Between Religion and Desire: Being Muslim and Gay in Indonesia

Thousands of Indonesian men now identify as both “gay” and “Muslim.” How do these men understand the relationship between religion and sexuality? How do these understandings reﬂect the fact that they live in the nation that is home to more Muslims than any other? In this article, I address questions such as these through an ethnographic study of gay Muslims. I argue that dominant social norms render being gay and being Muslim “ungrammatical” with each other in the public sphere that is crucial to Muslim life in Indonesia. Through examining doctrine, interpretation, and community, I explore how gay Muslim subjectivity takes form in this incommensurability between religion and desire. [Keywords:

cause gay is a concept that partially translates the English concept "gay," without being reducible to it.) In examining gay Muslims' sense of inhabiting incommensurability, I do not imply that other religions are more tolerant than Islam, as the enthusiasm for banning same-sex marriage amongst certain Christian groups in the United States clearly indicates. My interest lies rather in responses to circumstances in which public norms render gay and Muslim "ungrammatical" with each other. From the voices amplified from mosques five times a day to fasting during the month of Ramadan to living openly as a husband and wife, Islam in Indonesia (as in many other parts of the world) is not just a matter of personal belief and prayer; it constitutes a public sphere that includes the nation itself. Heterosexually identified Indonesian men find a long-standing, voluminous, and public Islamic discourse addressed to their transgressions and concerns. Sex between men, in contrast, is unintelligible: Gay Indonesians find above all the silence of incommensurability. 1 On the relatively rare occasions when Islamic figures speak of male homosexuality, it is typically in terms of absolute rejection: "Homosexuality is clearly a social illness, a morally evil trend that must be eliminated, not a human right to be protected as [Western] gays now claim." 2 Male homosexuality does not bifurcate into the meritorious and sinful: It is incomprehensible as a form of sexual selfhood, and this incommensurability is a fundamental difference between how gay Muslim Indonesians and heterosexually identified Muslim Indonesian men experience their sexualities. 3 This incommensurability is further strengthened by the fact that although both homosexuality and heterosexuality in contemporary Indonesia operate on global and national spatial scales, no local tradition or adat sanctions contemporary gay subjectivities, which are distinct from ritual transvestite practices (Boellstorff 2005: Chapter 2). Yet gay Muslims exist: So how do these Indonesians resolve the apparently incommensurate statuses of being gay and being Muslim? 4 The special challenge of incommensurability in regard to male homosexuality (rather than those proscribed forms of male heterosexuality, like adultery, glossed as zina) becomes evident in relation to this public character of Islam in Indonesia, as in other Muslim majority countries. In his book Sexuality in Islam, the influential Tunisian scholar Abdelwahab Bouhdiba notes that: Anything that violates the order of the world is a grave "disorder," a source of evil and anarchy. That is why zina (adultery) arouses such strong, unanimous condemnation. However, in a sense, zina still remains within the framework of order. It is a disorder in order: it does not strictly speaking violate the fundamental order of the world; it violates only its modalities. It is, in its own way, a form of harmony between the sexes. It is a false nikah (marriage), it is not an anti-nikah. It recognizes the harmonious complementarity of the sexes and its error lies in wishing to realize it outside the limits laid down by God. [Bouhdiba 1998:30-31] Bouhdiba emphasizes that "Islam remains violently hostile to all other ways of realizing sexual desire, which are regarded as unnatural purely and simply because they run counter to the antithetical harmony of the sexes . . . in Islam, male homosexuality stands for all the perversions and constitutes in a sense the depravity of depravities" (Bouhdiba 1998:31). Not all Muslims agree with Bouhdiba, but it is important to acknowledge the dominance of such views in Indonesia and elsewhere. For Bouhdiba, forms of proscribed heterosexuality, as forms of "false marriage," remain comprehensible within an Islamic framework; to use a linguistic metaphor, they are false utterances like "the earth is square." Male homosexuality, however, is not just false but ungrammatical, like "earth happy twelve the": For Bouhdiba and most Indonesians, sex between men is incommensurable with Islam. This fundamental difference is starkly evident in the scholarship on Indonesian Islam, which correctly emphasizes Islam's public character (Gade 2004;Hefner 2000). For instance, in one of the most comprehensive studies of Indonesian Islamic thought in recent years, John Bowen notes that his "primary objects of study are socially embedded forms of public reasoning" (Bowen 2003:5). Yet although he emphasizes that "the constant element in the narrative concerns gender, the equality of rights and relationships among men and women" (Bowen 2003:5), the topic of homosexuality is entirely absent from his study. Similarly, M. B. Hooker's study of Islamic judgments makes only a single brief reference to a 1998 judgment forbidding male and female homosexuality (Hooker 2003:185). Robert Hefner's important Civil Islam: Muslims and Democratization in Indonesia (2000) also ignores homosexuality. That these three (and many other) recent and comprehensive studies of Indonesian Islam make so little mention of homosexuality accurately reflects how, to date, homosexuality has been incommensurable with Islam as a public discourse in Indonesia.
If, as Bowen and many others have noted, Islam in Indonesia is not a unified dogma but a set of debates, what is significant is that with rare exceptions, homosexuality is not even debated in Indonesian Islam. (Compare this with the predominant place of homosexuality as the Christian Right's "perfect enemy" [Gallagher and Bull 2001].) It is not that there are not gay Muslims; as discussed below, most Indonesian gay men follow Islam. Nor is it that being gay is never public. Although for the most part the "gay world" exists as a kind of distributed network-a largely invisible archipelago-amidst the "normal world" of Indonesian national culture, there are cases in which male homosexuality appears in the mass media or other public venues. However, there has been virtually no context in which Islam and male homosexuality have come together in the public realm. Indonesians find ubiquitous public display of proper heterosexuality and frequent debate over improper heterosexuality, but there are no gay Muslim publics. Herein lies the incommensurability of being gay and being Muslim.

SPATIAL SCALES AND NATIONAL BELONGING
The incommensurability between Islam and male homosexuality in Indonesia is shaped by local and national spatial scales. Indonesia, the fourth most populous nation on earth, is home to more Muslims than any other country. Islam has spread through the archipelago since at least the 13th century, primarily through the trade networks that linked many coastal communities to each other and, via the Straits of Malacca, to the great commercial system linking the Far East with South Asia, Africa, the Arab world, and Europe (de Graaf 1970). The Dutch were the dominant colonial power in the region for the 350 years preceding World War II; during this time, colonial officials like Snouck Hurgronje called for working against Islam as a potential political movement and strengthening understandings of it as a set of localized religious beliefs (Steenbrink 1993). This meant, above all, identifying Islam with discrete local customs (adat). To this day, "ethnolocality" is consistently framed as a starting point, the origin-however contested and reconfigured-of authenticity that is subsequently placed into dialogue with national and global spatial scales (Boellstorff 2002). This grounding in ethnolocality often leads to a shared frame of reference for modernday Indonesian and modern-day Indonesianist alike: "I start from the level of the village disputes and work upwards" (Bowen 2003:6, see chapter 3).
Gay Muslims face a particular challenge because being gay is incommensurable with ethnolocality, this "level of the village" that is so important to notions of Islamic "selfhood" and "community" in the contemporary archipelago.
It is self-evident to gay Indonesians (and other Indonesians) that the concept gay is not learned from one's elders or from traditional beliefs, and to date there have not been individuals terming themselves gay Jawa or gay Bugis or organizing communities based on such identifications: Being gay is a foundationally national concept linked to globalizing notions of homosexual subjectivity. Gay Muslims cannot retreat to "the level of the village" and must find other spatial scales in which to inhabit the incommensurable space of being gay and Muslim.
Islam is one of several official religions in Indonesia (the others are Protestantism, Catholicism, Buddhism, and Hinduism: all globally recognized religions rather than localized or "animist" traditions). Despite this concession to national unity, because nearly ninety percent of Indonesians are Muslim, an Islamic ethos predominates in national popular culture and many regions of the archipelago: Every president has been Muslim and it is widely understood that it could not be otherwise. The vast majority of my gay interlocutors have been Muslim. From the existence of a department of religion to the requirement that all Indonesians have an approved religion on their identity cards and marry within their faith, the state links publicly recognized religion to national belonging (Bowen 2003:178-185, 246-252). 5 In postcolonial Indonesia, every citizen is to have a religion just as they are to have a gender: It is an essential attribute of being modern. Having a sexuality is also modern: Worldwide, sexuality typically plays an important role in notions of proper citizenship (Bunzl 2004;Mosse 1985). Leslie Dwyer notes in her study of Indonesian family planning that "sexuality and gender may be reified as essential, non-negotiable attributes of national identity" (Dwyer 2000:27). Although family planning discourse focuses on women's sexuality, it shapes notions of "proper masculinity" as well, so that "'to make sense as a man in Indonesia' one must get married and function effectively as a dutiful husband and provider. . . . the importance of adequately performing one's familial duties and obligations is now linked to notions of progressiveness and good citizenship" (Howard 1996:13,172). Religion, nation, and gender-sexuality, thus, represent three points in a triangle that posits the heteronormative nuclear family household as the foundational unit of nation, piety, and proper citizen selfhood.
Because gay Muslims almost never find themselves in environments where they can be openly gay and Muslim at once, in what ways do they find not the resolution of incommensurability, but its habitation? I have never encountered a gay Muslim who had not thought carefully about the relationship between his faith and his homosexual desires, and gay Muslims often discuss questions of religion amongst themselves, although such conversations do not typically take place in official sites like mosques. Most gay Indonesians understand Islam to emphasize heterosexual marriage (and having children in that marriage) as the only acceptable basis for a pious life. Yet although gay Muslims find the domain of religion conflated with what they term the dunia normal (normal world), as they move through what they term the dunia gay (gay world) these Indonesians do not leave their faith behind. Inhabiting apparently incommensurate spaces of religion and gay subjectivity becomes largely a matter of individual exegesis-albeit exegesis often shared with gay friends. It is for this reason that I focus on individual narratives in this article; such narratives accurately portray how most gay Indonesians link homosexuality and Islam.
If the question of religion is not surprising to gay Muslims, neither is it surprising to Western audiences: Some of the most common questions I am asked are "how do gay Indonesians deal with being Muslim?" and "does Islam in Indonesia accept homosexuality?" These are not just the questions of a layperson. From the earliest sustained Western scholarship on Islam in the archipelago by colonial officials like Snouck Hurgronje to mid-20th century writing (e.g., Siegel 1969) to more recent work (e.g., Beatty 1999; Bowen 1993Bowen , 2003Hefner 1985Hefner , 2000Siapno 2002), there has been great interest in how Islam shapes social relations, law, and governance-even if, as noted earlier, homosexuality is virtually absent in this scholarship.
Another common question I am asked is "how are there Indonesians calling themselves gay at all?" Indeed, it is only in the last 30 years that some Indonesians have started calling themselves gay, and only in particular, limited circumstances-a significant difference from the much longer history of gay identification in much of the West, including the United States (Chauncey 1994). Many Indonesians still do not know of the term gay, or if they do, they sometimes think it is an English version of the better-known terms banci and béncong (male transvestites, for whom the more respectful term is waria). Among those Indonesians who do know of their gay fellow citizens, many portray them as selfish and exclusive. In reality, most gay Indonesians are working class and learn of the concept gay through mass media or friends, rather than from travel outside Indonesia or meeting gay Westerners. Given this situation, it is not surprising that anthropological work on Islam in Indonesia has paid virtually no attention to homosexuality. However, this article offers more than an improved understanding of gay lives, worthy as such a goal may be. My hope is that the example of gay Muslims can contribute to anthropological conversations concerning cultural responses to incommensurability, a topic of increasing importance as globalization becomes experienced less as an impending process and more as a de facto state of affairs.

DOCTRINE
Most gay Muslims understand Islamic orthodoxy to be incommensurate with sex between men, but no orthodoxy provides a complete roadmap for faith; each represents "a structure of ideas and practices that penetrates but does not encompass the lives of its practitioners" (Barth 1993:177). Although some gay Muslims recall hearing from religious authorities that homosexuality was sinful, the overarching concern with sexuality that they encounter is the proper channeling of heterosexuality into marriage. Islam is often referred to as a "sex-positive religion" in the sense that sexuality is regarded as a gift from God and the right of every person: "In the quranic view of the world, physical love impinges directly on the social order" (Bouhdiba 1998:9-10). In Islamic thought in Indonesia as elsewhere, the central concept organizing sexuality is that of marriage, which has historically been seen as a contract between families, not just two individuals. 6 The sins against marriage in Islamic doctrine are typically adultery, premarital sex, and prostitution, not male homosexuality, because sex between men is assumed not to lead to children. If male homosexuality is mentioned, it usually takes the form of incidental references rather than sustained commentaries, as reflected in the scholarly literature on Islam in Indonesia.
This emphasis on heterosexual marriage and the deemphasis of male homosexuality is shared by the Indonesian nation-state, whose "family principle" (azas kekeluargaan), promulgated through a range of polices including a pervasive family planning regime, stresses that the nation is made up of heterosexual nuclear families, not individual citizens (Suryakusuma 1996). National belonging and heterosexuality are mutually defining and supporting, and those who fall outside official sexual norms are failed citizens. Marriage in Muslim communities throughout Indonesia is usually seen as the very foundation of sociality, determining boundaries of kinship and ethnicity, assuring social reproduction (because children are presumed to be the result of heterosexual couples), and literalizing one's relationship to the divine (Idrus 2004). Marriage is typically a key element of Muslim orthopraxy. It is not simply an expression of sexual desire or a sign of being pious, but a practice that makes one a more pious Muslim (see Mahmood 2001). Given the dual emphasis of Islam and the nation on heterosexual marriage, it is not surprising that so many gay Indonesians marry (Boellstorff 1999). It is not inaccurate to speak of a "religious-familial complex" in which kinship and faith are part of a single cultural domain. In his study of mostly Muslim gay men in Jakarta, Richard Howard found that they "recognized that they carried within themselves a divinely inspired nature (kodrat) as men, which could only be fulfilled through marriage and the continuance of the life cycle" (Howard 1996:3).
As heterosexual marriage tends to be the positive concept organizing sexuality, so adultery (zina) tends to be the negative one. In the Qur'an and most Islamic writings, zina is defined primarily in terms of illicit sex between a man and woman. Anal sex between men (liwath) is viewed as a sin in the Qur'an but in a rather oblique manner: Lot (Luth) is mentioned, but the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah are not, and in contrast to the detailed attention given to adultery, male homosexuality is not one of the abominations for which specific punishments are listed (Murray and Roscoe 1997:307).
Many scholars see in the Islam of the Mediterranean and Arab worlds a generalized "will not to know" in which sex between men, although officially frowned on, is tolerated so long as its practitioners do not make their acts or desires publicly visible. Such interpretations seem generally valid in the Indonesian case. If asked directly, most Indonesian Muslims will say that Islam disapproves of sex between men, and even liberal writers conclude it has been strongly forbidden in Islam (e.g., Fadhilah 2004). In recent years, there have been scattered incidents of "political homophobia" in which Muslim groups attack gay men attempting to claim public space (Boellstorff 2004a).
In practice, however, male homosexuality has not represented a major concern in Indonesian Islamic thought: The typical perceived opposite of normative heterosexual marriage is the failure to marry or heterosexual sex outside the marriage bond. In Indonesia it is sometimes unclear as to whether sex between men counts as adultery (zina). For instance, the popular Indonesian Islamic sex manual Bimbingan Seks Islami (Islamic Sexual Guidance) states that "some experts in Islamic jurisprudence are of the opinion that male homosexuality is the same as zina, with the result that its penalty is the same as for zina" (Asrori and Zamroni 1997:192). However, the chapter on adultery (pezinaan) flatly states that "Zina is sexual relations between a man and a woman outside of marriage" (Asrori and Zamroni 1997:197). The authors posit that zina is damaging because it makes the lineage of children born from the zina uncertain and poses the threat of adverse affects to the fetus from sexually transmitted diseases (Asrori and Zamroni 1997:203), neither of which is relevant to sex between men. Significantly, the authors claim that zina is on the rise in Indonesia and attribute this to the influence of Western media, globalization, urbanization, and modernity (Asrori and Zamroni 1997:198-200). They do not mention male homosexuality as increasing or link it to globalization. It is simply included in the litany of things that can lead people away from marriage and its sinfulness lies in this characteristic. Because gay Muslims find little information on sex between men beyond silence or denunciation, it is primarily through interpretation that they inhabit these incommensurate spaces of religion and desire.

Seeing Being Gay as Sinful
Gay Muslims find themselves in a doctrinal environment that speaks little of sex between men, but it is also an environment in which notions of "interpretation" (ijtihad) are debated and enacted on a variety of levels, from judicial decisions to personal notions of "virtue" and "sin" (Bowen 2003). Acts of interpretation are also held to be central to being a modern citizen: One votes, one consumes, and in contemporary Indonesia one now typically chooses one's heterosexual marriage partner through love rather than "arrangement," which is increasingly deemed backward and undemocratic (Boellstorff 2004c). It is through acts of interpretation, not reference to established conventions in Islamic thought, that the majority of my gay interlocutors have arrived at the conclusion that being gay is either not sinful or a comparatively minor sin, so long as they marry women and have children.
Before turning to the apparently predominant view among gay men that sex between men is not necessarily sinful, I wish to examine the interpretive practices of those gay Muslims who do feel that they are sinning; even in these cases, there exist struggles with incommensurability. At one extreme are those who see their sexuality as a serious sin. One gay Muslim in Bali, citing the story of Lot, felt that "being gay is a big sin in Islam, one of the sins that cannot be forgiven" (conversation with author, February 12, 1998). A young Muslim man in Surabaya underscored that "you know, being gay is a sin-a big sin" (conversation with author, September 23, 1997). Reflecting the relative de-emphasis of male homosexuality in Indonesian Islamic thought, many of these gay Muslims who feel they are sinning cannot recall where sex between men is prohibited in the Qur'an, or they combine narratives, as in one gay man's rendition of the story of Lot (Nabi Luth): The people of Lot in Sodom were gay, lesbian, and transvestite. One day an angel came to Sodom disguised as a very handsome man. The people of Sodom wanted to have sex with the angel. Lot tried to offer his daughters instead, but the people of Sodom were not interested. So God told Lot to build a big boat and fill it with all the animals of the earth, because he was going to flood the earth. And he flooded the earth, and the people of Sodom were drowned. [conversation with author, September 3, 2000] My gay Muslim interlocutors who felt they were sinning cited the story of Lot and Sodom more than any other as they struggled to interpret their homosexual desires. Another frequently cited story concerned King David as a prophet who fell in love with a man (some say he married the man as well) and was then cursed by God. In Surabaya, one gay man combined the stories of Lot and David: Once there was a city called Sodom. There, men had sex with other men and women had sex with women. Now the prophet David was instructed by God to bring them back, so they would become normal again. So at that time, God sent two angels to Sodom in the guise of two very handsome men. They went to the room of prophet David in Sodom. And once they were there, everyone started saying "there are these two very handsome men in the house of David." So they all rushed to the house of David and wanted to force themselves in. The angels went out, and they helped David escape from Sodom. But because they didn't want to change back, that city of Sodom was cursed by God. And all of the gay people there were turned into ash and the city was destroyed. [conversation with author, October 20, 1997] Syncretic narratives like these reflect how many gay Muslims perceive prohibitions against sex between men in a rather diffuse manner. A few gay Muslims who thought being gay was sinful saw their desires for men as having a divine origin, the injunction being to control desires at odds with God's plan for the world. One such Javanese gay Muslim believed gay people were created as "a test from God, to see if we can overcome it and still marry and have children" (conversation with author, December 11, 1997). A Sumatran gay Muslim believed that "in Islam all people are created with feelings of love towards women and towards men. How large those feelings of love are is dependent on the person" (conversation with author, February 5, 1998). Many gay Muslims who saw being gay as sinful subscribed to environmental etiologies, as in the case of the following man, living in Bali but originally from rural East Java. 7 He felt he became gay after being seduced by a boy five years older than him: I remember being happy about the way it felt. I think that's when I started having feelings for men; I don't think it was something that started from birth, and for that reason I don't agree with your Muslim friends who say that gay people were created that way by God. Back then I didn't know the word gay, but I had heard the word homoseks, and I knew that it was a big sin under Islam. I still feel that way; I feel that it is a big sin. But I also feel that I have to enjoy my life. I can't help it that I like being with men and don't like being with women. What can I do about it? So I just go on sinning.
[conversation with author, March 3, 1998] Many of these gay Muslims located sinfulness in practices, as in the following example: The sin is from the gay activities. In my opinion, all religions are against being gay. But whether it's a sin or not depends on what you do. For instance, if you have lots of sex partners, that's a sin, not the gayness itself. . . . For instance, say you become gay. There are people who become gay only here [points to his heart]. They don't actually have sex. They're just happy when they see people of the same sex. And I think that's not a sin . . . Especially in Islam, marriage must come first. It's not supposed to be sex first. But the times demand that style . . . And there are other people who are worse than me, who commit rape or murder. [conversation with author, May 2, 1998] Muhammad, from a rural part of South Sulawesi, shared this view of sin as arising from acts. Married to a woman, Muhammad nonetheless frequented places in the city of Makassar where gay men congregated. He reconciled marriage and what he saw as innate homosexual desires through behavior management: Well, yes, it is a sin. But I don't do it too much. I have tried to stop; I'm always praying to God and fasting, asking that I won't be like this anymore. But the feelings are still there in my heart, and eventually they just can't be held in anymore; after one to three months they get too strong [points to his chest]. So I have to let it out. [conversation with author, April 14, 1998] This view that the sinfulness of being gay lies in actions rather than status is why some gay Muslims avoided certain sexual practices, particularly penile-anal sex. One gay man from Makassar, Iwan, noted that "Even up to today, one thing I won't do is penetrate someone or be penetrated anally by them. Because I think that's even more of a sin. There are some people who say you're not an official gay (gay resmi) if you don't do that, but I don't care" (conversation with author, September 8, 2000). In this understanding, sexual acts, being the responsibility of the self, have greater import than homosexual desire, created by God. Hadi, a gay man from Surabaya, was from a devout family; both of his parents had already gone on the pilgrimage to Mecca, and he felt they would disown him should they ever learn he was gay. Hadi, like Iwan, worked to "reduce [his] sin as a gay person" (mengurangi dosa saya sebagai gay [conversation with author, November 12, 1997]). Unlike Iwan, however, he did this not through avoiding certain sexual practices, but by being a gay person who is "successful in his career" (berhasil dengan karir [conversation with author, November 12, 1997]). For Iwan and many other gay men, success in society could affect the domain of religion, mitigating the sinfulness of male homosexuality.

Seeing Being Gay as Not Sinful
The range of narratives presented above illustrates how many gay Muslims interpret their homosexual desires as being sinful. However, what I found most striking during fieldwork was that such views were not predominant among my gay Muslim interlocutors. Instead, most either did not see being gay as sinful or understood it to be a minor sin easily forgiven by God. Incommensurability was inhabited and understood as part of God's plan. It was meant to be that one was gay, yet also meant to be that being gay and being Muslim can never be made commensurate. The starting point for these gay Muslims was a belief in God's omnipotence and omniscience. Given that God is all knowing, all wise, and all merciful, many gay Muslims concluded they were created gay by God and, thus, that they were not sinning.
In these views, all forms of desire (nafsu) are planted in each individual by God and represent irresistible forces that cannot be denied, a common view among Indonesian Muslims (Brenner 1998:149-157;Siegel 1969). This was brought home to me on November 23, 1997, when I visited Ketut and Suhadi, a gay couple who shared a home with an elderly woman and a little male dog, Tika. Ketut, who was Balinese Hindu, had bought the dog several months earlier and lavished it with affection. His partner Suhadi, a Javanese Muslim, had grown to love the dog as well despite the fact that Indonesian Muslims rarely keep dogs as pets because they are seen as polluting (najis). Tika was several months old and just coming into sexual maturity, playfully mounting the legs of anyone who stopped to pet him. Shaking his head, Ketut said, "Well, it's about time we get him castrated." Suhadi looked at Ketut with a mixture of revulsion and alarm. "It would be so sad that he wouldn't have nafsu. If we do that, would he still want to guard the house?" In this view, nafsu is a vibrant, essential aspect of being that can be temporarily controlled but not forever denied. For gay Muslims who do not see their subjectivities as sinful, homosexual desire, planted in one's soul at birth by God, represents a fate (nasib) that must be accepted, because "Nasib is the ultimate explanation for events in this life: that it was written as the will of God, that so should be" (Barth 1993:184). In the following excerpts, four gay Muslims, two Javanese and two Buginese, engage in this line of reasoning: After I read many books, I came to the belief that God has a different plan for me to have made me a gay person. And there is a kind of poetry that is good for me, that is good for you and for all gay people. "God has given me the ability to accept the things that I cannot change about myself, and has given me the ability to change the things that can be changed. Sometimes a sense of being gay as not sinful can even emerge from interactions with religious figures. Ardi, a gay man from near Medan in north Sumatra, was known for his skills in magic [ilmu], which he had learned at a syncretically minded Islamic boarding school (pesantren): My religious teacher would speak in an indirect way. For instance, he knew that I was gay. I never told him directly, but he knew. And he never said anything about [it] to me directly, he never said that being gay was a sin or anything like that. But he did advise me not to take semen into my mouth or up my butt, because if I did it would weaken my ilmu. [conversation with author, February 1, 1998] That the incommensurability of being gay and Muslim is inhabited rather than superseded is indicated not only by Ardi's religious teacher's indirectness, but by the fact that Ardi planned on marrying a woman and living a "normal" life alongside, not in place of, his gay life. Indeed, the greatest concern of most of my gay Muslim interlocutors was typically not the sinfulness of homosexuality, but their desire to marry heterosexually. This desire was powerfully shaped by religious and familial pressures but was not just an external imposition; for many it was another form of authentic desire. In the following narrative from Surya, a gay Muslim man living in East Java, both Islam and gay selfhood repeatedly surface around the issue of marriage. As Surya entered his early twenties, his parents and also his gay lover, Hendy, told him that it was his duty to marry and have descendents. Surya also wished to marry: "I felt that wanted to be normal" (rasa ingin normal): And fulfilling the sexual function is one of these responsibilities. . . . When she found out I was still seeing Hendy, she said I had two choices: get a divorce or stop seeing him. I told her that under Islam she couldn't initiate a divorce and I didn't want a divorce but I was still going to see Hendy. And he and I are still together to this day.
[conversation with author, October 12, 1997] Note how for Surya choice is a defining feature of marriage, gay love, and faith-albeit one in which male privilege under his understanding of Islam makes his choice more consequential than his wife's attempt to force a different kind of choice. The shift from marriage based on arrangement to marriage based on choice and love is a key marker of being modern and properly national in Indonesia (Siegel 1997). Choice is how one consumes in a shopping mall, how one votes in a democracy, and how one implements "family planning," so important to state-sponsored ideologies of sexuality (Dwyer 2000). The importance of choice and love in the context of God's omnipotence even appears in many of the narratives from the minority of my gay Muslim interlocutors who claimed they would never marry, as in the following example: If a man chooses a man and lives together with him, and that is what makes happiness, does that not count as a partner? God created day and night. Sun and moon. God also created man and woman. So why cannot a man with a man be understood as partners? I think that what's clear is that if they love each other, I think that's okay. [conversation with author, August 29, 2000] Those gay Muslims who say they will never marry usually come to that conclusion through acts of interpretation as careful as those of gay Muslims who do marry. Islamic law places all human actions within five categories: (1) obligatory acts like daily prayer and fasting (Arabic and Indone-sian wajib); (2) commendable but not required acts like performing extra prayers (Arabic mandub, Indonesian sunatrasul); (3) acts toward which Islam is indifferent, like eating foods that are not forbidden (Arabic mubah); (4) reprehensible but not forbidden acts like divorce (Arabic makruh); and (5) forbidden acts like adultery and theft (Arabic and Indonesian haram). 8 Islamic jurists tend to regard marriage as required or wajib, but some claim that there are justifiable reasons why some people need not marry: "Marriage in Islam is a sacred contract which every Muslim must enter into, unless there are special reasons why he should not" (Ali 1990:445-446; see also Hallaq 1997:175). These "special reasons" can include not only financial and physical ability but also mental and spiritual ability. Some of my gay Muslim interlocutors reasoned both that marriage is sunatrasul (commendable, but not required) and that their homosexual desires make them physically and spiritually unfit for marriage: In my opinion I've been this way ever since I was born; I was created this way. So I'm meant to be this way and I have to walk this path. None of us ask to be born this way, right? So it's definitely something that's meant to be. In my view, marriage is a duty [kewajiban] for Muslims only if they are capable [mampu]. And by mampu I don't just mean financially but spiritually, mentally, and physically as well. So by those criteria I'm not meant to get married and so it's not a sin that I don't marry. [conversation with author, December 1, 1997] What all these gay Muslims share is a sense that interpretation is necessary in the face of incommensurability between religion and desire. In the void created by the relative lack of Islamic discourse concerning male homosexuality, they feel they must use interpretation to forge answers, however imperfect and uncertain, to the question of how they should live. Even if engaging in these acts of interpretation in isolation from other gay men, all of my gay interlocutors understood gay as a national category of selfhood, linked to notions of gay selfhood found across the world. I recall a conversation in 2000 with Ali, a gay man living in Makassar, which occurred a couple of weeks after Anwar Ibrahim, deputy prime minister of Malaysia, had been accused of sodomy and sentenced to nine years in prison. I asked Ali if he or his friends were concerned that a similar event could happen in Indonesia. "There's been no influence here," Ali replied. "Malaysia is an officially Muslim country [negara Islam]. Indonesia is not a Muslim country, but a country founded on Pancasila [the Five Principles of the nation, including 'Belief in One God,' but not specifying Islam]" (conversation with author, August 16, 2000). For Ali, the fact that Islam was not Indonesia's official religion opened the door to inhabit the apparently incommensurate domains of religion and homosexuality that made the prosecution of the latter comprehensible in the Malaysian context. Yet even in a nation founded on Pancasila, most Indonesian Muslims understand Islam as a religion of calls to prayer, mosques, and collective rituals like the communal feast (slametan)-a religion that participates in a moral public sphere it construes in heterosexual terms. Gay Muslims also confront incommensurability with regard to community.

COMMUNITY
My discussion thus far has intentionally presented the intersection of gay subjectivity with Islam in privatized terms. This is an accurate impression of the fundamental divide between religion and homosexuality that these Indonesians experience, because in Indonesia there is currently no way to be publicly gay and seen as a pious Muslim; it remains "ungrammatical." It is clearly not the case that gay Muslims do not think about the relationship between Islam and their sexualities; it is precisely that thinking about this relationship is, to a great degree, the only way they can experience the relationship at all. Gay Muslims do not necessarily feel excluded from their religion-I have never heard gay Muslims say they no longer felt they were Muslims because of their sexuality-but they imagine a life course of incommensurability in which they are gay in the gay world, marry heterosexually in the normal world, and find religious community in that normal world alone. Even many of those gay Muslims who do not feel that being gay is sinful, and who additionally do not plan on marrying heterosexually, expect to find religious community solely in the normal world. I know of no cases to date in which gay Muslims pray collectively and openly in a mosque or other formal venue.
It is not simply social disapproval that leads to a lack of gay Muslim community: A handful of gay Christian groups have existed in urban centers. Examining a meeting of one such group in a northern district of Surabaya in 1997 will help highlight the situation of gay Muslims. I disembarked from a pedicab one night before a storefront closed with a heavy metal gate. In front of the gate were 15 people, a mix of gay men, transvestites, and a few lesbi women. After waiting almost half an hour for the person with the keys to show up, we entered the building, a beauty college. We walked through a large room filled with desks: On each, a mannequin head awaited a student's careful powder brush. At the far end of the room was a circular iron staircase; climbing it, we came to a room the same size as the one below, also filled with desks and heads. One wall was completely mirrored and the others sported posters detailing the latest makeup designs, happy customers with facial masks, and giant eyes displaying various eye shadow combinations. Everyone got to work clearing the tables from the room and setting out chairs in five long rows, facing a podium with a placard bearing the salon's address and the words "Prayer Alliance." Three transvestites, one gay man, and one lesbi woman-the leaders of the group-moved to the front of the room holding hands and praying audibly with bowed heads. Meanwhile, more gay men and transvestites entered; soon there were 30 people in the room gossiping, laughing, or praying with heads bowed and eyes closed.
The prayer circle ended and the leaders took their seats at the front of the room. A transvestite came up from the back of the room to operate an overhead projector; another moved to the podium to begin the service by singing to lyrics shown on the projector. Usually, a man accompanied the group with a guitar, but he was absent because he was marrying a woman the following day. Nevertheless, everyone sung with gusto, clapping their hands. The transvestite leading the singing shouted, "We have no music but still have the spirit to sing and praise God." The singing ended after 20 minutes and the transvestite asked if there was anyone who wanted to come forward and give testimony. One man told how he had feared he would be late because he worked in the factory on the outskirts of town, but that God had provided transport in the form of an unexpected ride. The testimony was followed by a sermon, focusing on the importance of following in God's footsteps. The meeting ended with songs, a closing prayer, and invitations to the next meeting in two weeks' time.
This Christian prayer group-significantly, it did not call itself a "church"-was sponsored by a local church but was not allowed to meet on its premises. In a nonpublic context, the group rendered Christianity and gay subjectivity commensurate, even though many participants wished to be "cured" and homosexuality was rarely openly discussed. Since the early 2000s, a few Muslim intellectuals have taken tolerant stances with regard to gay Muslims, calling for Indonesian Islam to publicly recognize homosexuality and even same-sex marriage (Al Qurthuby et al. 2004). Yet to my knowledge and the knowledge of my interlocutors, no Islamic analogues to the "Prayer Alliance" have existed in Indonesia to date, despite the common existence of informal Muslim study and prayer groups. One explanation for this state of affairs would be that Islam is more disapproving than Christianity of homosexuality. However, given the range of views in both religions this seems an overly hasty conclusion; at issue is, rather, how for Indonesian Muslims, unlike Indonesian Christians, proper religious practice should be public, not limited to the upper floor of a beauty college. This reflects both Islamic understandings of community (umma) and Islam's dominant position in contemporary Indonesia.

A GAY SLAMETAN
The ethnographic materials presented in this article suggest that whether gay Muslims uphold heteronormativity (e.g., by seeing their homosexual desires as sinful, marrying heterosexually, or stating that they plan to marry) or destabilize it on some level (e.g., by seeing their homosexual desires as God given or saying that they will not marry heterosexually), to date no point of commensurability between the "languages" of Islam and gay subjectivity has been reached. Yet gay lives exist and are lived every day; what exists is a habitation, not a resolution, of incommensurability. This habitation of incommensurability recalls not translation but a process I have elsewhere described as "dubbing culture" (Boellstorff 2003). In dubbing, a topic of recent interest to the Indonesian state, the moving lips of persons speaking one language on a film or television show are set alongside a soundtrack in a different language. The incommensurability of the two languages is not translated in the usual sense; there is no resolution from one language into the other. Instead, the two languages are placed together like rails on a train track that unify only at some ever-receding horizon. It is impossible, say, for a Japanese-language film dubbed into English to have actors whose moving lips exactly match the soundtrack-but this "failure" is presupposed by viewers. Similarly, the simultaneous habitation of the categories gay and Muslim is selfconsciously incomplete.
Such processes might hold important lessons for an anthropology of incommensurability, helping to explain "the emergence of radical worlds in the shadow of the liberal diaspora" (Povinelli 2001:320). There may be thingsconcepts, poems, sublime ideas-that are untranslatable, but nothing is undubbable: "Dubbing" is a useful metaphor for inhabiting incommensurability. The narratives discussed above demonstrate how gay Muslims do not typically feel that being gay will ever be "utterable" in terms of religion and nation. Yet gay Muslims exist, inhabiting spaces of incommensurability between gay, Muslim, and Indonesian. The religious beliefs and practices of gay Muslims are "complementary, overlapping accounts" (Brodwin 2003:86) of faith, habitations of incommensurability involving movement between individual and community.
In The Religion of Java, Clifford Geertz identified the communal feast or slametan as central to Javanese experiences of Islam. Geertz notes that a slametan resolves incommensurability by acting as a "kind of social universal joint, fitting the various aspects of social life and individual experience together" (Geertz 1960:11): A slametan can be given in response to almost any occurrence one wishes to celebrate, ameliorate, or sanctify. . . . There is always the special food . . . the Islamic chant, and the extra-formal high-Javanese speech of the host. . . . Most slametans are held in the evening. . . . Upon arrival each guest takes a place on the floor mats. . . . When the host has completed the [formal introductory speech], he asks someone present to give the Arabic chantprayer. . . . The preliminaries completed . . . the serving of the food begins. [Geertz 1960:11-13] Arno's birthday slametan was held on November 28, 1997, in the little town where he lived about 20 miles outside Surabaya-coincidentally, Geertz's field site for The Religion of Java. Arno's friends came in from all over Surabaya (and his boyfriend all the way from Bali) to meet not at Arno's home, but the rented home of another gay man, tucked away on a small street on the far side of town. Its small front room had a low ceiling, lit by a single long fluorescent light bulb and decorated with a quotation from the Qur'an (the ayat kursi) alongside photos of the president and vice president. Here, Arno could hold his paradoxical gathering-a private slametan-safe from the eyes of family and neighbors, away from the public yet under the indifferent gaze of religion and nation.
Twenty-four men sat in a circle inside the crowded room, backs pressed to walls. Some of Arno's gay friends had been cooking all afternoon. From the kitchen, they emerged to place food in the center of the circle: rice, fried chicken, fried mashed potatoes, peanut sauce, and shrimp crackers. The room fell silent as one of Arno's friends began to speak, clearly but informally, in Indonesian rather than Javanese: "Well, we are here to celebrate Arno's birthday. He won't tell us exactly how old he is, but in any case we're here on his behalf." The assembled laughed gently. "So let's take a few moments to pray, each following our own beliefs and praying in our own way. Let's pray for the good fortune and health of Arno. Begin now." A few moments passed in silence with heads bowed. "Okay, that's enough. Now everyone please eat a lot!" Arno moved to the center of the circle and, taking a large pastry server in hand, cut off the tip of the rice mountain (nasi gunung), putting it on a plate with other food items. Everyone sat quietly: Arno was free to give this first serving to a person of his choice. Turning around on his knees, he approached his boyfriend and gave him the plate as they kissed each other on the cheeks. Approving murmurs reverberated around the circle. Plates were passed around and everyone moved in to eat.
Most slametans involve neighbors, but Arno's slametan grouped together men meeting on the basis of gay subjectivity. In place of Javanese narrative coupled with an Arabic chant, obligatory even in the Hindu slametans held by Tengger Javanese (Hefner 1985), these gay participants spoke Indonesian and prayed silently, "each in their own way." Inhabiting-not resolvingincommensurability, Arno's slametan brought together gay men at the margins of the public. It made no appeal for social inclusion and did not invoke the potential of a gay Muslim public. Yet it drew from mainstream religious practice and also national discourses of individuality, national language, and religious egalitarianism. On another night, Arno would hold other events to celebrate his birthday with family members, coworkers, and neighbors. On this evening, a gay world of faith came into being in a little room around a mound of rice.
TOM BOELLSTORFF Department of Anthropology, University of California, Irvine, Irvine, CA 92697