“We are always home”

“Never make your home in a place. Make a home for yourself inside your own head. You’ll find what you need to furnish it – memory, friends you can trust, love of learning, and other such things. That way it will go with you wherever you journey.”

— Tad Williams, American writer

Thanks to my closest friend’s amazing, inspiring blog post.

The ethnic conundrum

What defines our identity to others may not be what we experience as our own identity. Like us mixed-race babies, who can tell for us what our identity is? Hearing blacks say Obama isn’t black, angers me as much as whites not wanting a black guy in the white house.

Growing up of mixed race and mixed culture can be a challenge only recognized later in life. Our parents never told us that much about our heritage – either one. So we pieced together our lives and identities from the few books we read about the Emerald Archipelago, and observing Flemish life around us. It took us ages to understand what our grandma meant when she inquired whether our friends in Jakarta were Chinese.

In fact, this remained such a (unintentional) mystery that we only in recent years have unearthed details about the history of our families and understood better where we come from. But the more we learn, the more we feel connected. My best friend even commented on the fact that I’ve become so much more in touch with my Asian side lately.

My dad told me about my family’s plight during the failed communist coup by the 30 September movement – perhaps orchestrated by the CIA; the ensuing killings of half a million alleged communists (many Indonesian-born Chinese); the discriminatory anti-Chinese laws; our family’s  forced name change; and ongoing ethnic violence and discrimination against ethnic Chinese – of which there are about 7 million in Indonesia – notably during the May 1998 riots.

In view of all that, it’s no wonder, that our grandmother, who lived through two world wars, and many anti-Chinese riots, wanted to make sure her granddaughters were with people who wouldn’t turn against them for their ethnicity and religion. And it’s then also no wonder that our cousins who did grow up in entirely Chinese-Indonesian families, look upon us weird when we tell them we’d like to learn more about the indigenous Indonesians. But why should we not, when our brother is half Indonesian?

Ultimately, finding our own identity, one that gives us peace with all the pieces of our history, is worth knowing as much as we can, about whichever ethnic group, the good parts of history and the bad.

The jobs that pay the bills

The next list in the Listography book is favorite films, which is rather mundane, so I’ll skip to the jobs I’ve had. Coming from a single parent family, I started picking up odd jobs quite young. So here’s the list of the truly terrible and sometimes fun jobs I’ve had.

Babysitting – what girl has not at some point been a babysitter? When I started babysitting, it felt special. Not because I loved the kids so much. Heck no. It made me feel part of the gang. Which gang? If you were a pre-teen girl in the late 80s, you know of what I speak: The Baby-sitter’s Club. I wanted to be Kristy Thomas so bad!

Cleaning – for a few summers in high school, I worked as a cleaning lady in an academic hospital. I had to wear a uniform three sizes too big and clean in just four hours an entire ward – patient rooms, bathrooms, kitchens, waiting rooms, etc. After a half hour break, I had to endure another 3.5 hours of cleaning special units, such as autopsy rooms and delivery rooms. There’s nothing like a job like that to make you study your ass off.

Telemarketing – I tried this as an alternative to cleaning, but duping people into buying time-sharing homes made me feel dirtier than scrubbing dead skin off an autopsy table.

Dishwashing – at the end of a night of doing dishes at a Spanish restaurant, I smelled so bad, my mother made me take off my clothes in the hallway before entering the house.

Bartending – without a doubt the funnest odd job ever. The bar was the foyer of a theater, which meant I also got to do coat check (good tips) and got to see all the plays for free. And bartending is just fun. Unlike waiting tables, you’re not maneuvering through crowds or wedging in between tables with full trays and it has a cool factor waiting tables just can’t match.

Mail delivery – getting up at 4am to rush to deliver mail in the rain, actually get chased by dogs cartoon style, not get paid the last two hours because you’re just too slow, and not getting to see your friends because you have to go to bed at 9pm. No wonder these people go postal.

Sales – if ever I was in the wrong job it was this one. I worked in two stores: gift and clothing. And I hated all customers alike. I just wanted to be left alone. But that, I suppose, defeats the purpose of a sales job. When a customer threw a shoe at me I knew sales and me weren’t meant to be.

Waitress – free dinner four times a week was great; laughing at lame jokes, being called to a table and then waiting because they hadn’t actually decided yet, and trying to carry three plates while toddlers run in front of you is not so great. I wasn’t allowed back after the summer.

English teacher – I taught first and third grade, which I did not enjoy because I spent more time telling them to sit and be quiet than actually teaching English. And I just got impatient how long it took those kids to write apple. I taught adult evening classes, which was fun at first, but then began to bore me. No, you can not say “womans”. * roll eyes* I did love teaching two brothers aged four and seven. Private tutoring at their home with their mom in the other room just a raised voice away to keep them from misbehaving. Wonderful.

And then we enter into the jobs that are actually on my resume: Publishing Assistant, Account Executive (Public Affairs Consultant), Press Officer, Marketing Communications Manager and Digital Media Strategist. While these are the jobs I can proudly display on LinkedIn, they are not quite as colorful as the odd student jobs, but how I do love what I do today – though sometimes, just once in a while, I do miss the bartending.