“Why do you want to go to Japan so badly?”
During my second year teaching in Korea, some of the members of the English Bible study for Koreans that I had been leading for about a year and a half were very persistent in their suggestion that I should become a missionary in Korea. At first, I was kind of offended that they were so insistent that I stay in Korea, where there is a relatively low need for foreign Christian missionaries. I thought it was because of Japan and Korea’s long, sordid history that they seemed so opposed to me going to Japan, perhaps compounded by the same kind of nationalism that permeates many American churches. Then they finally asked me:
“Why do you want to go to Japan so badly?”
That’s when I realized that they really had no idea who I was. It wasn’t really their fault. Apparently, I had never told them. It still hurt, though. It hurt worse when one of my close friends didn’t know. It hurt worse because she came up with her own explanation for me wanting to go to Japan. She figured I was just an American otaku who wanted a Japanese girlfriend. On some level, I suppose that wasn’t totally unfair. I do like anime and other Japanese media, but the main reason why I like it is different from most American otaku. Sure, to be honest, I would prefer to marry a Japanese girl, but it’s not because I have some kind of “yellow fever” fetish. On both fronts, my interest is largely because of my family heritage and the way my family heritage has helped to determine my whole direction in life.
“Why do you want to go to Japan so badly?”
I often wish that people could tell my heritage and history just by looking at me. Sometimes, when I tell them that I’m a quarter Japanese, they might say, “Oh, I can see that now.” That makes me feel a little bit better. Sometimes, though, they don’t see it. Worse, they don’t even believe it. Worst, they will speak like being a quarter Japanese isn’t Japanese at all. That cuts deep. The hardest thing about it is that it’s kind of true. I’d always known it at some level, but the truth of it punched me in the gut when a Japanese American friend pointed it out to me: “You know you’re not Japanese, right? I mean, it’s nothing personal. I’m not even really Japanese.” The cultural homogeneity of Japan is such that it’s hard to be considered Japanese unless you are 100% Japanese and have basically grown up in Japan for your whole life. In that sense, I’ll never be Japanese, no matter how well I know the language and culture. I’ll always be an outsider.
“Why do you want to go to Japan so badly?”
As a boy, I was tantalized by Japanese language, people, and culture. I ate Japanese food, I watched Japanese TV, and spent time hanging out with Japanese people, including two months in Japan with my grandparents. I was raised to consider myself Japanese. To many Japanese people, I will never be one of them, but to me, they will always be my people. That’s why it hurts when Japanese people say things like “Thank you for your interest in Japan”– would you thank a Japanese person for having an interest in Japan? Those are my people, and on the most generous estimate, apart from a major work of God, it seems like 99 out of 100 of them will spend eternity in hell.