2004年03月08日 月曜日
“Who I am: My Changing Terms of Self-identification”
by Abbie Yamamoto
Biculturalism
Browsing other Japanese-language pages created by otherハーフwho grew up in Japan, and whose primary languages are Japanese, I was reminded that I too used to refer to myself as an American and a Japanese (in that order so that people would not misunderstand me as saying I was ‘Japanese-American’). So then I started wondering why my self-identification changed to that of being solely Japanese. Why did I start doing that?
Today when I am asked who I am, I usually say that I am Japanese, whatever language I am speaking in. Where I have lived in the U.S., that answer was often accepted as is, without any follow-up questions. Sometimes though, my answer was greeted with a quizzical look and a comment like, “but you don’t exactly look Japanese.” Or, sometimes people simply said, “Hum, but you seem to speak perfect American English. Why is that?”
In Korea, when asked where I am from and I answer Japan, I am usually greeted with the follow-up question of “Yeah? Well, you don’t really look Japanese. Actually, you kind of look like a 서양사람 (Westerner).” Then I would say, “That’s because my mom’s American.” Although while saying that, I am simultaneously thinking, “Wait, why does that explain my apparently ‘white-looking’ features for you?” (Of course, among ‘white’ people, I am often reminded of how ‘Asian’ I look.)
I realized that the conflict over what I should identify as (which seemed to be a question of national identity) started when I left Japan at age 17 to attend an international school located in Victoria, Canada. The school gathered people from all over the world who were chosen and sent by their respective ‘national committees.’ The Japanese national committee had an application policy that let anyone who was a resident or citizen of Japan apply (as opposed to only Japanese citizens or only people from certain schools). After passing the written exams, I had private interviews in Japanese and English and participated in a group discussion (in Japanese) composed of all the applicants that passed the written exams.
Clearly, the Japanese committee didn’t care about the nationality of the person they were sending off to the various United World Colleges. But they did want to make sure that the person they were sending could represent Japan to a certain level.
When I found out that I was selected to be sent off to this very exiting-sounding international school for two years, I started thinking about how I was going to identify myself: I was being sent by the Japanese committee as the representative of Japan; I was born and raised in Japan; I was educated in the Japanese school system; Japanese was my primary language; I do have a Japanese parent; and I did have a Japanese passport… But, I also grew up speaking English with both of my parents; I also had an American parent and an U.S. passport; I had grandparents and relatives in Canada and the U.S. that I visited every summer… I was not just Japanese and people could always spot that on me. That I was a hybrid of a Japanese and something else was marked on me for everyone to see. I was Japanese and American. Or so I grew up thinking.
So before leaving home to attend this school, I thought. And thought. Talked a little to other people too, but mostly thought on my own. It was about how I was going to represent myself in this new world that was supposed to represent the international forum. It was not just Japanese, American, or Western (the worlds that I had been exposed to so far). It was going to be everyone from all corners of the world. In such a place, what was I going to refer to myself as? I decided on calling myself Japanese; after all it was the Japanese committee that was sending me there and paying for the whole deal too. This was probably my first encounter with the problem associated with seeing national borders as something more decisive, personal, and symbolic than they deserve to be. So I went to this international forum as the representative of Japan, and Japan only. For all intents and purposes, I was Japanese. National border-crossing did not exist in this place that resembled the forum of the United Nations. Everyone seemed to be transformed into neat unified symbols of their representative countries and in such a place, no one could be both American and Japanese, both Croatian and Italian, both Swiss and German, nor both white and Hong Kongnese. We were all a ‘not quite the typical Japanese,’ a Croatian, a Swiss, or a ‘not quite the typical’ Hong Kongnese.
For my undergraduate studies, I arrived in New York where I felt oddly at home amidst so many hyphenated Americans (eg. Asian-Americans, Jewish-Americans, African-Americans, Italian-Americans, etc.). People often strongly identified with a specific cultural or ethnic group and subdivided themselves as a specific type of American instead of identifying themselves as ‘simple and plain’ Americans. Here, I could call myself ‘Japanese’ and people accepted that. Though what I didn’t realize was that because of the way I spoke English, people at first assumed that I was only omitting the last part, American, and that saying that I was Japanese was merely a shorthand way of my saying that I was ‘Japanese-American.’ Perhaps this was because in the urban areas in the U.S., if someone speaks American-accented English, people often assumed that a national reference was a reference to your ancestral origins only. I noticed this after a few exchanges of “Well, haven’t you heard of ~~?” “No. I told you, I’m Japanese.” “You mean, you grew up in Japan too?” “Yeah, I was born and raised in Japan. Japanese is my first language. I told you, I’m Japanese.” “Oh, you are really Japanese!”
I was among people who defined being something primarily by cultural upbringing so it was fitting that I called myself Japanese. Among other things, I knew nothing about American pop culture and didn’t share the same childhood memories of growing up in the U.S. I wasn’t exactly American by the standards of the people who knew what it meant to be American (that is, people raised in mainstream American culture). I was quite happy to accept that definition, having tried so hard to prove my authenticity as a Japanese person my entire life to other Japanese people and not quite getting the approval I needed. Besides, knowing how easy it would be to be accepted as an American compared to being a Japanese I didn’t feel the urge to insist on being American. It seemed like the moment I decided that it was important for me to be American, I could be. And I didn’t want my Japaneseness to be submerged into my American identity. I was primarily Japanese, than American. So I called myself Japanese.
My identity as a Japanese person solidified by leaving the country (like it does for many ex-pats), but when I went back to the country that was supposed to be the foundation of my identity, that self-identification was denied. It was the same thing all over again: I had to prove my authenticity as a Japanese person just as I had to when I was younger and still a full-time resident of Japan. Only this time it was worse because I had actually left the country and did become better versed in the American (actually North American) Way and became more fluent in English too. A full-Japanese person who leaves Japan is already considered a little foreign, how much more so if that person is only partially Japanese? Her foreignness must increase two-fold.
Or so it seemed to me. My exoticness increased by leaving Japan although paradoxically my identification as a Japanese strengthened.
Having felt that I really wasn’t American by actually living in the U.S., I stopped wanting to define myself as American to any extent. My Americanness seemed to be only a legacy left from the fact of having an American parent and by being a U.S. passport-carrier. From living in the U.S., I understood that being American was something defined largely culturally, and not hereditarily. My self-identification had switched from the Japanese mode (the hereditary mode: “I’m American and Japanese”) to the urban American mode (the cultural mode: “I’m Japanese”).
So today what do I call myself? Lately I’ve been getting tired of these categorizations. In terms of facial features, I look like people from Central Asia (also known as Eurasia) where many country names end in ‘stan.’ Recently when I mentioned that to a friend when we were joking around about identity politics, she said, “Oh, so you’re from Abbiestan. Very good.” Then I thought, ‘oh, nice!’ that’s where I’ll say I’m from: Abbiestan, a country where people look, act, and share the same culture as me. It seems fitting. I’m neither just American nor Japanese anyway nor am I simply a combination of the two. And if people can’t get their heads around the fact that someone might have an identity based in multiple culturals and nationalities, then I will give them a singular name that still includes them all. Never mind that you can’t find the place on the map. It will appear there as soon as you learn how to see it.
Posted by Abbie Yamamoto at 2004年03月08日 12:13
Comments
Do you have any objection to/affinity for the term American-Japanese? This would distinguish from Japanese-American in a way that makes it clear that you have at least one parent from the states, but you live primarily in Japan. I guess it just seems like this would work because Japanese-American, to my thinking, means having at least one parent who is Japanese by race or nationality, and living in the states primarily.
But the race equation gets all snarked up, doesn't it? Once you start trying on labels where one word denotes a race and a nationality, things get confusing...
I wonder what it is like to be Jewish...a race, a culture, a nationality (automatic Israeli citizenship), AND a religion?
Things certainly do get confusing...
Hi Scot,
Thanks for your thoughtful comment.
First about your question: No, I don't really have an affinity to the term American-Japanese, but I also wouldn't object to someone else using it to describe me. It's just that I don't really like saying that I am American outside of the U.S., because the term 'American' seems to connote so many things that are just not true. (The notion that all Americans are White, Anglo-Saxon, and Protestant still prevails.) Within the U.S., I don't feel the need to identify as such.
Like you say, ethnic/cultural labels become a complicated issue when there is no concensus about what part is referring to a nationality and what part to an ethnicity (IF there is a clear divide).
I grinned when I saw your comment about being Jewish because I am also Jewish. In fact, my identification as a Jew is much stronger than that of being American.
Actually, the term I use most often and feel most comfortable with is Japanese-Jew or Jewish-Japanese. But being a Diaspora Jew is drastically different from being an Israeli Jew. Being Jewish is treated distinctly from a legal nationality. So today, saying that you are a Japanese-Jew seems to be more like saying that you are a French-Jew, a Morrocan-Jew or the like. Of course, all of this entirely depends on what social circle you dwell in....
So, those are my thoughts.
Thank you again for your comment. It's encouraging to get feedback on articles that I write.
just a little correction, all the -stan countries are in central Asia, not in Central Europe, which is mostly Slavic.
Thanks for the correction.
I really enjoyed reading your post. I am also a ハーフ who has had similar problems in her home country and abroad.
Although I was born and raised in the States, I'm only seen as Japanese here. When I am asked where do I come from, I always say "from (my state)!" But then I am asked "No, but where are you REALLY from" and then I have to explain that one of my parents is Japanese. (And since I am not completely Caucasian, this must mean English is not my native language. So sometimes I get the "Wow, you speak English so well!" or "You sound just like a Native Speaker!")
I also hesitate to use the term "Japanese-American" because it does imply that you have 100% Japanese blood. I also don't identify with the whole Japanese American/Nikkei culture so I don't feel comfortable with this term.
I have not decided what to call myself. So far I'm just going to stick with ha-fu or American, I guess. We'll see what happens after I move to Tokyo in the fall. =)
People's considering only white race as a main stream American is still a commonplace in the USA. That sort of regular American attitude toward racial destinction comes from its history of the slavery and Black and white politics; people tried so hard to keep track 'even a drop' of blood outside of thier white race so that they would not mix, people and things, up by any chace. Although any secretive interracial sexual relationship did took place, all of those matters were kept secret and never officially recognized publicly up until recently.
The difference in people's attitude toward interracial hybrids could vary from place to place; people take you as Japanese or Eastern Asian in the US context. Japanese people try to categorize you as a Westerner in Japan.
I am also a hybrid mutt of Japanese and Russian descend who was already mixed, but people in the US tend to consider me only as Japanese for I am not entirely white.
Hi, Abbie-san. I really enjoyed reading your articles on this page a lot. Thanks for your contributions. I once commented on your previous one about your experiences with what it means to be a Korean when your studying in South Korea. Are you still there or back in Japan? Although I am what you call a 100% Japanese person by blood and upbringing, I have always felt "out of place" in my home country and uncomfortable with the notion of "futsu-no nihonjin". This is not because of my being gay, but rather how I feel and view who I am. I wanted to get out of Japan so badly in my teens and did study in the US for a while. I was in one of the deep south states, and the experiences I had there taught me a lot about how white Americans view and position themselves in relation to people of different ethnic and cultural backgrounds. I know the deep south cannot really represent the generally-accepted US mainstream thinking and culture though. Living in Hong Kong now, I feel quite comfortable with a seemingly-chanpon cultural and social environment of this cosmopolitan city. Sure enough, HK can be a very "expats-oriented" place, especially on HK island side, but there are a lot of ethnic groups---Nepalese, Philipino, Indonesian, Pakistani, Indian, you name it---huddling together in this tiny part of China. It is predominantly a Chinese culture prevailing here, but these groups add more "spices" to the way of life, I like that a lot. Unlike Japan, HKnese prefer to have their children educated in English and many Chinese parents try hard to send their children to one of many international schools here. It is considered "cool", "high-class" or "advantageous" to be English-speaking Chinese, I suppose. I often see Chinese family conversing in English. I don't think they are "Chinese-American", as their parents have very strong Cantonese accent. It is quite interesting to see such a contrast in people's attitude towards and perceptions of "identifying with a certain culture" between crowds in Tokyo and Hong Kong. Keep writing and give us more food for thought! Thank you.
Nao san,
It does sound that you're living in such a stimulating environment. Your description answered to my lingering question about the place; how people go on their lives after retuning to its main land China. I have been curious about thier education system especially for it might be a key of maintaining certain diversity after the reunion. According to what you've reported in the post, educating kids in English speaking environment is thought to be the high-minded and previledged attitude. I wonder how it used to be in those days of British governing, though. Were they assigned to carry on classes in English language at every school or was it a choice of individuals, such as they had options to go to an English school or a Cantonese school?
I have got the exact same question about the education system in Singapore as well.
Thank you for sharing your story.
Reading it, I was immediately reminded of a friend I made while studying in Japan. Her name was Jenny, and her mom was Japanese. Her dad was Canadian. She grew up in Japan, but later went to university in Canada. She experienced a lot of what you described.
I always thought that it would have been easier for her to "be Japanese" in Japan and easier to explain her Japanese-ness to Canadians if her name were more Japanese. Usually your (given) name is the first thing you tell people, and as soon as they hear it, they start making assumptions.
As Abbie your official name? If so, do you think it has made things harder for you? How do you feel about that?
My friend, an American guy of mixed race from white American mom and Korean dad, whom I met while we were in Moscow and later stayed friends in the US as well, had this strong sense of aversion for his partly being Asian. The funny thing was that he could be hardly recognized as partly Asian from his appearance, so it could be possible to 'be passing as white' if that was what he wanted. But he did not and he could not. I believe that there were more complexed issues there for him than what he simply described to others. One thing that kept on telling something louder than what he looked like was his last name; his obviously Korean name got people's attention more than necessarily, I guess, and let people examine what he 'really' was, especially for his very white looks. People bugged him a lot in the US and that was what he explained to described how he loathed Asians and his being Asian.
Thanks for your posting. I too have parents from each country, but in reverse (my Mom is Japanese). I grew up in Tokyo through middle-school, then did the rest of my education in the U.S. English is definitely my mother tongue, and I identify myself as an American (helps to look like one). One pet peeve I have though is the term "half". If nationality comes up, I usually state that I am "dual", or "both". Half implies something is missing. Seeing as I have spent 1/2 my life in Japan thus far, that I live with my Japanese grandfather, work for a Japanese company, and essentially live a Japanese lifestyle, let alone am a Japanese citizen, the term "half" seems inappropriate even if my moral framework and approaches to life may seem "Western" by Japanese standards. Japanese culture continues to have serious problems with racial, sexual, and other heterogeneous issues (not that the U.S. is a saint). Might I suggest helping stem this tide by making a point of seeing yourself as both, rather than half? After all, we are the new-and-improved version of our parents, are we not? :)
Matt
I totally agree with you; I have always had a problem with the strange Japanese English that seemingly determines thier views on the racial otherness in the community. In English, the word 'half' absolutely means something inadequate and I cannot find it tolerable even though it originally came from their misunderstanding and inadequacy of the grasp of the essence of the foreign language. However, what is attributed to the problem is underrepresented (or unrepresented)opinions and voices of mixed race population on the very issue in this closed off society.
By the way, there is no word to describe Asian race in Russian language. Say, 'crossed eyes' might be thier best try. Isn't it horrible?
Naomi,
I hope that you enjoy living in Japan!
chima,
Thanks for your multiple posts. From your post, I see that we have quite different experiences in the US. I think this has to do with which part of the US we've been exposed to. One of the things I see as the largest variant in people's experience is geographical location in the US, which is why I decided to get very specific about where it was that I lived. Other things I wanted to comment on, I've categorized because other people also commented on it.
Nao, thanks for your feedback and new input!! I remember visiting a friend in Hong Kong in '97 immediately after it was returned to China. My friend, who I had made in the international school I mention above, housed me. I remember then when we were riding the highway bus home to her family's house, her being self-concious about us speaking English because, as she said, her being a Chinese Hong Kongnese and my looking even partly Asian, people might think that we were speaking in English just show off how well educated we were. I was quite surprised and interested at what that might imply though I've never had a chance to explore that further.
My memory is old now, but I still remember the bussling energy of the place and remember my trip there very fondly. My friend and her family treated me extremely well!
John,
re:My name. No, I have both a Japanese name and an American name and my last name is Japanese. In Japan, or if I am speaking in Japanese, I use my Japanese name, and when I am speaking in English, I tend to use my English one. As far as I can tell, in my case, it seemed to make little difference what my name was. Rather, it just added to people's confusion of "but you don't LOOK Japanese...???" I can't discount the effects of it, but not ever having been in that position, I don't really have anything to go on.
Matt and Chima,
re: the term, "ha-fu," "double," "hybrid," etc.
I don't think I can condense what I want to say here so I might make another post on it, but, what I have to say is that, there seems to be a strong current of "let's reclaim the term (that might have originally had a negative connotation)" with the term "ha-fu" in Japan. And, since it is a Japanese word and no longer English, I can't agree on judging the name based on where it 'originally' came from.
Hi Abbie. I really enjoyed reading your story. It was very interesting and useful for me. I'm also a アメリカと日本のハーフ.
Right now I'm attending an international school, so I don't have the need to state my identity so often, except for the SAT's ethnicity box where I have to check the 'others' box... But I used to attend a local Japanese school, where I was often called a GAIJIN. But I am also more Japanese than American. In about a year and a half I'll be going to college in the States. I might face the same issues as you did. I think "Abbiestan" is a great idea, I've once thought of saying "I'm a CHIKYU-JIN just like you". But have you ever thought of being both Japanese and American, no matter how hard it may be for others to understand the idea of multinationality. In the end, we are more American in Japan, and more Japanese in America right?
Hi Abbie. I really enjoyed reading your story. It was very interesting and useful for me. I'm also a アメリカと日本のハーフ.
Right now I'm attending an international school, so I don't have the need to state my identity so often, except for the SAT's ethnicity box where I have to check the 'others' box... But I used to attend a local Japanese school, where I was often called a GAIJIN. But I am also more Japanese than American. In about a year and a half I'll be going to college in the States. I might face the same issues as you did. I think "Abbiestan" is a great idea, I've once thought of saying "I'm a CHIKYU-JIN just like you". But have you ever thought of being both Japanese and American, no matter how hard it may be for others to understand the idea of multinationality. In the end, we are more American in Japan, and more Japanese in America right?