Street smart: Women's day and all that jazz

Sun, 03/15/2009 1:04 PM  |  On the Town

Last week's long weekend has rolled over into another hectic weekday. Jakartans have continued with their busy lives. Bear with me as I try to sketch last Tuesday in my head. It goes a little something like this.

As you arrive at work with your freshly-washed hair, still damp yet already smelling like the armpit of the man standing next to you in the TransJakarta bus, you hear people enjoy morning chit-chat about who they saw at the Java Jazz Festival. You hear it again on your lunch break.

Your carpool buddy, who usually plays Celine Dion on his car stereo, today puts on Roy Ayer's CD at full blast. Again, you hear how great Roy's performance was at the festival and you wonder if this guy really knows what he's talking about.

Your mind wanders and your eyes are caught by the swaying doll-sized t-shirt he stuck on the inside of his windshield. The pointless tiny t-shirt is printed with the words *I (heart) Jazz'.

The Java Jazz Festival has yet again given the city jazz fever. This has been an annual epidemic attacking the middle and upper middle class citizens of the city every time the festival hits town. Worry not, it will go away in a week or so. Your colleagues will go back to their generic love ballads before you know it.

A festival ticketing officer said close to 200,000 tickets were officially sold to the three-day festival. That's excludes the thousands of people carrying ID cards around their necks, acting like they are holier than the mortals who actually had to buy tickets.

Yes I was there, too. It was my fourth year performing at Java Jazz, and my first to actually stick around after getting off the stage.

To each their own, but to me, this is not how I want to enjoy jazz -- The human traffic jam, the running into pretentious old friends, and the advertisements branding every corner possible.

It's like eating the finest *foie gras' at a crowded food court, where its so packed you have to gulp it down standing up, while some kids scream in your ears and then pukes into your last bite of that excellent delicacy. That's what the festival felt like to me. On the bright side, I did get to see some genius talent that was worth the extra cash I'll spend on my therapist to treat the post-Java Jazz anxiety attacks.

But excuse me, if I may turn your attention from the glorious fest for one second and look another way to something that might have slipped your calendar. Do you know that International Women's Day just came and went on the 8th of March, while some were busy grooving their fedoras to Swing Out Sisters?

Wouldn't blame you if you didn't know, because most people who care are the usual activists, bitter feminists and their Facebook friends. To me and my friends, it's quite a special day which we use to celebrate our womanhood. This past couple of years we've organized fun little events like discussions, film screenings, and women's-only fiestas that go on from dusk till dawn. This year though, I was determined to celebrate Women's Day at the jazz fest, thinking I was bound to see modern-day feminism at work.

Never self-proclaiming myself as a feminist, because the word has taken in one too many contradictive definitions, my version of feminism is based on freedom of choice and sexual liberty. So I didn't want to judge when I saw hundreds of Sales Promotion Girls clad in tiny tube tops, latex mini skirts, and 4 inch heels selling cigarettes, beer, and car speakers. If it's something they love to do, then you go, girl. Nobody has the right to accuse them of being disempowered. I am more intrigued to find out how this whole *sex sells' idea got so out of proportions that its almost mandatory now to have young women show some cleavage and legs in order to meet profit targets.

Meanwhile backstage at one of the concert halls an artist manager boasts about the newest act he's handling, a dazzlingly beautiful singer who, in his own words, "has a so-so voice but is good eye-candy".

I went outside for some air and a few puffs when I ran into an acquaintance, who was affiliated with the festival's biggest sponsor. He asked if I have any plans later that night. Apparently he was planning a post-concert party for one of the international stars.

"He *the international star* asked me to bring as many girls as possible, so you could come if you want," he bragged. But it wasn't me that he was really inviting. He was talking as loud as he could, so the two hotties smoking next to us could hear.

After I politely declined, he turns to the girls and says, "how bout you, ladies? You want to come?" The tall one leaned in and asked, "will there be locals, or bule?" while the shorter one introduced her self. As the guy went on name-dropping and the girls giggle, I slipped out unnoticed and decide that this year is not my year for celebrating Women's Day. I'll just try to enjoy all that Jazz.

- Kartika Jahja

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