Japan through the eyes of a Cuban American
Written by Faby Alvarez
Edited by Lote Līva Leimane
*This is a piece based on personal experience*
My parents fled from Cuba during the Castro regime, and feeling secure in my identity in the United States has always been difficult. Not quite Cuban enough to call myself a full “Cubana,” but not quite patriotic enough to call myself “American.” With no generational ties to the U.S. or wealth, being at a primarily white, rich private school in upstate New York challenged me to question what it means to be first-generation, multicultural, and ultimately, feeling like you don’t fit in anywhere.
Being an immigrant is hard. Living in a foreign country, especially if you don’t speak the language can be more isolating than people like to admit. A hundred questions flashed through my head when I moved my entire life across the Pacific to Japan: Am I doing the right thing? I’m not even fluent, why did I come here? Am I somehow betraying my Latina identity by moving so far away from everyone who speaks the same languages as me?
It was my final semester of college when I studied abroad at Doshisha University in Kyoto, and I did my class discussion project on first-generation Americans, Americans whose parents immigrated from other countries. I had the opportunity to interview some Japanese college students regarding identity. I asked them how they would feel if they were multicultural, if they felt disconnected from their parents’ culture when being home, how they would feel if they were ethnically Japanese but couldn’t speak the language. They answered that they have no opinion because they’ve never thought about it. They didn’t recognize the struggle of questioning who you are and feeling out of place, of having diverse friendships with people of different ethnicities. One told me they weren’t sure if diversity was even a good thing because they don’t know anyone from another country. Lucky them, I thought sarcastically at the time. I was envious of Japanese people and their sense of unity and certainty in their identity.
It’s hard to make friends who like me for who I am and not just because I can be free English practice. It is hard to try to join groups of friends where they all had cultural inside jokes and mannerisms that I couldn’t pick up on or find amusing. It became hard when I wanted to build deep friendships but my idea of “deep friendship” is different from a Japanese person’s.
Japan’s homogeneity is both a beautiful and scary thing. That’s the way I see it. Many traditional aspects of Japanese culture remain largely untouched, and Japanese people value collectivism and maintaining harmony, which I think contributes to the excellent safety and high quality of life. The other side is not that simple. The lack of immigration and general interest in politics makes Japan feel like a bubble. The racism isn’t as aggressive or discussed because almost everyone is Japanese. The expression in Japanese: “the nail that sticks out gets hammered down” is so rooted in their society that simply looking different can make you stand out in a negative way.
People don’t normally talk about the social and economic issues Japan faces, like its aging population, or lack of progression with women’s rights. However, I’m learning several lessons having lived here for a year and a half. The first lesson is acceptance: I’m a Cuban-American living in Japan, and I speak three languages. I’m not Japanese, but this place has become my home and I feel like I belong here too.
The second is not forcing connections: I have to surround myself with people who like me for who I am and see the good in making Japan a more inviting and safe place for immigrants.