Odd Man Out

So, tell me. What is it like being gay in Indonesia?” It is a question, however it may be phrased, which invariably pops up during conversations with new friends or acquaintances, locals or foreigners, whenever my sexual orientation becomes clear to them.

“Frankly, I don’t know. I have mostly lived in Jakarta,” is my standard, automatic reply.

Now, if the questioner perseveres, I would sum it up in just a few words:”Fine, thank you.”

It is true. In this capital of the world’s largest Muslim-populated country, I have never felt ostracized, discriminated against or slighted because of my sexual inclination. Knock on wood.

But I also must confess that I have been lucky enough to have enjoyed environments -- both working and personal -- that are open minded enough to accept me and the baggage I come with.

Granted, in my younger days, some louts or other similar types of humans of no importance whatsoever to me, jeered, insulted or teased me for being gay. But those days are over – at least the jeering bits.

The problem was within me, as I tried to come to terms with being gay.

The crisis that accompanies the realization that one is a homosexual was in my case exacerbated by my upbringing -- raised by educated and tolerant parents with 13 years of my childhood spent in Europe.

Besides being different from others in my sexual preferences, I was also molded differently. In high school and later at university, I was used to questioning or discussing everything I did not understand or believe, loved spending hours at the library, reveled in things of absolutely no interest to others my age and had a particular taste for anything out of the ordinary. Describing me as a popular guy would be an outright lie.

As I coldly faced the realities of being “different” when I returned to Indonesia at the age of 17, my initial reaction was to suppress my feelings and bow to peer pressure, trying hard to be like everyone else, including going through the process of dating girls.

Remember, this was during the pre-cyber age, when one could not yet have recourse to the internet and its anonymous cyber exchanges and support network. I had no one to confide in nor share experiences with.

My high schools days were in a sense problem free. I attended an allboys high school, eliminating the need to cope with girls at school and whatever that entailed. A vague pretense that I was interested in the opposite sex and football sufficed for my school friends.

This status quo continued into my student days and only erupted into a full-fledged identity crisis when I was 24, studying hard at a university in Bandung.

A trivial remark by a senior lecturer, who dismissed me as an “eccentric” in public, unleashed a storm of self-questioning in me.

Was I really an eccentric? Was I really that different, what was wrong with me and what should I do about it?

The tormented soul-searching lasted about two weeks but I did emerge with a clearer understanding of what I was – a gay person -- and also what I planned to do about it to continue to be myself.

If, despite all my efforts, I continued to be seen as a strange bird, then I could dispense with the pretense. They already saw me as eccentric anyway.

My parents did not pose too much of a problem either. I never came out to them, not out of fear of their reaction toward me, but rather fearing that they would suffer from the revelation.

But they were not fools, and the fact their son was gay was clear, with the succession of male friends who came and spent the night at home and the glaring absence of a girlfriend when most other young men my age were already safely wed or on the matrimonial route.

They never pressured me about being gay. But my late mother, who was hardly a fatalist, would never miss a chance to introduce me to “a very nice young lady,” or boast about my eligibility to mothers with marriageable girls whenever the occasion presented itself.

With the hindsight that comes with age, I can see that one thread has linked my entire life and helped me live relatively unscathed as a homosexual.

Deliberately choosing not to antagonize others by flaunting my homosexuality, keeping a low profile, including by being discreet about my personal life, has been my key to survival.

Never advertising the fact that I am gay has not prevented me from living as one. To the point of appearing boastful, I can say that like many heterosexuals, I have had my share of affairs and have been happily settled with my partner for the past seven years.

Nightspots, which are not in short supply in Jakarta, along with the internet, have been a great help for “PLUs (people like us)” as we like to call fellow gays, to come into contact with others of the same inclination, share the burden of our lives and gradually gain confidence that one is certainly not alone.

Ultimately, I believe that like for everyone else anywhere, the treatment you receive from others hinges for a large part on your own behavior.