Beyond Survival: The Right to Thrive

One of the frameworks discussed in Spatial Justice: A frame for reclaiming our rights to be, thrive, express, and connect is Spatial Power. This touches on the issue of how one’s geographical location might facilitate or challenge our ability to thrive and express ourselves. Upon reading this, I cannot help but wonder how different life could have been had I been born and raised in a different part of the world. How much spatial power can a place that was colonialized for 350 years offer? What does it mean to live in a post-colonialized country? How does my ancestors’ experiences with oppression, rape, torture, and executions shape the world that I was born into?

Some horrendous effects of colonialism in Indonesia take form in a collective trauma that is passed on for generations. My grandmother used to talk about how she needed to flee, with my 3-year-old father on her back, trying to find a place to hide in the wood so they would not be slaughtered that day. To my other grandmother, who had Alzheimer, the joyous sound of fireworks triggered her fear and anxiety, causing her to run in panic while screaming, ‘The Dutch is here! We need to run!’

These stories are not unique. This trauma is shared by many Indonesians, embedded in our bodies, and buried in our unconsciousness. Most of the time, it does not have a chance to be unpacked and addressed. Consequently, they tend to be more reactive to stress and become subject of dominance by fear, panic, and rage (Narvaez, as cited in Maté, 2022). Many adults around me believe that the world is hostile and unkind, which turns almost into a self-prophecy as they build the world around them from the viewpoints of their wounded selves.

It is common for Indonesian kids to grow up being yelled at, or even hit, by grown-ups, including your teachers and neighbors. Sometimes, for running around, jumping, singing, crying—or in other words, for being a kid. Maté in his book the Myth of Normal: Trauma, Illnesses, and Healing in a Toxic Culture (2022) mentioned that when children are in a survival mode, their brains do not get to develop properly. Defensive-mode and growth-mode cannot take place at the same time. He wrote,

“When children become invulnerable, they cease to relate to life as infinite possibility, to themselves as boundless potential, and to the world as a welcoming and nurturing arena for their self-expression.” (Mate, 2022)

Our space had us view the world as a place that did not know how to welcome playfulness and curiosity. We were told to sit still and not to ask questions, so we did not upset anyone. We became expert at reading every room that we entered in, every person’s mood, just to protect our sense of safety. Being born in a certain place can mean that we do not need to be overly alert and hypervigilant.

It also means not having to deal with an inferiority complex. The segregation policy that was imposed by the Dutch colonial heavily reinforced our hierarchy system. It did not allow native Indonesians to occupy the same space as totok (A term referring to Dutch people, which means ‘pure blood’). These places included restaurants, pools, and schools. Indonesians were seen as inferior, therefore, they were expected to crawl and bow before our colonizer. We were not allowed to speak their language. We were made to believe that we were less human by the society that the Dutch built. The fact that these practices happened, unfortunately, are not nearly as shocking as realizing how little these historical inequalities have changed. To this day, white workers in Indonesia can expect to be paid sometimes five times more than Indonesians for doing the same work. They can even expect to be accommodated and treated with more respect and patience.

A sign from the Dutch colonial that says Verboden voor Honden en Inlander, translated as ‘No entry for dogs and indigenous people’

McIntosh (2004) described how some privileges make you feel welcome and allow you not to be angry. I believe this remains true. I find myself a place, a home, in this world—from which I can see the world in a different light; but even joy can feel strange. I experience cheeriness differently because it often is accompanied by happiness guilt. A part of me is angry for my father, my mother, and my grandparents—for they were robbed of the ability to experience life beyond survival. The other part of me griefs for my inner child—for she never knew what it feels like to live in the world that does not only welcome, but also celebrate her—for she, like her family, was systemically denied the ability to thrive.

Check out also:

Indonesia: Decolonializing the mind (https://historibersama.com/indonesia-decolonizing-the-mind/)

Intergenerational trauma animation (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vlqx8EYvRbQ)

 

References

Design Studio for Social Intervention. (n.d.). Spatial Justice: A frame for reclaiming our rights to be, thrive, express, and connect. 

McIntosh, Peggy. 2004. White Privilege and Male Privilege. Pp. 86-93 in Women’s Voices, Feminist Visions: Classic and Contemporary Readings edited by Susan M. Shaw and Janet Lee. Boston: McGrawHill.

Maté, G., & Maté. 2022. The Myth of Normal: Trauma, Illnesses, and Healing in a Toxic Culture. New York: Avery, an imprint of Penguin Random House.