So much of what I want to share with women here begins with the care I grew up with.
Growing up in Indonesia, jamu was part of my life, and so was the belief that a new chapter deserved to be acknowledged. I still think about the flower-water bath my mother gave me after my first period. She made that beginning into a ceremony. When I look back, what stays with me is the care in that moment: something was changing in my life, and my mother was there to witness it.
I carried those traditions with me to America, but during postpartum, without my family nearby, I realized how much I missed the people around them. My village here was small. I wanted somewhere to belong, somewhere women could care for themselves and each other in ways we actually practiced together.
Over time, returning to what I grew up with, alongside learning to breathe, meditate, and write about what I was feeling, helped me immensely. I became happier. I began to understand myself better, including the thoughts I kept carrying around and the patterns I did not want to pass on to my children. That work is still part of my life. It shapes how I show up as a mother, a friend, and a woman.
That is what I want to bring into LURUH: the traditions that have meant so much to me, made part of a modern gathering and community here in Boston. We might make jamu with our hands, move together, or take a quiet moment to write. My hope is that something from that experience stays with you when you go home.
But the space between women matters just as much to me. We carry so much on our backs. Sometimes we hold back what we really feel because we are afraid of seeming weak, or being told we are “too much.” I want to create a space where you feel safe enough to be vulnerable, where you can speak honestly without feeling you have to make your feelings smaller for everyone else.
I sometimes call the thoughts piling up in my head “garbage thoughts.” They need somewhere to go. We all need places where we can unpack what we are carrying — with a therapist, someone we trust, or a community that listens. LURUH is one place for that connection, alongside the other support in your life. You can share when you feel ready, or simply come and be with us.
I created LURUH because I want to serve women. To share the care that helped me, and make room for us to get to know ourselves again. You do not have to arrive with everything figured out. I certainly have not. We can practice together.
Jiji Kenney · Founder
Our first moments
It began with my friends.
At the time, my friends and I were carrying a lot. Life was changing, we felt overwhelmed, and I wanted to prepare something we could do together — a little space to pause in the middle of it all. I needed it too.
I brought in pieces of the traditions I carry with me: a rice blessing, incense, and sarongs for my friends to wear. We sat together and wrote down what we wanted to release. Then we burned those pieces of paper together. I wanted to give us a moment to put something down, instead of continuing to carry it on our own.
What stayed with me was the feeling of being close to my friends. Having time to be honest about where we were in our lives, and feeling that we belonged with one another. That was the kind of pause I had been looking for.
It helped me understand what I wanted LURUH to become. Something less gimmicky, less performative. A place where we could actually practice caring for ourselves, with people we felt comfortable around. The rituals mattered to me because they gave us a way into that feeling — a way to slow down, share, and come a little closer.
I come from Indonesia, an archipelago of thousands of islands, where traditions differ across communities, faiths, and families. The practices I share through LURUH begin with my own experience of growing up there — the rituals I witnessed, the drinks I grew up with, and the ways care was expressed around me.
I believe beginnings and endings deserve to be acknowledged. Ceremony gives us a moment to recognize a change. Ritual gives us something to return to: preparing a drink, pausing to breathe, writing a few honest words.
My hope is that women leave LURUH inspired to create rituals of their own — small, meaningful ways to care for themselves and mark the chapters of their lives.
Jamu & everyday care
From the roots to our hands.
I grew up drinking jamu. Long before I imagined creating LURUH, it was already part of my life in Indonesia. Kunyit asam was something I returned to during postpartum, and it holds a very personal place in how I think about care.
For a year now, I have been sharing jamu with women in Boston — through gatherings, hands-on workshops, and moments over a cup. There is a whole story behind what we make and why it matters to me.
Journaling is another practice I return to. Sometimes, when I write, I notice a feeling or a pattern I had not yet put into words.
At LURUH, I want to make room for that kind of listening. A breath. A question. A quiet moment with a page. An opportunity to notice what we are carrying and what we might need.
A place to belong, a practice to carry home, and room to return to yourself.
Sister, friend, mother, wife. We carry so many roles. Sometimes we need somewhere to put our bags down and just be ourselves.
LURUH grew from that need: a space where women can unpack a little of what they carry, talk about how they really feel, and be met with care. We believe there is strength in being vulnerable. You do not have to have everything figured out, and you do not have to share before you are ready. Listening and simply being here belong, too.
Created by Indonesian-born founder Jiji Kenney in Boston, LURUH brings together the traditions she carries from home and the need for connection in the lives we lead today.
Through movement, ritual, making, and conversation, we gather to notice how we feel, learn with our hands, and spend time with one another. Each gathering has its own theme, with facilitators who bring their knowledge and care to the room.
We take our name from the Indonesian word luruh — to fall or shed. For us, it is an invitation to soften, let go, and return to yourself.
The woman behind LURUH
From my home, to this community.
So much of what I want to share with women here begins with the care I grew up with. LURUH is my way of bringing those Indonesian traditions into a modern gathering in Boston — somewhere we can unpack what we carry, feel safe to be vulnerable, and practice caring for ourselves together.
I joined Cat Duff, founder of gen-well, on her podcast Off With Your Coat to talk about ritual, spirituality, and moving beyond performative wellness. If you’d like to hear more about the thinking behind LURUH, come listen to our conversation.
