This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Waseda chapter.

Rudeness in Japan? Seems unthinkable, doesn’t it?

I was walking home after classes had ended for the day. To be more specific, it was an early winter evening, I was bundled in a large black coat, carrying two grocery bags and my backpack. At a small road in my neighborhood, I was quiet, alert and waited for an old man on a bicycle to slowly ride away, so I could cross without hindering him.

To make myself absolutely clear, I was alone, well-behaved, respectful, and mindful of my manners in the foreign country that I’d been living in for just over two months.

The man on the bicycle suddenly swerved to stop near me and I flinched away. He scowled at me, sizing me up with narrowed eyes and I was frozen in shock, wondering how to free my hands as quickly as possible. Was he a passerby? A religious agent? A salesperson? Had I done something wrong?

The man snapped ‘Gaikoku Gomi’ in my face and then peddled away.

My heart racing, I just watched him vanish into the twilight, thankful it hadn’t been an attempt at physical or sexual assault of any kind. Still new to the language, I tried to decipher what he had said, while continuing the journey home. Outside my apartment I saw the huge blue garbage bins that had been set out for collection the next morning and a poster on the wall reminding us of the proper disposal rules. There again, I saw that new word, ‘gomi’, and then realized what the man had called me.

Foreign Garbage.

I quietly made my way home, double checked my lock and kept the incident a secret for a whole year. After all, I reasoned, one cranky old man’s insult wasn’t a reflection of the country on Japan as a whole. He was the one of the last remnants of a generation that had perhaps survived the war and endured the hardships it brought. As an outsider, it was my responsibility to be more sensitive, adapt to the local atmosphere and be as pleasant as possible.

I decided to put the ultimately harmless incident out of my mind and strived to do better.

Unfortunately, it didn’t work like that. The memory of what had happened clung to everything I did, reminding me that I stuck out, that I was inadequate, that I was an tainted presence and would always remain one.

“It’s easy to fit into this country,” I recall a very East Asian classmate of mine exclaiming one time, “Why does everyone act like it’s so hard to be accepted? Just learn some of the language, buy Uniqlo clothes and everyone thinks you’re Japanese. In a few years, I’ll have to tell everyone what country I really come from!”

Via tokyotimes.org

I stared down at the back of my own hands. To give you an idea of what I look like, let me just say that I spent half my life in my home country of India, ran around in ninety degree weather without sunscreen and never experienced so much as a sunburn. Uniqlo sweatshirts definitely do not help with my assimilation and unlike my friend, I will never be able to sneak into a Japanese-only store. Even if I had complete mastery over the language and understood every nuance of its complex culture, I know that shopping assistants would switch to English to serve me and waiters and stores would give me an extra spoon with the standard chopsticks when I ordered salad. I accepted as much and more than that, have come to appreciate the thought and consideration behind the action.

However, my primary issue with Japan isn’t the question of overt racism but rather, that of Xenophobia: a fear of foreign-ness that manifests as a kind of horrified fascination or overemphasis on the fact that someone ‘doesn’t belong’. I’ve been stopped outside on multiple occasions by locals who start a conversation that then escalates into a casual interrogation: Am I black? Do I come from Nigeria or Kenya? How long do I plan to stay in Japan? What am I currently doing here? Am I able to eat the food?

Agreed, these encounters are polite enough and others with a more positive view on life might record them as unexpected travel encounters. However, as an undergraduate student who’s destined to live here for four years, I felt that I was being singled out of a crowd of thousands (often quite literally) with the sole intention of being reminded that I am in some way ‘more foreign’ and my actions deserving of more scrutiny than a passing group of non-Japanese but East Asian tourists or business people.

The unpleasant side of this dynamic entails men and women giving up their seats to avoid me while commuting, watching people pat down their pockets and check their bag after I pass them in a crowd, and constantly attracting hordes of stressed shop assistants in branded stores who approach me every minute or so to ask if I’ve found what I needed. I took the hint and bought several University logo sweatshirts and jackets so I could make my way around more affluent stores without being hindered every ten steps, or other times just wave a camera around and use solely English, to be perceived as a tourist.

Despite these strategies, being on the receiving end of open discrimination isn’t the price I want to pay for extra leg room on the morning train.

I saw Xenophobia being expressed in other ways, like the instance where a Japanese friend of mine confided that he was reluctant about studying abroad for the first time in his life because the experience might take something away from his identity as a Junjapa, or someone who has spent their entire life in Japan.

To equate the purity of your identity to whether or not you’ve had experiences abroad…I was speechless. It was the defining moment that made me realize that Japan is indeed afraid ‘foreign-ness’ even if it’s among its own.

To sign off on this article, I have a final thought: Tokyo is going to host the 2020 Olympics and needless to say, frantic preparations and policy changes are being made to warmly welcome the thousands of foreign visitors who are looking forward to participating and witnessing this historic event. With first-hand experience of world-class Japanese hospitality and the courtesy of its many wonderful people, I’m sure that these fortunate travelers will come away with countless memories to cherish.

However, when encouraging foreign entry into one’s country (which is the point of an international sporting event like the Olympics) it is a huge injustice to do so with a filter and accept only the aesthetic benefits of ‘foreign-ness’ like international food, movies, music and fashion, all the while being prejudiced against the practices, experiences and even existence of foreign residents and immigrants whose only fault is being the ‘other’ entity. A person’s identity isn’t something they choose and therefore, is not a customizable package for others either. You cannot use Korean cosmetics and listen to K-pop while ignoring the hate speech of anti-Korean right-wing groups. You do not get to enjoy Sichuan cuisine and reject Chinese residents who try to find housing in Tokyo. You do not deserve to shop in Harajuku and listen to Hiphop while expressing a distaste for dark skin. You cannot take your friends out to eat Indian curry and Turkish kebab while claiming that their people and their religion are harmful to Japanese culture.

In summary, the only place where you are allowed to freely practice discrimination is Domino’s horrifyingly expensive ‘Build Your Own Pizza’ section, found right here.

Despite everything, I can’t deny that it’s an exhilarating time to be a foreign student in Tokyo right now and I enjoy every moment of it. With that in mind, every student deserves the same experience and moreover, to be accepted equally regardless of their race and nationality.

Via Flickr

Is Japan Xenophobic?

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