“Never tell people you are Chinese. You’re just Indonesian,” my grandmother always reminds me.
At first, I didn’t understand why she kept saying this; I assumed it was a remnant of her traumatic past. She was among those who had to change her name and her birth certificate in 1965 to be “Indonesianized”, stripping her identity in the process.
Despite this, we wholeheartedly celebrate Chinese New Year each year. We have the orange trees, the chaotic family reunions and, yes, the extra pocket money.
Yet, as I anticipate the hongbao (cash gift in a red envelope) I’ll receive this year, I realize…