The relationship between feminist movements and lesbian and trans activists in Indonesia reveals fundamental tensions about what feminism means in the world’s largest Muslim-majority country. These tensions reflect not merely conservative religious opposition, but deeper questions within feminist organisations themselves about whether they can reconcile commitments to gender equality with interpretations of Islam that many members hold dear. Understanding these internal dynamics requires recognising that Indonesian feminism is not monolithic, and that progressive religious feminists face genuine dilemmas in navigating between their faith commitments and solidarity with sexual minorities.
As Indonesian feminist scholar Saskia Wieringa notes, feminist struggles in Indonesia must be understood within their own historical and cultural context, not simply imported from Western frameworks. [1] The question of LGBT inclusion crystallises these tensions, forcing Indonesian feminists to grapple with what it means to build a feminism that is simultaneously radical, pluralistic, and rooted in Indonesian realities.
The “Half-Hearted Feminist” Debate
Within Indonesian feminist circles, tensions over LGBT inclusion have produced what some call the “feminis nanggung” [2] (half-hearted feminist) debate. Some LGBT-inclusive feminist communities explicitly challenge those who identify as feminists but refuse to support LGBT people. [3] The social media account Indonesia Feminis bluntly stated: “There’s no such thing as a feminist who doesn’t support LGBT.” [4]
This position sparked fierce contestation. Writing in Mojok, commentators discussed the “bitterness of being a half-hearted feminist” – the predicament of Muslims attempting to embrace feminism whilst remaining consistent with Islamic values. [5] For many Indonesian Muslim women, the insistence that feminism necessarily requires LGBT advocacy creates what seems an impossible choice between feminist solidarity and religious conviction.
Indonesian feminism has historically been plural and inclusive, encompassing diverse approaches rooted in different social, religious and political contexts. [6] But the emergence of LGBT activism, of modern conservative Islamist approaches to women’s rights and duties, and the shift of debate into social media has created increasingly firm and incompatible positions on sexuality and gender identity.
A Fractured Alliance
Feminist and LGBT movements in Indonesia should be natural allies. Both challenge patriarchal structures, both face accusations of importing “Western values”, and both confront a common adversary in the form of rising religious conservatism. Since 2016, when government officials from Vice President Jusuf Kalla [7] to Bandung Mayor Ridwan Kamil launched vitriolic attacks on LGBT communities, and since 2019 when the Indonesia Tanpa Feminis (Indonesia Without Feminists) movement gained traction, both groups have faced escalating hostility. [8]
Unfortunately, feminist organisations in Indonesia remain deeply divided over whether and how to include lesbian and trans issues in their struggles. This division reflects the genuine complexity of articulating a feminism consistent with Islamic faith in a context where 93 per cent of Indonesians consider religion central to their lives. [9]
Early Promises, Persistent Tensions
LGBT people in Indonesia experience systematic stigma and discrimination, worsened by justice institutions that remain inaccessible to them. When LGBT people experience violence or crime, they often choose silence rather than legal recourse. State apparatus and media both contribute to perpetuating stigma through discriminatory actions and unbalanced reporting. [10]
The Indonesian feminist movement’s relationship with lesbian, bisexual and trans (LBT) issues has been fraught from the beginning. When Koalisi Perempuan Indonesia untuk Keadilan dan Demokrasi [11] (KPI – Indonesian Women’s Coalition for Justice and Democracy) held its founding congress in December 1998, bringing together 500 women from 25 provinces, it established 15 sectoral presidiums representing various constituencies. Sector 15 was designated for lesbians, bisexuals and transsexuals – marking the first time a major Indonesian feminist organisation explicitly included LBT activists in its structure. [12]
This inclusion proved contentious. Within KPI’s leadership, religiously inclined members accepted women’s activism but rejected the notion that being LBT constituted a human right. The tensions exploded during the 2009 election for KPI’s third secretary general, when one candidate weaponised LBT inclusion in a negative campaign against rivals. Several regional branches warned that supporting an LBT-friendly candidate would hinder KPI’s work in their areas. In response, several LBT members withdrew from KPI, including Sri Agustine, who went on to found the Ardhanary Institute in 2005. [13]
Between 2009 and 2020, KPI’s LBT sector existed in what current secretary general Mike Verawati describes as a “state of vacuum”. Two branch administrators left KPI specifically because they could not accept LGBT inclusion. In 2023, Mike Verawati recalled that when she was organising in East Java, KPI received crucial support from GAYa NUSANTARA, led by pioneering activist Dédé Oetomo, including funding and a two-week training course on gender and sexuality. “This is what gives me my strongest motivation to fight for LGBT rights”, she reflects. [14]
Contrasting Approaches: The Spectrum of Indonesian Feminisms
Indonesian feminist discourse increasingly recognises the need for intersectional analysis that acknowledges how different women experience oppression differently based on class, sexuality, disability and other identity markers in Indonesia’s diverse multi-ethnic, multi-cultural society. [15] Yet this recognition itself becomes a site of struggle when applied to LGBT inclusion.
Secular feminist organisations such as Jurnal Perempuan, Magdalene and LBH-APIK (Legal Aid Foundation, Indonesian Women’s Association for Justice) openly champion LGBT rights as integral to their feminist struggle. [16] These organisations face less internal tension precisely because they do not need to reconcile their positions with religious doctrine. Magdalene, for instance, has consistently centred LGBT voices in its coverage and explicitly frames LGBT rights as feminist issues. [17]
By contrast, organisations rooted in Islamic tradition navigate far more treacherous ground. The Kongres Ulama Perempuan Indonesia (KUPI – Indonesian Women Ulema’s Congress), which held its first congress in 2017, exemplifies this cautious approach. Many KUPI members also belong to Nahdlatul Ulama (NU), Indonesia’s largest Muslim organisation with an estimated 95 million adherents. [18]
KUPI’s work focuses on developing gender-equitable interpretations of Islamic texts through methodologies like qira’ah mubādalah [19] (reciprocal reading), which emphasises mutual respect and equality in Quranic interpretation. [20] When the Sexual Violence Eradication Bill became a battleground between 2016 and 2022, KUPI defended the legislation against conservative opponents who claimed it would “legalise LGBT”. KUPI clarified that the bill addressed violence, not sexual orientation, stating: “If LGBT people commit sexual violence they can also be prosecuted, but [the bill] is not regulating LGBT.” [21]
KUPI thus defended the bill whilst carefully avoiding direct, explicit endorsement of LGBT rights – a strategy reflecting their interpretation of Islamic law and their pragmatic recognition of their members’ constraints. This approach drew criticism from some quarters. As Indonesian feminist discussions noted, even within progressive Islamic feminism, there remain deep anxieties about being perceived as pro-LGBT, which could undermine credibility with conservative Muslim constituencies. [22]
Progressive Islamic Spaces and Interpretations
Indonesian Islam encompasses enormous diversity. Professor Siti Musdah Mulia, Indonesia’s most prominent progressive Islamic scholar and recipient of the prestigious Yap Thiam Hien Human Rights Award, [23] argues that Islam is rahmatan lil alamin [24] – a blessing for all beings – and that condemning LGBT people contradicts Islam’s central principles of justice, virtue, equality, wisdom, compassion and human rights. [25]
“There is nothing wrong with being gay and Muslim”, she states plainly. “Only God has the right to rule whether people are wrong or not, faithful or not. The problem with our society is that there are too many people who place themselves as God.” She distinguishes between sexual orientation (which she views as innate) and sexual behaviour, arguing that Islam condemns irresponsible sexual acts that harm others, regardless of the participants’ orientation. [26]
Other progressive scholars include Arif Nuh Safri, Masthuriyah Sa’dan, and Abdul Moqsith Ghazali. [27] The Gusdurian Network, named after former President Abdurrahman Wahid [28] (Gus Dur) and comprising thousands of grassroots activists across more than 100 Indonesian cities, actively promotes pluralism, democracy and human rights. Gusdurian leaders defend LGBT rights through progressive Quranic reinterpretation, arguing that Quranic condemnation refers not to homosexuality per se but to sexual violence, coercion and rape. [29]
Trans activist Amar Alfikar, an Indonesian trans man who studied theology at the University of Birmingham, founded Indonesian Queer Muslims + Allies (IQAMAH) to create virtual spaces where queer Muslims gather weekly to recite the Quran and discuss Islamic theology. [30] When Alfikar came out to his parents, his father invoked the concept of taqdir [31] (destiny): “If I kicked him out for being who he is, then I reject what Allah has destined for him, for my family.” [32] This theological framing – that transgender identity constitutes God’s will rather than human deviance – offers Indonesian queer Muslims a pathway to reconcile faith and identity.
Indonesia also hosts trans-inclusive religious spaces. The Al-Fatah Islamic boarding school in Yogyakarta, founded in 2008 by transgender woman Shinta Ratri (who died in 2023), provided spiritual education for transgender Muslims. In December 2021, Al-Fatah organised a Christmas celebration with Christian trans women, embodying interfaith solidarity. [33] The Bethani Church in Yogyakarta and Ledalero Catholic School of Philosophy in Flores also welcome transgender worshippers. [34]
These progressive interpretations and inclusive spaces remain minoritarian within Indonesian Islam. They exist alongside – and in tension with – dominant conservative readings. Yet their presence demonstrates that the relationship between Islam and LGBT rights need not be one of automatic opposition.
Perempuan Mahardhika: An Explicitly Inclusive Model
Against this backdrop of tension and caution, Perempuan Mahardhika (Free Women) stands out for its unambiguous embrace of lesbian and trans rights as central to feminist struggle. Founded in 2003, Perempuan Mahardhika is a grassroots organisation based primarily amongst women workers in Jakarta’s industrial zones, particularly Cakung. [35] [36] The organisation explicitly states that its members include women of “diverse gender backgrounds”, using gender-inclusive language unusual for Indonesian organisations. [37]
Since 2012, Perempuan Mahardhika has run annual “Feminist Schools” for women workers, programmes designed to connect workers’ daily experiences of discrimination and exploitation to structural analyses of patriarchy and capitalism. Alongside this, the organisation pioneered “Rainbow Training” specifically for lesbian, bisexual and trans women workers. According to Perempuan Mahardhika’s organisational documents: “The struggle of sexual identity became part of Perempuan Mahardhika’s struggle for women’s equality and liberation.” [38]
This integration is not rhetorical. Rainbow Training provides LBT workers with education, solidarity and organising skills, treating sexual and gender identity as core labour and feminist issues. Perempuan Mahardhika’s approach reflects its ideological framework, which combines feminist analysis with explicit anti-capitalism and opposition to militarism. [39]
Aliansi Perempuan Indonesia: Contested Inclusion in Practice
Perempuan Mahardhika is a founding member of Aliansi Perempuan Indonesia (API – Indonesian Women’s Alliance), a coalition that by 2025 comprised 94 organisations including women’s groups, trade unions, human rights organisations, Indigenous peoples’ organisations and media outlets. [40] As Konde.co and other Indonesian feminist media have documented extensively, API has become increasingly prominent through mobilising mass demonstrations that explicitly include LGBT activists and demands.
On 3 September 2025, several hundred people dressed in pink and bearing broomsticks marched to parliament. API describes itself as providing “political consolidation for vulnerable groups with diverse occupations and social backgrounds, including migrant workers, Indigenous peoples, researchers, activists, LGBT people, persons with disabilities, and journalists.” [41] The pink colour represents courage, whilst broomsticks symbolise the intention to “sweep away the dirt of the state, militarism, and police repression”. [42]
Arus Pelangi (Rainbow Flows), Indonesia’s national federation of LGBT organisations, is one of API’s founding members. [43] At the September 2025 demonstration, Echa Waode, deputy chair and secretary general of Arus Pelangi, delivered speeches from the command vehicle. “The state forgets that it also eats LGBT people’s taxes!” she declared, critiquing government hypocrisy. [44] Echa, active with Arus Pelangi since 2019, provides support for LGBT people who “frequently experience discrimination and criminalisation”. [45]
The September 2025 demonstration brought together “women, gender and sexual minorities, persons with disabilities, campus workers, Indigenous peoples, and workers” in an explicitly inclusive mobilisation. [46] API frames its work around the principle that “no one should be left behind in the resistance movement”. [47]
Yet this inclusion remains fiercely contested. Even during the September 2025 demonstration, social media users launched hate speech against participants. “We were told we weren’t appropriate to be on the command vehicle because we’re not women”, Echa recounted. [48] In December 2024, LGBT people who participated in the annual Women’s March faced cyberbullying and online gender-based violence. [49]
Echa acknowledged that “some parties were disappointed with API for involving queer people”, even though “queer people’s rights are included in women’s issues”. She views this as demonstrating society’s need to “learn again about the meaning of inclusivity”. [50] As Floresa reported, Echa emphasised: “What we voice are the rights of vulnerable groups, not limited to women.” [51]
The tensions within API mirror broader contradictions in Indonesian feminist coalitions. The 2017 Jakarta Women’s March, organised by a coalition of 33 organisations that would evolve into Gerak Perempuan [52] (the Women’s Movement Against Violence alliance), included among its eight demands to government the “elimination [of] discrimination and violence against the LGBT community”. [53] By 2020, the coalition had expanded to over 60 civil rights organisations. [54]
In practice, not all API members share the same commitment to LGBT inclusion. As Kompas.id reported in its coverage of feminist mobilisations, the emergence of rainbow flags and other LGBT symbols in feminist movements “are still seen as a threat and bring antipathy because they are considered contrary to societal norms for some communities in Indonesia.” [55] The article noted that whilst intersectional feminism theoretically accommodates diverse struggles, in practice “the tendency to accommodate many groups actually makes the social movement stagnant.” [56]
This observation captures a genuine dilemma: does building broad feminist coalitions require finding lowest-common-denominator positions that exclude LGBT people, or does authentic feminism necessitate LGBT inclusion even if this fractures alliances?
The External Assault and Internal Reverberations
The tensions within feminist movements over LGBT inclusion cannot be understood apart from the coordinated assault both movements have faced since 2016. Indonesia Tanpa Feminis (Indonesia Without Feminists) emerged in 2019 with provocative slogans like “#UninstallFeminism” and “My body is not mine”, the latter referencing Islamic doctrine that bodies belong to God. The movement framed feminism as Western propaganda incompatible with Indonesian Islamic values. [57]
A much bigger shift came with the emergence of Aliansi Cinta Keluarga (AILA – Family Love Alliance), founded in 2013 by conservative Islamic organisations. AILA mobilised Muslim women to oppose the Sexual Violence Eradication Bill, arguing that the legislation would legitimise extramarital sex, undermine traditional family structures, and normalise LGBT identities. [58] AILA’s campaign succeeded in delaying the bill for years and forcing substantial compromises.
This opposition weaponised fears about LGBT “infiltration” of feminist movements. Conservative politicians and activists claimed feminist organisations were foreign-funded fronts promoting LGBT agendas. They argued the Sexual Violence Eradication Bill contained hidden provisions legalising homosexuality. [59] Though factually false, these claims resonated and placed pressure on Islamic feminist organisations to distance themselves from LGBT issues to maintain legitimacy.
The eventual passage of the Sexual Violence Crimes Law in April 2022, eight years after the bill’s introduction, represented a feminist victory achieved partly through progressive Islamic advocacy. KUPI, Aisyiyah [60] (Muhammadiyah’s women’s wing), Muslimat NU and other Muslim women’s organisations provided crucial support. [61] Yet the law’s passage required excising direct LGBT protections and avoiding language about bodily autonomy that conservatives found threatening.
Building Indonesian Feminism: Plural, Inclusive, and Contested
Indonesian feminist conferences and discussions increasingly frame the challenge as building a feminism that is simultaneously plural, inclusive and contextually grounded. As LETSS Talk, Konde.co and Padepokan GAIA stated in convening the 2023 Kartini Conference [62] on Indonesian Feminisms, the goal is “strengthening Indonesian feminism that is inclusive and plural according to the situation and conditions of Indonesian women’s struggle today.” [63]
Conference organiser Diah Irawaty explained that Indonesian feminism has always been intertwined with the nation’s socio-political history, not merely shaped by but also shaping Indonesian nationalism. “The richness of Indonesian feminism’s experience has become one source of study and research about feminism, gender, sexuality, and even queer by many social scientists from various disciplines,” she noted. [64] The conference featured 118 papers and 31 discussion themes, demonstrating the breadth of feminist scholarship and activism in Indonesia. [65]
Konde.co editor Luviana Ariyanti emphasised the role of media in feminist struggle, noting that digital feminism offers new tools and tactics. “When women activists raise cases on social media using hashtags, cases become exposed at the national level and attract public attention.” [66] Yet she also noted ongoing challenges: many media outlets still treat women as objects of sensationalism, coverage prioritises urban over rural issues, and entertainment value often objectifies women. [67]
The question of what constitutes authentic Indonesian feminism remains contested. As Kompas.id reported, different branches of feminist thought – cultural feminism, structural feminism, liberal feminism, radical feminism, and intersectional feminism – all claim space within Indonesian discourse. [68] Feminist scholar Dewi Candraningrum warns against what British feminist Angela McRobbie calls “discounted feminism” – cherry-picking certain feminist principles whilst rejecting others, particularly around issues like environmentalism or LGBT rights. [69]
Yet the insistence on a unified, non-negotiable feminism that necessarily includes LGBT advocacy itself becomes a site of struggle. For many Indonesian Muslim women, this framing forces an impossible choice. As discussions of “feminisme nanggung” reveal, substantial numbers of Indonesian women support gender equality, oppose patriarchy, and work for women’s liberation whilst maintaining that their Islam cannot accommodate LGBT affirmation. [70] Dismissing these women as “not real feminists” may be ideologically consistent from certain feminist perspectives, but it risks fracturing movements and alienating potential allies.
Towards Solidarity?
The future of feminist-LGBT relations in Indonesia remains uncertain. The 2024 presidential election demonstrated the continuing potency of identity politics and religious mobilisation. Conservative Islamic groups have become increasingly sophisticated in their attacks on both feminism and LGBT rights, framing both as foreign imports threatening Indonesian Islamic civilisation.
Yet spaces for alliance persist and expand. The success of progressive Islamic scholars in reaching younger Muslims through social media creates new constituencies less bound by conservative orthodoxy. Amar Alfikar’s work building queer Muslim communities and the proliferation of inter-faith dialogue initiatives demonstrate growing infrastructure for LGBT-affirming religious interpretations. [71]
Within feminist movements, organisations must confront uncomfortable questions. Can religious feminists articulate Islam-consistent positions that genuinely embrace LGBT rights, or will faith commitments always limit solidarity? Can secular feminist organisations build meaningful alliances with religious feminists despite these limitations, or do divergent positions on sexuality constitute insurmountable barriers? How should LBT activists relate to feminist organisations that support their presence conditionally or partially?
Indonesian feminism encompasses irreconcilable positions – from Perempuan Mahardhika’s full integration of LBT struggles to KUPI’s careful avoidance of direct endorsement. As Saskia Wieringa suggests, perhaps the solution lies in building broad platforms based not on complete ideological alignment but on affinity. “If there’s a group that only wants to focus on labour issues but doesn’t want to follow sexuality issues, that’s okay, they don’t need to accept all issues on their platform,” she proposes. “Let’s work on our own issues but unite to build a common platform.” [72]
This approach acknowledges that Indonesian lesbian and trans activists cannot wait for feminist movements to resolve their internal contradictions before demanding rights and recognition. They build their own organisations, create their own religious interpretations, and forge their own alliances. Sometimes these intersect productively with feminist movements, as in Perempuan Mahardhika’s Rainbow Training or API’s inclusion of LGBT demands in demonstrations. Sometimes they proceed in parallel, as when queer Muslim groups meet separately from mainstream Islamic organisations. Sometimes they clash, as when LBT members withdraw from feminist organisations that will not defend them.
The intensity of opposition both movements face – the violence, the legal persecution, the social ostracism – argues for maximum solidarity between feminists and LGBT activists. Yet solidarity cannot be manufactured through moral exhortation. It requires Indonesian feminists, particularly those within religious traditions, to grapple honestly with whether their interpretations of Islam genuinely accommodate LGBT inclusion or merely tolerate LGBT existence whilst refusing substantive support. It requires secular feminists to recognise that for many Indonesian women, Islam is not an unfortunate constraint to overcome but a cherished identity through which feminist commitments must be articulated. And it requires LGBT activists to navigate these contradictions whilst building movements capable of winning concrete gains despite feminist ambivalence.
Indonesian feminism’s fractured response to lesbian and trans rights reveals fundamental questions about liberation movements in religious contexts. Can feminism rooted in Islamic tradition fully embrace sexual and gender minorities, or will theological commitments always circumscribe solidarity? As Indonesian feminist scholars and activists continue debating these questions in conferences, publications and street mobilisations, they are not merely working through local tensions but addressing challenges facing feminist movements across the Muslim world and beyond, wherever activists must negotiate between religious identities and comprehensive visions of human freedom.
Notes
[1] Saskia Wieringa, “Mengkaji Ulang Sejarah Gerakan Perempuan Indonesia”, Konde.co, 23 February 2023, https://www.konde.co/2023/02/mengkaji-ulang-sejarah-gerakan-perempuan-indonesia/
[2] The phrase “feminis nanggung” literally translates as “half-hearted feminist” or “incomplete feminist”, referring to those who embrace some feminist principles whilst rejecting LGBT advocacy.
[3] “Fenomena Feminisme Nanggung: Menolak Dukungan terhadap LGBT”, Terkenal.co.id, 18 June 2025, https://terkenal.co.id/read/133444/fenomena-feminisme-nanggung-menolak-dukungan-terhadap-lgbt/
[4] Ibid.
[5] Ibid.
[6] “Konferensi Feminisme 2023: Pentingnya Perjuangkan Feminisme Inklusif dan Plural”, Konde.co, 28 March 2023, https://www.konde.co/2023/03/konferensi-feminisme-2023-pentingnya-perjuangkan-feminisme-indonesia-yang-inklusif-dan-plural.html/
[7] Jusuf Kalla served as Indonesia’s Vice President from 2004-2009 and again from 2014-2019 under President Joko Widodo.
[8] Julia Suryakusuma, “Feminists and LGBT”, Inside Indonesia, 24 November 2023, https://www.insideindonesia.org/archive/articles/feminists-and-lgbt
[9] Ibid.
[10] Luviana, “Bagaimana Situasi HAM dan Akses Terhadap LGBT di Indonesia? (1)”, Konde.co, 15 November 2020, https://www.konde.co/2017/01/bagaimana-situasi-ham-dan-akses.html/
[11] The Indonesian Women’s Coalition for Justice and Democracy was founded in December 1998 during Indonesia’s democratisation period following the fall of Suharto’s New Order regime.
[12] Suryakusuma, “Feminists and LGBT”
[13] Ibid.
[14] Ibid.
[15] “Kamus Feminis: Apa Itu Feminisme Interseksional?”, Konde.co, 30 August 2024, https://www.konde.co/2024/08/kamus-feminis-apa-itu-feminisme-interseksional-pentingnya-perspektif-kelas-dalam-membela-perempuan/
[16] Suryakusuma, “Feminists and LGBT”
[17] Aurelia Gracia, “Aksi Perempuan Melawan Kekerasan Negara: Suara yang Inklusif”, Magdalene, 8 September 2025, https://magdalene.co/story/demo-aliansi-perempuan-indonesia/
[18] Suryakusuma, “Feminists and LGBT”
[19] Qira’ah mubādalah (reciprocal reading) is an Islamic feminist hermeneutical method that interprets Quranic texts through principles of mutual respect, reciprocity and equality between genders, developed by Indonesian Islamic scholar Faqihuddin Abdul Kodir.
[20] Faqihuddin Abdul Kodir, “KUPI II Luncurkan Metodologi Fatwa dengan Tiga Pendekatan”, KUPI, 23 November 2022, https://kupi.or.id/kupi-ii-luncurkan-metodologi-fatwa-dengan-tiga-pendekatan/
[21] “Kongres Ulama Perempuan: RUU PKS Tidak Melegalkan LGBT”, Tribunnews.com, 24 June 2021, https://www.tribunnews.com/nasional/2021/06/24/kongres-ulama-perempuan-ruu-pks-tidak-melegalkan-lgbt
[22] “Fenomena Feminisme Nanggung: Menolak Dukungan terhadap LGBT”, Terkenal.co.id, 18 June 2025, https://terkenal.co.id/read/133444/fenomena-feminisme-nanggung-menolak-dukungan-terhadap-lgbt/
[23] The Yap Thiam Hien Human Rights Award is Indonesia’s most prestigious human rights honour, established in 1992 and named after the prominent Indonesian human rights lawyer of Chinese descent Yap Thiam Hien (1913-1989).
[24] Rahmatan lil alamin is an Arabic phrase meaning “a blessing for all beings” or “mercy to the worlds”, used to describe Islam’s universal message of compassion and justice.
[25] Hera Diani, “In the Land Where Everyone’s God: Interview with Musdah Mulia”, Magdalene, 26 June 2023, https://magdalene.co/story/in-the-land-where-everyones-god-interview-with-musdah-mulia/
[26] Ibid.
[27] Suryakusuma, “Feminists and LGBT”
[28] Abdurrahman Wahid (1940-2009), popularly known as Gus Dur, served as Indonesia’s fourth president from 1999-2001. A progressive Islamic leader and former head of Nahdlatul Ulama, he was renowned for his advocacy of pluralism, democracy, and religious tolerance.
[29] “A Longstanding Fear: LGBT Panic, Conservative Islamic Backlash, and Queer Islamic Resistance in Indonesia”, LSE Engenderings, 8 December 2023, https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/gender/2023/12/08/a-longstanding-fear-lgbt-panic-conservative-islamic-backlash-and-queer-islamic-resistance-in-indonesia/
[30] “ICRS Yogyakarta – Intersection Between Interfaith Dialogue and Queer Activism”, https://www.icrs.or.id/news/intersection-between-interfaith-dialogue-and-queer-activism-walking-together-in-differences
[31] Taqdir is an Arabic term meaning divine destiny or predestination, one of the six articles of faith in Islamic theology.
[32] Amar Alfikar, “Destined to Be Trans, Muslim, and Indonesian”, Zócalo Public Square, 22 January 2025, https://www.zocalopublicsquare.org/destined-trans-muslim-indonesian/
[33] Sharyn Graham Davies, “For Indonesia’s transgender community, faith can be a source of discrimination – but also tolerance and solace”, The Conversation, 6 December 2022, https://theconversation.com/for-indonesias-transgender-community-faith-can-be-a-source-of-discrimination-but-also-tolerance-and-solace-193063
[34] Ibid.
[35] The Cakung district in East Jakarta is a major industrial zone with numerous factories and a large working-class population.
[36] “Indonesia: Perempuan Mahardhika (”Free Women“) and its activities”, Europe Solidaire Sans Frontières, http://www.europe-solidaire.org/spip.php?article42996
[37] “Tentang Kami”, Perempuan Mahardhika, 6 March 2023, https://mahardhika.org/tentang-kami/
[38] “Indonesia: Perempuan Mahardhika (”Free Women“) and its activities”, Europe Solidaire Sans Frontières, http://www.europe-solidaire.org/spip.php?article42996
[39] Zely Ariane, “Women in Indonesia: struggle for liberation”, Socialist Resistance, 7 March 2012, http://socialistresistance.org/women-in-indonesia-struggle-for-liberation/3265
[40] Gracia, “Aksi Perempuan Melawan Kekerasan Negara: Suara yang Inklusif”
[41] “Pelajaran dari Aksi Aliansi Perempuan Indonesia di DPR”, Floresa, 5 September 2025, https://floresa.co/reportase/mendalam/78255/2025/09/05/pelajaran-dari-aksi-aliansi-perempuan-indonesia-di-dpr-mitigasi-keamanan-keterhubungan-dan-solidaritas-lewat-media-sosial
[42] ’“Pink Power, Pink Resistance”: Indonesian Women Will Not Submit’, Europe Solidaire Sans Frontières, http://www.europe-solidaire.org/spip.php?article76100
[43] “Pelajaran dari Aksi Aliansi Perempuan Indonesia di DPR”
[44] Gracia, “Aksi Perempuan Melawan Kekerasan Negara: Suara yang Inklusif”
[45] “Pelajaran dari Aksi Aliansi Perempuan Indonesia di DPR”
[46] Gracia, “Aksi Perempuan Melawan Kekerasan Negara: Suara yang Inklusif”
[47] “Pelajaran dari Aksi Aliansi Perempuan Indonesia di DPR”
[48] Ibid.
[49] Ibid.
[50] Gracia, “Aksi Perempuan Melawan Kekerasan Negara: Suara yang Inklusif”
[51] “Pelajaran dari Aksi Aliansi Perempuan Indonesia di DPR”
[52] Gerak Perempuan (Women’s Movement Against Violence) emerged from the coalition that organised the Jakarta Women’s March in 2017 and has become a major force in Indonesian feminist activism.
[53] “Feminism in Indonesia”, Wikipedia, 5 September 2025, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Feminism_in_Indonesia
[54] Ibid.
[55] “The Complexity of Women’s Equal Rights in Indonesia”, Kompas.id, 8 March 2024, https://www.kompas.id/artikel/en-hari-perempuan-sedunia-dan-kompleksitas-kesetaraan-hak-perempuan-di-indonesia
[56] Ibid.
[57] “@Indonesiatanpafeminis.id as a Challenge of Feminist Movement in Virtual Space”, Frontiers in Sociology, 27 July 2025, https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fsoc.2021.668840/full
[58] “ICRS Yogyakarta – Muslim Women and Anti-Feminism in Indonesia”, https://www.icrs.or.id/news/muslim-women-and-anti-feminism-in-indonesia
[59] “The anti-sexual violence bill: a clash of values or politics?”, Indonesia at Melbourne, https://indonesiaatmelbourne.unimelb.edu.au/the-anti-sexual-violence-bill-a-clash-of-values-or-politics/
[60] Aisyiyah is the women’s wing of Muhammadiyah, Indonesia’s second-largest Islamic organisation with approximately 30 million members.
[61] “Indonesia’s fight for a law against sexual violence needs to involve a discussion of Islamic values”, Melbourne Asia Review, 6 December 2021, https://melbourneasiareview.edu.au/indonesias-fight-for-a-law-against-sexual-violence-needs-to-involve-a-discussion-of-islamic-values/
[62] The conference is named after Raden Ajeng Kartini (1879-1904), Indonesia’s pioneering feminist figure and national heroine who advocated for women’s education and emancipation during the Dutch colonial period.
[63] “Konferensi Feminisme 2023: Pentingnya Perjuangkan Feminisme Inklusif dan Plural”, Konde.co, 28 March 2023, https://www.konde.co/2023/03/konferensi-feminisme-2023-pentingnya-perjuangkan-feminisme-indonesia-yang-inklusif-dan-plural.html/
[64] Ibid.
[65] Ibid.
[66] “Menguatkan Feminisme Indonesia yang Plural dan Inklusif”, Kompas.id, 21 July 2023, https://www.kompas.id/baca/humaniora/2023/07/21/menguatkan-feminisme-indonesia-yang-plural-dan-inklusif
[67] Ibid.
[68] “The Complexity of Women’s Equal Rights in Indonesia”, Kompas.id, 8 March 2024, https://www.kompas.id/artikel/en-hari-perempuan-sedunia-dan-kompleksitas-kesetaraan-hak-perempuan-di-indonesia
[69] “Ideologi Feminisme Sebagai Pemersatu Gerakan”, Yayasan SATUNAMA Yogyakarta, 31 January 2019, https://satunama.org/3871/ideologi-feminisme-sebagai-pemersatu-gerakan/
[70] “Fenomena Feminisme Nanggung: Menolak Dukungan terhadap LGBT”, Terkenal.co.id, 18 June 2025, https://terkenal.co.id/read/133444/fenomena-feminisme-nanggung-menolak-dukungan-terhadap-lgbt/
[71] “ICRS Yogyakarta – Intersection Between Interfaith Dialogue and Queer Activism”, https://www.icrs.or.id/news/intersection-between-interfaith-dialogue-and-queer-activism-walking-together-in-differences
[72] Wieringa, “Mengkaji Ulang Sejarah Gerakan Perempuan Indonesia”
Mark Johnson is an editor of Europe Solidaire Sans Frontières.
This article first appeared on the website of Europe Solidaire Sans Frontières.
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