Opini
Perempuan 24 Jam, Kisah Seorang Istri dalam The Great Indian Kitchen
Published
1 week agoon
By
Mitra Wacana
Pesta telah usai. Musik berhenti. Tawa dan ucapan selamat menguap bersama bunga-bunga yang mulai layu di atas meja. Akan tetapi ada cerita lain di tengah kemeriahan resepsi pernikahan, hidup seorang perempuan justru baru saja dimulai. Bukan dari kamar tidur atau ruang keluarga, tetapi dari dapur.
Dapur, Awal Penjara Domestik?
Dalam film The Great Indian Kitchen, pagi pertama setelah menjadi istri bukan tentang bahagianya bulan madu atau merencanakan masa depan, melainkan dihadapkan dengan rutinitas tanpa henti. Dimulai bangun tidur dilanjutkan memasak, menyuguhkan teh, mencuci piring, menyapu, mengepel, menjemur, menyiapkan peralatan ibadah, bahkan mengulurkan sikat gigi untuk mertuanya. Semua itu berulang setiap hari, tanpa jeda.
Oiya, film ini dirilis di platform Neestream pada 15 Januari 2021. Film tersebut mendapatkan pujian dan meraih sejumlah penghargaan dalam Kerala State Film Award, termasuk Film Terbaik, Skenario Terbaik untuk Jeo Baby, dan Penata Suara Terbaik untuk Tony Babu.
Sang sutradara, Jeo Baby, tidak menambahkan bumbu musik dramatis atau dialog untuk menggugah emosi penonton. Justru melalui keheningan dan repetisi itulah kita bisa merasakan. “Wah tentu hal ini bukan pekerjaan rumah. Suatu rutinitas yang menjelma menjadi penjara bagi perempuan.”
Repetisi dan Tubuh Perempuan yang Kelelahan
Saya menonton sambil gemas campur jengkel. Bukan karena ada adegan kekerasan. Tapi karena tidak ada ruang bernapas, tidak ada jeda sama sekali. Bahkan saat malam hari, ketika kondisi fisik si istri sudah sempoyongan nyaris roboh, ia tetap harus “melayani” suaminya. Tidak ada ruang untuk berkata, “Aku capek.” Bahkan tidak ada kesempatan untuk berkeluh kesah pada suami.
Lebih miris lagi ketika ada adegan istri sedang menjalani siklus biologis menstruasi, yang semestinya bisa menjadi ruang untuk sekedar menghela napas dan istirahat, justru diasingkan. Dianggap kotor dan najis. Tidak layak menyentuh dapur, tidak layak menyentuh siapa pun.
Hemat saya, setiap adegan dalam film ini terasa menyakitkan karena terlalu nyata. Terlalu akrab, terlalu dekat dengan kehidupan banyak perempuan yang saya jumpai setiap hari. Boleh jadi termasuk perempuan di rumahmu, yang kau panggil ibu atau bahkan istri.
Saya bertanya-tanya, seberapa sering kita, para laki-laki, benar-benar memahami beban domestik? Maksud saya bahwa “mengurus rumah” itu sungguh melelahkan. Karena, melipat baju bukan sekedar menumpuk kain jadi rapi. Tapi tentang mengulang-ulang rutinitas yang orang anggap remeh. Karena dapur bukan cuma tentang memproses dan menghidangkan makanan, tapi bisa jadi ruang terkecil yang mengurung “tubuh dan waktu” seorang perempuan.
Dan, ketika perempuan mulai bicara tentang ingin istirahat, ingin waktu untuk diri sendiri, atau tidak ingin hanya jadi “pelayan keluarga”, kenapa ada sebagian dari kita tersinggung? Atau merasa diserang? Padahal, mungkin saja kita belum pernah bertanya kepada istri, “Apa kamu lelah? Kamu bahagia? Atau apa kamu pengen dibantu…,?”
Guyonan “waktu 24 jam itu kurang” yang sering kita dengar dari para perempuan ternyata bukan lelucon belaka. Agaknya lebih pas jika disebut sebagai jeritan yang dibungkus tawa agar tidak dianggap mengeluh. Karena sejak kecil, perempuan diminta (didoktrin) untuk melayani. Harus tahan banting, dipaksa tetap diam meskipun remuk.
Maka ketika tiba waktunya menikah, banyak dari mereka langsung “aktif mode otomatisnya”. Bersikap lembut, menyambut suami sepulang aktivitas, nyiapin kopi, memasak, mengurus anak, menyetrika baju, menemani suami, bahkan mematikan lampu sebelum tidur. Semuanya dikerjakan seolah-olah sebagai kewajiban kodrati. Bagaimana jika nggak bisa? Rasa bersalah langsung datang tanpa diundang.
Mulai dari Berbagi Beban
Ironisnya, saat perempuan mulai memiliki kesempatan di ruang publik seperti sekolah, bekerja, aktif di komunitas, pekerjaan rumah tidak otomatis berubah menjadi tanggung jawab bersama. Mereka harus menjalani dua shift; pagi-siang di luar rumah, malam di dalam rumah. Tanpa gaji, tanpa tunjangan, bahkan tanpa ucapan terima kasih.
Bagaimana dengan laki-laki? Saat ada yang mulai terjun ke dapur untuk memasak, atau menyapu, menjemur pakaian, dan mencuci terkadang malah dianggap “kurang jantan”. Seolah pekerjaan rumah tangga seperti sebagai ancaman buat maskulinitas.
Padahal, sejujurnya kita sama-sama terjebak. Perempuan sedang memendam kelelahan sedangkan laki-laki juga dikurung oleh stereotip dominasi. Tapi anehnya, hanya perempuan yang terus diminta untuk kuat, sabar, dan tidak mengeluh.
Saya menulis ini bukan untuk menyalahkan siapa pun. Tapi mengajak setiap orang untuk bertanya pada diri sendiri, pada teman-teman laki-laki, atau siapa pun yang ingin (atau sedang) membangun rumah tangga. “Apakah kamu sudah siap untuk berbagi beban?”
Hemat penulis, cinta bukan hanya tentang kata-kata manis dan janji hidup bahagia. Namun, tentang keberanian mengambil peran kepada orang yang dicintai, dan dengan ringan mengucapkan, “Sini aku yang mengerjakan, supaya kamu bisa istirahat.”
Kesadaran Baru Bisa Dimulai dari Dapur
Perubahan tidak harus menunggu revolusi. Kadang cukup dari satu piring yang dicuci bersama. Satu sapu yang dipegang tanpa disuruh. Satu kalimat kecil yang keluar dari mulut laki-laki secara sadar, “Sudah sana kamu istirahat, biar aku yang beresin.”
Sebab mungkin, kemerdekaan pertama yang bisa dirasakan perempuan dalam rumah tangga adalah saat tubuhnya tidak lagi dianggap mesin. Saat secara sadar mendapatkan ruang untuk jadi manusia biasa, yang bisa lelah, bisa istirahat, dan boleh berkata, “Hari ini aku ingin diam saja.”
Dan buat para laki-laki, mari jujur. Mungkin yang bikin kamu ngerasa “terancam” itu bukan karena pekerjaan rumahnya, tapi karena kamu belum pernah benar-benar ikut hidup bareng, cuma numpang dilayani. Jadi, sudahkah kamu hari ini bantu cuci piring? Kalau belum, ya… Semoga kamu bukan bagian dari masalah.
Wahyu Tanoto
Pengurus Perkumpulan Mitra Wacana
You may like
Opini
Bridging the Gap: Access to Justice for Women in Rural Indonesia
Published
1 hour agoon
21 April 2025By
Mitra Wacana
Author: Sarah Crockett (Intern from Australia)
Article 27 of the 1945 Constitution affirmed that all citizens shall be equal before the law, underscoring a core principle of equality within the legal framework of Indonesia. This foundational concept is further reinforced through Article 28D(1); that every person shall be entitled to protection and equitable legal certainty as well as equal treatment before the law. This burdens the State to grant everyone the right to be equal before the law without any excuses. In 1984 Indonesia also ratified CEDAW (The Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women). These laws, while well-intentioned, have frequently fallen short of their goals. Over the years, cases have shown how laws failed to facilitate the protection of women and the prevention of sexual harassment in Indonesia. A key aspect of this is the difficulty women experiencing in gaining access to justice following sexual crimes.
This issue of access to justice for women who have experienced sexual violence is heightened in rural areas. Rural regions are not only more isolated in a geographic sense, but the remoteness of location also creates a scarcity of certain assets. There are fewer resources like lawyers, education on the law and other legal aids. This can make it even more difficult to obtain legal counsel and cause confusion around whether individuals are entitled to legal assistance as well as where they can find it. Many women are unaware of their rights or what legal avenues are available to them to address instances of sexual assault. These areas also lack access to essential legal technology such as systems for digital record-keeping.
This gap can create inefficiencies in case handling, particularly in cases of sexual assault where the documentation of incidents is vital to the provision of evidence. The resulting inefficiencies stemming from outdated or ineffective record systems can lead to lost or mismanaged evidence, creating obstacles to timely and efficient legal justice and undermining the credibility of the legal system. Furthermore, a lack of adequate support systems for victims in rural areas, for example advocacy groups or mental health services, can increase feelings of isolation and helplessness resulting in reduced reporting. It is particularly vital that these issues are addressed as a significant portion of reported sexual assaults originate in rural regions. In a survey of 735 court decisions involving the sexual abuse of women 78.1% of cases were from rural region, although many cases go unreported.
Rural regions and more isolated communities tend to have even greater social stigma around female sexual assault than more urban areas. Traditional values in these areas can prioritize family honour and the reputation of the community over individual rights. An example of how this can manifest is the fact that women in rural regions who are assaulted are frequently pressured to marry their rapist to avoid social stigma by both their family and the police. In 2020 in East Nusa Tenggara a fifteen-year-old rape victim was married off by her parents to her seventy-year-old rapist. This stigma is amplified by cultural norms and patriarchal attitudes that place the burden of blame on victims. As a result, victims fear damage to their reputations or even backlash from their families.
Cultural norms may also encourage reconciliation over the pursuit of legal recourse. There is often pressure to avoid legal action to reduce the perceived shame this would bring the families of women who have experienced sexual assault. Victims may also feel that the outcomes they can expect for reporting will be unsatisfactory and therefore decline to pursue formal justice, particularly in rural areas. This stigmatization not only discourages individuals from seeking legal recourse but also affects their mental health and physical well-being. The stigma could extend to the legal process, where victims may face revictimization through insensitive questioning or biased treatment, reinforcing a culture of silence and underreporting. There is also a trend in rural areas of police lacking sensitivity training when dealing with victims of sexual assault, resulting in a bias against claimants and a culture of victim-blaming, further disincentivising victims from reporting.
In recent years, Indonesia experienced progressive development towards its laws and regulations on sexual violence. For years, the Wetboek van Stratrecht (WvS) has been the sole reference of law on sexual violence in Indonesia. In general, the Dutch-inherited criminal code is not sufficient to accommodate the fast-changing dynamics of criminal law in Indonesia. For years, Indonesia applied a very limited definition of sexual violence that often ending up causing harm to victims and restricted the effectiveness of legal enforcement. The retributive nature of Indonesia’s criminal law also puts aside the victim’s rights and interests which a massive application of restorative justice in Indonesia’s criminal law has tried to reform. Indonesia has now enacted Law Number 12 of 2022 on Sexual Violence which adopted a broader definition of sexual violence. The adoption of a broader definition of sexual violence could be seen from the inclusion of non-physical sexual harassment, marital sexual harassment, and online-based sexual violence.
Law Number 12 of 2022 also puts more focus on the victim compared to the old law as it is more perpetrator-oriented. The new law sets out a series of measures for the protection of the victim of sexual harassment such as medical and psychological guidance, restitution, rehabilitation, and also legal aid. The new law also recognises the importance of the victim’s own statements as well as digital evidence. However, despite the improvements shown by Law Number 12 of 2022, there have been a lot of obstacles in implementing the law. Law enforcement officers, especially police and prosecutors, are often poorly trained in handling sexual violence cases from a victim-centered perspective, resulting in many cases not being taken seriously or being overlooked. This also causes victims to doubt whether their cases would be taken seriously or if they would experience backlash for being the victims of sexual crimes.
The new law on sexual violence is expected to bring fresh air to the enforcement and eradication of sexual harassment in Indonesia. It is also in the spirit of applying the concept of restorative justice in Indonesia’s criminal law, while slowly leaving the long-adopted concept of retributive justice. In its formulation, the Government labelled Law Number 12 of 2022 on Sexual Violence as a more accommodating law and provides more care to the victim by introducing more definitions of sexual violence, legal aid to the victim, restitution, and a higher sanction to the perpetrator. Despite all the claims made by the Government of the Republic of Indonesia, the law is far from what seems to be the objective of the law. One of the most vital points in ensuring the success of the implementation of the law is the legal enforcer. As perfect as it is, the law will not be ideal if the enforcement is weak.
In addition, the enforcement of the law in online-based sexual violence remains ineffective. The digital infrastructure provided by the government in battling with online-based sexual violence is insufficient and cannot accommodate the fast-paced development of the internet. This can result in victims being left untreated and the existing systems for protection and prevention of online sexual violence are very minimal. Overall, further work is required in order to facilitate better access to justice for women in rural Indonesia.
