I Am Not Special

The best lesson that Life has taught me is that I am not special.

There will always be people taller/shorter than me
There will always be people smarter/dumber than me
There will always be people who have more/less than me
There will always be people more attractive/less attractive than me
There will always be people faster/slower than me
There will always be people kinder/meaner than me
There will always be people funnier/sadder than me
There will always be people who know more/less than me
There will always be people who communicate better/worse than me
There will always be people who get what I want but couldn't have, and
There will always be people who wanted what I got but couldn't have

Therefore, I am not special. There will always be someone who bests me, both in being best and being worse.

The dark wavy hair that my family shares
The exotic face and skin color that my sub-race shares
The knowledge of life that my nation shares
The laughter that people share
The grief and tears that people shed
The lost of love, the finding of love, the decision to live, the struggle and strive to live
The pain and joy and fear and glee, the anxiety and calmness and depression and elation
The discovery and the loss, the long waiting and the quick reward
The trial, the error, the experience
All of these shared by other people
Amplified in some, downplayed in others

Therefore, I am not special. There will always be someone who looks or thinks or feels like me, I see a part of me in every human being.

But Life has also taught me that I am indeed special.
There are no two things in this world that are identical from one another
Not even if it comes from the same mold
Not even if it looks like a perfect copy to a human's eyes
Just like snowflakes and human's twins
Therefore, I am special

My thoughts, which also thought by many other human to some degree, are mine and mine alone
My emotions, which also felt by many other human to some degree, are mine and mine alone
My physical characteristic, which also exist in many other human to some degree, are mine and mine alone
My skills and abilities, which also present in many other human to some degree, are mine and mine alone
My choices and decisions, which also made by many other human to some degree, are mine and mine alone
My life and how I live it are mine and mine alone
Just as a flower: the soil that nurtured me, the seed that sprouted me, the climate that surrounded me,
All together made me who I am, and no flowers are exactly the same
I am who I am, the one and only me
Therefore, I am special

In this world I am not special because everybody, including myself, is special
I couldn't raise myself and look down on them, because they have something I don't have
A piece of them that is different than mine, a piece of them that is more than mine, be it better or worse
They couldn't raise himself and look down on me, because I have something they don't have
A piece of me that is different than theirs, a piece of me that is more than theirs, be it better or worse
We are not special, because each and every one of us is special

We are but a drop of water in the ocean
Each with story to tell on how he/she get there, and the journey that they take
Each has different shapes and different number of atoms, each is unique and one of a kind
Together these drops create the ocean where the sea-animals live
Together these drops made the waves that corrode the rocks
Together these drops made life, sustained life, or destroyed it
Each is special, and uniquely themselves
Each is precious

I am not special, and neither are you.
Yet I am also special, and so are you
And in this sea of life, I am glad I met someone special like you
I am glad that I met you

The Tall Tale of The Color

While some Americans have made bitterly racist remarks about Miss America Nina Davuluri based on the color of her skin, it seems that people in India have problems with her dark skin as well. Some even speculate that Davuluri wouldn’t have been fair-skinned enough to win a pageant in her parents’ home country. - Watch the full clip here

Surprise surprise. Oh wait, sorry. I am not surprised at all.

I often looked at my husband at night when he slept so peacefully next to me, and thought, what did he actually see in me? He is funny and kind, with muscular build and handsome face. His smile is really disarming and when we walked together I noticed people checking on him. When we walked together in Bali a lot of women, old and young, commenting in Balinese and Bahasa Indonesia on how good-looking he was. He is so perfect and I am not. The only reason I don't go berserk whenever he talks to other women is because I know how much he love me. And I still went berserk sometimes. Can't help it. All of this, our marriage and all, for all I know could have been a really cruel joke all along. Like I said, why does he want me anyway? I am not perfect.

He has difficult time understanding my insecurity, because in his mind I am perfect. He thinks I am beautiful and assured me that countless time. I told him how lonely I was because my society thinks I did not "make the cut", and he can't believe it. He would look at me and smile happily and say: "You are so pretty!". It is, trust me, something that never happened in my previous experience. Sweet, yes. Sexy, maybe. But never pretty. Never beautiful. Never desirable.

But it was not my fault. It was just how my society made me. We gravitate so heavily towards "fairness". At one point the winner of Miss Indonesia was a Caucasian descendant who looked so Caucasian she could easily pass as one. The Judges' argumentation: the Caucasian look will helped her secure better position in the upcoming Miss World. Yes, feel free to collectively bump your head to the table. All the commercials, movies, news anchor, all the places where you can see, all fair-skinned and I very seldom see (if any) dark-skinned Indonesian beauties. It was the same for social events, where the fair-skinned one will get the most attention. A relative of mine overheard her father-in-law said to her husband: can't you even get a fairer wife? In 1937 Miguel Covarrubias wrote in his book "The Island of Bali": To the Balinese, the average features of Nordics are not to be admired.... a girl with golden skin is considered beautiful even if the other requirements is missing..." Apparently the preference change with time.

My little sister in a TV commercial, one of the very few TV commercials 

that actually starred dark-skinned beauties a.k.a normal Indonesian women

It doesn't make any sense though. Our tropical climate gave us the rich pigment to protect ourselves from the sun, why do we even want to throw it away? It was comical how the dark-skinned women from the tropical country tried hard to whiten their skin yet their counterpart from the colder climate flocked to tanning bed to make them look "glowing and healthy". It is also absurd to know that the only place where you can be yourself is a place faraway from home, because only then your beauty can be appreciated.   

There are a lot of Ninas in the world, the dark-skinned women who are alienated in their own society but somehow getting acknowledgement in a place faraway from home. Which is a shame, because I kind of like my home. But a lot more don't have such privilege. I wish I can urge people to change their preference so these Ninas can get the fighting chance that they deserved, but I can't. Nobody can change other people's preference except themselves. I wish I can urge these Ninas to not give in to whitening cream and other product to fit in the silly demanding society, but I can't. I understand their loneliness far too well. What I can do is to ensure that you understand that beauty is beauty. It comes in different types and shapes. One would find you attractive and others would not. In the end, beauty is in the eye of beholder. If you think you are beautiful, then you are. The goal is not to be beautiful enough to be accepted by others, the goal should be beautiful enough to be accepted by yourself. Because in the end, you would live with yourself forever.

I was putting on rogue on my cheek last Saturday night before we went dancing when I remember so many other times I put on my makeup. Eyeliner first, making big cat eyes; then rogue, lipstick, and face powder. I remember feeling elated in every single one of them, and as I checked my self in the mirror I always feel a surge of pride which often followed by an ecstatic: "Damn I look good!!". Others may be more beautiful than me, society may deemed I am not beautiful enough, but who cares. I like what I see in the mirror. And in the end, it's all that matters.