Qiwamah and Wilayah & Women's Lived Realities
AT ONE GLANCE
Population 258,000,000
(World Bank, 2015)
Total fertility rate 2.3
children born per woman
(WEF, 2015)
Child marriage 14% of girls married by the age of 18
(UNICEF, 2016)
Maternal mortality ratio (per 100,000 live births)
190 (WEF, 2015)
Life expectancy at birth
71 years for females,
67 years for males
(World Bank, 2014)
Religions (2010)
More than 87% of
the population is Muslim, alongside Buddhist,
Christian, Confucian and Hindu minorities
(Pew, 2012)
Literacy rate 92% for
women and 96% for men
(WEF, 2015)
Labour force participation (female, male)
54%, 86% (WEF, 2015)
A team of Indonesians developed and implemented the pilot phase of the Global Life Stories Project (GLSP) in 2011 in cooperation with Alimat, an Indonesian network of organizations and individuals advocating for equality and justice in the family. Alimat was established after Indonesian women’s rights advocates participated in Musawah’s first Global Meeting in Kuala Lumpur in February 2009.
The Indonesian pilot research team was led by the activists/researchers Kamala Chandrakirana, Dini Anitasari, Nani Zulminarni, Nur Rofiah and Tati Krisnawaty. The pilot project was integrated into Alimat’s overall advocacy programme for reform of Indonesian family laws. The team documented the life stories of five Indonesian women from diverse backgrounds such as heads of households, migrant workers, activists and religious preachers.
The second Indonesian team, led by activists/ researchers Aida Milasari, Dini Anitasari and Nur Rofiah, documented four other life stories of women whose experiences reflected different kinds of marginalization (indigenous woman, domestic worker, divorcee, HIV-positive) that were exacerbated by qiwamah and wilayah.
Resource Persons*
Sinta (46 years old)
is a well-educated single mother of one son. At the age of 15, she had an arranged marriage and went through many hardships like domestic violence and polygamy. Although she has been married and divorced twice, she used these bitter experiences as a foundation to build an Islamic discourse on gender justice. She is now a religious leader who founded and runs an Islamic boarding school (pesantren) for girls.
Nisrina (41 years old)
is a single divorced woman. She was raised in a difficult environment with divorced parents and meagre economic resources. Deprived of education, she decided to work as a migrant domestic worker in Saudi Arabia to earn money for herself and her family. Despite repeated sexual abuse at the hands of her employers, she kept working in order to help her family. She fell in love and married an older Saudi man who had another wife, but he spent only one week with her and then divorced her by text message three weeks later. She sees the positive in her journey, however, and is now looking for a job and a husband who will accept her past.
Nurul (48 years old)
is a divorced mother of one son and one daughter. She did not complete her education because her parents could not afford it and gave privilege to her brother’s schooling. She has been married and divorced three times, where she contributed to household expenses and also suffered from ill treatment each time. Her first husband’s family treated her as their property and eventually took custody of her son—she has not seen him again. Her second husband left to work in Malaysia and never returned, and Nurul was saddled with his debts. Her third husband, who already had another wife, abandoned her and her parents on an umrah trip to Saudi Arabia when she was heavily pregnant. Since then, she has been the primary provider for her parents and daughter. She is now selling traditional Indonesian clothes and is involved in advocacy work with a national NGO.
Murti (63 years old)
is a married mother of three children. She is from the indigenous Minang ethnic group in West Sumatra. She was raised in an egalitarian environment with supportive parents. She married her boyfriend and openly refused to follow marriage customs that were unjust to women. She was the chief of a village for seven years and is now chairperson of a peasant group, active in a married women’s group, a participant in Qur’an reading activities and attends village meetings.
Asih (48 years old)
is an educated divorced mother of two children. There were ups and downs in her childhood with a strict mother and a caring father. Her father pressured her to marry because her younger brother wanted to marry and social norms dictated that the older sibling should marry first. During her marriage, she faced domestic violence, her husband’s adultery and economic difficulties. Yet her mother did not support her in the process of divorcing because she believed Asih did not fulfil her duties as a ‘good housewife’. She is now working in an NGO and is the sole provider for herself and her children.
Shafira (42 years old)
is a divorced mother of three children. She is an indigenous woman from Kalimantan who was raised in a polygamous household. She married her ex-husband to escape her abusive sister but was then subjected to his strong jealousy and violent behaviour. She struggled to earn her divorce and is currently working as a kindergarten teacher.
Amalia (33 years old)
is a divorced mother of three children. She was born and raised in West Java in a precarious environment. She married her boyfriend against her parent’s will, then faced ill treatment and slave-like practices from her ex-husband and her in-laws. After her husband took a second wife and both abused her verbally and mentally, she decided to divorce. She is currently working as a domestic worker to provide for her children.
Nawa (27 years old)
is a widow and mother of one daughter and has been diagnosed as HIV-positive. She was born in Jakarta to a Christian mother and a Muslim father. After her husband died, she found out he had been HIV-positive and then learned that she and her daughter were also infected. Yet, she transformed her problems into strengths and is now involved with organizations that advocate for HIV prevention to end AIDS in Indonesia.
Nadira (57 years old)
is a twice-divorced mother of four children. She was born and raised in West Java. Her first husband was dependent on his parents controlling Nadira, refusing to let her work and remain independent. Her second marriage was abusive and violent. Although she faced difficulties pursuing her divorce and in suing her husband in a criminal court, she did not give up until the judges sentenced her husband to jail. Her testimony has helped other women and encouraged other domestic violence victims to open their cases to the public. She is currently working with a national agency.
*Note that all of the resource persons’ names have been changed to protect their identities and that most of the quotations and stories have been translated, edited and condensed for clarity.
Realities of Spousal Roles
The Indonesian 1974 Marriage Law and cultural and religious norms specify differences in status, roles and responsibilities between husbands and wives in Indonesian marriages. The husband is considered to be the head of the household and is entitled to full and unconditional service by the wife. The wife is assumed to be protected, led and provided for by him. However, the Indonesian life stories demonstrate that in practice, women must lead, protect and struggle to provide for themselves and their families while sometimes being treated unfairly and unjustly in their marriages.
Most of the Indonesian resource persons provided for their households and extended families. Yet their active economic roles did not reverse hierarchical gender dynamics in their conjugal relationships. Their husbands expected their wives to be obedient and submissive while contributing to household expenses and taking care of all domestic chores.
Women suffer under this disconnect between normative spousal roles and reality on the ground. As a matter of social custom, husbands control family properties: the house, land, cars and other matrimonial assets are often in their names. Thus, women do not have equal access to these assets in the case of divorce. For instance, Shafira failed to obtain her property rights after divorce (even though she contributed financially to the couple’s matrimonial assets) because the house was documented in her husband’s name to ‘save face’ as he was assumed to be the provider for the family. Her ex-husband even took advantage of her weakness and threatened to evict her from the house if she remarried.
Sometimes resource persons succeeded in building relationships based on partnership. For instance, Nawa’s mother earned more than her husband and hence had a strong enough bargaining position to make decisions in the family. Nevertheless, they failed to build equal relationships with their children. The mother replicated the patriarchal model and tended to impose her will on her daughter. This shows the complex way in which patriarchy operates and how abusive qiwamah authority is not confined to male guardians (husbands and fathers) but extends to other members of the family.
Women’s Self-Knowledge & Relationship to Religious Tradition
Women in Indonesia and around the world are often abused or discriminated against in the name of tradition and religion. For the resource persons from Indonesia, the way they understood the dominant knowledge tradition in the different stages of their lives had a significant impact on their pathways to empowerment.
In the early stages, many Indonesian resource persons had relationships with tradition and religion that could be characterized by guilt and submission. For instance, Nisrina had limited access to religious knowledge and thus interpreted the abuses she faced as ways of redeeming herself for the ‘sins’ she had committed. When she was sexually exploited as a domestic worker in Saudi Arabia, she believed that the rape was a punishment from God because she had committed adultery. Similarly, when her husband unilaterally divorced her through a text message, she believed that her short-term marriage was granted by God to justify her loss of virginity in the eyes of society. Nevertheless, Nisrina is aware of her lack of religious knowledge and asserts her willingness to learn. In telling her story, she began to distinguish between Islam and the people who practised Islam, with the latter being fallible.
Although religious education was not the sole driver of women’s empowerment in the Indonesian stories, it played a significant role in some resource persons’ pursuit of equality and justice. The inequalities and challenges that these women suffered, which were sometimes justified in the name of religion, did not lead them to reject their religion. Rather, the resource persons sought religious knowledge and recognized how religion and culture could be manipulated to excuse injustices against women. For instance, Shafira believed that she owed her husband obedience and sexual availability, and felt that she would commit a religious infringement by denying him a sexual relationship. Later, she realized that marriage in Islam was actually about mutual compassion, love and mercy. Her new religious understanding of gender rights encouraged her to bring a petition for divorce and increased her self-esteem.
Sometimes, seeking religious education encouraged the resource persons to challenge the normative systems that shaped their family relations, gender roles and life choices. Their harmful life experiences made them legitimate actors and agents in the production of religious knowledge. For instance, Sinta faced many hardships: child marriage, deprivation of education, domestic violence, polygamy and abandonment. However, her religious beliefs had always been her main source of empowerment and inner strength. She was convinced that justice and dignity for women and men were central to her religious tradition. The way her husbands and people in her community marginalized her and other women contravened this inner sense of justice and changed how she experienced her religion. The injustices she faced encouraged her to seek gender-sensitive knowledge and impart this to her community, particularly to women and girls.
Women Speak : Sinta’s Life Story
Childhood and early engagement
I was born into the family of a Kyai (religious scholar and teacher) in East Java and thus was raised within religious communities. My father had a pesantren (Islamic boarding school) for men. At the age of nine, my parents arranged my engagement to the son of a Kyai from another village. I was still playing like other kids. Every time my future mother-in-law paid a visit, I was told to bathe, dress up nicely and act properly like a lady. I was asked to sungkem (kiss the back of her hand while on my knees), shake her hand and sit nicely. Once in a while my future husband also came. I was embarrassed because he was a man I didn’t actually know. I did not know the meaning of engagement, marriage, husband or in-laws because I was still a child.
My father passed away when I was 13 years old. At that time, I was in an Islamic Junior High School but then was transferred to a pesantren owned by my uncle. My formal education stopped because in the boarding school I only studied religion.
A year later, my mother came and took me to my future in-laws’ place. The next morning a Kyai performed a Nikah Siri (religious marriage not officially registered) ceremony. I still did not understand the meaning of marriage. There was no feeling of sadness or happiness whatsoever. I did not even realize that I had become a wife. After the Nikah Siri, I went back to my uncle’s boarding school as usual.
First Marriage
A year later, my mother decided I should marry officially in the Office of Religious Affairs with a magistrate guardian because none of my father’s brothers met the requirements to be my wali. They forged my age to 16 years, a year older than my real age. My husband was 25 years old. My mother hosted a small gathering at home. When the party was over, I suddenly passed out, still in my complete bridal attire. After that incident, every day for a whole year I would pass out for quite a long duration and at uncertain hours of the day. This was considered unnatural, so they took me to a healer. Then I moved to my in-laws’ place.
I lived with the students in the pesantren. My father-in-law was very nice. He taught me about the kitab kuning (Islamic Scripture) and asked me to teach the male and female students. At the age of 17, I got pregnant and gave birth to our first son. After that, I began to get active in the Fatayat NU (the young women’s wing of the largest Islamic organization in Indonesia, Nahdlatul Ulama) at the village level as the organizer of the Da‘wah (preaching of Islam) division. One of its activities was recitation of kitab kuning with the community. I started to receive invitations to preach. My father-in-law was happy to hear that the people liked my preaching and recitation. He taught me more intensively to read the Holy Scripture and to preach better. Little by little, he trusted me to preach at events at the pesantren. But this triggered jealousy among my husband’s family.
Divorce
After nine years of living with my in-laws, my father-in-law passed away. After that, my husband’s family did not hide their dislike of me. Although my husband preferred to live with his mother, I wanted to live in my own house. So my mother supported me by paying 70% of the costs to build a new house. However, having our own house did not improve the situation. Once, I received an invitation on short notice. As always, I asked for my husband’s permission to attend the event. When I came back home, I was surprised to find my in-laws in front of the house. My husband had left his keys inside the house and got angry because he was locked out. They scolded me in front of the women who took me home. That triggered a big argument. The next morning I could not stand the situation anymore and decided to go to my mother’s house.
On the 14th day, my brother-in-law brought a letter from my husband, which said, “You and I are no longer soul-mates from God.” I was shocked, but God gave me the strength to reply to the letter, “Because you married me officially, therefore I will await you at the Religious Court.” My husband and his family did not reply to my letter. My mother asked for our marriage certificate but they said that they lost it. My mother took me to the Office of Religious Affairs to buy a copy of the marriage certificate, then to the Religious Court. Fortunately, the registrar was my father’s friend from the pesantren. He took care of the process of getting the divorce papers, composing a report and preparing a summons letter for my husband. He reminded me that I was entitled to the assets and the wealth we generated during marriage, but I emphasized that it was not my main intention.
My husband’s family received the first summons letter from the court but they disregarded it. They did not believe that we were serious. My mother said, “Although we are women, that does not mean they can fool around with us.” My husband then sent someone to tell me that he wanted to reconcile, but my mother answered, “If he wants to reconcile, then come to the court.” The second summons letter came and my husband sent someone to represent him in the court. My mother tried to get my husband to come to the third court hearing, which he did. We still wanted a divorce but wanted to teach them a lesson because they brought up the divorce first.
In this third hearing, the judge announced that everything had been discussed in the previous court hearings. Then the judge read the rights of the wife, including that she was entitled to property that she brought into the marriage and some of the marital property. My husband looked for loans here and there. In the fourth hearing, he came and brought money for the price of the house. The court decided that we were officially divorced and gave me full custody of our child. I became a divorcee in 1993. My ex-husband never contested the court’s custody decision. To this day, he has not provided for his child at all.
Second marriage and domestic violence
I lived with my mother and formed a female Qur’an recitation group. I was active as a preacher. A year after my divorce, I met a divorced man with children. He had been studying at a pesantren and had a bachelor’s degree in religion, so I thought he was a good man. At first, my family objected because he was not a son of a Kyai, was still in the process of divorcing and did not have a job. I convinced my family to accept him, especially after he obtained his divorce papers. Soon after he proposed to me, he got a job as a civil servant at the Ministry of Religious Affairs and we got married.
After the wedding, we lived with my mother but my husband had to travel 24 kilometres to get to his job. Six months later, he persuaded me to rent a house near his office. My mother was upset but I promised her that I would come weekly for the Qur’an recitation. My mother pitied me for having to do everything by myself in my rented house for the four of us—me, my husband and our children from our previous marriages. Once we moved to the rented house, my husband began to show his true colours. He was temperamental, jealous and raised his voice all the time. Soon after, he began to hit me for trivial things and the physical abuse escalated.
Two years later, I was elected Chairperson of Fatayat NU for the District Office. The next year, I participated in a training programme at a pesantren that was conducted by an NGO from Jakarta. My husband gave me permission to attend but forbade me from telling anyone about our marital conflicts. In the training, I learned about gender injustices but was not brave enough to say that I was a victim of domestic violence. I never told my mother about my husband’s violent behaviour, though she was suspicious when she noticed bruises on my body. Every time she visited us, kitchenware would be all over the place. She would say: “Looks like you fight a lot. Why have you never told me about it? If he hurts you, don’t stay silent!” I tried to convince her that the fights were normal. I was ashamed because I was the one who insisted on getting married and I knew that my mother would ask me to get a divorce if she knew.
Politics and polygamy
In 1999, a new political party was formed within the Islamic organization I was part of. The Kyais asked me to campaign for the party, which I did among my female networks. Later the Kyais nominated my husband to be a representative in Parliament. I was against the idea because I was in the process of building a pesantren and could not move to Jakarta. Moreover, my husband never informed me about his political aspirations; the only reason why he was selected was because I was the daughter of a Kyai. I kept campaigning for the new party but refused to campaign for my husband.
Soon after, my husband took a radio broadcaster as his second wife without informing me. At first he denied it. One day I found a receipt for new home appliances and went to find the address written on the receipt. I met an old man who told me about the people who had just moved into the house. I was devastated because the description matched my husband. I went home and cried all the way. I took my aunt to see the old man and confirmed my suspicions. When I got back home, I asked my husband to drive us without telling him where we were going. We went to the second wife’s house and I confronted him about the situation. My sister-in-law—who was also a second wife—was there and told me: “You want to keep your marriage or you want to get divorced, it’s your call.” I answered, “I was married legally; so, if you want a divorce, let’s go to the court.” When I went home, my husband apologized. I said, “You have to choose—me or her.” He could not answer. Finally he said, “I still choose you.” I asked him to prove it.
Then he went to the Kyais to tell them that I found out the truth. It turned out those Kyais were the headmen, witnesses and guests at my husband’s second wedding. I called one of them, who apologized and said that he had to allow the marriage because she was pregnant. I got even more upset: “How could you nominate my husband to be a Member of Parliament when you know he committed adultery and got a woman pregnant out of wedlock?” Later, the Kyai came to see my husband and I heard him asking, “What should we do? Your wife knows. She will forbid you from going to Jakarta and threatens to tell the Kyais here.” A few days later, some Kyais asked me to be patient for the sake of the party. They asked me not to get a divorce in the Religious Court because of their plan to make my husband a Regent [i.e. head of a Regency—a local government area within a Province]. I didn’t care about the position, so I pushed my husband to make a decision as quickly as possible. However, for the sake of the party, I accepted my husband’s written statement that he was going to divorce his new wife. I did not tell my mother but she eventually found out from other people. She was angry but respected my decision to maintain the marriage.
Cycle of domestic violence
After my husband was elected, we went to Jakarta. We initially stayed at his friend’s house, where his ill manners and domestic abuse continued. His friend told me that my husband was also abusive to his ex-wife and often banged her head against the wall. After the inauguration, we moved to another house. While the physical abuse escalated, I found out that my husband continued to pursue his relationship with the second wife. She was now pregnant for the second time. My husband said that he had divorced her verbally but then he took her back. He apologized again but this time I did not believe him. I relied on God to guide my decision.
Some time later, when I confronted him again, he threatened to kill me. I screamed for help. The people next door heard my screams and sent someone to check. However, I had to be silent because my husband threatened, “If you scream again, I am going to kill you!” The next day, he threatened me again with a heavy car jack that was made out of metal. I ran and hid in a neighbour’s house to save my life.
Later, I decided to go back home. My husband continued to control all my movements and would call every five minutes to check what I was doing. Secretly, I contacted a friend from an NGO in Jakarta and told them about my husband’s violent behaviour. I felt relieved and not alone anymore. When they asked what I wanted, I said, “My husband only gives me these choices: either live miserably or get a divorce. With all my heart I choose to get a legal divorce. I want to show that when a wife is beaten up by her husband it is not always because of the wife’s faults but it can be because of the husband’s atrocity.” I convinced them that I was ready for all the consequences. They introduced me to other women activists and started to develop strategies for my case.
Raising the voice and divorce
One day, my husband kicked my stomach because I refused to sign a paper for a loan that was given to all Members of Parliament. After that incident, I decided to live at my uncle’s house and informed my husband by letter. He never called or looked for me. I was free to go to the office of the NGO that provided me with assistance. In 2001, the wife of the leader of my husband’s party launched a new women’s NGO. I was asked to give a testimony about my experience without mentioning my husband’s name or the party. During that event, a senior woman activist, in her opening remarks, said that everyone in the room would help me. I felt touched and convinced even more that I was taking the right path.
After my husband’s party leader was ousted from his position, my case started to roll. We submitted a civil suit and a criminal suit against my husband in 2002. The criminal suit was for the physical abuse and identity forgery committed by my husband, while the civil suit was related to the divorce. Because of his position as a Member of Parliament, the case required approval from the President. Luckily, someone who assisted with the case was a member of the President’s political party so it was easy to get the approval.
The criminal case ping-ponged between police headquarters in different places. Then it hit rock bottom because they said we lacked legal requirements. I was convinced that there had been an intervention from my husband. I decided to proceed with the civil suit because getting legally divorced was my main intention. In the court, my husband turned back all the facts by accusing me of abusing his child. His child was forced to testify against me, though after the court hearing he apologized. I told my lawyer that I did not want anything from my husband since I did not think he had good will. I was right. To this day, he has not given me my share of the matrimonial property. I was officially divorced in 2003, three years after we started the process. I became a divorcee for the second time.
Rise up with women
Back in my village, I was surprised that people welcomed me with open arms and even asked me to reactivate the Qur’an recitation group. I preached everywhere and spoke at seminars and radio talk shows. My bitter experience in my marriages became a valuable lesson for me and made me determined to prevent this from happening to other women. I started spreading the idea that Islam was not a religion that taught us to commit violence. I changed the communication pattern in Qur’an recitation events from monologue to dialogue. I encouraged people not to be ashamed to share their life experiences.
Little by little women started sharing what we had kept silent about for so long. It motivated me to tell them that we should not be afraid as long as we did not do anything wrong. To avoid resistance from the men, I also taught about gender awareness and the importance of husbands and wives working together in the family. Some men took their wives to consult me about their marital problems. When I decided to build a pesantren for girls, many people supported me through donations of construction materials and helping with the construction process. In the middle of my efforts to build the pesantren, my mother passed away. I felt a deep loss because she had always supported and protected me.
In the pesantren, the girls study classical Scripture with a gender-sensitive approach. I also conduct a Qur’an recitation event every Saturday and Sunday. Around 25 girls regularly come and often use the opportunity to raise problems in their families for discussion. Once an old woman reported that her 11-year-old great-granddaughter had been raped and got pregnant. We found out that the rapist was her own grandfather. I suggested she go for an abortion and gave religious grounds and interpretations to justify this act in those circumstances. However, the midwife refused to do the abortion, so I had to meet her and convince her. The girl finally got her abortion and went back home like nothing ever happened.
Dealing closely with these kinds of problems gives me the motivation and spirit to fight against gender injustices perpetuated through Islam. Some speakers and preachers do not want to be in events with me and some people try to ban me from speaking. Nevertheless, invitations to speak at different events never stop flowing in. Whenever there is an opportunity to plant the seed of Islamic understandings that have a gender justice perspective, I never waste it.
Gender Equality
Although women are guaranteed equality under the Indonesian Constitution and international conventions, they still face gender-based discrimination in laws, through economic marginalization and in social and religious practices. In 2015, there was almost no difference between female and male educational attainment from primary to tertiary education. However, gaps persist in employment, with female labour force participation still lower than male, and women’s wages twofold lower than men’s.
Parallel to this, more Indonesian women are becoming primary breadwinners but find it difficult to make a living to support their families. Many women are employed as domestic workers both inside and outside the country. The absence of laws governing the relationship between domestic workers and employers has allowed for violations, abuses and slave-like practices against these women. Although Indonesia enacted a Law on Child Protection (2002) and has ratified the ILO Convention on the Worst Forms of Child Labour, 26% of domestic workers in Indonesia are children, 90% of whom are female (2013). These children lose the opportunity to go to school and many have had their childhoods shattered by abuses such as physical, psychological and sexual violations.
Political & Legal System
The Indonesian legal system emerged from a combination of different legal systems accumulated over time: customary law, Roman-Dutch law and Islamic law. The main sources of Indonesian law are the 1945 Constitution (replaced by the 1950 Federal Constitution and then enacted again in 1959), government regulations, Presidential decrees, regional regulations, unwritten laws (not promulgated by a state authority), customs (conduct fixed through repetition and believed to be binding on society), Adat Law (local and traditional laws attached to ethnicities) and the Islamic Law Compilation (mainly inspired by the Shafi’i school of jurisprudence). Civil and religious courts operate side-by-side, with religious courts having jurisdiction over cases involving Muslims in marriage and divorce matters.
Indonesia ratified CEDAW in 1984 and has not yet ratified the Optional Protocol. The principle of equality before the law asserted by the Convention is also stipulated in the Constitution. However, matrimonial laws, including the 1974 Marriage Law and the 1991 Compilation of Islamic Law, still contain discriminatory stipulations for women in marriage and families. These include differentiated minimum age of marriage, polygamy and gendered household roles (the husband as head of the family and the wife as housewife). According to Human Rights Watch’s latest report (2015), Indonesia has a total of 279 discriminatory local regulations targeting women.
In the past decade, Indonesian women have been organising and advocating for reform. In 2004, a Domestic Violence Act was passed. Women’s groups use a variety of arguments to support reform (e.g. Islamic scholarship, human rights principles, evidence of women’s lived realities), and a variety of means to promote these arguments (e.g. law reform, court cases, public education).
