Not Just Kartini: Women, Education and the 'National Awakening' of Indonesia It is feasible to accept Carl Degler's argument that since women are not men socially just as they are not men physiologically, they affect history quite differently from the way men do, and history in turn affects them differently from the way it does men.1 The history of Indonesia that is available in English seems to have 'forgotten' that women affected history at all, other than the obligatory nod towards Kartini. In this paper, I will describe how women were active agents of historical change in Indonesia during the first half of the twentieth century. Not only Kartini, but other significant figures, women's organizations and political groups had a huge impact on the development of education in Indonesia, especially for women, and the 'national awakening' of 'Indonesia' itself. Although the availability of texts would have you believe there is not much to say on women, education and nationalism, this is far from the truth. I hope that the following will form an introduction to this topic, an introduction to amazing women who have been silenced in history, and who certainly deserve a mention in any discussion of the history of Indonesia. Background to the Education System at the Beginning of the 'Ethical Period' Traditionally, an Indonesian acquired his education in the pesantren (Islamic school) which focused on religious instruction. Women did not attend the pesantren, and received little or no formal education before the turn of the twentieth century. In terms of European education, although there were missionary schools established not long after the arrival of the Dutch, the Vereenigde Oost Indische Campagnie (VOC) did not provide support for 'native education'.2 The Ethische Politiek (Ethical Policy) was to transform the education system of Indonesia. Adopted by the Netherlands in 1901, its program proclaimed that the Netherlands had a 'moral duty' to 'uplift' the Indonesian people through education and closer cultural association with the Netherlands.3 This, along with the need for Dutch-speaking personnel by government and Western enterprise and pressures from both the Chinese and Indonesian peoples, soon led to increased opportunities for Dutch education.4 The motive for desiring such an education was almost exclusively socio-economic, being regarded as the gateway to economically rewarding positions.5 As all the government or commercial positions available for Indonesian people were for men of the priyayi (upper) class, it was not deemed necessary to educate women. That is, until the women themselves spoke up. Kartini Any discussion of the history of women and education in Indonesia must begin with Raden Adjeng Kartini. She is not only the most visible female figure of Indonesian history, but also one of most passionate. Joost Coté suggests that, The emotional intimacy of her letters may present difficulties for the reader in the latter part of the twentieth century who cannot readily cope with such effusion and sentimentality.6 It is that 'effusion and sentimentality', however, that got the attention of J.H. Abendanon, minister of Instruction, Religion and Labour. In 1911 after Kartini's death, he would publish her letters that would have a huge impact on women's movements in Indonesia, the education system and introduce the West to Kartini's world. Kartini was a daughter of the Javanese aristocracy, the priyayi. Born in 1879, she spent most of her life in Japara, where her father was bupati or regent.7 As a child, Kartini benefited from her father's status and progressive views toward education when she was enrolled in the local Dutch primary school, along with her brothers and sisters. This was a highly unusual opportunity for a Javanese female for although many Javanese elite endeavoured to enrol sons in local Western-style schools, little consideration was given to formally educating their daughters.8 This childhood education exposed Kartini to Western ideas and gave her the language skills to read, write and speak Dutch fluently. Language skills became incredibly important to Kartini after her schooling came abruptly to an end when she turned twelve. In accordance with tradition, or adat, she was then confined to the home to await her wedding day. Kartini described it as sheer hell, 'locked up, and cut off from all communications with the outside world.'9 Nevertheless, she continued to educate herself, and began to publish articles. Kartini's fame spread. Abendanon's wife became a regular correspondent with Kartini, and affection between the two grew. 'Stella' who responded to Kartini's ad for a penfriend in a feminist magazine also exchanged letters with Kartini on a regular basis. It is primarily through the letters written to Stella and Mrs Abendanon that we know Kartini, published by Mr Abendanon after her death. A central theme of these letters is Kartini's interest in and concern for education, 'both in the forms of the education which she received and still desired for herself and that which she considered essential for Javanese society at the time.'10 For Kartini, the education of women was important, for women 'have a great task in the development of society'.11 She writes in her essay Educate the Javanese, As a first step, educate the daughters of the nobility; from this, refinement will certainly be diffused to the masses. Make them into capable, wise, good mothers and they will actively spread enlightenment among their people.12 She advocates for the development of vocational schools, in particular, as a way for women to gain employment and possibly avoid unwanted marriage. In June 1903, Kartini and her sister Roekimini began a small school in the kabupaten for children eight to ten years.13 Her working life, however, changed when the bupati of Rembang approached her father with a proposal of marriage with Kartini. In an unusual move, she was given three days in which to decide.14 Having expressed numerous times in her letters her thoughts on marriage, it is surprising that she accepted the proposal. However, as Zainu'ddin points out, 'she had been told so often that, as a married woman, she might hope for more freedom of action than she could ever hope to attain as a single woman.'15 Her acceptance of the proposal was also conditional upon a promise from her future husband that he would agree to her ideas and allow her to open a school for girls similar to that of Japara.16 He agreed, and she accepted. What is doubly interesting about the acceptance of this marriage is that Kartini was not the only wife of the bupati. In her letters, Kartini is adamant about the 'evils' of polygamy. Indeed, one could argue that education was only idealised by Kartini as a way of escaping polygamy. The public must not know what we are really fighting - the name of the enemy against which we take the field must never, never be cried aloud - it is polygamy. If that word were heard no man would trust his child to us. I have struggled against this, for it is as though we began our work with a lie.17 It must also be remembered that Kartini's mother was not the first wife of her father. The woman she refers to as 'mother' in her letters is not her birth mother, but the first wife. This may explain not only her dislike of polygamy, but her eventual 'acceptance' of it. Then again, Kartini was attempting to establish her identity, and champion the cause of education for women within not only the constructs and constraints of Dutch colonial society, but also the rules and restrictions of being Javanese priyayi. Perhaps it is true that she believed she would have more 'freedom of action' as a married woman and working within the structure of society to eventually change it would be more productive than working outside of it. We will never know. Kartini died not long after giving birth to a son in 1904, some say of a broken heart.18 The publication of Kartini's letters made her famous world-wide. More importantly, she became famous within Indonesia, and became a 'model' for her contemporary 'feminists'. Although it can be argued Kartini was simply a product or construct of the Ethical Policy, and her letters were published as 'proof' that the policy 'worked', there is no doubt that she became a catalyst for change. In 1964, Kartini was declared to be a 'Pioneer of National Independence', her sister Kardinah accepting an award on her behalf.19 However, Kartini expresses no theory of nationalism in her letters, and she is extremely deferential to her Dutch friends, envisioning a continuing association in which they led the way. On the other hand, in this connection it should be remembered that she was writing to friends, most of them considerably older than she was, and that her letters were edited by Abendanon.20 In any case, the significance of Kartini in eliciting change in Indonesia's education system, particularly for women and her role as an 'Indonesian feminist' cannot be denied. Although many of the ideas she expressed were also being voiced by other women both outside of Indonesia and within, she was the first Indonesian woman to be 'taken seriously' by the Dutch colonial government. Perhaps she was a bit of a novelty, 'letters from a true daughter of the Orient, from a real Javanese girl, thought from such a half-wild creature, written by herself in a European language, how interesting!'21 but from Kartini's example, numerous women followed 'in her footsteps', actively playing a role in the creation of Indonesia, as will be discovered. Dewi Sartika A friend once joked that to pass a test on Indonesian history requiring memorisation of 'important people' , all one needed to do was remember street and building names. Jakarta's airport is named 'Soekarno-Hatta', every town has a 'Kartini street' and 'Diponogoro' in a map index requires more than one page. Likewise, on a visit to Bandung, it is hard to ignore the streets, buildings and institutes named 'Dewi Sartika'. Dewi Sartika was a Sundanese woman, born on December 1, 1884.22 Like Kartini, she was of the priyayi class, and a strong advocate for women's education and equal rights. Abendanon, in his book about the education of 'native girls', made reference to her: There are in Java and elsewhere in the archipelago a few schools founded by Indonesian girls, who tired of waiting any longer, took action which one cannot appreciate enough when one realizes that ... the Indonesian girl is very shy. At about the same time schools were founded at Bandung and Djapara.23 At Bandung the headmistress is a young widow, assisted by a few girls of good family.24 It was in Bandung on January 16 1904 that Dewi Sartika opened her first schools for women, Sekolah Istri (Woman's School) and Sekolah Gadis (Girl's School), later to be named Kautamaan Istri (Woman's Accomplishment).25 When she married B. A. Surjawinata in 1906, she did not give up her work.26 On the contrary, 'before his death a few years later, he actively collaborated with her, so that by 1912 she had succeeded in founding nine schools for girls, a remarkable number.'27 In 1905, The number of girls enrolled became so large that the prepared place [for instruction] in the grounds of the Bandung Kabupaten was not large enough for all the new students. In that same year, the school moved to Cigurang Street, which is still used by the Dewi Sartika Institute today.28 Graduates of the schools then went on to establish their own in the same model in other areas. In 1915, for example, a Kautamaan Istri was opened in Padang Panjang by the alumni.29 Also like Kartini, articles by Dewi Sartika were published in feminist journals overseas. Her style of writing, however, was less exalted and more common-sense like: It is certain that the kaum kuno (old folks) take the education of girls into consideration, and there has never been question of neglecting it as my progressive compatriots often claim ... The case is rather that school instruction for our girls is lacking ... It would be desirable at the same time to train midwives, office-girls, typists, housekeepers, horticulturists, etc., in short, all the professions which, according to conservative ideas, do not belong to women and have been up to now reserved for men.30 As Javanese girls learnt the Koran, Javanese legends and traditional Javanese script at home,31 she did not believe their education was totally neglected, but needed improving. To get a well-paid job in Dutch colonial society, they must acquire skills that will allow them to do so. The Van Deventers and Abendanon Nine years after the opening of Dewi Sartika's first school, the 'Van Deventer schools' were established successively in Semarang, Jakarta, Solo and Bandung.32 The Van Deventer schools were also known by another name: 'Kartini Schools'. Set up to honour Kartini's memory, Kartini Fonds (Kartini Funds) was established in 1912 by Mr and Mrs Van Deventer, and worked towards establishing more Dutch schools for women.33 These schools were intended for the daughters of higher civil servants and became popular among the priyayi due to the endorsement of Abendanon, in particular.34 Abendanon strongly advocated for more schools for Indonesian women. He wrote in a letter to the Governor General in 1901, ...while Native boys are obtaining more and more opportunity for further education at elementary schools training for Native officials, the Doctor-Jawa school, and in institutions of secondary education, girls must in consequence be left behind; it is an undeniable fact that in these circumstances Native society cannot march forcefully ahead.35 The government, however, disagreed with him at this stage. The Governor General wrote in response: The position of the girl and the woman in that society indeed means that at the moment there exists no need for her to receive a European education and development, at least not on such a scale that the Government would need to extend the opportunities beyond that provided by existing schools.36 It is little wonder, then, that Abendanon endorsed private initiatives such as the Kartini Fonds and Dewi Sartika's schools. Missionary schools had also been established earlier, with 9.8 percent of their students being girls in the early 1900s.37 These schools had much in common. They all provided conservative vocational education, were provided mostly for the upper-class, and prepared students to live in the Dutch colonial world. Rahma El Janusia and Sekolah Agama Schools that did not follow the conservative vocational view of Kartini, Dewi Sartika, and Abendanon were religious schools. As mentioned previously, it was custom in the early 1900s for Muslim girls to learn the Koran at home. For boys, however, religious education followed the ancient principle of guru, who lived together with his pupils in an asrama, a type of boarding house.38 Zainu'ddin Labai El Janusia revolutionised this style of education by founding the first Sekolah Agama (religious school) that combined religious education and a 'modernized curriculum'.39 It was in this type of school that his sister, Rahma El Janusia, began her education. Rahma El Janusia was not to complete the course, because she was married at fifteen years of age.40 However, following her divorce a few years later, she set to work 'to realise her ideal of improving the position of women by means of modern education based on religious principles.'41 In 1922, she founded the first modernized religious school for girls, the Sekolah Dinijah Puteri, where following the pesantren example, girls boarded with their teachers.42 Like most Muslim institutions, to avoid interference with carrying out its curriculum, her school refused to accept government subsidies.43 This meant they relied on pupils' fees for income, and pupils were hard to come by. To advertise her school, Rahma El Janusia accompanied an uncle who was a merchant on a trip to Medan and through the Malay Peninsula. She held meetings at every port, after which families often entrusted their daughters to her, and she took them to Padang Panjang.44 Considering her orthodox up-bringing of both herself and the families these new pupils came from, this was no small feat! Her model of religious schooling for girls spread throughout Sumatra and Java, and was adopted by the 'Aisyiyah', a branch of the reformist Muhammadiyah movement.45 In this way, Rahma El Janusia was one of the precursors of the Indonesian Muslim women's movement, and no less significant than Kartini. Yet she is rarely mentioned in history texts, if transformations of religious education for women are mentioned at all. Indonesian-Chinese Women and Education Although mention of Indonesian Muslim women and education may be hard to find in history texts, it is near impossible to find information about Indonesian-Chinese women and education. Charles A. Coppel in Emancipation of the Indonesian Chinese Woman46 addresses this oversight. In his paper, he examines the ideas of the two 'Mrs Yaps', sisters who vocalised issues of the emancipation of Indonesian Chinese women, and compares them with conservative positions taken in contemporary colloquial Malay 'histories' or novels.47 The Yap sisters were born in the Indies, their first language was Malay, and they could not read Chinese.48 The real language of the Chinese of Indonesia was Malay. Male immigrants were absorbed into the host community through its female members. The descendants of male immigrants wrote in the language of the host community, not because they picked it up in the marked place and pawnshop, but because it was their mother's tongue. It is the male ordered view of history that obscures this fundamental point.49 After the Chinese Revolution of 1911, Indonesian-Chinese women did not want to be left behind their compatriots.50 They wanted education. The Yap sisters argued that 'education of women, and their involvement in the working world, were essential if China and the Indies Chinese were to develop and be strong in the modern world.'51 To do this, they must gain a Chinese education, and learn their 'father tongue'.52 This was no less the same for Western-educated Indonesian-Chinese girls who had started to attend schools alongside Europeans and well-off Javanese.53 As Taylor suggests, Javanese women who ended up in Chinese households were the servants of Kartini's class, women who had been exploited, sold, driven off the land, without protection of patrol.54 Their mothers, therefore, were not the role-models idealistic, Western-educated Indonesian-Chinese girls searched for - but the women involved in the Chinese Revolution certainly were. Once Chinese men became wealthy, however, they often sent back to China for a Chinese wife, even if they already had an Indonesian wife, or many.55 She was emphatically not a farm girl, but the daughter of the China-based partner in a commercial firm. Photographic records and memoirs tell us that this bride was usually a woman with bound feet. She was the one who demonstrated family status and connections, the one who would rule a household made up of numerous women collected in the Indies.56 In this way, some girls of the Indies, the daughters of Indonesian women in Chinese households, came under the rule of women of old China.57 Kartini's world held in it the polygamous household of the priyayi. The world of the rich Sino-Indonesian girl held within it old China.58 And just like Kartini, Sino-Indonesian women such as the Yap sisters used their forums to condemn polygamy, and promote education as a way of escaping it. The Creation of the Feminist Movement When the famous Dutch feminist Aletta H. Jacobs visited the Dutch East Indies in 1912, she was surprised that so many Indonesian women were present at the public meetings she addressed in the Indies: 'she expected to discuss suffrage primarily with white people.'59 This was a direct result of the increased educational opportunities for women. Forums advocating for education and schools provided meeting places for like-minded Indonesian women. From this, organised feminist movements in Indonesia evolved. The first women's organization was Putri Merdeka (Independent Women) which was formed in Jakarta in 1912 in association with the all-male Budi Utomo (Noble Endeavour), the first Indonesian Nationalist Organisation, formed in 1908.60 From then on, various women's groups formed, with varying aims and motives.61 However, there were a number of common preoccupations and a basic consensus about needed reforms.62 According to Vreede-De Stuers, all [associations] aimed at the improvement of the woman's position by means of education in household practices, dressmaking classes, courses on child welfare, and so forth.63 Dominated by priyayi women, these associations emphasised the need for modern education for girls to equip them for their traditional roles. However, polygamy, child and forced marriages were also among the issues aired in journals established by these groups, with article titles such as Child Marriages and Forced Marriages Must Disappear, and Our Ancient Customs and Modern Times.64 Women's organizations became more political in character in the 1920s, when the major political parties - Sarekat Islam (SI), the Indonesian Nationalist Party (PNI) and the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI) - formed women's branches.65 In 1928, continuing the politicisation of women's associations, the first Indonesian Women's Congress was held in Yogyakarta from December 22 to 26, 1928.66 Hari Ibu (Mother's Day) in Indonesia is not like Australia's Mother's Day, but rather celebrates the anniversary of this Congress. Nearly thirty women's associations were represented, but political problems were not dealt with. The delegates confined themselves to discussing the problems of education and marriage,67 although the very notion of an 'Indonesian' Women's Congress suggests a nationalist drive. It was at the second Women's Congress that the Nationalist agenda become more pronounced. Women, Nationalism, and Sukarno The second congress organized by the PPI took place in Jakarta in 1929. Nationalism was a major topic of discussion. Shortly before this second congress, the female contingent of the Pemuda (Young Java) organised a public meeting in Bandung.68 Sukarno had spoken to the women, urging them to devote their energies to the service of the national cause: 'had not the hero Ardjuni (of the shadow theatre) recovered his brother's rights thanks to the help of his wife Dewi Srikandi?'69 In the course of the meeting, several speakers emphatically demanded the improvement of female education, and that this could only be achieved through Independence. Sukarno in his many speeches, succeeded in focusing the blame for women's oppression on forces external to Indonesia, whether that be Capitalism or Colonialism.70 Many further Women's Congresses were held up until the Japanese invasion, becoming progressively more nationalistic in nature. That is not to say there was no dissention among the groups - the 1930-31 split in the PNI ranks, for example, was paralleled by the splitting off from the women's movement in 1930 of the radical Isteri Sedar (The Alert Woman).71 However, the activism of the women's groups paid off. The famous Youth Oath, pronounced at the second congress of Pemuda in Jakarta in 1928, opens as follows: 'We the young men and young women of Indonesia...' 72 This oath is the 'crystallisation' of the sentiments of unity and national consciousness of the new generation, who had participated in the new educational system, and would have significant impact on the development of politics in Indonesia. The Japanese Occupation The Nationalist Movement and women's movements were brought to an abrupt halt upon the Japanese invasion of Indonesia in March 1942. The Japanese brought with them a political ideology 'which aimed to mobilise all sections of the population to support their war effort.'73 For rural women, this meant learning new methods of agriculture, and for urban women, the 'obligatory service' included work in a variety of wartime industry, and learning air and fire drills.74 During the Occupation, the women's movements had little opportunity to develop. One general organisation only, the Fujinkai (a Japanese word meaning 'women's association') was permitted to exist.75 However, the Japanese did not have the administrative or social networks to make Fujinkai real or relevant to the poorer lower class women in rural and urban areas. In many places, it became an organisation of the wives of Dutch trained Javanese officials.76 Thus, the Japanese administration used the priyayi to build a system of Fujinkai branches throughout Java.77 This association of the word Fujinkai with the wives of officials had negative connotations for lower class people during the Occupation. In Surabaya, in kampungs (communities) the word was used derisively as a 'voguish slang for a high-class prostitute.' As well as hatred for the Japanese, this mistaken syntax 'reflected dislike of the priyayi elite, since only upper class women were thought to belong to the Organisation.'78 One of the tasks of the Fujinkai that leant to this association was to ensure that weekly romusha (forced labour) quotas were filled.79 It is little wonder, then, that Fujinkai came to be despised by the poorer classes. In Jakarta, however, the Fujinkai had more interesting roles. Women forty years later remember setting up courses to counteract illiteracy, running cooperative kitchens, and engaging in other social work.80 What is significant here is that the priyayi women came into contact with women of the lower classes. All of the education advancements and women's organisations outlined previously did not invite participation from women of the desa (village). The Japanese Occupation thus had great impact on the participation in, and focus of, women's movements after the priyaryi women met the desa women and discovered they had similar goals in mind. It can be argued that the Japanese were most successful in the field of education. All Dutch schools were closed, promoting the idea that science and technology originated in Japan.81 'White man' was no longer the most technically advanced: the Dutch defeat by the Japanese had dispelled the myth of 'White supremacy'. Additionally, the Dutch language was officially replaced by Indonesian.82 In terms of Nationalism, this is very significant - with the pemuda speaking the same language, and not the language of the 'oppressor', upon defeat of the Japanese in 1949, there was little wish to return to Dutch control.83 Independence The proclamation of sovereignty on August 17, 1945, did not find women unprepared. They rallied in large numbers to help the guerrillas behind the fighting line. 84 The Indonesian Red Cross was founded as early as the day of the proclamation.85 The women's groups and congresses also helped to organise supply lines, liaison officers, nursing facilities, soup kitchens and so on, which must have provided a profound sense of Merdeka (independence) for the women involved.86 PERWARI (Persatuan Wanita Republik Indonesia or the Union of Women of the Republic of Indonesia) was also formed in 1945 'to form the rear-guard in defence of the country's liberty.'87 Of this in official texts, such as Sejarah Nasional Indonesia (The National History of Indonesia), nothing is said.88 Additionally, in the early 1940s, women gained the right to vote. The enfranchisement of Indonesian women seems to be a direct result of the Youth Oath in which the women of Indonesia had a part.89 Sukarno also utilized the inclusion and visibility of women in the military to exemplify the claim that Indonesian women had indeed achieved equality as citizens.90 However, this is ambiguous as Sunindyo describes: On one hand they are portrayed as symbols of gender equality and advancement, while, on the other, they are positioned as the little daughters in the military household.91 Indeed, it is questionable as to whether Indonesian women have escaped the notion of 'wives and mothers' even today. Although women's organisations originally lobbied for vocational education to make them 'better mothers' in line with Kartini's thinking, later it is obvious that they became increasingly pro-women's rights as equals, and politicised in nature. However, the stigma remains. Some argue the real reason why Megawati is accepted as president is because she is the new 'Ibu Indonesia', the mother of Indonesia.92 It is likely that the exclusion of women from official histories, other than in the capacity of 'wife and mother', is partly responsible for this view. Conclusion Therefore, women were active agents of historical change in Indonesia during the first half of the twentieth century, particularly in the fields of education and Nationalism. Not only Kartini, but other significant figures, women's organisations and political groups had a profound impact on the development, or creation, of Indonesia. Although I have only outlined a few important figures and associations, it is easy to see that Indonesian women's history is as complex, and vibrant, as that of men's. Kartini may be celebrated as a strong feminist Indonesian woman, but little is said of other women who had a no less active role in the education and Nationalism movements of Indonesia. Surely enough time has passed since Kartini penned the lines, 'everything for the man, and nothing for the woman, that is our law and custom'93 for this to have changed. It will be interesting to see if that 'law and custom' does indeed change in the future. 1 Carl N. Degler, Is There a History of Women? Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1975, p. 8. 2 Cora Vreede-De Stuers, The Indonesian Woman: Struggles and Achievements, The Netherlands: Mouton and Co., 1960, p. 1. 3 Eduard J. M. Schmutzer, Dutch Colonial Policy and the Search for Identity in Indonesia 1920-1931, Leiden: E.J Brill, 1977, p. 14. 4Vreede-De Stuers, p. 3. 5 Ibid, p. 9. 6 Joost Coté (trans), Letters from Kartini: An Indonesian Feminist 1900-1904, Victoria: Monash Asia Institute, 1992, p. v. 7 Ibid, p. iii. 8 Ibid, p. xxxi. 9 R. A. Kartini, Letters of a Javanese Princess, (trans) Anges Louise Symmers, Lanham: University Press of America, 1985, p. 20. 10 Coté, xxiii. 11 Raden Adjeng Kartini, 'Educate the Javanese' (trans) Jean Taylor, in Indonesia, 1974, p. 87. 12 Ibid. 13 Ailsa G. Thomson Zainu'ddin, 'Kartini - Her Life, Work and Influence' in Kartini Centenary: Indonesian Women Then and Now, (ed) Ailsa Thomson Zainu'ddin, Clayton: Monash University, 1980. p. 8 14 Ibid, p. 8. 15 Ibid, p. 8. 16 Ibid, p. 9. 17 Kartini, Letters of a Javanese Princess, p. 53. 18 Zainu'ddin, p. 11. 19 Ibid, p. 12. 20 Ibid, p. 13. 21 Kartini, Letters of a Javanese Princess, p. 106. 22 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 57. 23 Djapara is another spelling for Japara. Abendanon is referring to Kartini and Roekmini's school here. 24 Quoted in Vreede-De Stuers, p. 57-58. 25 G.A. Ohorella, et al, Peranan Wanita Indonesia Dalam Masa Pergerakan Nasional. Jakarta: Department Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan, 1992, p. 5. 26 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 58. 27 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 58. 28 Ohorella et al, p. 16, my translation. 29 Ohorella et al, p. 5. 30 Quoted in Vreede-De Stuers, p. 58. 31 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 63. 32 Ibid, p. 59. 33 Ohorella et al, p. 6. 34 Ibid. 35 Quoted in Cote (trans), p. 549. 36 Ibid, p. 551. 37 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 57. 38 Ibid, p. 72. 39 Ibid. 40 Ohorella et al, p. 43. 41 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 73. 42 Ibid.. 43 Ohorella et al, p. 43. 44 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 73. 45 Nelly Van Doorn, 'Portrait of a Female Preacher' in Inside Indonesia, no. 52, 1997, [online] http://www.insideindonesia.org/edit52/nelly.htm 46 in Jean Gelman (ed), Women Creating Indonesia: The First Fifty Years. Clayton, VIC: Monash Asia Institute Centre of Southeast Asian Studies, 1997. 47 Charles A. Coppel, 'Emancipation of the Indonesian Chinese Woman' in Women Creating Indonesia: The First Fifty Years, Clayton, VIC: Monash Asia Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 1997, pp.22-51. 48 Jean Gelman Taylor, 'Introduction' in Women Creating Indonesia: The First Fifty Years. Clayton, VIC: Monash Asia Institute Centre of Southeast Asian Studies, 1997, p. xvi. 49 Taylor, p. xxi. 50 Coppel, p. 45. 51 Coppel, p. 45. 52 Taylor, p. xxi. 53 Taylor, p. xv. 54 Taylor, p. xvii. 55 Taylor, p. xv. 56 Taylor, p. xv. 57 Taylor, p. xv. 58 Taylor, p. xv. 59 Susan Blackburn, 'Western Feminists Observe Asian Women: An Example from the Dutch East Indies' in Women Creating Indonesia: The First Fifty Years, (ed) Jean Gelman Taylor, Clayton, VIC: Monash Asia Institute, 1997, p. 6. 60 Christine Doran, The Indonesian Women's Movement [online] http://learnline.ntu.edu.au/studyskills/nm/nmDocs/CD-IP.pdf 61 Doran. 62 Doran. 63 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 64. 64 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 62. 65 Wahidah Zein Br Siregar, A Movement Between the West and the Muslim Community, [online] http://202.159.18.43/jsi/82wahidah.htm 66 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 89. 67 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 89. 68 Ibid, p. 90. 69 Ibid. 70 Doran. 71 Christine Dobbin, 'The Search for Women in Indonesian History' in Kartini Centenary: Indonesian Women Then and Now, (ed) Ailsa Thomson Zainu'ddin, Clayton, VIC: Monash University, p. 63. 72 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 67. 73 Anton Lucas, 'Images of the Indonesian Woman During the Japanese Occupation 1942-45', in Women Creating Indonesia: The First Fifty Years, (ed) Jean Gelman Taylor, Clayton, VIC: Monash Asia Institute Centre of Southeast Asian Studies, 1997, p. 52. 74 Ibid 75 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 114. 76 Lucas, 55. 77 Ibid. 78 Ibid. 79 Ibid, p. 56. 80 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 114. 81 Lucas, p. 78. 82 Ibid. 83 Doran. 84 Ohorella et al, p. 58. 85 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 114. 86 Dobbin, p. 61. 87 Vreede-De Stuers, p. 114. 88 Dobbin, p. 62. 89 Jean Gelman Taylor, 'Official Photography, Costume and the Indonesian Revolution', in Women Creating Indonesia: The First Fifty Years, (ed) Jean Gelman Taylor, Clayton, VIC: Monash Asia Institute Centre of Southeast Asian Studies, 1997, p. 98. 90 Saraswati Sunindyo, 'When the Earth is Female and the Nation is Mother: Gender, the Armed Forces and Nationalism in Indonesia', in Feminist Review, no. 58, Spring 1998, pp. 1-21, p. 1. 91 Ibid, p. 4. 92 Arief Budiman, 'The 1998 Crisis: Change and Continuity in Indonesia', in Reformasi: Crisis and Change in Indonesia, (ed) Arief Budiman et al, Clayton, VIC: Monash Asia Institute, 1999, p. 55. 93 Kartini, p. 42. 16