Editor’s Note:
This article reflects the personal opinions and experiences of author Aida Greenbury, an Indonesian writer known for her social commentary on gender, culture, and everyday life in Indonesia. It was written at a time when discussions of workplace sexism and sexual harassment were far less common than they are today. While many of the issues Ida raises remain relevant, workplace laws, corporate policies, and public awareness regarding gender equality and harassment have evolved significantly since this article was first published. The article is presented as a historical opinion piece and should be read in that context.
Steve sunk into his soft blue director’s chair. He eyed Sarah’s appearance, starting with her naturally styled dark brunette hair, then her long tanned neck adorned with a tiny black Bvlgari pendant resting just above her cleavage. His eyes finally locked on where Sarah’s skirt ended—exactly five centimetres above her kneecaps.
He grunted and said, “Sarah, this is our new consultant. John, meet Sarah—my P.R. manager.”
Then, leaning closer to John, he added in a lower voice, “Don’t be fooled by the way she looks. She may look like a cheeky babe, but she’s actually got a brain.”
He rolled his eyes as though that were an especially worrying phenomenon.
Sarah heard the remark. But, like always, she ignored it. She had learned to ignore comments like these. Otherwise, they would have been too much to bear.
She had been blessed with good looks and enjoyed them. She wasn’t ashamed of them. She knew that beauty could sometimes open doors—from talking her way out of a traffic ticket to persuading bosses to support one of her campaign ideas. Having an intelligent mind to match certainly didn’t hurt.
Working in the headquarters of a large mining company in Jakarta had initially been a challenge. About ninety percent of the office occupants were men. Most of the women who worked there were secretaries or office girls. Sarah often wondered why the company preferred office girls to office boys. Eventually she concluded that management simply accepted the traditional roles that had long existed within the company. Many of the women were limited to routine administrative tasks such as making photocopies and preparing the bosses’ strong black coffee each morning.
In Sarah’s corporate world there were no other female executives besides herself. That fact made some of her colleagues uncomfortable. Her presence seemed to irritate them—especially members of the board of directors.
Like Steve, two other directors were Americans. Sarah sometimes wondered whether some of their attitudes had been shaped by the environments in which they had previously worked and the stereotypes they had formed about Indonesian women.
During meetings they occasionally scribbled things in their notebooks instead of paying attention. Sarah often wondered what they were really thinking.
What was this attractive woman doing in their empire? In their minds, women like her belonged at home wearing an apron, cooking dinner, or perhaps waiting for their husbands—not sitting confidently in a board meeting discussing corporate strategy.
Something didn’t fit the picture they expected.
Yet there she was, sitting across the boardroom table with her legs crossed, speaking confidently about the company’s future. Some of them appeared almost conflicted by her presence. They disliked what she represented, yet couldn’t help noticing her.
Some of Sarah’s friends even suggested she sue the men for verbal or sexual harassment.
Sarah simply stared at them in disbelief.
“Get real,” she replied. “File a sexual harassment lawsuit against these men in this male la-la land? At the moment, many people still believe women exist to be admired first and respected second. If a man pays attention to you—no matter how inappropriate—you are often expected to feel flattered rather than offended.”
Oh, Sarah…was that going too far?
Was she rejecting feminism? Or was she being sexist herself? Where exactly was the line? How much harassment was too much? And how much responsibility belonged with those who admired beauty versus those who displayed it?
One day Steve refused to meet with Sarah to discuss an important issue because, as he jokingly admitted, he found her too distracting.
That did it.
Nobody could blame Sarah for becoming bitter.
If you possess something beautiful, isn’t it natural to show it? There is nothing unusual about people taking pride in their appearance. Some men proudly display their physiques in tight T-shirts or carefully tailored Armani suits. Others deliberately wear designer labels where everyone can see them.
So why should women be judged differently?
Office dress codes are often surprisingly vague. Many simply require employees to dress “appropriately” or “professionally.” But especially for women, what exactly does that mean? How much skin must be covered before an outfit is considered respectable?
For women blessed with what society considers exceptional beauty, these unwritten rules often seem impossible to satisfy. A glimpse of skin, a few loose tendrils of hair, or the slightest smile can be interpreted in ways never intended.
Just as audiences once watched the character Ling Woo from the television series Ally McBeal and viewed almost everything she did through a sexual lens, some people seem determined to judge attractive women by their appearance before considering their abilities.
In many countries today, Sarah might have had strong legal grounds to challenge repeated workplace harassment. Whether she would have succeeded in Indonesia at the time this story was written is another question entirely.
This was, after all, a society where people too often responded to reports of sexual assault by asking, “What was she wearing?”
Perhaps displaying your body can sometimes be viewed as a sexist act.
But ultimately it is not appearance that creates harassment.
It is how the observer chooses to interpret what they see.
If more people could look beyond a woman’s gender—beyond her figure, beyond her appearance—and instead judge her intelligence, professionalism and character, then perhaps sexual harassment would become far less common.
Simple as that.
First published in the Jakarta Post.
Aida Greenbury is an Indonesian writer whose articles explore Indonesian society, culture, relationships, gender issues, and everyday life through humour, satire, and personal observation. Her opinion pieces have appeared in The Jakarta Post and other publications, offering thoughtful commentary on the social issues of her time.
