Own Voices
Excerpts from: Escaping Indonesia
For most, Indonesia is an idyllic tourist destination with tropical rainforests, paradise-like beaches, and exotic species like the Komodo Dragon, Javan rhinoceros, and orangutans. But for LGBTQ Indonesians, like Rainer Oktovianus and his husband, Eka Nasution, Indonesia is a hotbed of hate and oppression.
Indonesia does not have specific laws against homosexuality. However, it is primarily an Islamic country with a population that is 80 percent Muslim. The laws conform to Islamic culture and morals, so local government will often punish individuals that deviate from these morals. Government committee members publicly share their Muslim beliefs, which condemn homosexuality. These discriminatory comments which are featured on the news keep the national hysteria going, like gas on a fire. A strong Islamic group, the Islamic Defender Front (FPI) targets LGBT by destroying nightclubs and bars, attacking transvestites, and assaulting LGBT members with bamboo clubs, stones, and machetes.
It was at the 2010 Q! Film Festival that Rainer, a committee member, met Eka, a festival volunteer, and they soon started dating. Rainer and Eka come from very different backgrounds. Rainer was adopted by a single mom who raised him in a strict Christian household. Eka had two Muslim parents and read the Quran every day.
In 2014, after dating four years, Rainer and Eka went on a two-week vacation to Ontario and decided to get married. They were legally wed in Ottawa. It was easy to get married in Canada; they didn't have to be a resident, but just needed a passport. It would take three months, however, to receive the marriage certificate by mail. It is common for international mail to be opened by government officials in Indonesia, so Rainer and Eka were very nervous about being discovered. The 12-week wait was like a "ticking time bomb," but luckily, they received the certificate unopened.
Dear Wheels: A Letter of Thanks to My Wheelchair, by Rebecca Johnson
Dear Wheels,
You help me move freely in this world and soar to the highest peaks, but why can't others see how you help me fly? Instead, they see a woman in a chair who needs help with every single thing in her life. In reality, you give me the independence to rise above that ignorance and know that I am capable and eager to live my life to the fullest.
While other parents taught their infants to walk, mine patiently taught me how to use my hand to direct you. I would win races against other children who did not see the difference between their running and my moving. My childhood friends didn't even notice you. They only saw a girl who was fun to play games and dolls with.
As a teenager, I started to hate you for you scaring the boys away. They would only pay attention to the wheels, not the girl who had a crush on them. I hated you for pushing them away, making them disgusted at how different I was from all the other girls. If only I was not tethered to you, if only I could walk then I would have a boyfriend too and the rest of my life would be easy, right? Even though I directed all my hatred at you, you still rolled me forward and never left me helpless. You took me across the stage to graduate high school and then rolled me into adulthood.
I liked you again in college. You waited patiently as I was stationary at the computer desk with my studies. You understood that we would not go anywhere in this country as a Disabled woman without an secondary education. So, we went across stage together again twice more, shocking the crowds and receiving loud cheers because we inspired them. But we didn't do it to inspire others. We did it out of necessity to survive in a world that looks only at the aid, not the person sitting in it.
We became one during those years, ignoring crushes and doing what was cool. I was never ashamed of you as people stared at us in public, prayed over us without approval, or took pity on my life. You empowered me to ignore those who didn't understand and to keep going forward in life.
Now, we live a full life. You get me to work where I counsel those who are able but discouraged by their normal struggles. Then, you get me to the classroom to teach freshmen in college. They say, "those who can't, teach," but I definitely can because of you!
After work, you bring me home to a man who loves me, wheels and all, and parents who would give their lives so my own would flourish. I love my life and it is only possible because of how you move me.
Thank you, Your loving passenger
In Our Own Aboriginal Voice 2
The Aboriginal Identity, by Jeremy Ratt
Being raised in alienation of your own culture is a very strange experience, to say the least, and the coming together of many individuals to celebrate their culture's history was something I could never feel truly ingrained with. There was a sense of dissociation throughout my childhood, where I found myself in a position that belonged to neither side, but somewhere in the middle. And with more and more birthday candles being placed on the cake, I developed an askew perspective of my own people and the people around my people.
New Ways, by Connie Fife
now as a grown woman
I have passed through the brief solitudes
brought on by the changing of another season
the slow movement of shifting colours
and the loping arrival of winter
your absence has been replaced
by the warmth of full bellied poems
who have slept nestled against my spine
their tongues peeling back on old skin
I am trying to find new ways to live
original means by which to feel alive
the breathing in and out of a
politic by which to free a heart
that the stars have already caught in their throats.
