So What If She’s “Too Much”?

The Pink Hijab and the Politics of Dismissal

During the 17+8 demonstrations, a woman in a pink hijab went viral. Some people celebrated her courage. Others tried to discredit her by saying she was ODGJ (orang dengan gangguan jiwa — People with Mental Disorders). As if that label, true or not, automatically invalidated her voice.

So what if she was? People with mental disabilities have rights too. Their voices matter. Their anger matters. Their bodies at a protest matter.

But of course, it was easier for many to roll their eyes, to frame it as “FOMO Indonesians jumping on whatever goes viral.” Easier to dismiss her than to admit that what she shouted resonated.

This is where privilege creeps in. If you can afford to say, “I’d rather just stay home, focus on my kids, keep my life calm,” it’s because the current system already works enough for you. Silence, for some, is a luxury. For others, silence is imposed.

And let’s not forget: the personal is political. Choosing to stay silent is also a political act — one that sides with the status quo.

Feminism and the Myth of “Not Too Much”

In Indonesia, feminism often gets twisted into something it isn’t. People love to remind women about kodrat — our “natural role.” But what they really mean is: be not too much.

You can have a career, but not too much — don’t overshadow men.
You can be a mother, but not too much — don’t complain about the exhaustion.
You can be angry, but not too much — anger makes you “kurang ajar.”
You can exist in public, but not too much — don’t dress too boldly, don’t forget to smile.

Even “supermom” is framed as empowerment, but really, it’s another cage. The supermom ideal says:

yes, you can stress about your kids and your housework — but not too much. You’re supposed to handle everything with a smile. And if you don’t, you’ve failed.

That’s not feminism. That’s patriarchy wearing lipstick.

Almost 40, Still Learning

As I approach 40, I’m learning how much of my adulthood I’ve spent being insecure. Afraid of not smiling enough, not being nice enough, not performing “femininity” correctly.

I grew up under the New Order, where social, political, and religious doctrines quietly rooted themselves in my subconscious. They whispered:

A good woman marries.

A good woman has children.

A good woman behaves.

A good woman does not yell, does not get tattoos, does not take up too much space.

It took me decades to realize it’s okay to step out of the house without makeup. That I don’t owe anyone constant politeness. That being a mother doesn’t mean doing every chore myself. That the “supermom” ideal is not empowering, but debilitating.

I wish I hadn’t spent half my life believing otherwise.

Critical Thinking Was Never Neutral

It’s too easy to say Indonesians lack “literacy,” as if it’s simply about not reading enough books or not checking sources. The truth is more complicated. As cultural scholar Ariel Heryanto once argued in his work on State Terrorism and Political Identity in Indonesia, decades of authoritarian rule didn’t just silence dissent — it actively punished critical thought. For years, asking the “wrong” question could cost you your job, your education, or your safety. That kind of fear doesn’t vanish overnight; it seeps into how we argue, how we hesitate, how we scroll past injustice online.

This is why what looks like “FOMO” or herd mentality on social media is, in part, the residue of a society taught not to think too critically. Paulo Freire, in Pedagogy of the Oppressed, reminds us that literacy is never just about reading words — it’s about reading the world. And for many Indonesians, our ability to “read the world” has been systematically narrowed by history. We’re not simply uncritical by nature; we’ve been disciplined into caution.

Anger as a Right

So when I see an ibu in a pink hijab shouting in the streets, I don’t care if she fits society’s definition of “sane.” I care that she’s speaking when so many are told to stay quiet.

Her voice matters. My voice matters. Your voice matters.

Silence is a privilege. And not everyone can afford it.

That’s why we must keep speaking, even when they say we’re “too much.” Especially then.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.