What up! My name is J.R. and I am a first year ALT in Nagasaki Prefecture. I’m living on Ojika Island and being here is a truly special experience. I love the access to beaches every direction I go and being able to immerse myself into a semi-conservative, close knit community has given me a perspective on Japan that I wouldn’t have access to being in a city. This island is comfortable and can feel like paradise at times but being a Blasian-American (Black and Asian), I also feel like I am exposing the people on Ojika to a world view they possibly didn’t even know existed until 8 months ago.
Having grown up in Portland, America’s whitest major city, standing out and sticking up for myself was familiar territory for me. So, when I receive questions from friends about how I feel about being a foreigner in Japan, I respond with a tired quip. My friends and family were always supportive and excited for me, but I could always tell there was hesitation from them when it came to expressing their fears for me. Fears that I could tell were rooted in their own perceptions of what Japan could be like towards me, fears that had crossed my mind on occasion, but that I didn’t really bat an eye to. My own fears were ones that had stemmed from the idea of uprooting my entire life and moving across the world, rather than the concern of being labeled as an “other” in a land I had no safety nets in.
Since I arrived on my little island of paradise off the coast of Nagasaki I’ve felt many things: jubilant, bright, energetic, nostalgic, sad, alone, and depressed. All these feelings came from many places, but I never strayed from the reason I came: to be in a community with Japanese people. Although my Japanese is guttural nonsense, my community has largely embraced me. I’ve made friends, been invited into events, found an island “mom”, and by extension, gained numerous Japanese “family”. Generally, the times when I’ve felt strange or out of place have been when I’ve had to travel to the city and is ironically because of other foreigners.
Among the Japanese, I have sometimes seen that there is a sense of taking the road often travelled in this very homogenous nation. Not wanting to stick out is common, and I recognize this in classes when I ask a question, but not one hand raises due to a fear of being wrong. It still shocks me when my students must get routinely checked to make sure their nails and hair are a certain length. The culture here is much more collectivist when it comes to the wellbeing of society, which I find endearing, but sometimes also pangs of annoyance. For example, the first time I fell ill here, I had a literal village worth of people going out of their way to make sure I was thoroughly checked out, even if I thought it to be a little much.
These numerous cultural phenomena are exactly why I love meeting new people and exposing them to my world, showing them that people from (not so) faraway lands they might only have vague Hollywood depictions of are just like them in some ways and different in others. When people see me, I feel that the countless stares are products of genuine curiosity, and I hardly feel uncomfortable here. I have never been followed or harassed or threatened. I often strike up long conversations with farmers and townspeople wanting to get an idea of who I am, where I come from and if I’d like a bite to eat. I’m a big believer of exposure education, so if someone is hesitant or unknowledgeable about something that I know, that is my opportunity to teach a new perspective.
Obviously, everything isn’t always peachy. I’m very pragmatic, and I’ve had my fair share of struggles and occasional off-handed comments. An old man at a party gleefully pointed to my face and told me I looked like a constant sunburn, and everyone in the room broke into raucous laughter. That moment, although harmless to them, stung and made me realize that though I was thousands of miles away from the foolishness of my country, there’s still work to do towards normalizing being black and brown around the world.
Living in Japan, though hard at times, is like any other drastic life change and culture shock experience. I wouldn’t trade this experience for another. I’ve built a community of good friends from many different backgrounds and if I just want to be me or vent, I know exactly who to call. I love my life here and who I’m becoming. I’ve had real growth in my time here that is helping me evolve into a better version of myself. I’ve experienced trials that easily could have made me give up, but I’ve gained valuable insight about who I am and the knowledge that I can face adversity head on and come out stronger. My soul has been enriched rather than stitched; we are not born as pieces of this world, but rather a part of it. When my time here ends, I look forward to taking my experiences and knowledge back home and informing those who projected their hesitations and fears onto me at the precipice of my journey.
by Jordan “J.R.” Shellmire, 1st year in ALT in Ojika
