赤ちゃん

I used to joke with Anata that if he wanted children that badly, he would have to help me steal a Japanese baby. I thought they were the cutest babies with their dark hair and big brown eyes. But more than that, they were much better behaved than American babies. I very rarely heard them cry or act out in public. I can’t remember one tantrum in my whole time there. My students were as genki as all children are, but they were respectful of adults and each other. Japanese children were just all around better behaved.

Now that Anata and I are expecting a child of our own, I have been thinking a lot about Japanese babies. There is a good chance my little one will have dark hair and dark eyes like my husband. But even if it has blue eyes and fair hair like me, I am more interested in how I can encourage my child not to throw fits in public, obsess over material things, and otherwise act like wild American children.

Before I go further, let me say that I don’t think American children are terrible. I honestly don’t have a lot of experience with them. However, I saw a big difference between Japanese and American kids. With such a difference in values and cultures, that isn’t a surprise. I liked what I saw in Japan better, that’s all. It felt more like what I wanted for my own children.

In Japan, I didn’t spend a whole lot of time with families. I was fortunate enough to be involved in my local community in Osaka and got to know some of the kids and families through events like Danjiri. I got to see them interact up close, but only a few times a year. But families are everywhere in Japan. No matter where I went, I was surrounded by children and parents.

I think that is what I noticed first - that outings were always done as a family. It was kind of refreshing. When I would visit the park or a monument on the weekends, I was sure to see dozens of couples with their young kids. I am assuming that, like here, as kids got older these family events became more special occasions than weekly adventures since I didn’t see a lot of older elementary kids out with their folks, but it seemed that, while the kids were young, spending time as a family was very important.

What kind of blew my mind was that the fathers seemed just as involved as the mothers. They would carry children (children in Japan are almost always carried or walk on their own, there weren’t a ton of strollers around), play with toddlers, and are otherwise completely present with their family at that moment. It seemed so different from the salaryman picture I had in my head of the workaholic Japanese dad.

I know Japan is a bit behind when it comes to gender equality. Most women feel pressured to quit their jobs when they start a family and won’t return to the workforce until their children are almost grown if at all. I can’t say I agree with this social construction, but I can say Japanese moms seem to be completely devoted to their child’s success and well-being. You just have to look at the crazy bento culture that has exploded all over the internet to see how much effort these women put into everything involving their children. It is an amazing expenditure of energy!

I am not going to be making cutesy cartoon bento for my child, but I appreciate the level of involvement Japanese parents appear to have in their child’s life. I think many of the things Japanese parents do creates a strong feeling of family unity that will help and support the child through growing up. It is a feeling that I hope I can foster in my own family.

But the behavior I admired in Japanese children came from more than just loving parents. It came from the values of Japanese society itself. Children didn’t have a ton of toys or gadgets. There’s simply not enough room in a tiny Japanese apartment or house. Many of the kids I saw made due with whatever they could find and a little imagination. Watching them play with sticks, stones, and other things scavenged from around the playground reminded me of my own upbringing. It is amazing what kids can come up with when they are left alone to imagine their own worlds and games. It is a valuable skill.

And as far as respect for elders and each other, that is the heart of Japanese culture. Thinking about others before you think about yourself is probably the most Japanese things I can think of. And it is astonishing how early children can do that. One of the greatest lessons I learned working with Japanese children is how much more young people are capable of.

When I think about the type of parent I want to be, the type of life I want to give my child, I find myself leaning more toward Japanese parenting styles. I am not saying the Japanese are perfect, no culture is, but I am drawn to certain aspects. Like how they encourage independence and accountability at a much younger age than Americans. How children are incorporated into every aspect of daily life rather than set aside in a crib or playpen while mommy and daddy do their adult stuff. Or how very young children are expected to understand how to act in a variety of social situations – they can run around like little oni all over the playground, but they must behave in stores and other grownup places.  

I know not all the things I like about Japanese culture and parenting will be easy to implement while living in the U.S. Independence is one of these. Japanese children run errands and travel to school all by themselves as early as first grade! In a country with almost no crime, that isn’t unthinkable. Here, however, it would never work. I also really appreciated Japanese minimalism, but since kids are pretty quick to pick up on the value of material things, that might not work out so well.

Anata and I still have a lot of decisions to make and parenting ideas to discuss before our little one comes. And I know there will be even more discussion once our bundle of joy arrives and everything we thought we were decided on gets thrown out the window. I do know that living in another country made it very clear to me that there is no one way to raise a child. Each culture has their own process, but there is no right answer. I need to find the process that works for my family and me.

The Next Hiroshima

I don’t usually do this, but let me get political for a moment. Nuclear war is no joke. I don’t think anyone is stupid enough to think it is. But the President of the United States is treating North Korea’s nuclear threat like silly juvenile boasts (or, you know, like his own bombastic, unrealistic rhetoric). His recent comments at the U.N. about totally annihilating North Korea could be applauded as America finally taking a tough stance on protecting ourselves and our allies. But I see them as an unnecessary escalation. Frankly, he’s playing with fire. While he may want to come off to the rest of the world as some kind of unpredictable leader, he is name calling and leveling threats at a leader we absolutely know for certain is unpredictable.

Many Americans are applauding his statement right now, but they haven’t actually lived in the shadow of North Korea or seen the devastation of an atomic detonation on their soil. My heart goes out to the citizens of Japan and our other Asian allies caught in the crosshairs.

When I lived in Osaka, my sharehouse was very close to Korea Town. Japan has a pretty terrible track record when it comes to integrating and accepting other Asian nationals into their country. I’m not going to go into detail, but I’m also not going to sweep it under the rug. Koreans and other Asians are not always treated well in Japan. Even if they have been there for generations. It is a thing. One I wish Japan would be a little quicker at recognizing and correcting, but what can you do. Anyway, I lived very close to Korea Town, so I got to see a little bit of the good and bad.

For the most part, my Japanese friends and neighbors had a great relationship with Korean friends and neighbors. They shared food, culture, and camaraderie. The families of most of the Koreans I met had been in Japan since WWII, so, aside from ancestry, they were pretty much Japanese. Kind of like Italian Americans or other ethnic groups that have been in this country long enough to blend their native culture with our own.

While things seemed great on the surface, though, I found out this acceptance also came with a lot of fear. Fear of North Korea. I even found out that the reason Otose bought the house I was living in was because she found out the previous owners were North Korean Spies! She never wanted people like that living near her again, so she bought up the whole corner of the block. Now whether the previous owners were actually spies or not, this type of fear was palpable all over Japan. So while my Japanese friends tolerated and in many cases genuinely cared about their Korean neighbors, it seemed there was always a seed of doubt waiting to sprout. Living in the shadow of North Korea had made Japan fearful and suspicious.

I didn’t understand any of this when I arrived. How could I? America hasn’t seen a war on home soil since the Civil War. We have been threatened and afraid, but even the Cold War was over before I was born. Terrorists managed to attack us at home on September 11^th, but even that couldn’t instill overwhelming fear of foreign attack in my generation. Until I moved to Japan, I never worried too much about international politics much less the very real possibility that the country I was calling home at the time would be attacked. After a few months in Japan, North Korea became very scary.

Now that I have returned to the U.S., my fear of North Korea hasn’t abated. I am not afraid that they will fire a missile at America. They don’t really need to. There are plenty of closer targets. Several missiles have already been fired over the island of Hokkaido. My friends in Osaka and Wakayama are far from there, but fear spreads quickly. I have seen videos and heard stories of preparedness drills that look so much like something out of the Cold War era it is heartbreaking. I am afraid for my friends. I am afraid for all of our allies in the region. I am afraid for our world.

WWII was a brutal time for everyone. There were atrocities committed on all sides. Perhaps the worst, though, were the nuclear bombs dropped on Nagasaki and Hiroshima. The aftermath of these explosions were enough to make the world say, “yep, we crossed a line.” Like many, I thought, surely, once would be enough.

I think back to my brief visit to Hiroshima. The area around the Peace Park was eerily quiet, even for Japan. It’s like even the birds knew the sadness that burned out building represented and refrained from singing. There was a group near the monument talking to guests and handing out information about the survivors, trying to educate visitors. Trying to keep history from repeating itself. I didn’t understand their fervor at the time. I listened to their stories. I cried. I soaked up the history and sadness of the place. But I didn’t understand their urgency.

I never thought nuclear missiles would be a legitimate threat to my friends and family. I never thought WWIII would be a valid fear in my lifetime. But it seems they knew it would.