“Not really,” Naila admitted. “Bayu from 10-5 said I only won the semifinals because the judges felt sorry for the ‘girl in the curtain.’” She tried to laugh, but it came out brittle.
“You were scary up there,” Rina said, grinning. Hijab Ukhti Siswi Sma01-12 Min
Silence. Then Sari began to clap. The judges leaned forward. Bayu’s smirk faltered. “Not really,” Naila admitted
Inside, the room hummed. Boys in neat koko shirts and girls in hijab filled the plastic chairs. Bayu’s team—three boys from the science excellence class—sat on the left, smirking. Naila’s partner, a quiet girl named Sari, squeezed her hand. Silence
“Bayu asked if my hijab is foreign,” she began, her voice steady. “Let’s talk about foreign. The cassette tape that recorded my grandmother’s gendhing is Japanese. The acrylic paint on my batik pattern is German. The internet I used to find that Javanese script font is American.” She paused. “But the language of my heart? The lungid Javanese my grandmother uses to scold the cat? That is as native to this soil as the melati pin on my chest.”
When the verdict came—Naila’s team won 3-0—she didn’t cheer. She walked to Bayu’s table and extended her hand. “For the record,” she said quietly, “the hijab was worn by Javanese Muslim traders in the 15th century as a sign of status , not oppression. But you knew that from your research, didn’t you?”
The debate topic was “The Role of Digital Media in Preserving Regional Languages.” Naila had prepared for weeks, citing studies from UI and Gadjah Mada University. But as she walked to the auditorium, she felt the weight of Bayu’s words more than the weight of her own binder.
