I’m Japanese

My family moved to the States because of my father’s job and I grew up speaking both Japanese and English. To prepare for the day we will eventually be moving back to Japan, the rule in the house was to speak Japanese. No English.

My parents also made me go to Japanese school every Saturday. I hated it. How could I go to Friday night sleepovers at my friend’s house if I have to go to Japanese school first thing in the morning?

I only remember a few negative comments about being Japanese when I was in elementary school. But it was enough for me to become aware that I was different.

When my mom would make homemade Japanese food, I would think, “Why can’t we just eat pizza and hot dogs like normal people?!” There was no way I was taking rice balls or a bento box to school for lunch. I stopped riding my bicycle with Japanese anime characters on it. I definitely did not speak Japanese when I saw my sister at school.

I didn’t want to learn Japanese. I didn’t want to go to Japanese school. I didn’t want to be Japanese. I didn’t want to be different.

When I was about eight years old, there was a new classmate from Japan. He didn’t speak any English.

My teacher asked me if I could translate and I refused. The teacher thought I was too shy to speak Japanese in front of my classmates so she took me and the new student outside and left us alone. I stayed silent. I don’t remember for how long but I didn’t say a word. Feeling ashamed to be different made me close down.

Looking back, I feel bad for the boy. I might have made him feel ashamed for being Japanese.

If I was proud to be Japanese and to be able to speak Japanese, I would’ve helped him and his first day of school could’ve been completely different.

I forgive my younger self for doing what she did, but I hope I never make someone feel ashamed for who they are.