Are Foreign Language Speakers Destined to Be Outsiders?

Being derided as a “Westernized critic”

My English skills have made my life both blissful and miserable. I was the happiest bilingual when I finally met my soulmate at an American college. Without English, I couldn’t have found him let alone many of my friends and job opportunities.

On the other hand, I regularly find myself in abysmal depression because of my second language. After devouring American news and entertainment over the past decades, my way of thinking is heavily influenced by capitalism, feminism, and individualism.

I’m not able to fit into the typical Japanese companies. Being surrounded by older male Japanese managers makes me queasy because they tend to evaluate their colleagues and subordinates solely based on age and gender, not capabilities or expertise.

And I’m not the right person to teach my child patience, which is undoubtedly critical to survive in Japanese society. An old Japanese saying goes “ishi no ue nimo san-nen (perseverance wins because sitting on a stone for three years makes it comfortable),” but I would rather crush the stone and build a home within a month.

I always struggle to tame my wanderlust, and I can’t stop imagining my life in a different country. It makes me feel like being lost in an enormous airport without a boarding ticket. My irresponsible inner child nudges me to book a flight and go to the terminal gate which will open a new chapter of my life.

My other self reminds me of my aging mother who needs my support. Unable to fly somewhere else, I sit down with a cup of coffee at the airport Starbucks in my mind and stare at travelers with boarding passes in their hands as if I’m not aware of the fact that my life is limited. In a nutshell, that’s how I feel in my daily life.

And the worst thing is that my English is nowhere near my desired proficiency. Every time I find unfamiliar words in YA novels, I curse my limitations. My expectation might be too high, but vocabulary size tests never fail to knock me down.

So, when an anonymous account called me dewa-no-kami—Japanese internet slang which means critics who compare Japan with other countries—on social media, I found it almost funny.

Many Japanese dislike people with foreign roots who condescendingly criticize Japan. With overseas examples suggested by dewa-no-kami who usually live or have lived abroad, those haters chant “Leave us alone, get out of Japan if you don’t like it.” A typical conversation goes like this:

アメリカではこうなのに日本はまだこうだ (This is how it is in the U.S. and yet this is the way in Japan.)

関係ないだろ、ここは日本なんだよ！ (None of your business. This is Japan!)

Surprisingly, I was able to earn the honorable dewa-no-kami designation while living in Japan; I got cast away before noticing it. Learning a foreign language takes you far, but that can make you an outsider if you appear to be too Westernized.

However, it is ironic that those who try to discuss the weaknesses of Japan are often more worried about the future of this country than those who have stopped thinking and accept everything just as it is irrespective of their backgrounds. Yet haters don’t want to be dragged into discussions because they believe only Japanese people know what they need to do.

In fact, my readers’ reactions are opposite depending on their demographic characteristics. Japanese readers are mainly on Twitter with their anonymous user names. Many of them are my friends for a long time and they feed me positive feedback, but outside of this bubble can be harsh.

Those random readers normally appreciate my opinions but sometimes hate me and leave nasty comments with no clue who they are. I don’t expect deep discussions with most Japanese readers anyway.

Meanwhile, English speaker readers are everywhere from Medium to LinkedIn, and they praise, challenge, agree, and disagree with my opinions quite openly with their real names. I find this much fairer than Twitterverse communication with Japanese people, though I highly think of my friends on it.

Generally speaking, learning a foreign language doesn’t make one pompous. Rather, it repeatedly makes one feel stupid and worthless because of mistakes learners can’t avoid making.

Even after acquiring a certain level of proficiency, people around you may be suspicious of your ability to leave them in the dark in communications. In fact, my former Japanese manager didn’t fully trust me because I could talk to his boss directly in English if necessary.

These things might not be the case if you speak two similar languages, English and German or French and Italian. However, in this island country, foreign language speakers are often considered non-Japanese even if they are Japanese.

When I find English learners calling themselves “jun-japa (pure Japanese),” which usually means Japanese who have never lived abroad, I find it hard to see the value in that category. Perhaps they’re proud of their foreign language skills without relying on their backgrounds. Or they don’t want to be ostracized by fellow citizens because of their skills.

Either way, according to internet slang, I’m an ordinary Japanese jun-Japa, but also too Westernized condescending critic dewa-no-kami.

I still wonder where my dream country exists. I’ve been trapped in the virtual terminal longer than Tom Hanks. But I’m fortunate because my husband and child are my Wilson, and we can smash useless rocks and build a cozy home together. All I have to do is wear a mask and conceal my true feelings outside the terminal.

Do you live in your dream place?

Or are you trapped in a virtual terminal like me? If so, meet me there and tell me your story. It’s not so bad to live in the middle of nowhere free from all the social norms, at least in your imagination.

If you enjoyed this article, discover other works of the author at Japonica.

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