Being American in Indonesia

I don’t know a lot about Indonesia’s relationship with the US economically or politically, I have to admit. But I do know what it’s like to be the only white person in a very small Indonesian city and while I have experienced amazing hospitality and openness, I’ve also experienced some pretty weird racism. Not violent or even derogatory racism, but there is a certain uncomfortable attitude of reverence towards white people here. When I walk down the street, people yell “BULE!” (which means white person) at me as if it’s my name. The nicer ones will call me Miss Bule. Students whistle at me when I pass, something they’d never dream of doing to an Indonesian woman. Beggars will come up to me in the market and tap me on the shoulder to get my attention. People laugh at everything I do. If I speak Indonesian to them, they laugh. If I speak English, they laugh. If I tell my students “Good” after they pronounce something in class, they laugh and repeat “good” in falsetto. Everywhere I go, I am the center of attention. Sometimes I don’t notice it because I’m fairly oblivious but the person I’m with will usually point it out to me. Children come to my house by the dozen just to look at me and follow me down the street when I leave. The first time I meet kids they sometimes dare each other to come up to me and try to touch me. Everyone I meet wants their photo with me. Sometimes after class I end up staying half an hour late as each student lines up and begs for a photo of us together. Adults want photos too, from my fellow teachers to strangers on the street. If I’m visiting a middle or elementary school, I can’t be left in a public area or literally every student will come crowd around me. Let me tell you, even if you’re not agoraphobic, having literally 100 or more kids wanting to be as close to you as possible is intimidating.

Now, in my town, the attention has always been friendly with maybe just a small touch of sexual harassment (the whistling). But luckily for me, I am almost always with an Indonesian friend no matter where I go. Because Ponorogo is small it has that small town vibe of everyone knowing everyone else so when I meet new people all I have to do is tell them that I am a teacher at STKIP University and maybe drop the name of the University director (who is somewhat famous in this town, having run for local office and published a lot of teaching material) and people accept that I am living here and functioning like an Indonesian person, especially if I’m with my Indonesian friends. They still ask me if I can eat rice though.

But just having this kind of attention is sort of disturbing on a deeper level. People are intensely interested in my opinions on literally everything from the financial crisis to education techniques. And not just to get another perspective, but because I’m sort of regarded as an expert. Now this isn’t just a racial issue, it’s also a cultural issue. A lot of this comes from the fact that I’m American and there’s a certain worship of western cultural here that actually exists awkwardly along with a strong national pride and identity. The fact that I’m white is just an easy indication that I’m Western.

There are a number of cultural reasons for this attitude, from the Dutch colonization to Britney Spears, but I’m not a scholar on Indonesian history and I’m not really comfortable naming reasons for what I see. I’m just describing my experience.