"indonesian and": language & conjunctive identity

I'm reading a book called Garis Batas by Agustinus Wibowo, an Indonesian writer and backpacker, and it's making me realize how much I associate the Indonesian language with a certain attitude - one that tends to be socially and religiously conservative, and whose conceptions of Indonesian identity are frustratingly simplistic. It's a limited and unfair judgment on my part. I just never knew to what extent this bias was ingrained in me until I read Wibowo's book and felt my heart fill to the brink at how much this guy's feelings are my feelings, and how he seems to have the same priorities and cynicisms I do when it comes to matters of cultural identity, colonial legacy, and immigration bureaucracy.

Theoretically, I know that any attitude can be expressed through any language, but I grew up in this dichotomy where I use Indonesian to express certain things and English to express other things. A large part of it is where and with whom I used these languages. Indonesian was the language of family, and English was the language of friends, academia, and free expression. (Habit trumps logic, and that is a reason though not an excuse.) I'm more comfortable in English, and I use it in more contexts. This is an imbalance I'm trying to remedy. You can't really help what you internalize, sure, but you can be aware of it and maybe try to do something about it if that is your wont. In this case, I'm trying to read more Indonesian books.

The thing is this. When I read Benedict Anderson's sociological writings about the Philippines and Indonesia, for example, I felt I was brought closer to the subject because it was expressed in a language I'm comfortable with. With Garis Batas, it's the opposite. I feel like I'm being brought closer to the language because I relate to the sentiments that it's expressing. Okay, this is a simplified contrast. My point is that language doesn't exist in a vacuum. You know how people say that if you want to suppress a culture, you cut out their tongues? It's kind of like that. You use other people's bridges to get to the other side, or to the same side, even. It's a very alienating thing, but it is an alienation that people can get used to. A marginalized complacency. It's like when people ask me questions about the difference between People X and Indonesians/Filipinos with the assumption that the ability to otherize people and the ability to feel marginalized are mutually exclusive things. They are not.

Garis Batas means 'borderline', and the book is about Wibowo's travels through the Central Asia, relating anecdotes and analysis about the Soviet legacy and how well (or not) the -stan countries have held up under the weight of Russian influence and international pressure. It's fascinating stuff, and exactly the kind of reading I loved getting in college because I superimposed a lot of my identity angst onto my chosen discipline. HUMAN MIGRATION FLOWS, HOW DOES IT WORK? It's a subject close to my heart, and to read about it in Indonesian is like a rediscovery of the subject and the language all over again. I don't always agree with Wibowo's observations, but I relate to his wanderlust, his curiosity about the historical foundations of national essentialism, and his romantic cynicism, and that has done more to repair this artificial divide between my 'Indonesian side' and my 'American side' than anything. It's about finding a foothold, you know? It's about realizing you're not alone, especially in a land where you shouldn't be alone, or so people think because of your name and your looks and the stamp in your passport.

Okay, I realize that Indonesian literature isn't there just to make make me feel ~included. It's not all about me, and I don't speak for all Javanese Indonesians or Indonesian expats or whatever. I grew up receiving a strict definition of what it means to be Indonesian, and I'm trying to deconstruct that. There is a soul-deep difference between saying "I am Indonesian AND" and "I am Indonesian BUT", the latter of which I've been saying my whole life, dividing me. There is a time and a place for compartmentalization, sure, but I think I'd like a less of it in this area.