Billingual Heartbreak

Just another break-up poem on the internet.

This stage happened within the same week of my first experience with spoken word poetry (read the story here). After finding my place in poetry on the first slam with such an intense piece, I figured if I could have a bit of fun this time around, and what’s better than a heartbreak poem?

So on the day of the slam, Seetha and I went to the coffee shop across our hostel to write (we procrastinate a lot as you can see). Two cups of Iced Cappuccino and vegan sandwiches later, we had freshly baked poems in hand and pacing around trying to memorize them for the slam that was happening in an hour.

Seetha in all her glory — the view from Coffee & Co’s balcony

“Billingual Heartbreak” was born from a session with my therapist, where she explained that there was a solid psychological reason in why I always fight with my then-boyfriend and write poetry in English. It dawned on me that I even have never spoken any Indonesian in all of our sessions as well.

Stage appearance at 1:34:36

Once, i read this insightful research about bilingual reduced emotional resonance.

It is the fancy term that explains why we, bilingual kids, switch language when we have to talk about pain because it allows us to detach or transport ourselves to some other mental state where the experience doesn’t sting as much.

My therapist confirmed it to be true by reciting my poems back to me.

Although, I have always thought,

I’m Gado-gado before the Chef’s Bowl; beras kencur and sinom before the overpriced kale smoothie; I’m convinced I am made out of Si Unyil after school and cheap soap operas, long before Netflix persistently asking me if im still watching Season 12 of Criminal Minds; molded by my Mama’s loving flip flop spanks when she caught me cussing long before it was considered child abuse in somewhere west, raised by rice in each breakfast, lunch, and dinner; figuring life out in every angkot and becak trips.

What I’m saying is,

The endless, you speak English very well! sometimes sounds like an accusation.

What I’m saying is,

There is no way this land and its people slipped away from me and swear I wear Bahasa Indonesia like an armor.

What I’m saying is,

Yes, i know we have 700 local languages but it would just be like running in a circle, passing the baton of pain to my own self.

Which explained,

The morning you texted me,

kita nggak bisa sama-sama lagi*

I wanted to say jangan

I wanted to say kita bisa benerin ini kok

I wanted to say aku nggak tau cara jatuh cinta sama orang lain

I wanted to say I do not want to unlearn the angles and the shapes i have to sculpt my body to fit to yours

Instead,

I reached out to this language, my escape plan, and built a fort out of it. Because i know in there, the burn from bullets of your words melt into spools of broken record

G-Gg-Goodb-b-Goodbye.

So

I typed, Okay.

I typed, I’m sorry if i ever hurt you.

I typed, I wish you well.

I typed, I probably will write poems about you ha ha :)

And as I am mending the open scar, one autocorrect at a time,

i imagined the words echoing inside the empty warzone in our chest,

And when they are finished,

like a wounded soldier,

I will march back to the motherland.

This poem indeed made a fun stage. UWRF is an international festival & known for attracting crowds from all over the world, the diverse audience seemed to like the language bits in my poem. I heard laughter, and cheer, and some “awww.."-s.