Crying For Badassery

I cry a lot in this country. I cried in the States, but things here seem to set me off more easily. A teacher at my Islamic middle school says something nice to me. Tears start. My host mother says my arms are getting fat. Tears prepare to drop. My friend saves her last piece of chocolate cookie. Girl, get ready for a waterfall!

Despite that melodrama, I have the strongest Peace Corps ally that tries to keep me level headed. She’s ruthless, and she gets shit done. Her badassery is on another level. Envious. Honestly, I’d like to eventually get on that level. Hell, I’m aiming for that badass rugby level where a bloody nose just needs to be wiped before the next tackle. Considering that I still get emotional from being called fat, I say that level is going to take a while to reach. I assumed Peace Corps service was supposed to make me stronger. Although I am much stronger professionally, I’m still a wreck emotionally.

I recently went through a break up. It wasn’t volatile. I still wish him well, but considering that emotions are often known to intensify during Peace Corps service, I was prepared for sad times ahead. The first week, I cried every day. The second week, I binged on everything. It’s funny. The first week, it’s like I expelled my emotions with salty tears. The second week, I tried to replace them by consuming all the things that fulfill my sweet tooth. As it so happens, sweet does not replace the salty.

So, of course, my best ally comforted me using her awesome mix of back patting and ball busting. I needed both. It’s now the third week. I’ve started to wear a rubber band around my wrist that I pull hard and fast every time I think about his sweet smile or New Zealand accent or his really tight *snap*

I’ll try anything.

The first night after the break up, I cried all night. I cried because he and I weren’t suitable for each other, and I cried because I wasn’t strong enough to take it in stride. Obviously my eyes were puffy the next morning, but my eyesight was also strangely clear. From my idealistic and slightly melodramatic perspective, I saw that clearness as I cried all night, so my eyes were clean and ready to see the world. Considering that I cried a lot less than I did my last break up, it seems that Peace Corps is actually helping me to slowly reach that badassery level. I'm ready to see the world again, tissues at hand.

Bros and Bules

Often, we volunteers are called “bule,” derogatory word for foreigner, as we’re passing by. Because I don’t have white skin and have Asian facial features, most Indonesians can’t tell that I’m a foreigner until they hear my voice. So I do get by in a lot of situations without much notice, which is great sometimes. I can often enjoy social activities without the fear of harassment.

Less than a year ago, my Indonesian friends started calling me “mbak bro,” which is a modification of the endearment “mas bro” typically used for men. I love the term. It makes me feel more integrated. It means that despite living in a heavily gender separated society, my friends still accept my less than feminine attributes as part of my role as a female.

Recently, I’ve been getting called just “bro” when I go biking. In the beginning, I thought:

That’s fine. It’s better than being called the derogatory “bule.” Let them think what they want.

It eventually started to bother me because even though I can physically pass for Indonesian and as a result, receive less blatant negative attention, I get another kind of negative attention for not behaving the way an Indonesian woman would. I smoke in public. I have short hair. I wear short sleeves. I ngopi (have coffee) at night. Because of these things, I sometimes I get judged for not behaving as a typical Indonesian woman living in the village would. Men would speak under their breaths about me. They would ask inappropriate questions for being alone at night.

It seems that the other white volunteers can get away with doing these things because Indonesians assume they obviously have a different culture and would naturally behave differently. The white volunteers and I both receive attention for the color of our skin, both usually negative, but different.

Can I just say I’m tired of being judged for my differences? I just want to live my life. My current coping mechanisms have been having coffee in the evenings with my friends while enjoying a few cigarettes. But if how I deal with my problems is a big cause of my problems, what’s the solution? I try so hard to do the culturally appropriate thing, but most of the times I just feel fuck it. I have eight and a half months left. I have good projects in line, and I’ll still try really hard to please people. But I’m also going to enjoy that time of the day when I’m not sweating profusely from my cup of hot coffee and smoke those delicious tar-filled packs until I get back home. If some people think that’s an unhealthy philosophy to live by, that’s okay with me. Let them think what they want.

Bonansa English Show

My very first show with my neighbor, Andini

I had heard of the Bonansa English Radio Show from one of my English-speaking neighbors in the village. The Bonansa Radio Show is an hour-long English radio show broadcasted in Kediri City. The broadcaster interviews a few guests about a certain topic, all in English. At first, I was hesitant to join because it was the radio. I’ve never done radio before back home. But after my neighbor said it would be a great experience for the broadcaster and other radio guests to meet an American, I saw it as part of my job to do it. The funny thing with me is if I assign a task to my job description, my insecurities don’t play a large part in completing the task. Fake it till you make it I guess. After that first night, I was hooked. I was a frequent guest, and it’s never been difficult to say yes to an invitation since.

I guess the difficult question is: What do I make of this experience? Other than contributing to my personal growth and entertaining the broadcaster and listeners with my funny mispronunciation of the Javanese language, I was confused as to what I could make of this. The broadcaster had the great idea of inviting my students as guests so that they could practice their budding English skills and to expose them to different situations.

The first few students I brought were my middle school students. They were very shy, but seemed to enjoy the experience. The next students I brought were my university students. While the experience seemed to increase the ego of some of them, it also brought me closer to one. I teach English speaking to first year university students at the local university. In one of my classes, one of my students, Andy, often talks out of turn, disrupting the class in the process. The first few months were difficult with him. I would talk to him and ask why he would be disrespectful to the learning experience of the other students in class. He would make some flippant remarks, so I just ignored his behavior.

One day, Andy’s classmate said Andy disrupts class because he really wants my attention. I informed the classmate that acting inappropriately during class is the worst way to get my attention. After discussing the issue with some volunteer friends, I decided to invite Andy as a guest on the Bonansa English Show. Maybe that would help release some energy that he reserves for disrupting my class.

From Left: my university student, me, the broadcaster, an English teacher, a university student, Andy

The night of the radio show was one of the most memorable times of my Peace Corps career. Andy showed up and was ready to talk. Right before the show, he shyly came up to thank me for giving him the opportunity to show off his English skills. He even admitted that he was nervous. After encouraging him for a few minutes, he had a successful hour-long show, all the while looking for my encouraging nods.

Afterward, he thanked me again and apologized for being disruptive in class. He said he felt really comfortable with me and that he wanted to be confident like me. We then discussed more appropriate ways to express confidence that didn’t negatively affect other people. It was a good night, and I hope Andy took something from our conversation.

I have about nine months left of my Peace Corps service. It’s time to tie up loose ends and to share what I’ve learned with the new volunteers. They arrived in country a few months ago, so I’ve introduced the Bonansa English Show to a couple of them. I hope it can help them become confident like it did for me and to give them an opportunity to share that confidence with others. There are other Andys out there, and I hope they can all be given the opportunity to discover healthy ways to express confidence like my Andy did.

From Left: an English teacher at Max's school, Max (a new volunteer), a guest, the broadcaster, me