So this is what it feels like to be a minority

Warning: this is a cathartic post, lots of negative energy. Please read this knowing full well that I am aware of my incredibly negative reactions in some of these simple situations in which people meant no harm, but sometimes you just need to vent and feel. I know that I chose to be here, I know that I am living in a culture of people who mean well. Still, I'm human and I need to have my own reactions for a minute before I think more deeply. These are those initial reactions...

Right now I could be content not talking to anyone again for at least 2 days.

Upon my return home and after running to my room with no more than a “hello” to my family (you give them any more opportunity than that and you are sucked in what literally could be an hour long conversation with my host mom), I logged on to get a bit of sanity from the outside world. Thankfully, a fellow PCV posted this article on microaggressions. Exactly what I needed to read!

Ah, an educated explanation of the headache-inducing, boiling anger I am feeling!! God provides in mysterious ways, and here is the answer to my need: being reminded of the phenomenon ‘microaggressions’ to put a name to my pain.

Here's the most important quotes from the article:  

"Microagressions, particularly those of a racialized nature, are, according to Dr. Derald Wing Sue in Psychology Today (Oct. 5, 2010), "the brief and everyday slights, insults, indignities, and denigrating messages sent to (visible minorities) by well-intentioned (members of an ethnic majority in a society) who are unaware of the hidden messages being communicated."  This is my life every day in Indonesia.

Now let's consider microaggression's effects. Dr. Sue's research suggests that subtle "microinsults and microinvalidations are potentially more harmful (than overt, conscious acts of racism) because of their invisibility, which puts (visible minorities) in a psychological bind." Definitely invisible to the Indonesians who are always asking me questions. I’m gonna be honest, I console myself by reminding myself that I am highly educated and need to remain calm, I am the first white person who has ever lived here. They are only curious and trying to be friendly. But still...

For example, indicate that you dislike being treated this way and the aggressor will be confused; after all, the latter meant no harm, so therefore the NJ must just be overly "sensitive" — and therefore also "troublesome" to deal with. Resistance is not futile; it is in fact counterproductive. Oh woe to we who are microaggressed, for we cannot explain to the aggressor their faults. It truly consoles not to try to explain. Yesterday I told my host sister I was having trouble being patient with people who called me “bule! (foreigner!) or mister." She said, “Sarah, you must be patient.” I told her easier said than done. She just said again, "Be patient." Okay, come to my country and live in my world for a day, please. You will see that my friends and family do not stare at people who are different and try to touch them and the list goes on...Try walking in my shoes for one day and see how UNGODLY hard it is to be in a culture that can’t possibly understand how different this collective, everyone-knows-everyone’s-business, never-alone-for-a-moment culture is from my culture.

Yet do nothing and research suggests that "aggressees" become psychologically drained over time by having to constantly question the validity of their position and devote energy to dealing with this normalized (and after a while, predictable) "othering" that nobody else (except — shudder — the alienated NJ barflies) seems to understand." I could not dream of putting this better myself. I’m the only one is this entire community who understands me because no one from here has ever been in a similar situation.

Today's microaggressions that have left me willing to not see another person for at least 2 days:

1. "Mister Sarah!" Repeated 10 times by a little girl. I don't care if you are only 5 years old, you were told multiple times it’s Miss. It’s one word, d@mn it, get it right.
2. Same little girl takes a picture of me without asking. At least I didn’t swat her hand away this time and say, “If you don’t ask that it’s not polite” like I did to a kid 2 months ago.
3. Cat calls from boys at my school, “Hello Miss Sarah. How are you? I love you!” And then when I turn around to ask a question, they can’t answer. You have learned English for 10 years and really? All you can mockingly say is, “I love you?”
4. A teacher at my school: “What are you eating for lunch?”

Me:  “Rice.”

Teacher: “You can eat rice?”

My desired answer: “No, I’m just faking it, I actually cut a whole in the bottom of my lunch box…of course I can eat rice. I’ve been living in this country for 5 months, for the love of God. My body is the body of a human being. My body can eat rice. Duh.”

My real response? “Yes.”

5.     While my friend is riding on the back of my bike: “Sarah, I don’t think those kids saw me when we passed.” Yes, that’s right, because I’m so freakin’ huge, as everyone loves to say in this country. So huge that your mini, perfect little body couldn’t be seen behind the giant. Thank you for reminding me that I’m a head taller than everyone. As if I’ve forgotten.

6.     “Sarah, be careful!” When crossing the street, with no cars in sight. I know that you care about me, but I’m 23 years old, you do NOT have to hold my arm when I cross the street.

7.     “You are so beautiful. You are white.” Oh jeeze, I’m white? What?! I must have forgotten. It’s not like everyone (outside of my community) stares at me and yells, “Bule! (foreigner!)” every time they see me. Thank you for making me feel objectified, lady. I just love being reminded of all the white people who colonized the world and made you believe only white is beautiful.

8.     Touch my arm hair or squeeze my apparently fattest-arm-you’ve-ever-seen one more time, neighbor girl, and I think I’m gonna kill someone.

9.     “Sarah, you are tired?”

Desired response: “No, I’m not tired. I just want to get off this freakin’ porch and away from this conversation in a language I don’t understand, after working (no exaggeration) 9 hours today, not taking a nap, and biking here while you came on a motorcycle and will go home on a motorcyle. Not to mention I invited you to by a soda with me, and instead your entire family came and I had to sit at your relatives’ house for 45 minutes -quite unwillingly- while your mom talked about how she was gonna take these pills to become more beautiful.”  

Actual response: “Yes.”

Sometimes it’s easier to lie.