Summing Up Icebergs
So you've hung with me long enough for me to finally get around to this post. It isn't at all what I envisioned my last post to be, nor is it going to put "My Indonesian Experience" away, but it does illustrate the profound affect this experience has had on me and how it is recreating my world. And really, isn't that the point of travel? To change your perspective? To challenge you to be a better person? To live more fully? To appreciate with a deeper sense of understanding? Readers go. Go anywhere but get out of your comfort zone. GO!
Let me say from the start that I’m not an especially bright individual. In fact, in a lot of ways, I’m still a very concrete thinker. I need to see, touch, feel in order to understand. I often think in analogies. I think it is how I organize information. I am extremely intuitive which is why I’m probably such a concrete thinker. I am also an idealist that was forced into living in a realist’s existence. To sum up, I’m just average in intelligence but I think about things differently than others. I’m good with that, in fact, I’m not sure I would change it even if I could.
I was born in the deep South. Louisiana to be exact. My family was once “somebody” and my paternal grandmother wanted me to understand that I had a bloodline to be proud of. My family could be summed up as God Fearing, Southern, White, Land Owning, Republican, NRA Supporting, Conservative. Yet I don’t really embrace many of those stereotypical ideas. By the time I was a teenager, I had dismissed many of those notions. As an adult, I’ve come to realize that mindfully believing them and exorcising them from your genetic material are two different things. I tell you these things because I need you to understand that sometimes I’m conflicted and I'm just beginning to understand why.
For the past ten years or so I’ve felt like I should feel guilty because I was born white, middle class, and have a college education. I feel I'm supposed to feel guilty because I chose to be an educator mostly in low income, rural areas where the value of a person is often determined by what side of town you live on. I have actually been told that I am personally part of the problem (of course this came from someone even “whiter” and more privileged than I was); which problem, sometimes it’s hard to tell: Is it racism? Educational equity/inequity, equality/inequality? Feminism? Socio-economic status? Gun ownership? Nationalism? (deep breath) …..etc. I honestly don’t know. I’ve struggled with how to defend myself or to determine whether or not I even should (or have to).
So, by now you are probably thinking, “Why is this important? What could it possibly have to do with a fellowship to Indonesia?” If you’d have asked me these questions three months ago, I’d have said “Nothing. Probably the ramblings of a tipsy teacher that tends to lean toward existential thinking.” But today, the answer is different. Today, I’ve been to Indonesia, and come away thinking about so many big ideas and questioning how far I’ve come and how much further I must go to really begin to understand myself, my place in the world, and, well, the human condition.
Everywhere we met with educators in Indonesia, we were asked about teaching conditions, responsibilities, student behavior, curriculum, teaching freedom, and…….our salaries. A harmless topic right? So why did it dredge up the same feelings of dread and guilt that I get when I tell people I’m from the Deep South and am greeted by that knowing smile?
Indonesian educators are government employees. As such they get the security of a lifetime job, a few perks, and a subsistence salary. Trying to explain that if all things were equal, I’m paid relatively the same as they are didn’t seem to change the knowing looks we got or the waves of guilt I felt. Truth be told, I really do think we’d have similar salaries if all things were equal. The cost of living in Indonesia is crazy cheap. You can build a nice 900-1,000 square foot house of brick or concrete with a small yard for around $20,000 US. With that said, the “average Indonesian teacher” makes around $2000 US a year. There are a lot of things that even Jakarta can’t compare to in the US. That is hard to explain to people that have never been in both places.
We also complicated matters a bit by staying in the most expensive hotel in town. It wasn’t planned that way. It really was luck that we ended up there. Christy was feeling the pressure of the booking deadline and chose a hotel from Internet searches and Tripadvisor; I checked it out, seemed ok, so we booked -- just like that. We did not know at the time that it was the “Bule” hotel and I didn’t notice when I booked with Hotels.com that I had booked with no cancelation refunds. So, we were stuck much to our chagrin. It just confirmed what many of the admin were getting at with their question about our salaries; US teachers are fabulously rich. This belief elevated me to a place I’ve never belonged. I was instantly pegged into a stereotype that I don’t think I fit and made me uncomfortable. Instinctively I felt that a damper had been placed on the cultural experience. How was true learning going to take place if we couldn’t be equals? Lasma, our host, did a fabulous job at making us equals. She simply declared we were and we were! But these people didn’t seem to believe that and I wasn’t sure how to explain in ways they would understand, or believe.
I’ve since learned that native English speakers have held very, very well-paying jobs at elite private schools all over Indonesia. Until recently one didn’t need to have teaching degree or experience; just be a native English speaker. Many of the admin we met probably never met any of these teachers, but knew that our skills and experience would command a much higher salary even in the government schools than their own salary. The converse is not true. Many Indonesian teachers cannot get credentialed in the US to teach in US schools. That’s a hard bridge to cross and I’m glad I didn’t understand it at the time. This way I was shielded from some more of that guilt I’m certain I would have felt!
I also had an uncomfortable sense of guilt because of the “Bule” experience. Bule is an Indonesian slang word for foreigner. It is usually used without malice but it comes with a BUNCH of assumptions that make me uncomfortable. See, Indonesians have lived under the rule of foreign powers dating back to the 16th Century. The Dutch ruled from the early 1600’s until 1942 when the Japanese invaded. This occupation was often brutal and bloody and it left an indelible mark in many ways; but the one that most affected me was the belief that all things white European, especially tall, fair-skinned, blond, blue eyed, and pointy nosed are better in all ways than short, tanned, black-haired, brown eyed, and flat nosed natives. (You can read about a Fulbright’s thoughts on “bule” here.) Indonesians all want to be friends with a bule. They want photos with us and to add us to their social media. They believe everything we do and are is beautiful. Basically, you become an instant movie star, paparazzi and all!
So you might ask, “What’s wrong with that experience?” On the surface, nothing I suppose, but deeper down you realize people don’t see your value or even their own value – they only see what they believe is perfection. I do not believe I am more anything than the people I met. I heard singers that had voices I wish I had. Musicians that could memorize songs after hearing them once which I never was able to do. Dancers that gracefully performed dances that I couldn’t have stumbled through with six months of practice! I watched as people that were afraid of my judgment bravely approached me, or shy girls that asked quietly if they could hug me. Everywhere I went I met strong, men and women that were passionate about their families and eager to share with others. Their hearts so innocent and pure. How could anything as inconsequential as my looks make what is in my heart less important, and yet, I know it does and that makes me uncomfortable because I want to be seen for my heart, my accomplishments, my personality, my flaws……M.E.
Indonesia challenged me to see myself as others see me – at skin value. At home I am part of the majority and I’ve never had to consider what that really means from any stand point other than an academic one. Yes, there have been times in recent years that I’ve felt that there is a growing group of people out there that want me or at least expect me to feel and be guilty and I don’t really understand it. I didn’t ask to be white, middle class, short, green-eyed, American, etc. I just am. How do I apologize for that and how do I value that over some aspect of someone else? Not to mention that people-pleaser side of me that I have never quite been able to shake now suffered angst: Would I live up to their expectations? Would they be disappointed? Would I represent “my people” well? Did I WANT to represent all _____ (Americans, short people, women, middle class, etc.) I now had to acknowledge (and deal with) the anxiety that arose from that perspective! Yes, Indonesia challenged me in ways I wasn’t quite prepared for!
With that said, did I take offense of the use of the word? My thoughts are if I had been called the American would I have cared? Is it different if I choose the word and somehow align to it? How about if I were introduced as the “short” friend? Or the redhead? Or the green eyed one? If it is an adjective of my choosing does it make the word less offensive or more? To be honest, at the top of the iceberg, I didn’t care. I never felt that it was a term that was used to put me down or in my place. It’s the bottom of the iceberg that I struggle with. The funny thing I realized, I’m just as uncomfortable with being stereotyped in a “positive” way as I am when it happens in a “negative” way.
And how do I feel about the whole racial implications about this stereotyping? To be honest, I don’t know, I have avoided that idea to explore another day. Why? I’m still learning and I don’t want to package the whole thing in a nice little box with a bow on top and think I’ve figured it all out. I haven’t; we haven’t.
As far as my Guiding Question? Well, lets just say I'm working on it. I've already edited some of my resources to reflect this but the questions above are what occupy my mind mostly. I haven't abandoned my perspectives on Indonesian teacher training, I've just opted for something bigger for the moment.
I will be thinking of Indonesia and my experiences for a long time to come. This is a post that I will come back to, probably many times, over the next years. My Indonesian Experience has already affected my relationships with my minority parents. I’m trying really hard to do what Lasma did so easily; make us equal. I consider my approaches to situations a little differently now and strive to lead with my heart rather than my head. My Indonesia Experience will remain one of the highlights of my life because it has given me so much to consider about myself and the world. I truly hope to go back and I want to maintain the friendships with those I’ve bonded with. I recommend you go too!
