminist Project
Raising the general awareness about issues concerning women and Islam can be channelled through numerous ways, including book publication. Abidah El Kahieqy is famous for her engagement in disseminating awareness of the rights of women within the bounds of Islamic values. Her short stories and novel are commonly perceived as promoters of Muslim women’s authenticity, intellectual ownership, identity and struggle within their community, in order to advocate equality for women in a male- dominated world. Her stories are largely backgrounded in pesantren, which may be regarded as a subculture of Islam, particularly within Javanese settings. Abidah is a Muslim activist who imbues her writing with a strong advocacy for rights of Muslim women: the right of her body in relation to reproduction rights, the right to education, the right to social and economic resources, and to political power. Most importantly, she also addresses problems of gender inequality arising out of male-biased interpretations of religion. For Abidah, religion is an essential component of life: one of the pertinent factors contributing to her identity and social role. The following discussion attempts to examine Abidah’s narratives, which navigate identifications with a common purpose: that is, her narrative voices calling for justice and freedom. In developing awareness and stimulating public discourse about women’s rights, and what issues are precisely relevant in contemporary Indonesian Islam, Abidah’s works are highly influential.
257 Muslim Women and Their Rights
Abidah’s Perempuan Berkalung Sorban (Woman with a Sorban Necklace) was published in 2001. The publication of this novel was party funded by Yayasan Kesejahteraan Fatayat (YKF), Yogyakarta, and the Ford Foundation (FF). It is stated in the introductions from both YKF and FF that the novel seeks to educate readers on women’s rights, especially reproduction and education rights within the tenets of Islam. In this novel Abidah clearly depicts her feminist project, often defined as Islamic feminism.
The novel strongly articulates women’s demands for equality with men. The title itself suggests that the positioning of women is always confined within limitations produced by men. Perempuan berkalung sorban literally means a woman who is wearing sorban as her necklace. Sorban is the headdress worn only by male Muslims. Metaphorically, the title signifies prescribed relations between men and women: their social positions in Islamic society where religious interpretations play as constructions formulating those relations and positions.
Education Rights
The story focuses on the life of Nisa, the shorter name for Annisa Nuhayyah, meaning an intelligent woman.1 Nisa is the daughter of KH. Hanan Abdul Malik, a famous kyai, the head of a Pondok Pesantren Putri (pesantren for girls). As the only daughter, it is understood that Nisa will be her father’s successor in heading the pesantren: nowadays it is common for pesantren putri to be headed by ibu nyai, the wife, or the daughter, of a kyai. However, Nisa doesn’t see herself living only within the pesantren walls, she desires to seek knowledge beyond the pesantren walls and she often mingles with the village children outside the pesantren. Nisa is raised in a patriarchy-dominated world where the sexual division of labour is seen to be natural. At school she uses reading
1 Abidah El Khalieqy, Perempuan Berkalung Sorban, Yayasan Kesejahteraan Fatayat, Yogyakarta, 20001, p. 51. 258 materials supportive of this division: within the family the father is the bread winner working in an office; the mother is in charge of domestic duties; the son plays in the yard, and the daughter helps her mother’s household load.2 Abidah displays her criticism of Indonesian formal education, especially of the elementary level where the ideology of the sexual division of labour is persistently reinforced; gender hierarchy is maintained by propagating such representation and roles. Domestic ideology becomes a powerful means to strengthen the patriarchal domination through such teachings.
The protagonist of the story, Nisa, intends to break all the constraining walls, which limit women in their social roles. She wants to grow up having male roles rather than female roles, because this will provide her with more control in the public sphere. Nisa’s status as a daughter is symbolic. All women are daughters, but not all are wives and mothers. Nisa’s daughterhood acts as a representation of all women, because it shows that all women can be oppressed, but at the same time it also shows that daughters can respond to unjust situations and demand their rights as though they were sons. Nisa’s close relationship with her distant relative Lek Khudhori (Uncle Khudhori) contributes greatly to her striving for gender equality. From Khudhori, the young Nisa learns about the equality and justice that Islam ideally brings to its adherents. Khudhori satisfies Nisa’s thirst for knowledge about women’s history in Islam: I was more and more yearning to learn qira’ah [to recite the Qur’an beautifully] and horse-back riding. I did them all with high spirit though secretly. . . . I spent all my free time exercising for horse-back riding, listening to the stories of the Prophet’s wives, the forgotten queens of Islam and stories of female Sufis from Lek Khudori.3
The passage above well illustrates Nisa’s desire for education beyond domesticity. Her dream is to imitate Aisyah, the Prophet’s youngest wife, who led an army in the Battle of Camel. Although Aisyah led the losing side, the fact that she led indeed captivated the young girl. For Nisa, Aisyah’s heroism, and her ability to lead an army of men, conjures up images of an earlier Islam where women were given greater space in public life. Within these images Nisa sees women’s authenticity.
2 Ibid., p. 10. 3 Ibid., p. 24. 259 Not only does Nisa have an early education in the history of early Muslim women, she also has an interest in literature and poetry. Khudhori often recites the poems of famous poets, in particular those of Jalaluddin Rumi. Nisa often writes her own poems and sends them to Khudhori who is away at Al-Azhar, Cairo, for tertiary education. Imagination is a powerful ally for Nisa’s struggles. Imagination enables her to create her own interpretations and thus fill the gaps in the collective memory of Islamic tradition, which, by and large, erases the presence of female Muslims in history. She begins her own interpretations at an early age when critically assessing Sura At-Takwir on female infanticide in pre-Islamic Quraishi culture: How could they be called fathers? Or is it what they really are? Burying baby girls alive? Who are then their mothers? Who are their wives? Aren’t they women themselves? Why don’t they bury their wives alive as well? Sometimes I feet that father doesn’t really love me. [Is it] because I am a girl?4
From an early age Nisa criticises the gender hierarchy that discriminates against girls in her environment, because of their sex. Her most essential effort is to defy her worst enemy—patriarchal domination—and achieve justice and equality. She persistently maintains her goal: to obtain her freedom. “Women are not men’s servants. Nor are they slaves of life. I don’t want to be a slave.”5
Nisa’s struggles are not without challenge. Soon after her graduation from elementary school, at the age of twelve she is forced into marriage with Samsudin, the son of a famous kyai. Forced marriage and child marriage are another form of subordination that Nisa has to undergo. Her struggle to be an autonomous body must necessarily be punished, as it deviates from the religious and social norms of the pesantren world. Samsudin, who is considered the black sheep of his family, comes from a devout santri family. He is a promiscuous young man, incapable of the upstanding behaviour expected of a santri gentleman. The narrative paints him as a monster: he abuses Nisa, and frequently rapes her when she does not desire sexual intercourse. When Nisa protests about Samsudin’s immoral behaviour to her family, they simply tell her that it is her responsibility to change him into a better person. Nisa is sacrificed and punished for attempting to have her own autonomy.
4 Ibid., p. 43. 5 Ibid., p. 85. 260 For Nisa, education is her way to cope with this unjust treatment. She focuses only on her education and ignores Samsudin’s misbehaviour. Samsudin is outraged that Nisa ignores him and soon brings a woman, Kalsum, home as his second wife. Kalsum is a widow and far older than Samsudin. Although it is perhaps unusual for wives to share the same house in Indonesia, it sometimes happens in pesantrens. Samsudin’s polygamous marriage is a relief for Nisa, as it releases her from her responsibilities as a wife: she accepts this practice gladly. She can now concentrate more on her education, because Kalsum, being her helpful ally, takes over Nisa’s responsibility for managing the household and fulfilling Samsudin’s sexual needs. Kalsum also gives him a daughter, Fadillah. Here, Abidah gives polygamy a new face. The dynamic of polygamy is presented very well when Abidah uses it as a useful ally for Nisa in seeking her self- empowerment. As in Titis’ story, Dia, Abidah’s depiction of polygamy becomes a significant means for women’s improvement. Because Samsudin takes a second wife, Nisa can finish her education. However, Kalsum is also Samsudin’s victim: his promise of material luxury, which seduced her, is a lie. A bond between Nisa and Kalsum is established when Kalsum shows interest in Nisa’s education, and asks Nisa to be her mentor on issues concerning women and Islam: sisterhood emerges between the victimised women. Their bond is their response to an external threat, as they remember events they come together in sorrow. And through Nisa’s teaching to Kalsum they establish a sense of collective identity.
Education is centralised within this story. Lack of education is an essential contributing factor in women’s victimisation. Kalsum’s lack of education, not knowing her rights as a wife, makes her an easy target for Samsudin’s violence. Nisa’s young age and her high school education are inadequate for her to fight back against Samsudin’s violence. Abidah shows that within a santri family marriage, which is commonly perceived to be closest to Islamic ideals, domestic violence can take place. Abidah further questions gender bias in relation to the wife’s responsibilities regulated in kitab kuning and taught in pesantren. At school Nisa is taught that a wife will be cursed if she refuses her husband’s desire for sexual intercourse. However, in her explanation to Kalsum on this matter, Nisa critically rebuffs such teaching, saying that it is heavily drawn for men’s benefit, and intentionally neglects women’s own words about it. Nisa believes women’s feelings need to be taken into account: is she prepared? Does she want to? For Nisa, a 261 husband’s imposition of intercourse when the wife refuses, is clearly an act of rape. However, Nisa’s knowledge means nothing, because she has no power to stop Samsudin’s violence: she is too young and too scared to defy her husband. Nisa’s young age and Kalsum’s ignorance indeed make them perfect allies for subjugation.
As Abidah vocalises her discontent with child marriage and polygamy, these seemingly perpetual problems Indonesian women have to deal with, she illustrates the hostile conditions in which women have to live. Abidah even goes further, saying that child marriage is largely due to patriarchal manipulation of what is termed ijbar in Islamic shari’a. This is where a Muslim girl is subjected to the over-ruling power, or ijbar, of her father or guardian, supposedly in the interests of the girl herself. Through the story of Nisa, Abidah critically assesses ijbar. How could a girl twelve years of age know her own interest, particularly in the choice of husband? The most common interpretation of ijbar is when the father, or a guardian, asks a girl whether she approves of a certain person and if she keeps silent this means she agrees with the father’s (or guardian’s) choice. This is Nisa’s experience. Her silence when she is asked, which shows her ignorance, is simply perceived as her agreement. Through the voice of Nisa’s uncle, Khudhori, Abidah criticises ijbar, because she believes that it is entirely against the spirit of autonomy in Islam. Ijbar should be located within certain contexts and conditions, it was never meant to be monolithically applicable to all circumstances.
Upon her graduation from high school at the age of seventeen, and encouraged by Khudhori who has returned from Egypt and Germany, Nisa finally agrees to speak about Samsudin’s abuse to her parents. When matters are settled between her family and Samsudin’s, she files for divorce. Being a young divorcee, she is subjected to public prejudice, in particular about her close relation to Khudhori. However, determined to start a new life and pursue higher education, Nisa leaves her hometown for university education in Yogyakarta. A year later she marries Khudhori. Her second marriage is her escape from her janda status, because she cannot bear the prejudicial societal treatment: with her marriage to Khudhori, who is a lecturer in Islamic studies, these prejudices soon disappear. Nisa gains what she has struggled for. Her activism on women’s issues within an Islamic perspective is supported by her Khudhori and she becomes a strong supporter of the women’s movement. Her feminist project is to provide equality and 262 justice for women who are subjugated through patriarchal domination, her own experience. Her marriage to Khudhori is an ideal one, each supporting the other in creating sakinah mawaddah wa-rahmah family (a harmonious, peaceful and affectionate family). When their son Mahbub is one year old, Khudhori dies in a car accident. It is rumoured that Samsudin is responsible for the hit and run accident, which kills Khudhori, but the truth is never revealed in the story. Nisa herself believes that life and death are in the hands of the Creator. The death of Khudhori is a significant device in the story, for it reminds the readers that the kind of family life that Nisa and Khudhori have exists only at an ideal level.6
Nisa’s struggle for education is not an easy struggle, but Nisa pursues education despite her circumstances. She is iconic, because she attempts to formulate interpretations of Islam within the perspectives of women’s experiences. In this story women become the central social actors: first subjugated then empowered, Abidah moves women’s social position from the periphery to the centre. She advocates women’s rights within Islam, and within the contexts of Islamic teaching, and highlights domestic violence, because it is often believed to be non-existent in Islamic reality. She creates a heroine who portrays a course of action that constantly resists gender bias, and who refuses to play the role of a slave victimised by patriarchy. The role of education sets the central theme of the text. In addition to her explicit opinions on child and forced marriage, polygamy, and domestic violence, Abidah emphasises the significance of education in resisting oppression based on conservative Islamic teachings. For Abidah, education functions as a means of psychological independence; freeing women from oppression and providing room for emancipation. It is a reverberating call against certain traditional practices, such as child and forced marriage, and polygamy.
Reproduction Rights
As part of their responsibilities as the vicegerents on earth, Muslims are adjured to ensure the survival of the human race through reproduction conducted through sexual
6 Interview with Abidah, 7 July 2004. 263 relationships regulated within the sanction of marriage. Women, with their sole ability to bear children are then central, for they are the linking entity of the past and the future. Humankind relies on women’s bodies to secure the existence of future generations. However, in a society like Indonesia where religious teaching regarding the power of a husband over a wife is very strong, a woman’s right over her own body is significantly disregarded. Her ownership and reproduction rights are denied, because the ability to control her own reproductive behaviour smacks of self-determination and freedom from male authority—anathema to men in most societies, let alone Indonesia. Women’s reproductive health is, by and large, dismissed from male politics.
Although recent developments have shown that many NGOs and women’s organizations are now strongly addressing reproduction rights, according to UNICEF the maternal mortality rate and lifetime risk of maternal death are still high, because of the poor handling of women’s reproductive health.7 To make matters worse, numerous aspects of women’s reproductive rights have intentionally been neglected by the state, for example, abortion and infertility.8 Blackburn argues that it is difficult for women who fall pregnant against their will to secure an abortion, because there is no consensus on the issue. Religious objections create more difficulties for the state to sanction abortion based on women’s needs. Infertility is another problematic matter. In infertility problems the blame is simply placed on the woman, rather than on men, without really knowing the cause.9 In addition, despite the fact that leukorrhea,10 commonly known as keputihan, can be a vital symptom of dangerous reproductive diseases, such as sexually transmitted diseases, the Ministry of Health fails to classify it as needing urgent attention.11
7 UNICEF, Internet, http://www.unicef.org/infobycountry/indonesia_statistics.html1/#1, (2 May 2005). 8 Susan Blackburn, Women and the State in Modern Indonesia, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2004, pp. 155 –162. 9 Ibid., p. 162. 10 Leukorrhea may occur at any age and affects most women. It is a non-blood vaginal discharge, which may be normal, or represent minimal pathological changes from various causes. Leukorrhea during mature periods, before or after menstruation, or during pregnancy without any other symptoms or odour, is normal vaginal discharge. Once it is persistent and accompanied by other symptoms, such as pain and itchiness, then it may be a pathological reaction, an early symptom of more serious diseases, such as reproduction organ diseases or liver, kidney and heart disorders. See http://www.martha- tilaar.com/indo/perlutahu/perlutahu_07.shtml. 11 An Interview with Sri Endah Kinasih, a researcher in Women’s Studies Centre of Airlangga University, Surabaya, Indonesia, 23 April 2004. 264 The lack of women’s awareness on the notion of “woman’s body woman’s right” also contributes greatly to the failure to implement women’s reproductive rights. There is very little discourse about, or attention given to, the subject. Religion is probably the most significant reason for this lack of attention. Traditional interpretations of Islam view that women are half of men, and a woman’s body is owned by the male lineage, exemplified exclusively with the ijbar right when she is single, and her husband’s control when she is married. A wife is subject to her husband’s responsibility, thus control over her body and integrity is in the hands of her husband. Who is the owner of a woman’s body is certainly problematic. The notion of “woman’s body woman’s right” implicates authority, and the right for women to control their bodies, sexuality, reproductive organs: for most men, this will definitely jeopardise their control over women.
Issues of reproduction rights are also presented strongly in Perempuan Berkalung Sorban. The novel is included amongst the few books published in Indonesia from 1990-2003 which are said to cover “all issues concerning women’s reproduction rights and women’s reproductive health, including violent acts and violations of women’s rights.”12 The story translates the issues of reproduction rights from social and cultural approaches within the context of the pesantren world. Abidah’s fictionalisation of these issues proves to be more powerful and influential than if they were represented in more clinical terms, as the story relates to the life and experiences of many women. It articulates women’s own concerns, and turns their concerns into an informative teaching method, for instance, when Nisa tells her relative, Lek Ummi (Aunt Ummi) about women’s reproduction rights: Caring for children is the husband’s responsibility. . . . Also, for example if Lek Ummi refuses to breastfeed the baby because the household load is too heavy, Lek Mahmud [Lek Ummi’s husband] is obligated to find a surrogate mother whom he’ll pay well enough. These are the husband’s responsibility, Lek.... You mean, you don’t know if you have the right to decide whether you want to get pregnant or not, Lek?13
12 Irfan Abubakar, ‘Islam and Gender Books Published in Indonesia (1990 – 2003)’, Kultur The Indonesian Journal For Muslim Cultures, Volume 2, No 2, 2002, p. 138. 13 Abidah, Perempuan, p. 259 265 Abidah’s story covers important reproduction rights issues: domestic responsibilities are to be shared by both husband and wife; the wife has the right to her body; she has the right to decide whether to have a baby. On other occasions, Abidah, through the voice of Nisa, speaks of a wife’s right to initiate and enjoy sexual intercourse with her husband. Although this might seem odd to most Indonesian Muslims, as only men may initiate sexual relations, Abidah directly voices her feminist rhetoric on the issue of sexual rights, always bearing in mind that sexual relationships are only to take place within marriage.
Indeed reproduction rights are not new in Islamic law. Classical books on fiqh have regulated such issues ranging from sexual relations to childbearing. According to K.H. Sahal Mahfudz, classical religious interpretations of such rights place women at the centre.14 Verses in the Qur’an secure these rights: husbands are responsible to treat their wives with respect, and women, due to their childbearing ability, deserve to receive respectful treatment.15 Islam says that because of their so-called reproduction burden, women are given exemption in their vicegerent responsibilities, particularly in the matter of ibadah (worshipping). However, Kyai Sahal reminds us that the practicality of those verses is far from the ideal in most Muslim communities. Women’s reproduction rights often exist only on a rhetorical level, and are never actually applied at the practical level. Efforts to raise women’s awareness of their reproduction rights are still needed to finally reach the ideal goal of just and equal Islamic communities.
Gender-based Violence: Domestic Violence
In her novel, Abidah also raises one of the most contemporary issues that Muslim feminists struggle against: violence against women. To a certain degree, most female characters in the story suffer from gender-based violence, whether direct or indirect, physical or mental. Exposing marital rape, a term only recently used by the Muslim
14 K.H. Sahal Mahfudz, ‘Islam dan Hak Reproduksi Perempuan: Perspektif Fiqih,’ Menakar Harga Perempuan Eksplorasi Lanjut atas Hak-Hak Reproduksi Perempuan dalam Islam, Syafiq Hasyim (ed), Penerbit Mizan, Jakarta, 2002, pp. 113 – 118. 15 Al Qu’ran, Sura Al-Nisa verse 19, and Sura Luqman verse 14. 266 feminist movement, is Abidah’s attack on patriarchal subjugation. Nisa, her co-wife Kalsum, her relative Lek Ummi, and even her mother, reflect many Muslim women who are taught that anytime a husband wants sexual intercourse with his wife, even if she is not ready, or willing, his wife should never refuse. The practice has long been uncritically accepted due to an interpretation of a Qur’anic verse, which states that a husband has “the right” to beat his wife if she is found to be nusyuz (disobedient).16 Nusyuz has long been subject to debate in Islamic communities. Conservative interpretations believe that this verse endorses a husband to be the sole controller and owner of his wife, including the right to “punish” her in case of nusyuz. Modern and gender-equal interpretations of this term demand contextual readings of this verse. If it is not to be abolished, just like the abolition of slavery, nusyuz is only applicable under special conditions. Hussein Muhammad reasons that most violence against women in Muslim societies is basically an extension of this verse.17 It, therefore, is against the Islamic ideals of protecting five basic human rights in the perspective of modern interpretations of Islam: rights to have religion, to live, to think, to reproduction and to possession of property.18 Hussein Muhammad argues further that theological dogma, which says that man’s authority over woman is natural, needs to be reformed and reconstructed in order to be more gender equal, which is indeed the basic of Islamic ideals. Marriage is a contract based on equality and justice, and relations between husband and wife are not to be based on hierarchical power-relations.
The fact that Abidah addresses gender-based violence in her novel is indeed crucial, because many studies conducted by NGOs on women’s issues have shown that reporting of gender-based violence, especially domestic violence has increased due to the rise in awareness of such issues. Rifka Annisa, an NGO specialising in women’s issues in Yogyakarta, recently published its research on domestic violence in Central Java. Its findings are noteworthy, because they show that domestic violence, either physical, sexual or emotional, which was previously perceived to be non-existent was
16 Sura An-Nisa verse 4. 17 Hussein Muhammad, ‘Refleksi Teologis tentang Kekerasan terhadap Perempuan’, Menakar Harga Perempuan, p. 203 – 212. Nusyuz is controversial in its nature. Interpretations of this term vary between ulama. Generally it is understood that “to beat” his wife, a husband must not harm her physically, and it is best not to use “the right.” 18 K.H. Sahal Mahfudz, p. 114. 267 suffered by many women in the research area.19 Violence from a partner was the most common form of domestic violence: Women are at the greatest risk of violence from their husbands; one in every four women in our sample had been sexually or physically abused by a partner. Sexual violence was more common than physical violence, with one in five women reporting sexual violence (i.e., being forced to have sex against their will ensuing physical force or threats), whereas one in ten women experienced physical violence from a husband at some point in their lives.20
On the 14th September 2004, the Indonesian government enacted Undang-Undang No. 23 tahun 2004 called as Undang-Undang Penghapusan Kekerasan Dalam Rumah Tangga (PKDRT—Abolition of Domestic Violence Act). This act aims to give legal protection for women from violence occurring within domestic walls. However, the act does not automatically guarantee a more women-friendly environment. The Javanese idea of harmony might hamper the implementation of this act. Many women victims of partner violence are still reluctant to report their suffering, because Javanese ethics, reinforced by traditional Islamic interpretation of women’s duties, emphasise harmony within the family at all cost. Women are burdened with their duty to be loyal to their husbands even though their wellbeing is at stake, and many women choose silence over reporting violence to the police for the sake of a harmonious household.21 Indonesian women, irrespective of ethnic, religious, cultural or social backgrounds, are all at risk of being victimised by domestic violence, and some cultural and religious norms even encourage a tolerant attitude to gender-based violence, as well as encouraging silence in the face of abuse.
Abidah’s Perempuan Berkalung Sorban remarkably raises these issues in the context of women and Islam, placing such issues at the heart of women’s everyday life. In a rather blatant manner, Abidah writes about previously taboo issues, such as marital rape and domestic violence. She brings them to public notice and, transparently, seeks to educate her readers, hoping that they will come to understand that any violence is intolerable.
19 Hakimi Mohammad, Elli Nur Hayati, V. Utari Marlinawati, Anna Winkvist, Mary C. Elsberg, Silence for the Sake of Harmony: Domestic Violence and Health in Central Java, CHN-RL GMU, Yogyakarta, Rifka Annisa Women’s Crisis Center Yogyakarta, Umeå University, Sweden, Women’s Health Exchange & Program for Appropriate Technology in Health, USA, 2001. The research sample was 13,094 women at their reproduction age 15 – 49 years. The research area was Purworejo Distrct in Central Java. 20 Ibid., p. 77. 21 Ibid., p. 85. 268 That any violence in the name of Islam is un-Islamic: this is the awareness that Abidah hopes to create.
Geni Jora and The Global Woman
Abidah’s most recent publication, Geni Jora (Jora’s Fire, 2004),22 was the runner-up in the 2003 novel writing competition held by the Jakarta Arts Council. Acclaimed by many critics, this story reflects one girl’s global journey in the search and struggle for justice. In this story, Abidah, who is now often labelled the “Nawal el Sadaawi of Indonesia” portrays the journey of a girl named Jora (the short version of Kejora, meaning the brightest star), the daughter of a famous kyai, moving between the pesantren world in East Java to regions in the Middle East and northern parts of Africa.
As in her previous work, Perempuan Berkalung Sorban, in this novel Abidah also uses I as the narrator, presenting her story in a frank manner so that the reader can easily grasp its message. Abidah believes that literary writing should not merely revolve around the oddity of the imaginary world; rather it should focus on its role to enlighten its readers with a strong mission and vision.23 Departing from her former works, this novel is written in diary form, creating an autobiographical power of truth and authenticity. Here, the autobiographical mode of writing gives this novel a significant agenda of recording female experience, bringing female existence to the heart of self- representation and self-disclosure. In offering a fictional autobiographical diary, Abidah raises Jora’s subjectivity, giving her a role as the bearer of collective social memory. Memory is then Abidah’s’s closest ally in Jora’s self-narration. In the novel, Abidah continuously moves between the past and the present, between 1993 Marrakech, 1982 East Java, 1992 Damascus, 1993 Amman and 1993 East Java. The time movement does not develop in conventional linear manner: Abidah jumps easily between times, between regions, between spacio-temporality. Jora is positioned as a speaker writing her own self within the constituency of selfhood and story telling. As Sidonie Smith posits:
22 Abidah El Khalieqy, Geni Jora, Matahari, Yogyakarta, 2004. 23 ‘Pengantar Penerbit,’ Geni Jora. 269 [Autobiographic writing] becomes both the process and the product of assigning meaning to a series of experiences, after they have taken place, by means of emphasis, juxtaposition, commentary, omission. . . . an interpretation of life that invests the past and the “self” with coherence and meaning that may not have been evident before the act of writing itself. The very language she uses to name herself is simultaneously empowering and vitiating since words cannot capture the full sense of being and narratives explode in multiple directions of their own.24
Jora’s writing signifies her self-interpretation within the constant movement of social memory, revealing personal, social, cultural and intellectual histories. Her profound concern is selfhood, for the process of self-reading and self-writing facilitates relationships between historical contexts and individual circumstances, the socio- cultural construction of gender and cultural ideologies of the collective memory presented by the writer. With her autobiographic writing, she mixes fiction and fact, past and present, and the personal and the public. Moreover, she gives stories that construct her ideology of selfhood and self-definition, rendering woman’s story as the story of speaking and empowerment: in opposition to male-defined culture, which forms woman’s story as a story of silence, powerlessness and self-effacement. Jora’s self writing becomes a strategic move, opening up a space where Jora, as a subject of history writing her own story, at the same time positions herself as an agent of discourse, and engages in a dialogue with herself as historical subject and discursive agent. Modes of interaction between the personal and the political are thus created, and metaphors give her narrative significance within the larger social and historical spheres in which she lives.
Education and Travel
In Geni Jora, Abidah also moves beyond geographical constraints, she portrays Jora as a global woman, a transnational body whose journey marks both her physical and intellectual journey to freedom and justice. In the same manner as for Gita in Ratna’s Lemah Tanjung, travel functions as an important formation of Muslim identity. In Jora’s
24 Sidonie Smith, A Poetics of Women’s Autobiography: Marginality and the Fictions of Self Representation, Indiana University Press, Bloomington and Indianapolis, 1987, pp. 45 – 46. 270 journey to Algeria, Jordan, Syria and Morocco she seeks knowledge, and continues her education at the global level. In so doing, she is working toward a gender’s redefinition of what constitutes a “global Muslim woman,” and challenges contemporary discourses on gender and Islam.
Education is the key theme in this novel. The story of Jora revolves around her educational experiences from the pesantren world in East Java to the Middle East and North African regions. The theme of female education in this novel requires consideration within the contexts of both modern and traditional educational environments. In the pesantren world, Jora is taught a system of Islamic education that has long existed in Indonesian Islam: a methodology that emphasizes the importance of acquiring Qur’anic knowledge and upholding Islamic traditions. Nevertheless, the pesantren that Jora attends for her early education has both Islamic and secular schools of thought. The role of Jora as a global educated Muslim female indeed becomes a core element in the text’s reflection of Islamic feminism in Indonesian Islam. In the character of Jora Abidah shows a type of liberal progression as she moves away from the more classical Muslim female stereotypes, such as in the characters of Nisa and Kalsum in Perempuan Berkalung Sorban. Although Nisa does enjoy the privilege of having a tertiary education, the traditional attitude towards female education still considered it unwise to invest in female education, given that women were married young. The novel, because it is written in an autobiographic manner, results in a new depth and complexity in character development. Abidah takes an introspective look at the thought process of the protagonist, Jora, closely examining her struggles and subsequent choices.
In Jora’s opinion her name sounds more like “juara,” meaning the champion. Since early childhood, she had created herself as the smartest student who desires only winning, not losing. Jora understands completely that only through education can she draw her life story: I opened hundreds of pages, thousands, millions, even billions of pages of the world books, eternal books and speeches, lectures of teachers, uztads and lecturers. As a student, as a santriwati, I sat facing each of them. I listened and focused my sight. I absorbed knowledge with my brain and my fuad [heart]. I chewed it for the nutrition of my life.25
25 Abidah, Geni Jora, p. 32. 271 For Jora, knowledge is her nutrition for life. Jora, as did Nisa, developed an ability to ijtihad, and critically assessed lessons she was taught at school.
Abidah’s portrayal of the pesantren world provides a realistic investigation of the life behind the pesantren walls. She demystifies the notion of sacredness that all santris or santriwatis must be necessarily pious and chaste. The pesantren world in Abidah’s eyes is parallel to any other world. It is at risk of moral corruption just like any other world. Similar to any single-sex school, pesantren cannot radically escape from juvenile delinquency, such as group misbehaviour, theft and even lesbianism. In her story Abidah attacks the notion of pesantren piety with descriptions of peer-group pressures common to the teenage world: For almost four years, their [Detty’s gang] misbehaviours have not been handled by majelis taklim. . . . Dissimilar from Detty’s gang, Sonya’s gang is more barbaric and defiant. Two of them were punished . . . because of lesbianism. One of them was punished because of stealing.26
In the story, lesbianism, previously denied as occurring in the pesantren world, is brought into public view. Abidah’s, protagonist, Jora, calls the immoral conduct and immoral influences within the pesantren a kanker (cancer), which is destructive to other students coming to seek knowledge and religious piety. Abidah shows that the world of the pesantren can be manipulated to function as a correctional facility and rehabilitation centre for teenagers whose parents can no longer control their children’s misbehaviour, which sometimes results in unwanted pregnancies and juvenile delinquency. This is harsh criticism of such a religious institution, but Abidah develops it in her story as something violating the ideals of Islamic education for the sake of financial benefits, because parents of troublesome teenagers are willing to pay to transfer the responsibility to educate their children into the hands of the pesantren. She clearly shows that the pesantren is not an exclusive world immune from moral corruption: it cannot escape from internal or external change.
Time is also an essential part of the story. In the social production of memory (and in Geni Jora this is done through autobiographic writing), the past is negotiated continuously, and memories are made and remade. Social memory is not just the
26 Ibid., p. 54. 272 property of individuals, although their life stories contribute to it; rather it is a complex cultural and historical phenomenon in which individuals are shaped. Childhood stories often represent a mythic, autonomous, more poetic and sometimes utopian world. Jora’s narration of her childhood life suggests a memory of many childhoods: it implies a dysfunctional reality; an inclusion of historical incursions and conflicts, resentments and struggles rather than a pre-adolescent idyll. She and her elder sister Lola (nickname for Bianglala, meaning rainbow), were constantly reminded during their childhood that girls and women were not to fight back against men: they had to relinquish their rights when they conflicted with men’s rights. Her grandmother always told Jora that no matter how smart she was, in reality man was still primary, and woman would always be positioned under man.27
As a peranakan Arab (a descendant of Arab and indigenous Indonesians) Jora remembers her childhood as living in a “harem”: she, Lola, and Prahara their brother, were the children of a second wife; her stepmother—her father’s first wife, was childless. Jora learns about Arabic queens, who were powerful and empowered, from her stepmother’s bedtime stories. Living in a “harem” Jora and Lola are isolated from other children of the neighbourhood, because only Prahara is allowed to play outside the house walls. In the story Jora’s objection to polygamy becomes stronger because of how unhappy her mother is, and how heavily burdened she is with domestic responsibilities. The first wife, however, enjoys the privilege of a more public role. It is from witnessing the injustice her mother has to suffer that the search for justice becomes Jora’s strongest motivation in her life. Jora faced both discrimination and violence whilst growing up. Both Jora and Lola were targets of their uncle’ attempted rape: a secret they kept to themselves, for if their father found out he would certainly put the blame on them and not on their uncle, his younger brother.
Jora realises that she will need to be man’s equal to enable her to attack male domination, and this can only be achieved through education, personal power, mandiri (independence) and, most importantly, by keeping a strong belief that men and women were created equal: “the ideal that Islam taught Kafa’ah. Sama. Sederajat [equal].”28
27 Ibid., p. 62. 28 Ibid., p. 144. 273 Jora grows up aspiring to autonomy and freedom, and also with a strong faith. Her boy friend Zakky, the son of a famous kyai says: You are consistent with your belief. Your inspiration is free and you walk upon a strong foothold, are not easily drifted away even by storm of pleasure. Even besides your lover, you look very independent. From you I listen to the holy verses [of the Qur’an] in a fresh way. Very different.29
In the process of becoming autonomous Jora tests not only her intellectual capacity, but also her mental and physical ability. Her ability to speak English and Arabic paves the way for her to be the executor of her own agency and gives her a strong hold on her own subjectivity.
Faith and struggle are the core of Jora’s identity. Constantly she reminds the reader of the words of the Prophet: “Inna hayaata aqiidatun wa jihaadun” (indeed your life is aqidah [generally meaning Islamic creed] and jihad [here meaning struggle]). Jora balances faith and world responsibilities. In a similar way to Titis’ characters, her strong faith is manifested in religious submission. Her actions are based on religious conviction, and her diary is full of verses quoted from the Qur’an. Her jihad is her struggle to achieve equality and justice. The witty and smart Jora is a contemporary heroine who dares to demystify the myth of female defeat, oppression, weakness, ignorance and disempowerment.30 She is the antithesis to such derogatory myths: No single stain remaining from the old and rusty myths. That women is garbage bin of defeat, oppression, weakness, ignorance and disempowerment. This is the second phase of living an enthusiastic life: living in a free world when rebellion has achieved its peak. It produces no waste. And there is no eternal injustice. It always gives birth to rebels with various types and models. And I think destroying injustice is by placing a mirror in front of the protagonist. Give him the exact shadow of his action. In this chaotic milieu, apology has no longer power to revolt. . . . when desire to power is the only goal, what is expected of an apology? Nothing. Just disillusion. Thus, if you are hit on your nose, hit them back with similar power.31
Jora is revolutionary. She seeks equality and believes in “an eye for an eye.” Apologies mean nothing to her: they are just words. Action is the only way to fight any unjust discriminative practice.
29 Ibid., p. 141. 30 Ibid., p. 214. 31 Ibid., p. 215. 274 Abidah’s works can be regarded as serving a broad-minded and progressive gender- jihad: a jihad that brings stable structures of ideal justice and equality. The fiercest criticism of Abidah comes because of her supposed attack on cultural traditions—local or national, and on traditional interpretations of Islamic principles. Abidah and other female Muslim writers would agree that their writings challenge certain cultural and religious norms, which are detrimental to female rights. Forced marriage, for example, is largely believed to be a religiously endorsed practice. Abidah’s views come from her close reading of Islamic sources, and from her ethical motivation as a Muslim. It is from this that she authenticates her claim that female rights to education equal to male’s are sanctioned by both the Qur’an and Hadith, and that both sources of Islamic principles furthermore authorize education in securing the role of Muslims, female and male, to be vicegerents on the earth. Faith facilitates the spiritual and moral development of Muslims, and it continuously articulates that knowledge will expand their intellectual capacity. But, faith alone will not accommodate the ideal role of vicegerency. Exemplified by Aisyah, female Muslims have long consumed scholarship and knowledge, and contributed to the economic, cultural and political progress of Muslim communities. Female education is not an anomaly within Islamic tradition; it must, therefore, be aspired to and highly prized, and shared equally between both sexes.
The notion of “seclusion” for women is strongly challenged by Abidah with her presentation of female characters that consistently defies physical and spatial restrictions through their attainment of university degrees and the pursuit of professional careers. Abidah reinterprets the notion of female seclusion, in order to maintain female chastity, in the light of contemporary situations. In her view, seclusion must not be a- historical or a-political. Abidah uses characters such as Nisa and Jora to prove that contemporary Muslim women can work outside their homes without losing their chastity. They adhere to their faith, but at the same parallel their faith with present sociological conditions. Abidah may indeed be a harsh critic of discriminative and unjust practices in the name of Islam, yet her perspectives are justified in the Qur’an and Hadith. Abidah’s feminist agenda, projected through her writing, is to promote female rights, but also to balance the sociological and theological in order to give norms perspectively flexibility to Islamic teachings. In this way Islam can face the challenges presented by social change, while still reflecting the transcendental essence of Islamic 275 ideals.
Helvy Tiana Rosa and Her War Stories
UNICEF figures show that the number of IDPs (internally displaced persons) in Indonesia is around 1.4 million, with the majority being women and children. This substantial number was mostly driven by “conflict and violence across the archipelago [that] harmed and traumatised and displaced children and women on a massive scale.”32 However, the massive scale of the problem does not automatically mean that in day-to- day reality it receives much attention or urgent remedy. The problems are almost too complex for many Indonesians to face. For this reason, the causes of the displacement of IDPs are at risk of being undocumented within the nation’s historiography.
The most discussed violence against women is the May 1998 rapes of ethnic-Chinese women. In this political turmoil, at least 138 rape cases occurred in Jakarta over a two- day period (13th and 14th May).33 The disclosure of this tragedy by human rights activists was a shock, because many people denied that such violence was possible in Indonesia.34 The fact that problems in conflict areas receive such little attention may result from the SARA policy of the Soeharto regime (see Chapter Seven), where the slogan was used by the state apparatus to severely restrict public discussion about problems of difference: racial, ethnic or religious. Further, as conflict in these areas has occurred over a long period, public attention tends to diminish. Although immediately after the collapse of Soeharto’s authority in 1998 conflict areas received much more attention, as Indonesians always say: “jamur di musim hujan” (mushrooms in rainy season). It only exists for a very short time. In the minds of the Indonesian public today,
32 UNICEF, Internet, http://www.unicef.org/infobycountry/indonesia.html, (5 May 2005). Conflict areas’ (daerah konflik) is the term referring to regions across Indonesia where numerous conflicts ranging from ethnic, religious and ideological occur. Regions such as Sampit, Poso, Ambon, Aceh, Papua are the most notable conflict areas. 33 Ariel Heryanto, ‘Setengah Tiang’, Kompas Cyber Media, Minggu, 15 Mei 2005, Internet, http://www.kompas.com/kompas-cetak/0505/15/naper/1748927.htm, (15 May 2005). 34 Melani Budianta, Ph.D., ‘Beyond Tears and Anger: Representations of Violence Against Women (A Reflection)’, Kultur The Indonesian Journal for Muslim Cultures, Volume 2, Number 2, 2002, p. 56. 276 such conflicts only take shape in generality: there is hardly any acknowledgement of the writing of the experiences of people who suffered violence in these areas. Perhaps people are sceptical, for, despite the many efforts to find solutions to the violence, attainments are few. Or, perhaps, as Melani Budianta writes: “In the immediate aftermath of the waves of violence in Indonesia in the last decade of the 20th century, many poets, artists and writers felt they had been stunned to silence. No words or image can give form to the shock, sorrow, anger, confusion, or disbelief at the scale of atrocity that human beings can affect on one another.”35 Melani Budianta believes that it is the massive scale of the violence which silences people and stops its portrayal. Nonetheless, there are some writers who consistently tell, and therefore remind us, of such atrocities. One of those who dares to break the silence is Helvy Tiana Rosa. Helvy is a prolific short story writer and essayist whose works are laden with portrayals of violence against women in conflict areas where “war is the ultimate result of conflict.”36
Helvy and her war stories may well function as representation for silenced aspirations and local struggles. Through her war stories she raises several lines of questions central to the construction of self-reflexivity: questions about the forms of status and power that victimise women and erode their subjectivity, and how women perceive violence and challenge that violence and their victimisation. These points are powerfully addressed in Helvy’s stories. Helvy’s stories might be classified as fictional, but they capture how women can challenge power and the violence perpetrated against them.
35 Melani Budianta, ‘Beyond Tears and Anger’, p. 47. 36 Rosnani Sahardin, ‘Sudahkan Status Perempuan Itu Berubah?, Jurnal Perempuan, No. 24, p. 7. There two special editions of Jurnal Perempuan focusing on women in conflict areas: Perempuan di Wilayah Konflik (women in conflict areas), Jurnal Perempuan, No. 24, 2002, and Perempuan Dan Pemulihan Konflik (women and conflict recovery), Jurnal Perempuan No. 33, 2004. 40 Helvy Tiana Rosa, ‘Jaring-Jaring Merah,’ Lelaki Kabut dan Boneka (Dolls and the Man of Mist) Kumpulan Cerpen Pilihan Dwi-bahasa, Asy Syamil, Bandung, 2002. This short story collection was written in Indonesian and has been translated into English. Except for the title, the quotes taken from this collection are from its English translation.
277 Armed Conflicts, State Violence and Women
Through her short story Jaring Jaring Merah40 (The Red Net), Helvy scrupulously depicts the atrocities occurring in Aceh, the northern part of Sumatra, where the inhabitants are predominantly Muslim. Aceh is perhaps the most well-known conflict region in Indonesia. The area has a long history of social and political conflict. The class conflict of 1945, for example, divided the Acehnese between those supporting the uleebalang and those from other social-political groups, which the former believed had altered the social structures of the Acehnese. This was followed by the 1950s rebellion of the DI/TII—Darul Islam/Tentara Islam Indonesia, a separatist group that rebelled against the government of Indonesia and attempted to establish a separate state implementing only Islamic law. In 1966, like most parts of Indonesia, this region was also swept by the G30S/PKI rebellion where civilian forces, backed by the army and other military apparatuses, were in conflict with those accused of being communists. In 1976, Hasan Tiro announced the establishment of a new state, independent of Indonesia, called Negara Aceh Merdeka, but popularly known by the name of its military movement Gerakan Aceh Merdeka (Free Aceh Movement). Soeharto’s government dealt repressively with the rebellion, which was stigmatised as a subversive crime against the authority of Negara Kesatuan Republik Indonesia (NKRI—The Unitary Nation of the Republic of Indonesia). The government applied DOM (Daerah Operasi Militer, Military Operation Zone) in Aceh from the 1988 until 1998.42 Under DOM, Aceh became a killing ground: oppressive military rule was established, and the armed forces were the only authority recognized by the government. The implementation of DOM was closed from public eyes, but soon after the fall of Soeharto’s regime the public was made aware of the atrocities in Aceh during the DOM implementation. The area is currently called Nanggroe Aceh Darussalam (NAD)—Aceh The State of Peace/ Islam), and the Islamic sharia is implemented as the provincial law.
Helvy’s Jaring-jaring Merah, acclaimed by the literary magazine Horison (horizon) as one of the best stories in the past decade, is a written portraiture of brutality during the DOM implementation in Aceh. The story centres on a girl, Inong, who suffers mental
42 Rosnani Sahardin, ‘Sudahkan Status Perempuan Itu Berubah?’, pp. 10 – 11.
278 trauma after witnessing her whole family brutalised and murdered by the army. Inong’s father, Zakaria, is accused of being a member of GAM. His defence, that he is simply a muadzin (one who calls for prayer), is useless, and soldiers murder his wife and two sons and rape Inong, before shooting him. His house and others are burnt to the ground, and neighbours who attempt to help Zakaria and his family are either beaten to death or silenced. The trauma Inong experiences leads to her mental illness, yet, she is still capable of recognising her mental state: A long time ago, after my family were slaughtered and I was violated by several men, I felt like I had succumbed into a deep muddy pit. I tried with all my might to pull myself up a bit, reaching to the surface. But the pit had no boundaries. I couldn’t lift myself up, nor even touch anything, except all things that were bitter. I ate and drank anguish each day until I met Cut Dini and became a bird. Then everything seemed lighter.43
Cut Dini is Inong’s caretaker and her friend, for everyone else in her neighbourhood abandons her through fear of more abuse from the army if they help. Inong’s ability to cope with the violence perpetrated against her is her self-identification as a bird. A bird metaphorically signifies freedom, because with its wings it can fly free from any imprisonment. Inong sees herself as caught in a jaring (net), which she can escape by becoming a bird: imagining the freedom to fly and pretending mental illness are Inong’s methods of coping with her trauma. Rape is perhaps one of the most common forms of violence against women in war times. A woman’s body becomes the site of oppression and the signifier of male possession and power. The politics of the body, represented in the rape of Inong, dramatically exposes the intimate relationship between the female personal body and the theme of body politics in many women’s writing. Through this story Helvy writes the history of the subjected and violated body. Inong’s body functions simultaneously as a personal and political, psychological and ideological boundary of meaning, a contested border of self-possession and of transgression through which her subjectivity is subdued, yet able to challenge her oppressors through psychological pretension. The problematic of body-possession is central in this story. Despite the violence and brutality that Inong experiences in relation to her body, she finds ways to resist the kind of body pressed upon her through a politics of the body: she becomes a bird, a body-less female. A bird has no social or sexual identification to human society: it is not a culturally charged and classified body. By leaving her body
43 Helvy, ‘The Red Net’, p. 100. 279 behind, becoming a bird, Inong manages to survive, because the “homelessness” of her body becomes her resistance to violence. Inong’s body is marginalised through rape, yet with her body-less self-identification she is able to engage in a process of critical self- consciousness through which she comes to an awareness of the relationship between her personal material body, and the cultural meanings assigned to her gendered body in body politics.
Helvy’s story of the atrocities in Aceh during the DOM period is based on historical truth. Through the voice of Cut Dini, the NGO activist who looks after Inong, Helvy illustrates the state institutionalised violence, which is the primary cause of the brutality that Inong and others like her have experienced. When, after the fall of Soeharto, military officers ask Cut Dini to sign an agreement not to speak to strangers about the brutality suffered by Inong, she refuses: No! How about the rapes and tortures all this time, the slaughters at rumoh geudong, the scattered corpses at Buket Tangkurak, Jembatan Kuning, Sungai Tamiang, Cot Panglima, Hutan Krueng Campli . . . . and other places!” Cut Dini raised her voice. “And the village of three thousand widows, the neglected orphans . . . that heartless! No!”44
Cut Dini’s refusal to be silenced about the cruelty of government and military oppression signifies women’s struggle to recapture their stories, and become agents provocateurs infiltrating their voices inside the nation’s documented history. Their stories of violence and violation and the extreme state violence against its citizens, will be heard. There were mass murders of men accused of being supporters of GAM, as a consequence thousands of women and children were left with no means of support. They were simply abandoned by the state. Many of these victims took refugee in the supposedly more secure refugee camps, yet here these IDPs faced another type of victimisation, as many camps are usually in poor conditions and lack food, clean water, health care, sanitary facilities and other social services.45
Similar stories take place in other conflict areas such as in Poso, Ambon, and Sambas. Armed conflicts and wars result only in sorrow and victimisation. Tabrani Yunus argues
44 Helvy, ‘The Red Net’, p. 102. 45 Julius Lawalata, ‘Fakta Tak Terlihat Posisi Perempuan Dalam Konflik Sosial Maluku,’ Jurnal Perempuan No. 33, 2004, pp. 10 – 13. His study shows that around 75% of the victims in Moluccan conflicts are women, and this is similar in other conflict areas. 280 that indeed it is the “patriarchal civilisation” that causes such conflicts, because conflicts are usually preceded by ideological or political disputes. Generally, only men are involved in the decision making of war, yet the most victimised are women and children, particularly those at the grass roots level with no ideological or political interests.46 Julius Lawalata adds further that differences in religion, educational level, social status, culture and language do not contribute significantly to the effects of armed conflicts on women. Any armed conflict or any war will bring about similar violence to women: economic violence, health violence, and social violence. Economic violence is when their husband’s death leaves women as single mothers with a double burden to support their family, because the state fails to provide enough economic support; health violence occurs with the poor conditions in the refugee camps; social violence is where women are at risk of sexual harassment in the refugee camps through a lack of privacy.47 Another kind of violence elucidated by Lawalatta is where the state fails to provide security and stability, either socially or politically. Another interesting point raised by Lawalatta is the number of abandoned pregnant women in the conflict areas. Military men, who are stationed to help secure the areas, are often involved in relationships with local women, and when their tour of duty is over, many of them abandon these pregnant women.48
Exile versus Home
Poso in the island of Sulawesi, and Ambon in the Moluccas, are regions in Indonesia, though with different historical conditions, experiencing similar, so-called, religious conflict between Muslims and Christians. Labelling such conflict as religious conflicts is rather inappropriate, as difference in terms of religion does not automatically create conflict. In a multi-ethnic society such as Indonesia, differences of ethnicity and other ethnic identifiers, such as religion, have never been the source of conflict. Bertrand, in
46 Tabrani Yunus, ‘Petaka Bagi Perempuan: Pemahaman Baru Konflik Politik Bersenjata di Aceh’, quoted in Julius Lawalata, p. 13. 47Julius Lawalata, pp. 11 – 12. 48 Ibid., p.13. 281 Nationalism and Ethnic Conflict in Indonesia (2004), writes a remarkable analysis about the emergence of conflicts in Indonesia. He concludes: A complex mix of factors such as institutional incentives and threats, elite interests, and state policies shape the politicization and mobilization of ethnic identities. Although groups identify themselves in ethnic terms and differentiate themselves from other groups along a variety of ethnic identifiers, such as language, religion, or race, these differences are not a source of conflict. Rather, grievances arising from different statuses for groups, discrimination, exclusion, or differentiated access to political representation or economic resources are much more plausible factors in violent outcomes.49
From Bertrand’s conclusion, it is obvious that discrimination and unequal economic distribution give rise to conflicts, which later develop and masquerade in religious difference. In looking specifically at the conflict in the Moluccas, Bertrand also concludes that different religions are never sources of conflicts in that area, rather factors related to institutional change are the initiators for creating religious conflicts. He argues: The ambiguity of the role of Islam in the Indonesian nation and patrimonial relations sustaining the New Order regime reinforce divisions between Christians and Muslims in Ambon and Maluku. The regime’s policies and manipulative use of religion for political support had negative consequences, particularly since Dutch colonial policies had created a divide among the religious community.50
Bertrand further adds that the rapid transition to more democratic conditions also likely stirs up the violence. Democracy brings a whole new notion to the conception of the nation, and there is growing uncertainty on the part of individuals and groups about positioning within new national structures.51 Violence in Indonesia—be it ethnic or religious—cannot be categorized under one label. Bertrand shows that difference is not the problem. The problem is obviously injustice, marginalisation and inequality in distribution: be it distribution of welfare, or political representation at the nation level. Such imbalance is made worst when the ruling elite manipulates political representation for its own benefit, and it results only in heightened tensions easily sparked into conflict and violence.
49 Jacques Bertrand, Nationalism and Ethnic Conflict in Indonesia, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2004, p. 214. 50 Jacques, Bertrand, ‘Legacies of the Authoritarian Past: Religious Violence in Indonesia’s Moluccan Islands’, Pacific Affairs, Spring 2002, 75, 1, p. 62. 51 Ibid., p. 85. 282 Because this section focuses on Helvy’s stories, the affects of violence are portrayed from a Muslim perspective. However, adherents of both religions are indeed victims when religious conflict as such takes place. Violence victimises everybody, and regardless of its actors—perpetrator or victim, violence is a problem for all; it affects everybody, even when one is not directly involved.
In Helvy’s story Sebab Aku Angin Sebab Aku Cinta (Because I am Wind Because I am Love), the setting is Ambon and the narrator is the wind, retelling a story about a girl’s struggle to keep her religious identity, despite the injustices and brutality that are forced upon her. In this story, the narrator is the wind, presumably Helvy’s voice articulating her personal views on the acts of inhumanity that war never ceases to produce. The narrative centres on Nona—often called Cinta (love) by the narrator. Nona is a typical Ambonese title for a young girl. Darahitam, another of Helvy’s short stories also captures the story of an unnamed girl of Kalimantan. In both stories, the anonymity of the protagonist aims to show the generality of the experience: any girl, of any social categorisation, might become another Nona of Ambon, or another nameless Dayak girl of Kalimantan. Nona and the nameless Dayak girl are representations of the many nameless girls and women across the archipelago who are victimised by forces external to them, who are violated because of their gender, and who have to struggle to maintain their identity. In Sebab Aku Angin Sebab Aku Cinta, the narrator recalls the occasion when Muslims were massacred during their Eid El Fitri prayers. The most celebrated day in the Muslim calendar was turned into a tragedy, as Nona and many other Muslims witnessed their families, neighbours and others killed: Nona sees her father beheaded in front of her; her mother stoned to death; and her baby brother thrown into a burning building. Since that massacre many Muslims have been driven away from the city of Ambon: thousands became IDPs. This story is Helvy’s fictional representation of the true incident that took place on the 19th January 1999, when the so-called religious conflict between Muslims and non-Muslims began to spark. What triggered the conflict remains unclear, although many believe that what began as a criminal issue escalated into religious incidents and conflict and resulted in extreme social cost.52
52 Julius Lawalata, Fakta Tak Terlihat, Jurnal Perempuan, p.10. 283 IDPs are a major phenomenon of war, as is exile, and thus many stories about war reflect this phenomenon. The symbolic representation of woman as mother/earth/country/homeland appropriates woman as signifier of communal identity. The relationship between place and identity is strongly embodied in the gendered nature of such allegory, which posits woman as bound by communal identity. Exile is forced upon the majority of women and children in conflict areas, and because they have to leave their land—their community - it is no longer available as a signifier of identity. For many women, losing their land—losing their identity—also means the collapse of female agency. In the story of Nona female identity revolves primarily around land and religion: resistance to exile functions as a complex strategy to reinforce identity. When Nona, in order to secure her safety is faced with exile—leaving her motherland - and the removing of her jilbab, the relinquishing of religious identity, she is defiant. Rather, she chooses to confront her assailants: to define her own agency, her own jihad: “I will never leave. . . . All I have now is Allah and this land. I have to defend the truth.”53 With her love of the land, her vow to remain in her homeland, and her faith, she creates a story of struggle in defence of her right to freedom.
Regardless of their religion, ethnicity or ideological creed, there are those who do not take sides in conflict, yet are victimised because of their refusal to choose a side. In the battle between the oppressor and the oppressed, the ultimate victims are the innocent. Helvy’s story Darahitam embodies the victimisation of the innocent. Any conflict has a cost, but the innocent pay the major cost. Without taking sides, through this story Helvy suggests that in war all sides lose. This is the message Helvy wants the reader to grasp: everyone is a victim and only violence survives. Darahitam captures the experience of a nameless Dayak girl whose father is murdered by a Madurese, a migrant in the Dayak homeland. She is the only survivor of the family. The story took place in Sambas, in the heart of Kalimantan, where ethnic conflict between the indigenous Malay Sambas (often called Dayaks) and the migrant Madurese, who are mostly Muslim, reached its peak between 1999-2000, and resulted in the displacement of the Madurese from the region. The nameless girl hates the Madurese for murdering her family, yet when her neighbour, a drunk, indigenous Malay named Nerang attempts to rape her, it is her Madurese neighbour, Alawy, who saves her. Alawy, a Muslim, operates an orphanage
53 Helvy, ‘Because I am Wind Because I am Love’, Lelaki Kabut dan Boneka, pp. 142 –143. 284 for children, regardless of their ethnicity or religion. Someone from the ethnic group she despises saves her. The nameless girl witnesses the beheading of Alawy by Nerang, 54 and hears his last confession about how conflict generates more complicated problems: It’s true that I’m of Madurese descent, but I was born in Palangkaraya. I’ve never been to Madura . . . My parents have lived there for many years. Oh yes, my name is Alawy. What’s yours?55
Alawy brings into the story the complicated definition of “home.” Ethnically Alawy is a Madurese, but his home is Sambas. Alawy’s case shows the ambivalence of migrant identity. What is “home”? Is it defined in terms of genealogy, race, ethnicity, culture or geographic location? Through the figure of Alawy Helvy presents the sense of the problematic of migrant identity.
In a multi-ethnic society, ethnicity occupies a crucial place in the formation of one’s identity. In Indonesia, for example, the emphasis is more on one’s ethnic identity, rather than one’s sense of being an Indonesian. Living inside Indonesian territorial borders one is not much challenged in terms of one’s national identity: a sense of being an Indonesian is usually taken for granted. Reading Anderson’s Imagined Communities in a simplistic way:56 since it is imagined, a sense of being an Indonesian seems to exist beyond everyday reality. Nationalism is only strongly felt when an Indonesian is living overseas and his/her nationalism is confronted. As for Alawy in the story, for most Indonesians, especially those living outside multi-ethnic cities like Jakarta, ethnic background is important. To the question, ‘Anda orang mana?’ (where are you from?), the common answer would be, ‘saya orang Madura,’ (I’m a Madurese or I am from Madura) and not, ‘I am Indonesian.’ However, Alawy’s grounding of identity is not formed by his ethnicity per se, but his “earth” or his place also contributes a notion of identity that resists being subsumed under merely ethnic labelling. Alawy could be an example of migrant identity that is often inevitably hybrid. Hence, Helvy introduces the hybridity of cultural practices between the Madurese and the Dayaks. Aware that migrant identity walks an uneasy line between adopted and genealogical practices, she is concerned with articulating that in-between-ness, rather than attempting to
54 Beheading or mangayau is a common way for the Dayaks to kill someone. 55 Helvy, Darahitam, p. 120. 56 Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, Rev. and extended ed., Verso, London, New York, 1991. 285 dogmatically assert any sense of ethnic purity. It is always uneasy to try to establish identity solely through ethnicity, especially in Indonesia where almost everyone comes from the cross of ethnicity, religion, culture, class and status.
Ethnic difference and religious difference indeed are not the major source of conflict, the most primary cause is likely the failure to understand and tolerate difference. The nameless girl of Helvy’s story understands this: although she is horrified at the death of her family by the Madurese, she is equally horrified by Always’s death at the hands of Nerang. After witnessing Alawy’s tragic and violent death and knowing his devotion to love and non-violence, the girl takes him as her role model. At the end of the story she decides to take a new road, “the road that was once laid down by the man [Alawy] in his indifference. The road of most love, the road that doesn’t discriminate anyone’s blood.”57 Alawy, despite his genuine nature and religious piety: his amr ma’ruf nahy munkar (enjoining good and forbidding evil acts) is not exempted from the violence of war. His innocence does not allow him to escape from death, but the girl realises that violence must not be returned with violence, that revenge hatred will not stop the cycle of violence and victimisation. The story ends without clearly giving us a solution to the problem: the conflict between the Dayaks and the Madurese is never resolved. The war brings only death, despair, anger, revenge, hatred, and sorrow, and this reflects the reality of the conflict. All the Madurese were driven out of Sambas and were no longer welcomed by the Dayaks. In recent years the conflict in Sambas has been suppressed, but the problems caused by relocation are yet to be resolved.58 Nevertheless, through her character, Helvy celebrates an alternative way to reconstruct a plural community based on justice and equality: a road with no discrimination. The girl continues Alawy’s heritage, looking for alternative means to violent action, and becoming involved in causes to help the oppressed and the dispossessed, such as the children that Alawy housed in his orphanage. Her awareness and sensitivity that war results only in victimisation lead her to become socially committed to peace and active for change in her personal life. Helvy’s Dayak girl is a representation for a culture of non-violence.
57 Ibid, p. 121. The Dayaks believe that they can identify the Madurese and any other ethnic group from the smell of their blood. This is difficult to understand if one is not of Dayak origin. 58 Mita Noveria and Haning Romdiati, ‘Kehidupan Pada Masa Pemulihan: Kasus Perempuan Korban Kerusuhan Sambas di Kabupaten Pontianak’, Jurnal Perempuan, No. 33, p. 39. 286 With this story Helvy challenges any attempt to categorize conflicts such as that between the Dayaks and Madurese as solely caused by ethnic-religious factors. In effect she challenges a simple homogenisation of cause. In any group—ethnic, religious, class, or any other, conflicts are likely coloured by personal interests, which are undeniably central yet very subtle. Ethnic, religious or ideological differences are then used to envelop and mask these vested personal interests. Ethnic, religious and ideological values are, to a certain degree, dissimilar, yet personal and communal relations between members of different groups are not always shaped by such differences. Labelling a person simply from her/his ethnicity or religion is dangerous and problematic, because classification is often used to discriminate. This is illustrated in the case of the Dayak versus the Madurese in Helvy’s story. Alawy, for example, is of Madurese descent, yet culturally he is Dayak and religiously he is Muslim, not helu (the earliest religion of the Dayak Ngaju).59 Alawy’s dying “confession” brings into focus the problematic of identity. Identity is not monolithic, nor a univocal system determined only through structures within that system. It is often fragmented and thus opens possibilities for a multi-vocal construction of personal and communal identity.
Alawy is an example of the innocent, like the millions of IDPs who are forced from their homelands into exile. Where violence rules their innocence is simply sacrificed. For Alawy, and for IDPs, self and place are intertwined in shaping one’s identity and exile is a terrible fate. The nameless Dayak girl and Inong represent the many women in conflict areas who are dominated, violated, abused, beaten, raped, and who commit suicide or are killed by men who are themselves manipulated by power. It is a vicious circle in which women are the ultimate victims.
War in the Global World
Physical spaces, geographic locations, homelands, are key indicators of the divergent articulations of cinta tanah air (literally meaning loving the homeland—patriotism) that women writers are producing. Patriotism is not exclusively male. The character Nona,
59 Ibid., p. 117 and p. 121. 287 for example, transgresses this territory commonly associated with men and transforms it into hers. As Nona parallels her jihad to those of other Muslims across the world in Bosnia, Palestine, Kashmir, Kosovo, Myanmar, Azerbaijan, Chechnya, Algeria and other regions where Muslims are targets of ethnic/religious conflicts, her story moves beyond regional boundaries, 60 and Helvy undeniably moves her national agendas to global ones. Helvy’s stories, Maut di Kamp Loka (Death in Loka Camp), Bait-bait Aku, Ayah dan Dudayev (The Stanzas of Mine, Father and Dudayev), Je Ne Te Quite Jamais, Palestine61 (I Will Never Leave You, Palestine) all have similar themes of the brutality and injustices that Muslims have to suffer. In these stories, Helvy attempts to address the notion of patriotism through her female protagonists. Through the jihad of her female characters the author posits the struggle for national identity within the boundaries of female narratives. In Maut di Kamp Loka the character Lizetta, a Bosnian Muslim, struggles against the Serbians who are about to kill all the Bosnians in the Loka Camp. Before her death (she is run over by a military tank) Lizetta helps her fellow female Muslims in the camp to revolt against their Serbian oppressors. Her martyrdom is justified through religion and patriotism, as she believes that to die in defence of her religion and national identity is part of a Muslim’s responsibility. Lizetta says that to fight in the path of God and to die for it satisfies Muslims’ yearning to meet their Creator. She is not afraid of death for she sees it as a way to reach God.62
The character Zahwa in Je Ne Te Quite Jamais, Palestine is similar to Lizetta. Zahwa comes from a rich family and follows her parents to live in Paris when Israel invades Palestine. After ten years of exile in Paris her longing to see her homeland takes her back to visit Palestine. In Gaza, she meets Sarah, the mother of three children, whose husband was killed by Israeli soldiers. Sarah is suspected of having Hammas connections and is shot dead in front of Zahwa and the children. Zahwa, however, is not harmed, because the Israelis know that she is the daughter of Kareem Abror, a Palestinian political elite. As with all Helvy’s female characters, Zahwa too becomes a witness to atrocities and because of this decides to leave her luxurious life in Paris, despite her father’s disapproval, to join Hammas. Zahwa is a political science student
60 Ibid., p. 142. 61 All these stories are collected in Ketika Mas Gagah Pergi, Asy Syaamil, Bandung, 2000. 62 Hevy, Maut di Kamp Loka, p. 52. 288 and she feels that Hammas is the only way she can manifest her patriotism. Zahwa understands Hammas’s use of intifadah to destroy the oppression of the Israeli invasion. Zahwa trades her luxurious life for patriotism, risking her life to join those, who in her conviction, were those refusing to sell their land for anything.63 The story of Vakha Bolshov in Bait-bait Aku, Ayah dan Dudayev is also a story of resistance to oppression. This story depicts the struggles of Chechnya against Russian aggression. Vakha follows her father’s military calling and becomes a female commander famous for her bravery and courageous patriotism. At the end of the story she loses the people she loves and admires most, her father and General Dudayev. Vakha models herself after Dudayev: on his strong belief that in faith alone rest the strongest power, and that the future belongs to only those who have strong faith.64
In those stories Helvy portrays her woman protagonists as victims of war, however, they are not simply silenced victims. They are able to show their resistance, even if it means they need to give up pleasure, or their life. Their jihad is substantiated by their belief that going to war, especially when it is done for the “right” cause is dignified. For them war must be exercised when all other means fail. They make sense of war by enforcing another war in which they are participants. Through this means they reach autonomy. However, it is interesting to see that their participation in war takes place after they witness violence or have violence forced upon them. In her war stories Helvy shows that indeed women, like men, are capable of inflicting violence. She demystifies the notion of female physical weakness and submissiveness. Female engagement in war also signifies female insertion into the narratives of patriotism and nationalism. However, although women may attain autonomy and freedom through war, such freedom and autonomy are not built upon solid ground. Violence begets more violence, pain brings more pain, authority is challenged by yet more authority, and power with more power. Seeking liberation through war means that liberation is achieved only through death, not through life, and the result is yet more death. When war is used to destroy aggression the ultimate result is victimisation and destruction. In most of Helvy’s stories she champions war as a liberating agent for female characters on the one hand, but on the other hand, her stories show the dreadful face of war and conflict.
63 Helvy, Je Ne Te Quite Jamais, Palestine, p. 121. 64 Helvy, Bait-bait Aku, Ayah dan Dudayev, p. 96. 289 Helvy constantly warns the reader that war and violence can be exploited in the name of religion and ethnic supremacy, and that warfare and violent acts are often authoritative, legitimised means for actions of vengeance.
Helvy’s stories reveal that for Muslims jihad is a contested term: it is multi-faceted and can be located in very diverse and complex backgrounds. Esposito argues that the multi- definition of jihad situates the term at the centre of Muslim’s identity. The following quote from Esposito captures the broad notions of jihad ranging from non-violent to violent acts: Jihad as struggle pertains to the difficulty and complexity of living a good life: struggling against the evil in oneself in order to be virtuous and moral, making a serious effort to do good works and to help reform society. Depending on the circumstances in which one lives, it can also mean fighting injustice and oppression, spreading and defending Islam, and creating a just society through preaching, teaching and, if necessary, armed struggle or holy war. The two meanings of jihad, non-violent and violent, are contrasted in a well-known prophetic tradition. . . . The greater jihad is the more difficult and more important struggle against one’s ego, selfishness, greed, and evil.65
Helvy’s characters engage both in non-violent and violent jihad. The nameless girl in Darahitam achieves her triumph through understanding and kindness, whereas women like Vakha of Chechnya and Zahwa of Palestine choose to take a violent path by joining armed struggles. Different reasons and social contexts provide the multi meanings of jihad and the ways Muslim make sense of it. Nonetheless, within any circumstance, jihad as violent struggle brings only destruction and victimisation to everybody involved. Ironically this is the very reason jihad comes into existence, as a counter struggle to destruction and victimisation. Jihad is meant to preserve life, not to bring it to destruction.
Helvy’s portrayal of war and conflict serves as a reminder of the pain that war causes. Through her stories all of us are challenged to move beyond stereotypes and differences in terms of ethnicity, religion, and historical grievances, to recognize our shared values and interests and to build a common future, which is just and more humane. Also through her stories she makes us aware of what is happening, and what indeed can
65 John L. Esposito, Unholy War Terror in the Name of Islam, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2002, pp. 27 – 28. 290 happen in a multi-ethnic society such as Indonesia. She is perhaps the first Indonesian female author who has created narratives that look closely at violence: what it is meant by violence, how it affects people, and the factors that bring it about. Like the other three authors, Helvy portrays clearly the imperfect conditions under which her fellow “brothers” and “sisters” reside, regardless of their differences in terms of religion, nation or ethnicity. Through her stories she illustrates the devastating consequences of conflict, and at the same time presents us with her solutions to reduce such conflict.
Various Women, Various Lives, Various Identities
Through their female characters all four writers promote an agenda of female agency and autonomy. Through their heroines the authors disseminate their ideas on female identity, and use their narrative strategies as a means of suggesting new ways of thinking about women’s own selves. The stories have an allegorical quality: they exemplify women of multiple faces showing a complexity of female experiences. A woman is subjugated yet achieves power; one is in a peripheral position yet is able to centre herself, and another gains autonomy through hardship. They are stories of complex forms of resistance to women’s subjugation and exclusion, which offer ways for women to claim themselves as subjects through negotiation and re-negotiation their positions.
Despite the criticism that the works of the four selected authors are merely didactic and lack literary merit, their works are significant as they present a variety of ways women can make meaning of their lives. For example, although the works of Abidah and Helvy are said to have a strong didactic element, their didacticism is a valuable element in disseminating messages and ideas. Abidah and Helvy make powerful points in presenting circumstances where injustice takes place. The reader gains a clear picture of what is just as opposed to unjust, and what is equal as opposed to unequal. Even though their pictures are fictional, the characters the authors create in their narratives represent women within various cultural, social and political constellations. These characters raise questions, often providing answers, about situations in which real women in real life 291 might find themselves. The authors’ accommodation of various female representations in their works is an affirmation of women’s search for identity and position. They deserve their position within the canon of Indonesian literary tradition.
292 Conclusion
The various strands of contemporary feminism call for more nuanced readings of the political, ideological construction of women’s roles within which feminist theory, practice and reading are situated. Muslim women are undeniably responsive to such calls and suggest various ways of engaging with their own social, cultural and political conditions. Through various discourses of their own they demonstrate their subject position and call for the “woman question” to be centred at the public level. In so doing they show that they are no longer “objects” in identity construction.
The works of Titis Basino, Ratna Indraswati Ibrahim, Abidah El Khalieqy and Helvy Tiana Rosa offer narratives of feminist discursive practices, which provide new and fresh engagements of women with both Islam and modernity. Within their feminist reading the writers understand that gender roles are negotiable rather than inherent. In representing women in a variety of discourses they draw multi-faceted women struggling against repression and domination, and resisting their status as “powerless.” The authors tackle various issues across a wide spectrum in their works: ranging from women’s place in the domestic sphere to women’s place in the public domain. What is central in their writing is their refusal to define women other than from the perspective of women themselves. Giving women voice to women allows them to place themselves at the centre of their identity construction.
Helvy Tiana Rosa, for example, uses a discourse of women and war to represent the struggles of women. In her narratives women are victims because are subjected to violence, yet at the same time women can be perpetrators of violence, especially against men. Women can be actors, perpetrators or victims in these home front narratives. Helvy challenges the notion of women’s physical weakness. In so doing, the characters she creates are a mixture of feminine and masculine qualities. The erosion of a clear-cut division between the feminine and the masculine is a sharp challenge to gender construction and roles: she shows roles can be negotiated. Through her characters, she authorises the “other,” and creates ukhuwah Islamiyah, sisterhood under the banner of
293 Islam. Helvy is often accused of presenting through her narratives an “us versus them” attitude: Muslims against non-Muslims. Nevertheless, if read closely, her stories construct women deprived by warfare, yet from this they learn understanding, how to negotiate, and find ways to move peacefully through their lives. When Helvy’s characters use jihad to protect their bodies and land the term takes on new meaning. What happens to women in war and conflict? The answer to that question is provided by Helvy’s war stories: she gives women a place in history.
Abidah El Khalieqy is indeed a promoter of women’s rights in the heart of Islamic discourses. Her narratives capture the ways women conceptualise their bodies and their sexual and reproductive functions, which are intricately linked to their social, cultural and political environments. She uses the language of the female body to represent women’s own culture. Abidah’s female characters place education, social reform and reproduction rights at the centre of women’s self-construction.
Ratna Indraswati Ibrahim’s discourse is different. Her narratives concentrate on the victimisation of women because of their sexual identity. In her narratives women function as objects inherited from a society that says women matter less than men: a society that thinks women barely belong to the culture that marginalizes and silences them through domesticity. Ratna raises critical issues about the subjugation and domination of women, and captures the imbalance in social relations. Yet Ratna’s women are not all submissive: those denied their rights respond to the injustice they experience. Through her narratives Ratna acknowledges the struggles of women, especially those in under-privileged conditions.
In establishing a women’s culture, Titis Basino presents narratives that view women from the perspective of an Islamic mystical terrain, namely Sufism. Titis’ works largely emphasise the spiritual dimension of her female characters, representing the inner or esoteric sphere of Islam. Her characters are mostly housewives, whose first and foremost struggle involves choosing at each critical moment in their lives to remember and surrender actively to God. Her use of Sufism attacks the general perception of Sufism which is considered to be orthodox. In Titis’ world, the spiritual realm of Islam is everywhere, and is not limited by time and space. Titis believes that without
294 spirituality an adherent of a religion will simply lose her/his core identity. Titis’ other strong narrative issue is the practice of polygamy; she approaches the issue from various stands. She looks at the influence of historical conditions, and her narratives show that the voices of women involved in the practice must certainly be heard, and understood in terms of complex cultural and social relations.
Where Islam is the core entity around which identity revolves, it must be understood by Muslims that Islam teaches justice and equality, but also understood that Islam is also subject to interpretation, which is contextualized across time and space, and across cultures and regions. The construction of Muslim women’s identity is also subject to different contexts of time, space, cultures and regions. Through their fiction Titis, Ratna, Abidah and Helvy present the multi-faceted identities of Muslim women: they depict different experiences in response to different settings. Nevertheless, all the women aim for the creation of more just and equitable conditions for human beings of all sexual and social categorisations.
In breaking silence and giving voice to women, the four authors have indeed created “feminist novels”. They take ethical and moral positions and are didactic in the project of cultural transformation, of establishing new values, which underline justice and equality. They are revisionist mythmakers who refuse to keep silent. They replace heroes with heroines, and revise the stories of grand heroic figures with stories of ordinary women. The authors celebrate female survival that may be found in the different ways in which women have responded to their historical situations.
The discourses of Titis, Ratna, Helvy and Abidah remind their readers of a uniting value of various identity constructions for Muslim women. Their female heroes effect and inspire readers that Islam opens its door widely for its adherents to speak their voices in response to the authoritative discourse restricting and denying Muslims their rights. Their readers’ responses show that these writers raise issues of women’s rights and pose challenges to the prevailing women’s identity which is often believed to be very restricted. They give readers new eyes in looking at the problems of gender conveyed in their writings. Their female readers may find inspiration from the characters presented while male readers may be made aware of how male-dominated culture impacts on
295 gender constructions. Their authors’ messages may well be received thus readers can soon put into action their jihad for equality and justice.
This is only a partial study of a much broader feminist project. Joining their sisters in the rest of the Muslim world, women presented in this study, Indonesian and non- Indonesian, are struggling to improve women’s condition and grant women better life in quantity and quality. Certainly, other studies are deemed beneficial to fill the gaps, to complete what is lacking and to continue what is left off. Further researches of Muslim women; their identities, their efforts for rights are crucial in giving a broad spectrum of how Muslim women look at their identity. As this study is an academic endeavour to portray the dynamics and multiplicity of the politics of religious identity of Muslim women in Indonesian fiction and their demands for women’s rights, such activism does not stop here. NGOs, academic lectures or public lectures can be tools for expressing women’s ideas and beliefs, providing a necessary avenue of analysis for a comprehensive understanding of Indonesian Muslim women’s life.
Muslim women in Indonesia do enjoy greeter freedom than their sisters in the Middle Eastern regions. Yet sharing similar goal for promoting and striving for women’s equal position in the eyes of Islam, the Indonesian Muslim women are shaped by local interpretations and local cultures. Because of the transnational network of Islamic movements across the globe, certainly there are those who attempt to colour Indonesian Islam with only Middle Eastern emblems and cultural practices. However, there are still many of those who believe that the practice of Muslim religious identity in Indonesia is uniquely Indonesian because of different culture and tradition. Muslim women in Indonesia arguably enjoy better social positions than their sisters in more conservative Islamic regions. Yet, exemplified by the writings of the four selected authors, women are not automatically allowed freedom equal to men. Women’s participation in private and public arenas is still limited reminding readers that the road to equality is still a long way off. A danger for the future, when women are perceived as societal members having equal rights as men, lies in the fact that the growth of more conservative, orthodox interpretations of Islam that confine women from broader social participation appear to be stronger. These may be consciously exaggerated and exploited to satisfy vested interests of individuals having political power. Muslims in Indonesia should be
296 made aware of such agendas. Radicalism in theological practices also poses another danger to the development of the feminist movement. A culture of tolerance needs to be supported and encouraged in order to prevent emotional and strident reactions within the Islamic community accusing reformers of betraying Islam. The seeds for civil and public tolerance, which have been within Indonesia’s Islamic community for so long, can be developed and used as a core to represent a form of Islam fully compatible with democracy, pluralism, and non-confrontational relationships with elements of Indonesian societies and the rest of the world.
Despite the fact that Indonesia has the largest Muslim population in the world, its appearance in discourses about Islam, particularly in Western ones, is rare. Islam is immediately given a Middle Eastern reference. That Indonesian Islam has a thriving cultural life is often neglected by many scholars, mostly Westerners and Arabs who maintain that Islam is only centred in the Middle Eastern regions. Indonesian Islam, in its attempt to represent democratic aspirations, provides needed balance to understand politics in the Islamic world. In speaking of Islam, Muslim women and gender construction, Indonesian interpretations and its ongoing cultural dynamics certainly need to be included. The importance of Indonesian Islam within the global Islamic scope should not be underestimated, suggesting that it is necessary to remind the international world that Islam comes in numerous faces and its adherents make sense of it in numerous ways considering its culturally diverse contexts.
It is hoped that this study will reach greater readers outside the academics. A larger readership will generate more dissemination of the messages delivered by the authors this study has examined. In so doing, this study will not solely reside in academic discourse. My hope is that it becomes a moving text in the mind of its readers that they eventually transform words into actions.
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Films and Interviews
Arahmaini. ‘Nafas Islam pada Seni dan Budaya di Indonesia’. Wajah Wajah Muslim Indonesia (Faces of Indonesia’s Muslims). A documentary film produced by Media Alliance and Metro TV PT. Media Televisi Indonesia, 2004.
321 Bisri, M. ‘Nafas Islam pada Seni dan Budaya di Indonesia’. Wajah Wajah Muslim Indonesia (Faces of Indonesia’s Muslims). A documentary film produced by Media Alliance and Metro TV PT. Media Televisi Indonesia, 2004.
Interview with a secondary school student, anonymous, Surabaya, Indonesia, 10 July 2005.
Interview with Abidah Al Kalieqy, 7 July 2004, Maguwo, Yogyakarta, Indonesia.
Interview with Haleh Afshar, 10 September 2005, Aberdeen, Scotland, United Kingdom.
Interview with Helvy Tiana Rosa, 4 June 2004, Universitas Indonesia, Jakarta, Indonesia.
Interview with Lily Zakiyah Munir, 25 August 2004. Cempaka Putih, South Jakarta, Indonesia.
Interview with Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim, 20 July 2004, Malang, Jawa Timur, Indonesia.
Interview with Sri Endah Kinasih, 23 April 2004, University Airlangga, Surabaya, Indonesia.
Interview with Titis Basino P.I., Pusat Dokumentasi Sastra H.B. Jassin, Jakarta, 1 June 2004 and 10 February 2005.
Interviews with members of IAIN and UNAIR Muslim students associations, Surabaya, Indonesia, 20April 2004 and 4 May 2004.
Rosa, H.T. ‘Napas Saya Tidak Panjang’. Koran Tempo, Oktober 2003, p.16 –17.
322 Novels and Short Stories
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Basino P. I., T. Di Bumi Aku Bersua Di Langit Aku Bertemu. Pustaka Jaya, Jakarta, 1983.
Basino P. I., T. Dari Lembah ke Coolibah. Grasindo, Jakarta, 1997.
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329 Appendixes
330 Questionnaire
The results of this study will be used to find out the readers’ responses on the writings of contemporary Indonesian Muslim women writers, especially the narratives of Abidah El Khalieqy, Helvy Tiana Rosa, Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim, and Titis Basino P.I.
Participation is voluntary.
All information provided will be treated as confidential by the researcher. The reports will use summaries of information and not reveal the identities of individuals. If you have any queries please contact Diah Arimbi ([email protected]; telp +62 31 503 4638).
Please fill in as many questions as you can. Write any further comments in the spaces provided or on the reverse side.
Thank you for your participation.
Please tick () the appropriate respond.
About Yourself
1. You are Female Male
2. What is your age group? 18 – 20 21 – 23 24 – 26 Over 26
3. Which year of study are you enrolled in the undergraduate programs? st 1 year nd 2 year rd 3 year th 4 year th Over 4 year
4. State your educational institution: Airlangga University IAIN (State Institute for Islamic Studies)
331 Familiarity with the writers 5. Are you familiar with the writings of any of the following writers: Abidah El Khalieqy Yes No
Helvy Tiana Rosa Yes No
Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim Yes No
Titis Basino P. I. Yes No
6. Arrange the following writers in the order based on your familiarity with their works (whose writings you read)! 1 never 2 often 3 quite often 4 very often Please indicate your familiarity with the scale mentioned above. Abidah El Khalieqy ------Helvy Tiana Rosa ------Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim ------Titis Basino P. I. ------
7. Which of the following writers write narratives within Islamic contexts? Abidah El Khalieqy Helvy Tiana Rosa Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim Titis Basino P. I
8. Please state your reason(s) for your choice above!
9. Do you agree if those four writers are perceived to be Muslim writers? Please provide your choice with reasons! Yes ------ No ------
10. Do you think that these four writers enjoy prominent positions in Indonesian literary tradition(s)? Please provide your choice with reasons!
332 Yes ------ No ------
11. Do you believe that any of these four writers are dealing with women’s issues in their narratives? Yes No
12. If yes, please mention their names!
13. 12. Do you believe that any of these four writers are also promoting women’s rights in their writings? Yes No
14. If yes, please state their involvement to the women’s rights promotion in the order of : 1 not strong 2 strong 3 very strong Abidah El Khalieqy ------Helvy Tiana Rosa ------Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim ------Titis Basino P. I. ------
14. Which amongst the writers are also known as women activist? Please tick! Abidah El Khalieqy Helvy Tiana Rosa Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim Titis Basino P. I 15. Please, provide reason(s) for your choice!
Familiarity with the writings
16. Are any of the writings of these writers, reflections or mirrors of contemporary situation? Abidah El Khalieqy Yes No
Helvy Tiana Rosa
333 Yes No
Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim Yes No
Titis Basino P. I. Yes No
17. What are most common issues that Abidah El Khalieqy narrate in her writing? Tick more than one if necessary! Violence against women including domestic violence Women’s reproduction rights Women and war in conflict areas Polygamy Discrimination against women Women and lack of education Women’s lack of intellectual capacity Women’s sexuality Other, please specify! ------
18. What are most common issues that Helvy Tiana Rosa narrate in her writing? Tick more than one if necessary! Violence against women including domestic violence Women’s reproduction rights Women and war in conflict areas Polygamy Discrimination against women Women and lack of education Women’s lack of intellectual capacity Women’s sexuality Other, please specify! ------
19. What are most common issues that Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim narrate in her writing? Tick more than one if necessary! Violence against women including domestic violence Women’s reproduction rights Women and war in conflict areas Polygamy Discrimination against women Women and lack of education Women’s lack of intellectual capacity
334 Women’s sexuality Other, please specify! ------
20. What are most common issues that Titis Basino narrate in her writing? Tick more than one if necessary! Violence against women including domestic violence Women’s reproduction rights Women and war in conflict areas Polygamy Discrimination against women Women and lack of education Women’s lack of intellectual capacity Women’s sexuality Other, please specify! ------
21. Do you feel any influence on your understanding of gender issues after reading the writings of the following writers? Abidah El Khalieqy Yes No If yes, tell us about the influence!
Helvy Tiana Rosa Yes No If yes, tell us about the influence!
Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim Yes No If yes, tell us about the influence!
Titis Basino P. I Yes No If yes, tell us about the influence!
22. Do you believe that any of the writings of the writers challenge any perception of Muslim women in Indonesia? Please, provide reasons for your choice! Abidah El Khalieqy Yes No Reasons:
335 Helvy Tiana Rosa Yes No Reasons:
Ratna Indraswari Ibrahim Yes No Reasons:
Titis Basino P. I Yes No Reasons:
336