I left home in order to escape. I was
angry with my government, my state. I was done with the gridlock in
congress. I was tired of the bi-partisan polarity, and the arguments
surrounding it. I was over being blue in a red state. I wanted to get
away. So I did. I fled.
I graduated and left, traveling
6,781miles from “home”. 日本へようこそ。1 I abandoned the earth that I had always walked
on, for another entirely. I wanted difference, for in difference I
believed that I would find some solace.
The difference hits you like a ton of
bricks. It socks you in the stomach, leaving a bruise that's a
constant reminder of the fact that you don't fit in, that you'll
never fit in. At first you reject it. You see their culture as an
elsewhere. They are “the other”, and it scares you. You are
overwhelmed. You cling to your contact from home, staying up until
ungodly hours hoping to catch your friends online.
「この子はホームシックだよ。」2 But,
eventually the messages stop coming. They become comfortable with a
life where you are not physically present. First you feel hurt, and
then angry. You focus on the negatives, and begin to forget what good
things ever existed where you came from. 「アメリカ大嫌い。」3 Eventually
you realize that you have to let go of “home” too, and assimilate
to where you are.
And the longer you stay, the easier it
becomes. If you go outside and interact in your new sphere, you begin
to understand the social norms. You pick up the language faster than
you expected, and soon you can really converse with others. Your
friends and adopted family members help you to learn what you need to
know, and praise you when you do things correctly. 「日本語は上手だね!」4
You try to fit in, and eventually it feels like
you do.
But that sense of belonging can be
shattered as quickly as it is built. After 8 or 9 months, you may
feel at home, but they continue to stare, 金髪だから。5 They
assume things about you, and you can't control it. You will be asked
「なぜ日本にいるですか。留学生や観光客やJET先生ですか。」6 You will realize that it is not them that
is “the other”, it is you.
It made me wonder how anyone could
possibly immigrate there indefinitely. When you look like “us”,西洋人7,
and they look like “them”,日本人8,
how could you get through every day year after year having to assert
that you belong. How do you survive? “They” will not give you
your “home”, so you have taken it up yourself. Every day is a
fight, and it is exhausting.
It was hard enough being there for
just a few months. 外国人9 was
constantly ringing in my ears. I recognized quickly that I could
never live there. The pressure was just too great. I was not wanted
by my new “home”. I was not wanted. When I began to feel that
rejection, I tried to go back to my homeland for support. But, I
found that tether had been cut. I had rejected my homeland. I did not
want to be a part of it anymore. 私はアメリカ人じゃない。私は日本人じゃない。10 I
had lost my connection to everything. Everything was an elsewhere. I
was in a state of anomie, and still am.
In class we keep discussing diaspora
as a polar system between the “homeland” and the country to which
one immigrates. From my experience, I would argue that the sense of
being between cultures that is associated with diaspora is the
feeling of homelessness. You lose your sense of homeland, and trade
the personal connection to that place for a connection somewhere
else. You cannot have a perfect connection or affinity to both. You
with face rejection in some way from both. It is from that lack of
belonging, that anomie, that normlessness that diaspora exists. But I
think we as humans have the ability to grow from it.
---footnotes--
1. (Welcome to Japan.)
2. (This child is homesick.)
3. (I hate America.)
4. (You're great* at Japanese) This phrase, which is incredibly overused by native Japanese people to foreigners, literally translated means "You're fluent in Japanese!" The implications of it are that foreigners are never expected to speak Japanese, and that any ability at all is considered to be fluent "for a foreigner".
5. (Because you are blonde.) Japan is considered to be one of the most "racially homogeneous" countries in the world. Because of that, most all native Japanese citizens have black hair. Anyone with a natural hair color other than that will be praised for their "beautiful hair" because it is "so different".
6. (Why are you in Japan? Are you an exchange student or a tourist or a JET teacher?) Japan is composed of 98.5% Japanese natives, and 1.5% "other". If you are white, it is assumed that you're there for one of the three reasons I listed before.
7. (Westerner)
8. (Japanese person)
9. (Foreigner)
10. (I am not American. I am not Japanese)
I love how you describe your diasporic experience in stages, which just offers further proof that the movement between nation-states, social norms, elsewheres, etc is ongoing. I also love how you create, invert, and then dissolve the ideas of home, us, and the other. You stated that you did not feel at home in your “home” so you escaped but did not truly fit in Japan either. Then your “home” seemed more deserving of said title because of the new overwhelming otherness but you had rejected it and it rejected you in return just as Japan did. You became the other while they were collectives back home and in your new environment. I believe that you are right that humanity enables people to grow from experiencing such homelessness because my awareness and perspective grow from merely hearing your story. Thanks for sharing and I hope that you find an at least temporary home here at Kalamazoo College with all of us!
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