Essay by Alia Swastika

Nadih Bamadhaj’s ongoing project to investigate the construction of a woman’s agency within historical narratives and mythologies first came to my attention through her solo exhibition, The Submissive Feminist (2020). In this exhibition, Bamadhaj reflected on her experience of living in Yogyakarta, where a woman’s strength and agency are built within, despite the possible impression of being submissive. This was followed by her installation inspired by the story of calonarang, a powerful woman in Javanese and Balinese mythology, labelled as a witch so that their power would not upend the status quo.

When Nadiah expanded her inquiry of examples of mythological women to horror narratives in her visual reconstruction of Wewe Gombel and Sundel Bolong — two of the most popular female ghosts in Indonesia’s cultural landscape — references to the conception of demonising women came vividly to mind. Growing up as a child in the kampung of Yogyakarta, these two women were often conjured by family members or adult groups as threats, forcing us into obeyance to certain rules. We imagined them as sources of our fears, as figures to be avoided. Our feelings were then normalized through the reproduction of these figures through various cultural products, created in turn within a dominant patriarchal value system.

With the growth of feminist scholarship, many female scholars have criticized the way that women’s figures or female ghosts have been portrayed, often as monsters or demons. In many cases, the figures were transformed to be frightening harbingers of the negative aspects of life, when in fact, what was deemed negative was their knowledge or their kindness in contributing to society. In some portrayals, these figures were punished for their sexuality and gender roles. For example, Sundel Bolong was a symbol of the sinner: forced to abort her baby due to social circumstances, she risked her life under unsafe procedures. She was blamed for her pregnancy, and after she died, she was blamed for her abortion. This myth continues to circulate. By maintaining monstrous and ghostly personifications, the strength, ability, and knowledge of these powerful women have been erased and forgotten.

Reinforcing the myth, the entertainment industry created films, movies, or imagery of these female ghosts with patriarchal values, exposed to the male gaze through a presentation of passive sexuality. The female ghosts were objectified in front of the camera, with the established stories directing their body and their presence, losing their own subjectivity. Thus, the women were doubly misconstructed, once in real social construction and conversation, then again within cinema.

Nadiah, in contrast, offers a more emphatic view (and thus a feminist gaze) towards these female ghost figures. By avoiding the established stereotype in the entertainment industry, and with her layering collage techniques, the self and the body are reborn. With intimate gaze and conversation, the figures are not pursuing revenge, as usually occurs in cinema. Instead, they invite the audience to come close, to observe their past and memories, to reveal their wounds and pains, and to acknowledge their empowered bodies. Their gaze is equal to the audience, and that enables them to share their knowledge and experience; we absorb the energy and power of their presence, instead of neglecting and undergazing them as we were told to do when we were children.

A connection between the figures of female ghosts and the context of urban life emerges in the artist’s presentation of the ghosts and the female farmer from the monumental sculpture, Patung Pak Tani, in central Jakarta. Nadiah detaches the female farmer from the whole sculpture to bring forth her existence, which is usually shadowed by the accompanying male figure. In our interview below, Nadiah describes the female farmer as representing an image that is opposite to the ghosts; with her proper kebaya costume and submissive gesture, the farmer might symbolize the ibu (“mother”) in modern Indonesian society, who was politicized by Soeharto to reduce the political power of Indonesian women during the New Order.

In this installation, instead of placing the ghosts and the ibu in head-to-head position, where one and another are competitors, Nadiah

lets the ghosts “secure” the female farmer in a gesture of sisterhood and solidarity. In its confrontation of the visible and the invisible, the real and the imaginary, the canon and the popular, Mengamankan Ekspektasi reveals the layers of questions and interpretations embedded within different contexts, narratives, and histories. The meeting point of two-dimensional and three-dimensional objects offers a specific visual experience for the audience, where their collective memories of ghosts and sculptures can begin to be requestioned, redefined and reimagined.

The historical and social construction of female ghosts and mother figures represented by Ibu Tani could also be interpreted in relation to the confrontation of women activists of the Indonesian Women Movement (Gerakan Wanita Indonesia). This was one of the most progressive movements that began in the 1950s, and that was eventually banned after the September 1965 tragedy. Since then, the members of this organization have been portrayed as evil and demonic, attributed falsely to acts of cruelty that were never committed. Their lives became so miserable for years, contained in jail without court proceedings. The demonization of those political women led to a new gender politics under the New Order era, where the image of the women was sublimated into the image of the mother, as mentioned above. Nadiah Bamadhaj here conjures two different historical periods and women’s narratives in a symbolic yet contextual way. By avoiding the judgemental gaze, she creates a new space for dialogue where sympathy, solidarity in sisterhood, and reconciliation for a better future is possible.

1. When did your interest in the demonization of women by the creation of female ghosts begin, particularly after you had lived in Indonesia? I understand that your previous project was related to Calon Arang narratives, which criticizes powerful women in society, and this continues into this project of ghosts. Do you think the use of the imagined world (or unreal world) to underline the invisibility of these women, in many films and other forms of storytelling, has blurred their position in society?

When I first read Ben Anderson’s memoir ‘A Life Beyond Boundaries’ in 2020, I was very interested in his description of Southeast Asian countries. For him as countries in one region, we have very little in common. We have different languages, different dominant religions, different colonizers and different histories. I had never heard of us as a collective described that way before — it was fascinating. So, I started thinking, well, what do we have in common actually, and I remembered sitting in a warung in Bangkok in the 2000s watching a TV movie of what we know in Indonesia and Malaysia as Penanggal (the female ghost with entrails) and thinking ‘wow our ghosts are the same’. After some research, I realized this particular ghost, and many other ghosts, are the similarity we have between Southeast Asian countries, irrespective of our other differences.

The next level of research was why, most Asian ghosts, are depictions of horrible women, and why is it the female gender is always associated with the far end of the spectrum of a chaotic disaster. After some time, I realized that mythology and stories of monstrous women are a form of social control. They are emblematic of what would happen if women and children strayed outside of social norms. This, we can agree, is another commonality in Southeast Asian countries. If women stray outside the patriarchal order of being pure, nurturing mothers, and elderly caregivers—i.e. do not demand power—they may transform into the monstrous feminine.

I don’t think the imagined world or mythology and stories of monstrous women blurs their position in society. Quite the opposite, the proliferation of the monstrous feminine, especially in popular media, is constantly highlighting what would happen if women stray outside social norms. The ‘downfall’ of women in these stories, and its constant use as a medium of entertainment, is retelling and reinventing these stereotypes over and over again. But if your question means that mythologies of the monstrous feminine causes women of power, agency, and self-determination to be invisible, then I would agree with that.

2. The female gaze is offered by female artists or thinkers to reclaim the power of knowledge produced by women. What are your

strategies to bring this gaze into your visual language? Do you twist visual symbols related to the body of these ghosts? Or do you intervene with your own visual metaphors that confront the established symbols?

In these three works, I have used images of the three ghosts—Wewe Gombel, Sundal Bolong, and Kuyang—as they have been interpreted in myth. In my drawings, WeweGombel has large and multiple breasts, Sundal Bolong has a hole in her back, and Kuyang is represented as a head with entrails. However, I have reinterpreted them from my gaze, yes. Firstly, in all the ghosts, I use the image of myself, as a means of self-identification and empathy with them and their experiences. Secondly, I have interpreted them as calm and well-groomed—the opposite of their depiction in popular stories. In my drawings, they are composed. And thirdly, I have depicted them as interacting with, or having power over, another female stereotype—the female figure of the Tugu Tani In Jakarta, which by the way, I have also depicted from my own gaze.

My choice of the female figure of the TuguTani is quite specific. She is the stereotype of the opposite of the monstrous feminine. She is hyper-feminine, compliant, and subservient—personifying Sukarno’s many wives, as the presidential sponsor of the Tugu Tani.

In the title of my drawings, all the ghosts ‘mengamankan’ the female figure of the Tugi Tani. They disagree with her representation, and want to ‘remove’ her as a public monument. I suppose the drawings are a retelling of a story of the three ghosts, using another female figure with which to contrast their experiences. The ghosts, as figures of power, are removing the monument, as a figure of weakness. I’m hoping my storytelling gaze is dominant here.

3. These women: Wewe Gombel and Sundel Bolong were part of the normalized violence of our society. Sundel Bolong, for example, was killed after an abortion; with the recent debate of pro-choice and pro-life, how do you think these demonized

women could be positioned in a more positive context in our major narrative?

Yes, I just re-watched the Sundal Bolong movie featuring the infamous Suzanna from 1988. It needs to be reiterated that Sundal Bolong, or Alisa in the movie, died by performing an illegal abortion on herself. And this happened after she had been turned away from both the courts and the health system after being a victim of rape. Self-abortion was her only option, and it cost her her life. The recent demise of Roe vs. Wade definitely came to mind when I watched this movie. Both Roe v. Wade and the proposed amendments to the Criminal Code in Indonesia, by going against pro-choice, will put women in the same position as the fictitious Alisa—risking their lives by terminating a pregnancy they did not want. The only way I can think of de-stigmatizing the experiences of a fictitious character like Alisa, is to retell her story, from a feminist perspective. Will it fall on deaf ears? Probably. But the point is to keep this feminism alive by retelling her story from an empathetic perspective, again and again.

Alia Swastika is a curator and writer based in Yogyakarta, Indonesia. She is now Director of Biennale Jogja Foundation, where she served for curator in previous editions. In 2007–2018 she was the Program Director for Ark Galerie in Jakarta and Yogyakarta, then she transformed the platform to a farming and studio based residency in a village in Yogyakarta.

In Indonesia, patriarchy comes many forms. In the context of these artworks, I’m referring to a doctrine of patriarchy called State Ibuism, as written by Julia Jayakusuma, which relegates a woman’s role to first being ‘pure’, then existing to be married, and take on a primary role of supporting her husband, bearing him children, and then raising those children as her primary if not sole responsibility. This patriarchal doctrine is also understood as a state of public order.

Wewe Gombel, Sundal Bolong and Kuyang all fall into the catergory of ‘Asian ghosts’ specific but not exclusive to Indonesia. As female ghosts, they are a sign of a catastrophic break in public order. In their mythological histories, each ghost, prior to their change into the monstrous feminine, they had all gone against the grain of State Ibuism. Wewe Gombel In her original form was unable to bear children, Sundal Bolong initially achieved agency as a prostitute, and Kuyang had previously attempted to gain more personal power through witchcraft.

But in going against patriarchal norms, they were all punished in one way or another. Unable to accept their punishment, they transformed into harbingers of chaos in their ghostlike forms, exacting revenge upon their social environment.

In my three drawings, I have tried to create two scenarios. First, I have represented these three ghosts as calm and even tempered. And secondly, I have set them against a symbol of the patriarchal doctrine of ibuism—the female figure of the Tugu Tani monument in Jakarta.

The female figure of the TuguTani monument is a fine representation of State Ibuism. She stands below the male figure in the original monument, feminine, poised,

and holding up a plate of what is presumable nourishment for him. She stands in servitude to a man.

By juxtaposing these three monsters against the female figure of the Tugu Tani monument, I attempt to create a contrast as to what is understood, in patriarchal terms, as female chaos against what is understood as female order.

Through the title of each work, each ghost conducts the act of mengamankan the female TuguTani figure. This a tongue and cheek reference to the act of villagers and community groups in Indonesia mengamankan (securing), or more specifically removing monuments or statues in public places not in line with community beliefs. In my artworks, the three ghosts ‘mengamankan’ or are in the process of removing the female figure of the Tugu Tani. They’ve had enough of State Ibuism—their failures, their punishment, their metamorphosis, and their revenge. They are calm in their removal of this symbol of what they were expected to be.