A MIDDLE-AGED woman wearing a pink hijab was seen on the front lines of an Indonesian protest last week, holding the red and white national flag as she confronted a group of riot police armed with shields.
The rain did not stop her from voicing her concerns, shouting about the injustices and disappointment she felt towards the government. But above all, she was an ibu (mother, married woman).
The “ibu berjilbab pink” (mother in pink hijab) went viral overnight, and within days, her image became a symbol of resistance. The colour of her hijab was used everywhere to signal support for the anti-government demonstrations that erupted on Aug 25.
On social media, pink has become a mark of defiance. But what does it mean when an ibu takes to the streets in protest? As a matter of fact, many ibu-ibu (women) joined the recent protests. One woman mimicked washing clothes by hand while another held a broomstick to show that they were mostly unarmed, in a symbolic protest to question why the police needed to use weapons against the demonstrating public.
Others used their voices to “instruct” the police in public speaking and show there were always nonviolent ways to communicate. Their taking part in the protests reflects how these ibu-ibu felt compelled to take to the streets. On top of that, most of them are members of the working class, whose daily lives are directly affected by economic policies.
Breaking norms
When ibu-ibu join a protest, they are breaking gender norms in Indonesia, which dictates that women should stay at home, take care of their households, and be protected.
In other words, they have been assigned the idealised dual role of a “mother” who must be responsible for her family and a “wife” who must remain dutiful: an ideology dubbed “ibuisme negara”, or state ibu-ism.
Once these ibu-ibu joined the protest, they had such a far- reaching impact that the mass protests have adopted pink as a symbol of resistance. Their influence extends beyond their idealised identity.
Stereotypes of women are nothing new. But during the New Order, the government instilled an embedded social value that women must take on a dual role – they were allowed to work but they must never abandon their households, remaining responsible for their families as mothers and wives.
This notion of “ibu” became a double-edged sword – while the role of women was to be idealised and confined, they were also highly respected precisely because they were “ibu”.
When the “ibu berjilbab pink” protested in front of the police, they hesitated to use violence against her. She shouted at them while they stood behind the barricades holding batons, yet she was neither harmed nor touched, let alone arrested.
It was reported that she went home later that day and resumed her traditional household role. The other ibu-ibu who also protested fortunately experienced a similar situation, and were largely spared police violence.
The ibu immunity
These ibu-ibu were immune because, as Sita Aripurnami wrote in her 2013 study, “in the public eye, the arrest of the mothers was considered politically incorrect”, and “the word ‘mother’ was considered neutral and not affiliated with any political force”.
If the woman in the pink hijab had been arrested, it would have sparked an even bigger mass movement than what we are seeing now. To put it simply, even the police have mothers, whom they likely respect. This shows the irony: while the government tried to suppress women and confine them, the very meaning of motherhood created a pathway for them to become politically active.
In fact, this was already demonstrated toward the end of the New Order by a movement called Suara Ibu Peduli (voice of caring mothers).
Suara Ibu Peduli succeeded in finding a crack in the stereotype of state ibu-ism. This movement managed to deceive the government by carrying the title of “mothers” in the public sphere while engaging in activism.
In this era, we also have Ibu (Mrs) Maria Catarina Sumarsih, the originator of Aksi Kamisan (Thursday’s protests) whose son, Bernardinus Realino Norma Irawan, was killed during the Semanggi I protest in November 1998.
She also carries a dual role: a mother who pursues activism in fighting for justice for her son. This reflects her power as an “ibu”.
Painting the town pink
The administration of President Prabowo Subianto has brought fear that history might repeat itself, with the military overruling and holding power as it did in the past. If this comes to pass, it would mean that on top of the repression women already experience, they might become even more marginalised than before.
However, the collective “ibu” have shown they are not afraid, especially when their domestic sphere is affected. Even though the recent demonstrations have raised concern and anxiety across various layers of society, it ironically also allowed ibu-ibu to regain their political agency.
Their presence is not only symbolic – it is political resistance against their own depoliticisation. They have unintentionally broken the norm and emerged as political actors, and their very presence continues to challenge the narrative the state has imposed on them.
It is important to note that when ibu-ibu stand at the forefront of resistance or revolution, all eyes inevitably turn to them.
And that is where their power lies, because they remind us that resistance belongs to everyone.
Now, thanks to the “ibu berjilbab pink”, the colour of resistance has expanded. We shall paint it pink everywhere we go. Once stereotypically labelled a feminine colour, pink has also broken the norm to become the colour of resistance. — The Jakarta Post/Asia News Network
The writer is a research associate at the Centre on Child Protection and Wellbeing (Puskapa) at the University of Indonesia.
