Pintu Aceh.
By Julia Skrovan ‘15, Syiah Kuala University (2016-2018)
I always had a slightly tricky relationship with the door to the campus office.
It’s surprisingly heavy, made of a tinted glass that makes it difficult to see inside, and it opens inward, obstructing a couch that sits in a narrow passageway across from an often busy reception desk.
Because of its weight, I often felt as if I were barging in. Hands full, I would press my shoulder against the frame for a quick, strong nudge into a hitherto tinted world, worried I might shove, squish, or trap unsuspecting people on the inside.
Navigating the door with another person added a whole new element to the already awkward dynamic.
With incredible consistency, I would wait to enter as the person exiting smoothly and methodically closed the door in front of me. The action was always completed with such carefulness as the person secured the handle shut before pivoting to give me a courteous smile or a stare of confusion.
No matter how I indicated my intention to enter, the door was shut in front of me with a polite conviction that never ceased to amaze me.
My two years in Aceh have been similarly tricky. Much of my experience can be characterized by an awkwardness that had me caught between a warm smile and a closing door, normalcy and foreignness. It expressed itself in simple, abstract ways: I felt at home but very much not at home, enthusiastically welcomed but set apart as a foreigner, respected but giggled at. And it revealed itself in darker ways: I was used as a tool by jealous strangers to accuse my best friends of hanging out with a foreigner just to be cool. I was called arrogant for refusing to pose for selfies with strangers or to engage in conversations on the road with other motorbikers. I continued to find myself unsure of how to process what I often experienced as harassment through stares or excited shouts while acknowledging that I was the one who chose to enter a space in which I would always stand out as an oddity. I was asked to participate in things as an advertisement prop – situated to consider how others could find use in my white foreignness while questioning my complicity in reinforcing colorism. No matter how close I got to understanding the balance of being part and apart, I felt uneasy shoving open doors and entering spaces without always knowing if I was truly welcomed and I would watch as a door was politely closed before me, reminding me of my outsider position and leaving me to reevaluate my expectations.
There are differences between being a tourist and being a short-term resident. Both should demand reflection and questions about one’s presence. But how thankful I am to have had so much time to intimately engage with questions of boundaries, respect, authority of opinion, observation versus interpretation, refusal, and acceptance. How thankful I am to have had that time in a community and with people for whom I have so much love and appreciation.
Snorkeling trip in Pulau Weh
View of the coast on a mountain hike
Planting mangrove trees on the coast with the staff from the Tsunami Museum