Queer voices in yogyakarta- pt.1

- Episode 08- Transcript

Georgie Williams, voiceover: The following episode contains trigger warnings for discussions of homophobic violence, suicidal tendencies and conversion therapy. Please proceed with caution.

In March 2017 in the Indonesian province of Aceh, two young gay men were found in bed together by a supposed “vigilante group” of politically conservative local residents. Aceh is the only Indonesian province where Sharia law is enforced and, under this, the two men were each sentenced to 85 lashes for the crime of “committing gay sex”. 

Two months later in the capital of Jakarta, police raided a supposed gay sex party at a sauna, arresting 141 men. This raid was justified under Indonesian anti-pornography laws, which state that putting on any kind of ‘show’ of a sexual nature where the audience can be considered ‘the public’ is deemed pornography.

Several similar raids followed in 2017, justified through this anti-pornography law and a clause under which an individual can be prosecuted for “deviant sexual acts”- including lesbian and gay sex. Across the country, reports rolled in. Stories of non-consensual detainment and HIV testing of lesbian and gay community members, suspected lesbians being outed on mainstream media by anti-LGBT groups and the forcible eviction of vulnerable women from their homes on the basis of rumours about their sexuality. A surge in homophobic and queerphobic sentiment was sweeping the country and, three years on, the ripples of this social rupture are still being felt. Over the next two episodes, you will be hearing the stories and experiences of young LGBTQ+ residents on the island of Java, Indonesia. This is part one of Queer Voices in Yogyakarta, and episode 8 of /Queer- you’re here with me, your host, Georgie Williams.

If you listened to the last episode of this podcast, you will be aware of the time I spent with activist and prominent social figure Shinta Ratri. During my time with Shinta I attended one of the events she hosted at a local Christian university. There had been a great mix of attendees of various ages at the event and, as I was walking through the university car park on the way back to my lodgings I was stopped by one of the attendees. Royce, as she introduced herself, was interested in the work I was doing and wanted to introduce me to a group of her friends- people who she felt I may want to talk to as part of my research. The first indicator that Royce’s assumption would turn out to be correct was that she, like myself, is genderqueer. What Royce was offering me was an opportunity to meet with, and talk to, young LGBTQ+ individuals who had grown up here in Indonesia and were navigating their relationship between their own identity and the current, turbulent climate of Indonesia’s LGBTQ+ rights. 

What I was interested in was their experiences and, in understanding these as best as I could as an outsider, it felt important to consult a local who could get me up to speed before I met with Royce’s collection of friends. If you listened to Episode 7, you may recognise this voice- Astrid Febryianti, a worker from the reproductive rights NGO PKBI, took the time to visit me and give me some insight into the current state of LGBTQ+ rights in Indonesia. 

Astrid Febriyanti, in interview: I may tell this not based on my experience but I heard it from news and also my friends- so basically LGBTQ in Indonesia is not really that well accepted because of it’s cultures and we’re really binded with Islam, religions which… it forbids LGBT as a whole- in Indonesia it’s called as kaum sodom, and it appears on the Quran that who is LGBT is... should be eliminated- that’s why people really condemn the idea of LGBT. But again, people came in spectrums in Indonesia but… majority condemns or doesn’t really want to get close with LGBT-related... so basically that’s coming from the majority of society. But if you’re seeing it in a law perspective we don’t really have a specific law that actually forbids LGBT but… but also Joko [Widodo] is our current president that also being elected this year- last year- he said that you know, LGBT-whatever still need to be protected and, you know, if they’re in trouble we’re going to treat them the same because they’re part of the citizens so, it’s kind of unclear- do you actually support LGBT or do you just see it as a- citizens that need to be protected? So basically the president never really addressed LGBT discussions as a whole, but perspectives about that is... really harsh like, some people since there’s growing trends of Islamic conservatisms like, some people now just use veils because it’s a trend and they only follow trends of, you know, hating some kind of culture, especially LGBT. Even my family, even though they’re quite liberal on all stuff like, they’re quite the, you know, the loose family where you don’t really have much restrictions compared to other families but they really had a, you know, like, “you should not be LGBT”, those kinds of words. And it goes to other people too, like, they really hate LGBT- they thought that it was a disease. Like, really! Like “don’t get close to people with LGBT you might be infected!” It’s like a transmitted disease, right? They thought it was a transmitted disease. That’s why, even if there’s research, they don’t really care about that, most people don’t really care about that and they thought it was a disease. Even if they’re not conservative, even if they’re in a grey-area zone they also kinda sceptical about LGBT unless they have some education on it like they- their friend is one of the LGBT, they might they might respect them but that doesn’t necessarily mean that they accept them as a normal being, get it? They always see it as a weird one or some deviant… civilians.

And back in 2017 I heard that the police- it’s not like the police it’s we call it Satpol PP, it’s a raid that happened into someone’s residence because they thought, they suspect that they were gay, they raided and they captured some people just because they suspected they were one of the LGBT. That used to be in 2017, I don’t know how it goes right now but Indonesia is kind of…. Maybe in Jakarta it’s liberal, maybe in other cities such as, say Sidoarjo where it is called as, or kudus, is one of the Islamic cities- they really have uh, high restrictions on it so that’s why even the enforcement, the law enforcers are kind of- do whatever they want, they arbitrarily take… lawless. Even if that is not written on law and they had, you know, some kind of restriction towards it, those law enforcers can do whatever they want. So yeah, it’s kind of unclear about the kind of regulations but what is clear is how people are perceptive about LGBTs um, not really that acceptable because of the religions but also… yeah basically it’s because of the religions because majority is muslim but also if you’re, if you’re from another religion such as Christians… Catholic, we also condemn them.

Georgie Williams, in interview: So there’s an overlap between religion and state?

Astrid Febriyanti, in interview: Yeah yeah yeah. Basically we don’t really have a clear stance with LGBT… Except for the conservative. This is, maybe this is from grey-area people, maybe they say “as long as they don’t do harm, it’s fine, they can do whatever they want, but once they do harms they like”… maybe they have HIV because LGBT is ‘prone’ to HIV, they think about that- that’s why they’re scared of it. There’s never been a clear regulation about that. But, if you’re in- do you know Aceh? It’s in the tip of Indonesia- they have their own law called Sharia law, you’ve heard of that right?

Georgie Williams, in interview: Sharia law, yes.

Astrid Febriyanti, in interview: They establish their own Sharia law. Yeah it’s actually based on the Helsinki agreement, they have their own law, they establish Sharia law- even when you have sex, even when it’s hetero peoples…they have sex, it’s being condemned. But- well, if hetero is being condemned that much, how about LGBT? That’s gonna be even worse. They’re gonna get, what do you call that? Whipped.

Georgie Williams, in interview: What is the perspective of the younger generations regarding LGBTQ+ culture? 

Astrid Febriyanti, in interview: So um, younger generations came into spectrums in Indonesia. Since my circle is usually the one who supports LGBT so I take in the perspective of those circles, I might say that most of those people are really okay and really accepting them. They don’t really mind, they’re always exploring… also exploring their identity sometimes. That’s one spectrum of young people in Indonesia, you can say liberal people. On the other hand, with the growing trend of Islam conservatisms, most people doesn’t really accept LGBT, so some people stay [closeted]. Especially when you go, when you’re still in a school, ya, before the higher educations, it’s really, how do you call it? You’re trapped in that society-

Georgie Williams, in interview: Like isolated?

Astrid Febriyanti, in interview: Ya, you’re isolated basically in… it’s based on your town but most town in Indonesia is really Islam conservative, like, because of the majority, like even inside of a state school, people who’s not muslim is only like 3 or 5 in one class, and that’s why people are really affected by their circle who is Islam [conservative]. So that’s why they kind of had a bad perspective of LGBT because of the Quran and second of all, they believe that because of the surrounding narrative that LGBTQ is bad.

Georgie Williams, in interview: How does acceptance of LGBTQ+ identities vary around Indonesia, from what you’ve experienced or been made aware of? 

Astrid Febriyanti, in interview: So each town has it’s own way of doing their religion like, some of it really strict like in every road, they wrote the name of Allah like, the 99 names of Allah, they basically put it up on the road- and in another city that may be different so it’s based on the leaders or even the current administrator of that town. But um, in some town because some people also agree or even enjoy that regulation like, so islamic, that’s why they’re okay with it and they’re enjoying because most people here… since people here really really invest their time a lot with Allah and God… basically it’s the same. That’s why they’re afraid that if they go deviant.If the government or some kind of municipality, administrative, actually have some regulations regarding religions and and how to strengthen your religions like having to gather together and read quran and like preach, they like, really love that and that affects how the majority of that society works. That’s why in each city it’s based on the municipality and based on it’s own administrative, how it works, so if it’s a town that’s really tight, really conservative, they might even… it’s like a semi-Sharia but not really a Sharia law. That’s why most people here went to a bigger city like Jakarta or Surabaya where most likely they find jobs or want to have a higher education that always went there because it’s more acceptable for those kind of communities, right? 

Georgie Williams, voiceover: Given the social context that Astrid provided, it’s evident that growing up as an LGBTQ+ individual in Indonesia is at best, a challenge and at worst, a risk to one’s life. In meeting with Royce’s friends to discuss their experiences with them, I was nervous about what stories would come out of this meeting. There were, it seemed, certain privileges that came with growing up as queer in the West.

Regarding the use of the term queer in Indonesia, I anticipated that, like in Japan, this word may have it’s own specific meaning and application. I was both right and wrong- the term queer is not widely used in Indonesia but, this lack of mainstream knowledge of ‘queer’ means that for those wishing to covertly communicate their identities with one another, calling yourself queer is safer than calling yourself LGBT.

Late one rainy night in Yogyakarta, I met Royce at the university where we’d first talked and she introduced me to five of her friends- Ai, Ferdi, June, Alfi and Vania. Vania works at the university and offered her office space to us so that we could have our conversations in private, and in a safe environment. We nestled into the room together and, I explained, I was to ask Ai, Ferdi, June and Alfi the same two questions. Firstly, what could they tell me about their experience of being queer or LGBT in Indonesia and, secondly, what can individuals from outside of Indonesia’s LGBTQ+ community do to support this community and the causes that matter to them? 

Our first interviewee was Ai. Ai is a student at UGM, the university we were visiting, and is a member of Kolektif Tanpa Nama, an LGBT community based in Yogyakarta who use their social media presence to educate on gender and sexuality matters. Ai is a closeted lesbian within her family, but was happy with sharing this information in our episode.

Ai, in interview: So being LGBT in Muslim-majority country with a very conservative family, it’s hard and, I have two brothers in my family, and I am the only girl my parents have and, it’s so hard that I have to fit in this stereotypical feminine, gender of… girl. Until I figure out my sexuality like, fifteen years old, I find out that I’m a lesbian because I like my classmate and it’s a girl and it… it feels so weird because it’s not a common thing in Indonesia, and I got caught with my mum and she assumed that my behaviour changed because, I don’t know, she just assumed things and then she said that, “are you a lesbian?” she asked me, and I denied myself because I’m afraid with a lot of my mum’s expectations of me, my family’s expectations and how a girl should act and also how the heteronormativity norms are in Indonesia, and also like, when my mum asked me about my sexuality and I said no, and she also threatened me with ruqyah, it’s like conversion therapy in Indonesia and ya, it makes me more afraid to tell her the truth...

Georgie Williams, voiceover: Ai and June later explained to me that the Western equivalent of a ruqyah is conversion therapy, but a more direct translation would be to call it an exorcism. In extremely conservative factions of Islam, these communities will have a religious practitioner who is believed to be able to heal any disease. The method is based on the Sunnah Rasul, otherwise known as the Habitual Practice from Muhammad. The supposed intention is to heal the individuals of the disease or curse that has caused them to be non-heterosexual or non-cisgender. It goes without saying that a ruqyah is a humiliating and traumatic experience.

Ai, in interview: ...I just, I was always crying, and kept denying my true identity and, and that moment was very traumatic for me and it was six years ago but until now I’ll never be open with everything with my mum because it just like, made a border with me and my mum because there’s a thing I know she wouldn’t ever accept about myself and yeah, to be a girl with a lot of family expectations and I should keep on my track with how girls act, how a girl should present themself, how a girl should marry a man and it’s burdened me a lot. Also as a muslim, I was born in a muslim family, I am forced to use a veil, it’s like a hijab, and I’m not, I’m not feeling comfortable with that, and it’s so hard for me to say to my family, same as I have to say about my sexuality, so, I have this double burden on my life. And then I used to keep my sexuality as a secret for years and ya, it’s because of that traumatic moment I live in fear and feel hopeless and even had a suicidal act. It was very terrible and I kept blaming myself and feel like I’m a sit… i’m a sinful person in the world. In fact, i’m not, actually… ya, most of these experiences in six years I have those fears. Until 2016, it was the most terrible situation in Indonesia because the [Research, Technology and Higher Education Minister] say that LGBTQ student can’t enter the university- and that year was the year that I entered the university so it, it makes me more afraid and the trauma is just recalled… and uh… ya I, it make me to keep shut and bury all my expectations about being more free in university and get more freedom of expression and just buried it and… okay I’ll keep this a secret and keep myself alive. But uh, maybe until 2017, fortunately I met a lot of open-minded people, mostly the feminists in Yogyakarta- they talk a lot of intersectional topics. It’s like a new start of a new me that you can listen today, like- I have this courage, I have this roughness to tell you about this story about the beginning of me, to be an LGBTQ in Muslim family, in conservative family, and I’m very thankful for all of my friends that give me a lot of support, mostly the LGBTQ people in Yogykarta, and we support each other and also we create this uh, safe space in Yogyakarta. It’s my collective, it’s Kolektif Tanpa Nama, you can follow us on Instagram- uh we, we share a lot of information about LGBTQ, sexual orientation, gender identity, uh, gender expression and sex characteristics in Bahasa Indonesia because we know that a lot of information about the LGBTQ+ is mostly in English and a lot of Indonesian, kids maybe? The teenagers that are still questioning about their sexuality need some more information and… ya, I didn’t want other people to feel the same experience as me about being rejected by the family and denying about ourselves, our, our colours, and ya I just want to spread this place where you can tell us every story about you and just don’t feel like you’re alone… you’re not alone, because you have us.

Georgie Williams, in interview: So Ai, to carry on onto the second question, how do you feel that individuals and communities outside of the LGBTQ+ community of Indonesia can be supportive towards the causes happening here at this time?

Ai, in interview: It’s very personal because I think one of the support that is missed is the mental support and uh, the help from, the professional psychologists is very important because… one of the most controversial about LGBT is also that LGBT is a sexual and mental disorder and… it’s not true and… ya, we need more information about that, we need more explanation about- what is LGBT actually? Not that mental disorder, not that sexual disorder, but LGBT- it’s human, you shouldn’t discriminate and ya, I think mental health support with the professional psychologists is important. Also we have a lot of conversion therapy and ruqyah and it’s still like- the only way to ‘cure’ the LGBT, cure people in Indonesia and, it’s very stressful and, yeah, traumatic.

Georgie Williams, voiceover: If you are interested in learning more about Kolektif Tanpa Nama, you can find their website via the LGBTQ+ Resources page on the /Queer website. 

The time between interviews was brief and, as I reeled from Ai’s story, I shared with her the fact that I, too, had suffered the loss of a relationship with my own mother due to my involvement with someone of the same sex when I was fifteen. Ai remarked on how strange and amazing it was, that two people growing up on other sides of the planet could have such similar experiences. It was hard to figure out whether or not this was something to be reassured by or disappointed about.

Ferdi was next to share his story. As a closeted gay Christian man and postgraduate theology student living in Yogyakarta, I was curious to hear what his experience was like, navigating his faith and sexuality in a conservative, muslim-majority environment.

Ferdi, in interview: Well uh… it’s a long story. Not too long, actually (Ferdi & Georgie laugh). I felt… I was different but I had never think about it somehow. I prefer to play with girls which is, in Indonesia, the culture is… if the boy plays with girls then the parents- I don’t know, my parents only or the other parents, they were mad at me. “No, boys should not play with girls.” But… I was just comfortable playing with girls. Uh but I never realized that I’m different until I hit my puberty when I was in junior high school. I just felt that it’s strange like… why am I different with the others, with the other boys? Because these things… I never knew about these things before. It’s totally strange, there is no education, there is no information about what is gay, what is LGBT, what is homosexuality. I never heard about it, even in school, in church or from my family, I never heard about it- and also there is no-one like that in my family as I knew it. But I tried to find information about it on the internet and as a Christian, I found some resources that say that it’s, it’s a sin, it’s totally sin, it’s wrong, I’m condemned or, I should be condemned, should be going to hell, and should change- change my sexual orientation, so it makes me so… I just pray like every day- God please make me straight, please make me a straight, straight man. I did it for like six years, six years, from the first time I hit my puberty like, in the first grade of my junior high school until, until I graduated from senior high school. I go to college, I go to university, I took Bachelor of Theology because actually, my dream was to be a pastor, from a child. It has nothing to do with my sexual orientation it just- I want to be a pastor. Then I took it, I took theology. Then I was so blessed that I went to the theological school who somehow support LGBTIQ people. Like, they talk about it in academic ways, they have progressive biblical hermeneutics about LGBT. So, I learn about it and it took one year until I can accept myself as a gay and Christian at the same time. And I think it’s important for me, it’s really important for me to accept myself as a gay- but I haven’t come out to my parents yet until now. There are many things to be considered because I am the only child in my family- and that’s quite a problem because in Indonesia, you know every family want, they will have descendants… they will have a child and their child will marry someone and will have a new family and give birth and you know, my parents will want to have grandchildren, something like that so… yeah. It’s a cultural thing in Indonesia. So it makes me think to not come out yet to my parents and to whole of my family.

But somehow, as a gay who has feelings, who has uh… I just want to have experiences like- how is it being loved? How is it like, having relationships with another man, freely… because I’m the only child and my parents always know where I’m going, where… where am I, every time, they should know. Who are my friends? They should know. So I just kind of… I’m restricted to have friends, I’m restricted to… you know, not not freely cannot express myself, cannot have LGBT friends. So I quietly use dating applications. I just want to have experience- how, how is it having relationships with men like, why! Why, why can heterosexual people freely have like that but, why I cannot… it’s not fair, it’s not fair for me. Finally I have some relationships with men, a few men- and then someone introduced me a platform or a community or a forum that, that people uh, can join and talk about religion and sexuality at the same time. So it’s an organisation that focuses on the inter-religious  and also sexuality diversity. They have a program called QueerCAM, and I joined that. So that’s the place that I can feel like.. I’m at home. 

So I just continue my theological study… um… I don’t know, I have kind of perspective that, well I accept that, firstly, I was born as a sexual being, then a religious being is the other thing, the next after I become a sexual being- the first, I’m a sexual being. So I cannot ignore it. It’s the way I am, it’s the way I live, as a being, as, as a human, sexuality is my nature, it’s given- and I, I interpret (?)  it is God’s grace for me.

Georgie Williams, in interview: Based on the experiences that you’ve had, I wanted to ask you, is there anything that individuals outside of the LGBTQ+ community of Indonesia can be doing to support your community?

Ferdi, in interview: You know that, in Indonesia, most people think that being a gay or being a queer is something that’s not indigeneously… something that’s not indigenous like, they are from outside, they are from West, West. And I just think that, how possibly do people think like this? So I just hope that when outside people see the reality here in Indonesia, they can also share, share experience and also share knowledge that, it’s not a strange thing, it’s not only from West, it just can happen to everyone, anywhere, it doesn’t belong to any race or it doesn’t belong to any countries, it’s just about humanity, about people. So I hope that we can share about this, the dialogue, about the struggle as a human being, as a sexual being. And also, to educate people like- but sometimes, the matter is like this. If people from outside try to educate people here, they think like “oh no, it’s, it’s from West, it’s not, it’s not East culture, it’s not Eastern culture” and be like, “they don’t understand us”, something like that. So I think they can also encourage people, like from here, to, to share these experiences so we can have dialogue.”

Georgie Williams, voiceover: Although both Ai and Ferdi’s stories are unique and distinct in their own ways, there were undeniable parallels. Both brought up the issue of familial obligation and social roles- Ai being expected to behave as girls and women are supposed to in Indonesian society, with a presumption of heterosexuality inextricably intertwined into that expectation. Ferdi also struggles with the assumption that he will eventually marry and provide grandchildren to his parents. Both also struggle with the religious aspect of their identities- Ai resisting her family’s highly conservative, more extreme Islamic beliefs and convictions, and Ferdi endeavouring to make peace with being both a gay man and a Christian. In these interviews, two pillars of Indonesian society are evident; faith and family. Of course, neither of these are threatened by LGBT rights and self-expression, but the cisnormative, heteronormative foundations upon which both concepts are built will need to be addressed and adapted if people like Ai and Ferdi are to find support, solidarity and acceptance in wider society. 

Ai and Ferdi’s requests for outside engagement were clear and unambiguous- mental health support and education is necessary to dispel myths regarding LGBT identities, and many Indonesians will only listen to other Indonesians on these kinds of matters. As Ferdi said- this is not a matter of race or culture, but of humanity. Indonesians don’t need to hear stories from Western LGBTQ+ culture- they need to hear about the experiences and struggles of their fellow citizens. And in our next episode, we will be sharing June and Alfi’s stories, with the intention of shedding light on what it means to be binary and non-binary transgender individuals growing up in Indonesia. Tune in next time for part two of Queer Voices in Yogyakarta.

This episode of the /Queer Podcast was edited by Sam Clay and scripted and produced by me, Georgie Williams. A very special thanks to Astrid Febriyanti for her help on this episode and episode seven, and to Ai, Ferdi, Vania and Royce for their contributions. 

Thanks once again to my Patreon subscribers who are still supporting this project in the midst of widespread financial uncertainty and a global crisis. These stories are now being listened to in 52 countries around the world, and it is exciting and heartwarming to know that, in spite of our struggles, we are connecting as a community- and you’re helping make this happen. If you’re not a Patreon and fancy pitching in to make these episodes happen, you can find the /Queer Patreon at patreon.com/slashqueer. That’s S-L-A-S-H Queer. The link is also available on our Facebook, Instagram and Twitter pages. I’m grateful for anything you can give to this work, no matter how small your contribution.

This episode was recorded on location in Yogyakarta, Indonesia. Music in this episode was composed by Kevin MacLeod. If you enjoyed this episode or have any feedback, please get in touch on Instagram or Twitter at @SlashQueer or email us at slashqueer@outlook.com. In spite of all that we face in these uncertain times, remember to stay kind, stay radical and stay queer.