The other White meat, on the train.

Okay, so I'm honestly not sure if this title is offensive or not. Generally, I seem to fall on the side of offensive. So, I've been pondering this one a bit because of the frequency with which I see another gaijin(non-Japanese, usually referring to westerner) on the train. I always think about something that my friend Pooh back home told me. He said basically that every time he is at a party in Atlanta and other Asians walk in, they'll spot him and beeline it over to him. "I don't know you! I'm Asian, yeah, I get it" is what he'd tell me he wishes that he could say, but never does. I realize now, more than before, that being a minority can in fact be quite lonely and sometimes you just look for a face that you can communicate with or that you think you can. I've only been here for around six weeks, so I am definitely not amassing this experience to a life of it in the U.S., that would be absurd I realize. However, there is also a distinct language barrier here which reaffirms this desire for similar backgrounds, connection and a more open exchange.

I have only spoken to one white girl on the train. She was studying Japanese and going to a university in Tokyo, which one I don't recall. That was actually a nice experience because she was open to talking. Aside from this one experience, each time I make eye contact, the other gaijin turns away. This reaction seems to imply more than just showing their disinterest in discussion because the movement is so fierce. Instead, I feel that it illustrates their general desire to be the only non-Asian. It reminds me of playing hide and go-seek and when you are about to be found, like a child you cover your face...because, well, if I can't see you... then you can't see me? The logic escapes me as an adult. The simple fact that it feels like such an intentional avoidance just pisses me off! I don't need to converse, but don't pretend that I'm not here! Am I projecting this? It's possible, I've been referred to as crazy before and it's starting to show itself more each day, but I really think that there is validity in this assessment. I've been open to other people talking to me, but they never do. "Am I the only one who can't read that sign?" I think.... "maybe they're fluent in Japanese... perhaps they're Italian and don't speak much English" (I've met 5 Italians that avoid discussion with me more than Japanese do - just sayin). It's frustrating, so I've given in and now I feel like one of them...have I become a drone, socially?

In the U.S. it seems that we identify ourselves as individuals, completely different from others, we wear this, play that, read this type of novel, watch that kind of movie, drink that beer or don't drink, smoke or not....on and on, but here, even if it still applies, it just seems that because of the crowd, the sheer numbers, you are not an individual... unless you're not Asian. That's how it feels, but then being watched constantly I sometimes wish that I could not be seen for not being Asian or even, just not be seen. In Kobe, I wore sunglasses and had my hoodie on so it wasn't obvious at one point, because everyone....EVERYONE there stared at me.

I think there are two routes that this line of thinking can provide. One is frustration and anger at feeling so different and having to be continually reminded of it (people avoid sitting beside me at all cost). The other route is to just accept it and slowly start to learn more so that I can read more - perhaps enjoy the process and experience.

After the Taiko Drumming show that my buddy Jess and I saw the other night, we were headed back to Suitengumae on the subway and there was a woman who looked like a fifty year old Strawberry Shortcake (may have been the red clothes and the button nose, also red) who got on a few stops after us. She obviously had some mental issues and at first she seemed kind of funny. That changed quickly because while seated, she kept closing her eyes and smacking herself in the face. Not loudly, or incredibly hard, but repeatedly for about four minutes and then she would look at her cellphone and then do it again. No one said or did anything, the way that people act in large cities everywhere - it's universally "none of my business". I wanted to sit with her and hold her hand because I felt horrible for her, but she also reminded me of myself in an odd way. I somehow became part of the greater group of people on the train because I wasn't doing that at least. Loneliness is a weird identity to own. She owned it more than I had seen before, even in the U.S. but unfortunately I did nothing at all because I also feel like a visitor here and I have no business in any of this really. It says visitor on the passport, though I did pick up my Gaijin Card today from the Nakano City Office. I realize that I am foreign and this is just a temporary experience that I should enjoy more. Generally it's been great, but here and there I think I'm seeing it more for what it is and I miss and finally see what I had somehow forgotten about the identity of the United States. At the very least, this has made me realize what and who I love and miss. For now, I will just continue to look for work and accept that I will be stared at because I'm White. What did I expect right?