Women in the Shadows. Jennifer Goodlander
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Like any theater production, this research and the final written product resulted from the help and advice of many generous people. I especially wish to thank William F. Condee, who fostered my love of Balinese wayang kulit. He challenged me to use performance in my study and scholarship, which has provided insight and guidance through every step of this journey. I also thank Ed Menta for introducing me to Asian performance and challenging me to find connections between that and my interest in feminist theater and gender studies. This book is my response to that challenge.
I am grateful for wonderful colleagues at the University of Kentucky, Indiana University, and among the membership of the Association for Asian Performance (AAP). Andrew Kimbrough provided insightful comments on many versions of several chapters. Kathy Foley and the others at the AAP have given me invaluable advice and friendship. I am honored to be a part of such a wonderful community of scholars and artists who share my love of Asian performance. I heartily thank the reviewers of this manuscript for their thoughtful comments and the guidance of Gillian Berchowitz and Elizabeth Collins at Ohio University Press. Finally, I am so grateful for the supportive environment and wonderful colleagues at Indiana University in the Department of Theatre, Drama, and Contemporary Dance, the Mathers Museum of World Cultures, and the Center for Southeast Asia and ASEAN Studies.
I spent many months in Bali over a period of several years, developing the ideas and research that are contained in these pages. Such prolonged study would not be possible without generous financial support from many sources. The Graduate Student Senate of Ohio University awarded me a Research and Creative Activities grant, which partially funded my first trip to Bali. A Student Enhancement Award, also from Ohio University, gave me a second summer in Bali to study Balinese language and secure my research contacts. That trip was Gene Amaral’s idea and I am grateful for his support. I then spent ten months in Bali, from December 2008 until October 2009, on a Fulbright Fellowship to Indonesia, which is an amazing program for cultural exchange and research. Elizabeth Clodfelter was instrumental in helping me with the application process. Finally, funding from the University of Kentucky and a Mellon Innovating International Research, Teaching, and Collaboration award from Indiana University allowed additional time in Indonesia.
I can’t begin to express adequate thanks for my many friends, “family,” and informants in Bali. The group Çudamani and Emiko Susilo introduced me to Balinese performing arts and culture. I Nyoman Sedana supported my application for the Fulbright, provided assistance along the way, and was the initial force behind my opportunity to perform at the Ubud Festival. I am extremely thankful for his wonderful advice and insight. Ni Made Murniati (called Kadek in this book) took me in as family, tirelessly led me around Bali, and answered my many questions. She and her family took care of me when I was sick or lonely and were the ones present to celebrate my successes. I am a better person for knowing her, her husband, and her children. At the arts university in Bali, Anak Agung Ayu Kusuma Arini served as my research counterpart and was extremely generous with her time and energy. I enjoyed watching her teach gambuh at the university, and I was honored to dance at a celebration at her house. I am indebted to the many other dalang, dancers, artists, and friends—too many to name—who influenced and helped me with my research. I must thank I Wayan Tunjung, my puppet teacher and dear friend. He and his family will always be close to my heart; words cannot express enough gratitude for all you have done for me. Matur suksema.
Finally, I thank my family for always believing in me. My father and mother spent countless hours driving me to rehearsals and performances; those hours are the foundation of my love for theater. My sister Kim has always been a great friend and confidant. She along with her husband, Dino, and children, Cooper and Natalie, fill my life with many riches. And finally, I want to acknowledge my partner, wife, and best friend, Tina. Thank you for sharing this adventure with me.
Note on Language and Terms
Research and writing about wayang kulit in Bali requires the use and study of several languages: Indonesian, Balinese, and Kawi. Spelling for these languages is not consistent among sources. In this book I use the Tuttle Concise Indonesian Dictionary (revised in 2006) and the Tuttle Concise Balinese Dictionary (2009) as my primary sources for those languages. Most of my research was conducted in Indonesian, and unless otherwise indicated all foreign terms are in Indonesian. For Kawi, I rely on the spellings and punctuation given to me by my sources in Bali. I am grateful to I Nyoman Sedana for his assistance with the Kawi and often providing translations.
When quoting another source I retain that source’s spelling and capitalization, but otherwise I follow the practices advocated by the Association for Asian Performance, in which words for artistic genres, such as wayang kulit, should not be capitalized in the same way that their Western equivalents, such as ballet, would not be capitalized.
Wayang kulit has a specialized vocabulary that is difficult to replicate in English; therefore a few non-English terms such as wayang kulit or dalang will be used throughout this book. In Indonesian and Balinese, singular and plural noun forms are nearly always identical (e.g., anak, child, children). If a plural needs to be made clear, the word is spoken twice (e.g., anak-anak, children). Such plurals are awkward in English, so I often rely on context to indicate whether a word is singular or plural (e.g., “five women dalang”). When introducing a term for the first time, I include an explanation in the text. I have also included a glossary of non-English terms.
Chapter 1
GENDER, PUPPETS, AND TRADITION
If in the contest of colonial production, the subaltern has no history and cannot speak, the subaltern as female is even more deeply in shadow.
—Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (1999, 274)
When I arrived at the house of my teacher, I Wayan Tunjung, a well-known dalang, or puppeteer, on the evening of January 17, 2009, it was already dark, even though it was just past seven. I was invited to accompany Pak Tunjung1 to a shadow puppet, or wayang kulit, performance in Mas, a small village in southern Bali. Wayang kulit functions as a sacred ritual that mingles with religion and custom, as well as a social event with prescribed roles for all participants. Each performance is different, but I offer this description in order to give an example of the form and context of the tradition of wayang kulit.
I rode my sepeda motor, or motorbike, to Pak Tunjung’s family compound. As always, when I went to a performance with Pak Tunjung, I wore pakian adat, the traditional clothing that, for a woman in Bali, means a sarong and a brightly colored kebaya—a type of blouse of lace or cotton with lace decoration. Around my waist I wore a sash of a contrasting color (fig. 1.1). Pakian adat—required for any temple ceremony, ritual, or important event in Bali—marks the performance as “special,” or tied to traditional values and practices. Like all Balinese wearing this type of traditional clothing, I did not wear a helmet while on the motorbike, because the Balinese feel that a helmet is too modern and, as many Balinese explained to me, looks “wrong.” My Balinese friends claimed that the law reflects this attitude by not requiring cyclists to wear a helmet with pakian adat; thus, at least discursively (if not actually), a separation between modernity and tradition is marked within both the social and the legal spheres.2
Figure 1.1. This sign explains the requirements for traditional clothes (pakian adat) for men and women in Bali. Photo by author.
As I entered through the gate to the main courtyard of the compound, I was invited by Pak Tunjung to sit with him so we could talk about the performance he was going to give that evening. He contemplated which story to tell, explaining that a dalang knows many stories and must select the appropriate one for each situation. The performance that night was going to be at a family’s compound for a tooth-filing ceremony, often called matatah in Balinese, or potong gigi in Indonesian, which is a coming-of-age ceremony