I've been complaining about how Eid al-Fitr doesn't feel the same for the last four years. And I'm not talking about my spiritual journey or anything like that. My faith, or yours, is a personal matter.I'm talking about money. Eid money. Amplop.I was born into a small family, by Indonesian standards. I only have six aunts and uncles and five cousins, and I think that's pretty cool. My grandparents only had three children, and this is in a country where others popularly believe the phrase "banyak anak, banyak rejeki"—or roughly "more children, more prosperity." I always thought my grandparents were pretty badass for saying "to hell with all of that." But then I realized it meant I would get less money each Eid al-Fitr, or Lebaran in Indonesia.
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When I was a young girl, Eid money was my main source of income. My job was to fast, which was pretty easy considering the fact that I was eight years old and had little control over when my family ate dinner anyway. As long as I fasted for the entire Holy Month, I got that sweet amplop (an envelope of rupiah notes) at the end of the month. When I was eight, I got the same amount of money as my older male cousins and it was awesome.But by the time I hit my teens and my period, it was no longer possible to fast for all of Ramadan. Suddenly my amplop was a bit lighter. There's a bit of a gender bias at work here, isn't there?And now I'm an adult. So does that mean I need to start handing out envelopes of cash myself? No one gives me money anymore and the local kids are asking me for the amplop now.Where did this whole tradition come from in the first place? I got in touch with Nia Elvina, a sociologist at the University of Indonesia, who told me the tradition was related to ideas about our shared humanity and values as Indonesian Muslims."The phenomenon is a manifestation of the concept of sharing and fitrah," she told me. "Although, if you take a closer look, there's more to fitrah than just that."So what am I supposed to do when the neighborhood kids show up with their tiny hands out? My company paid me a Tunjangan Hari Raya (THR) bonus of course, but am I just supposed to start handing it out to these tiny strangers? I'm honestly not ready to be an adult during Eid. Hell, on a normal day, I'm not really ready to be an adult. So should I follow this tradition or not? Can I risk being called cheap?Maybe I can shift the conversation to how this whole tradition shares a lot of similarities with the Chinese New Year—mudik, visiting cemeteries, angpao and all. But (thankfully) no one in my family is that xenophobic. So while they might find the story interesting, it's not enough to dodge my new responsibility as an adult.Oh well. I guess you can't be a kid forever. Here kid, take my money.