Pepaya Masak

Maybe it comes from motherhood? Maybe it’s because every year, I grow a little closer to their age and perspective? But somehow now I understand something I didn’t in my 20s.

Back then, life moved at full speed. I was busy chasing work, milestones, dreams, adulthood. And somehow, I still had the energy to run toward all of it at once. I felt like I was building my life from scratch.

But as I get older, I realize that older people have simply seen more life than I have.

They’ve seen patterns repeat. They’ve met more kinds of people. They’ve survived wars, economic crises, heartbreak, uncertainty, sometimes the exact same things that feel unbearably heavy to me now.

Humans naturally learn by connecting dots and recognizing patterns. And elders have had decades more of that than I do.

That realization feels deeply humbling to me. Because while I may be smarter, more educated, or more updated in some ways, I can never replace the years of observations, experiences, and reflections they carry.

And honestly, that alone feels like enough reason for me to listen to them and respect them.

Maybe I’m biased because I grew up in a conservative Indonesian household with a single mother, which made me deeply family-oriented. I was raised to respect elders from a young age.

In your early 30s,

after crossing your first decade

as a responsible, functioning adult,

congratulations!

you finally get a hang of it.

You got all the list checked.

You start to like the feeling of advancing,

of shining.

But then…

advancing where?

shining what?

–

Just the other day, your friend told you:

It’s your thirties, you can finally see the truth.

That you are an above average Indonesian woman.

So don’t you dare worry

about what average Indonesian women worry about.

You are above those.

If yes,

why does this worry feel so heavy?

I guess when you are above average,

you’re not better.

You just have more options.

And you used to curse men for having more of them.

Isn’t that all feminism is?

Options.

The peak of women

is when you get more options.

Thousands of years of suffering

rewarded with more options.

But now that you have them,

somehow you feel cursed too;

having more options

and still feeling trapped.

--

And this trap feels so fucking good.

It feels like a trophy,

an award.

Collected by the best of the best.

Deserved through sweat and tears.

All achieved for your mom to see.

See,

it always comes back to your mom.

Your inner child doesn’t grow up

just because you do.

She’s still collecting trophies

to be loved.

She thought that once you had

the best career,

the best life,

the best family,

you would be loved more.

And that’s true;

your mom is indeed proud of you.

But now that you have become a mom yourself,

you know something too late:

your mom has been proud all along.

Without the trophies.

Without the house or the great spouse.

Without being above average.

And only now

you can finally stop chasing.

--

For the last five years,

you’ve been questioning

whether getting married means sacrificing.

Because that’s what your mom said.

That’s what women for centuries said.

But strangely, in your marriage,

that was never the case.

Instead, you watch

the love of your life

sacrifice himself;

over evening fights,

over weekly groceries,

over your monthly tantrums.

And you wonder

why it took you so long to see

that this love

has always been

above the life you chase every day.

Why is clarity so slow

when love is so clear?

Why are you still letting

this good life

consume you? --

Jihan