Eid Small Talk

The first day of Eid often begins with rituals that are remarkably similar across many Indonesian homes. Doors open early in the morning, guests arrive in succession, and living rooms fill with alternating conversations. People who have not seen each other for a long time greet one another, then sit close together whilst catching up on news. The conversation typically starts lightly, about the journey home, family news, or work. However, for many young people, what begins as a casual chat gradually leads into a series of more personal questions.

Fikri (24), an activist at a legal aid organisation in Yogyakarta, is quite accustomed to facing such situations whenever he returns to his hometown for Eid. In family gatherings, he almost always receives questions about his life away from home.

According to him, such questions usually start with the very common, inquiring about news or developments in one’s life. However, the conversation often does not stop there. After initial questions about news, follow-up questions emerge, particularly about work. Whether he has found employment, where he works, and how his living conditions are now.

For Fikri, what makes the situation uncomfortable is not the questions themselves, but the direction the conversation takes, often ending in comparison. He notes that after someone answers about their job, the chat can shift into a comparison with others in the family or surrounding environment. “Sometimes I’m also compared with others, for example their children or other relatives who supposedly earn this much,” he says.

Such comparisons, according to Fikri, transform what initially felt like a light conversation into something somewhat oppressive. He feels that a person’s life is often viewed through the same measure: how much income one earns or how stable one’s job is. Yet, he argues, everyone has their own path.

The situation feels particularly acute for those who migrate to other cities. Fikri comes from a region where migration, particularly studying in Java, is considered quite prestigious. People who successfully pursue education far from their hometown are often seen as having good academic ability and more promising life prospects.

“It seems as though those who migrate must have more glamorous lives, but that is not always the case,” he says.

In many people’s imagination in the hometown, migrating to a big city is synonymous with a better life. However, Fikri’s experience shows that reality in the city does not always align with such expectations. He describes the competition in big cities as far harder than many people imagine.

“There is a saying that the capital is crueller than a stepmother,” he says. “I think there is truth to that.” This expression, he argues, captures how intense the competition is that many people face after graduation.

In big cities, the number of university graduates is very large and they all arrive with almost similar qualifications. A bachelor’s degree is no longer a guarantee that one will immediately find stable employment. On the other hand, higher living costs also add pressure on those starting their careers. “If you are not strong, you can be crushed by the competition,” he says.

However, perspectives on city life often remain simplistic in the eyes of people in hometowns. Fikri observes an assumption that academic intelligence should align with economic success. If someone is considered clever because they studied far from home, many also expect their life to automatically become more stable.

When reality does not unfold that way, family conversations can become a small source of pressure that is difficult to avoid.

Fikri notes that the discomfort does not always emerge from the outset. When still in school or newly starting university, family questions about his life felt normal. However, after he graduated, the expectations of those around him began to rise.

They believed that someone who had pursued higher education, particularly migrating to Java, should have a better life compared to those who remained in their hometown. This shift in expectations is what makes the same questions feel different after someone enters a new life phase.

Nevertheless, Fikri has no particular strategy to avoid such questions. He tends to answer honestly about his life away from home. “I am also not good at lying,” he says. “So I just answer about how things really are away from home.”

However, when the conversation begins to shift into comments that feel judgmental or comparative, he usually tries to redirect the situation. Sometimes he responds with laughter or brief answers to prevent the conversation from developing further.

If the situation becomes genuinely uncomfortable, he usually finds an excuse to leave the conversation, perhaps by offering to help with household chores in the kitchen or doing something else around the house.

A similar experience is felt by Salwa Umiatik (24), a private sector employee in Semarang. In every family gathering during Eid, she almost always hears the same questions repeatedly from different people.

Those questions usually revolve around life stages considered important by many: education, work, and marriage. “Honestly, sometimes I am a bit uncomfortable, because the questions are quite personal and are asked repeatedly by different people,” she says.

However, she chooses to approach such conversations in a simple way.

She usually answers only what is necessary without providing overly lengthy explanations. Answers such as “still in progress” or “taking it slowly” are responses she frequently uses to deflect such inquiries during family gatherings.