What does race have to do with humanity?

What does race have to do with humanity?

Dewi Santoso, Jakarta

I was born and raised here. Yet, as a woman of Chinese
descent, I was given the impression, by my parents and others,
this was not really my country. That I was a second-class citizen
who just happened to be born and raised in Indonesia.

This belief seemed not so far from the truth when I
encountered discrimination for the first time on a visit to
Yogyakarta with my high school friends. There were eight of us,
half were boys.

We were walking along Jl. Malioboro. Suddenly, a guy around
the same age as us confronted one of my male friends and said:
"Hey, you stupid Chinese! What are you doing in my country? Go
back to China, you bloody s**t!"

I was appalled -- "we" were appalled. How could he say such a
thing? What gave him the right to claim that this was "his"
country?

Well, excuse me for being Chinese, but I don't think it's a
sin. He was no more Indonesian than I was. I learned to speak
Bahasa as a child, as did he. So, who was he to claim that this
was his country and not mine?

For years I tried to forget the incident -- and tried not to
hate ethnic Indonesians -- I thought doing so would lower myself
to the same level as that guy.

And, surprisingly, during my college years one of my best
friends was an ethnic Indonesian -- which confirmed my view that
not all ethnic Indonesians were like that stupid guy.

But then, just as I began to gain respect for ethnic
Indonesians, a tragedy that claimed many Chinese-Indonesian lives
took place.

It was May 13, 1998 -- a week before the fall of Soeharto's
regime -- students demanding that Soeharto step down were
demonstrating in Semanggi cloverleaf bridge when all of a sudden,
a gunshot sounded. The demonstration stopped; but a riot started.

Suddenly, the streets of Jakarta were in chaos. This event was
used by irresponsible people to heighten the clash between
Chinese-Indonesians and native Indonesians, which finally reached
its limit.

Hundreds of people were killed in a matter of hours; 1,200
according to the Volunteer Team of Humanity. Men, women,
children, there were no exceptions. So long as they were Chinese,
their lives were taken.

Some were killed straightaway, others, especially women --
young or old -- were raped first and then killed. Their homes
were burned, their possessions, looted.

It did not stop there. The area where Chinese-Indonesians
usually did business was badly damaged. Chinatown was destroyed.
The country, according to the perpetrators, had to be "cleansed"
from Chinese influences.

It was not an act of bigotry, it was not an act of prejudice,
it was not an act of violence. It was an act of anarchy, a
perverse act -- an act that deserved to be rebuked.

It was the darkest and most painful period ever experienced by
the Chinese people of Indonesia, who, ironically, were taught to
love and make sacrifices for the country -- and yet, have never
really been admitted to the country as legitimate citizens.
Rather, they were viewed as "outsiders", strangers from another
land.

I was there when all of this happened. I was supposed to be on
a three-month spring vacation. I was supposed to enjoy my time --
hanging out with friends and having fun. Instead, I encountered
one of the most brutal acts ever committed by one ethnic group
against another. I was fortunate enough to be able to flee from
the country. What about those who couldn't afford just to pack up
and leave?

When an order to stop the injustice finally came, the loss of
human lives had surpassed one thousand. The whole city was in
ruins. The whole nation mourned. A country was shattered. Trust
was broken.

To Chinese people, Indonesia will never be the same.
Chinese-Indonesians cannot go through a day without remembering
the May 14 horror. And, I found myself asking "Is being Chinese a
sin? Or is it just that native Indonesians are ruthless?"

I could not find the answer, even now, in what a lot of people
call the "reform era."

It's supposed to be the era when both Chinese-Indonesians and
native Indonesians live together in peace and harmony. Honestly,
it's quite difficult for me to believe this as I encountered
another unpleasant incident recently.

My mom and I were in an elevator on our way to a restaurant.
There were four or five other people -- I couldn't tell as I was
busy talking with my mom in a Chinese dialect.

All of a sudden, I heard a guy say: "I'm sorry, but this is
Indonesia, not China."

Both my mom and I were dumbfounded. Would you tell that to
Westerners? Why Chinese? What have we done? Is this what we call
the "reform era?" Is this what's left of our country after liters
of blood were sacrificed for better governance?

I don't think I'll ever find the answer as racism is a
complicated thing. Even in the United States, there are some
rednecks who hate African-Americans.

Being in the so-called minority, I only wish that this country
could learn its lesson from the past, that racism will bring
nothing but destruction to the people and the country's economy.
Until people realize that racial discrimination is a sinful act,
Indonesia will not rise as an economically and politically strong
and powerful country.

The writer is journalist with The Jakarta Post.