An article from The Jakarta post, Indonesia's English-language newspaper, in which respected journalist and author Julia Suryakusuma argues that Indonesia's Women's Day should be renamed to honour Ibu Kartika! (and she also says some very nice things about the film Kartika: 9 Ways of Seeing)...
Kartika: The non-Kartini 'Kartini'
Author of Julia's Jihad
Jakarta | Wed, April 18, 2018 | 11:54 am
Long before he turned five, my son Aditya’s creative and artistic talents were already apparent. He loved drawing, painting and making imaginative figurines from plasticine. The only thing I could do with the modeling clay was to make simple round and long shapes, which I fashioned into a penis and balls.
At that age, he thought it was pretty hilarious, but when he got bigger, he would get pretty embarrassed when I did these kinds of things — typical teenage reaction, I guess.
So imagine having a mother who makes several giant-sized penises from clay, in different shapes and colors, erect as well as flaccid, the glans stylized in different ways — as a clenched fist, a dog, a fish and a cock’s head (no pun intended!), as well as droopy men’s faces — and exhibits them publicly.
Well, if your mother is Kartika, a painter and sculptor, and you were brought up surrounded by artistic family members who consider any kind of nudity beautiful, it’s all a normal part of life!
So who is Kartika? Born on Nov. 27, 1934, she is the daughter and only child of the late Affandi (1907-1990), an expressionist painter and one of Indonesia’s most celebrated artists. Her mother, Maryati (1916-1991), was also a talented artist, creating delightful, colorful and amazingly intricate needlepoint paintings.
In 1952, at age 18, Kartika married Saptohudoyo (1925-2003), a fellow painter who also encouraged her to be an artist — after she gave birth to their eight children that is.
Given her family background, you would think Kartika could become an artist with her eyes closed, right?
On the contrary, she was born into a society and at a time when it was well-nigh an impossible goal for a woman. Even her mother thought that as a woman, Kartika was only destined to make babies, while her father felt that even if she did become an artist, she would be forever doomed to be under his artistic shadow. Boy, were they ever wrong!
And what a trailblazing, powerful artist she became! As Astri Wright, a professor of South and Southeast Asian art at the University of Victoria in Canada, said, “Kartika is the first female artist in Indonesia who has
dared to openly express the pain and struggle of a woman in search of her true identity no matter how this might clash with culturally imposed roles of womanhood.”
So I was delighted to learn that a 62-minute documentary had been made of Kartika by Christopher Basile, an American filmmaker based in Australia. He wanted to show the artist’s character and vision, as portrayed in her art and life.
The film, Kartika: 9 Ways of Seeing, is divided into nine parts, which reveal, among other things, her spiritual worldview, artistic vision and techniques, relationship with her parents, life struggles and, of course, the oft painful search of her own identity, as a woman as well as an artist.
The timing of the film couldn’t be better. On April 21, we celebrate Kartini (1879-1904), an aristocratic woman who was declared a national heroine by president Sukarno on May 2, 1964. Why? I often wonder.
Kartini was famous for writing letters to her Dutch pen pal in the Netherlands after she entered seclusion at 12 — the custom for aristocratic girls then. The letters were then published into a book with the title After the Darkness Comes Light, which unfortunately was translated into English as Letters of a Javanese Princess, a strange title for someone who had a genuine concern for the fate of ordinary people and a burning ambition to promote education for girls.
Her own plans to study in Holland were thwarted due to the patriarchal view that girls were only intended to be mothers, wives and often co-wives in a polygamous marriage.
Despite her vehement opposition to polygamy, she succumbed to it and married a regent who already had other wives. Whatever Kartini’s great ideas and ambitions were, she could not realize any of them as she died at age 25 during childbirth. And for these things she was made a hero?
Well thank God for women like Kartika, who is an antidote to the worshipping of Kartini. Unfortunately, for 54 years, Kartini has become a symbol of women’s emancipation in the minds of most Indonesians, so it is hard to change public perception. So when I put “Kartini” in quotation marks, I am referring to her as a symbol.
Kartika is also an antidote to state ibu-ism (state motherhood), the New Order militaristic, feudal Javanese social construction of womanhood whereby women were defined as appendages to their husbands. State ibu-ism was part and parcel of the authoritarian regime’s hegemony and control over Indonesian society for 32 years.
In the Reform Era, due to the rise of conservative Islam, “Islamic” state motherhood has become a mobilizing force for social and political control by Muslim groups with an Islamist agenda.
Just look at the recent case of Sukmawati’s alleged blasphemy in her poem (see “Sukarno’s daughter reported to police for alleged blasphemy”, The Jakarta Post, April 3). If Sukmawati thinks that the Indonesian woman’s hair bun is prettier than a face veil, is Islam going to disintegrate just because of that?
I think Kartika is a much more appropriate and inspiring icon than Kartini for Indonesian women and the things we struggle with.
The first is life balance. Kartika made extraordinary achievements in her professional artistic life but at the same time her family life is also remarkable: she bore eight children and now has 19 grandchildren and eight great grandchildren.
The second is reconciling the male forces in her life. While not wanting to be in her father’s shadow, she learned from him and has been the guardian of the Affandi legacy all her life.
The third is balancing spirituality with worldliness. She has a spiritual life, but at the same time her worldly accomplishments are remarkable, both in making herself an international name and also financially, which has enabled her to engage in charitable projects.
Who wouldn’t want to emulate her? Kartika is the embodiment of emancipation: she is the non-Kartini “Kartini”. What is certain is that she’s my heroine.
I cannot do justice to Kartika or to the wonderful, beautiful, sensitive and honest film Christopher Basile made of her, in one brief column. So I hope you will all get a chance to watch it one day.
As for Kartika’s clay penises, basically, it was a dig at men and, more broadly, at patriarchy. I will have to elaborate on it in another “column” — pun intended!
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The writer is the author of Sex, Power and Nation.
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