Japanese Mind Meld

I’ve been brainwashed (well, at least I’m pretty sure).

At some point in my life, unbeknownst to me, I learned stuff I did not even know I was learning (though I guess that is true for many things, but I am just realizing it now . . . yeah, no wise remarks, after all it was slow and steady that won the race, baby). I do not remember my parents (or any of my family for that matter) verbalizing any of this. I do not recollect discussing this with my friends. I know I did not learn this in school or at church. But somehow I know:

• That when I step out into the world, my actions do not only represent myself, but my family and (to some extent) all those who share my ethnicity;

• That just as my actions reflect on others, my family and other members of my ethnicity reflect on me and how I am perceived by the world; and

• That my ethnicity means Asian in general, and Japanese in particular.

When I look back, I know all this was somehow ingrained at a young age. It manifests itself in the following ways, which explains why:

• I cheer for the Asian person in most contests (Top Chef, etc.) Though I have also been known to cheer for the female (especially if it is in a male dominated field);

• I felt inordinately proud of Michael Chang when he won the French Open (and it’s not just because I have a crush on him that continues to this day…and no matter what you may have heard, I did not stalk him at the U.S. Open in 1999…);

• My heart fell(even more) when it was released that the Virginia Tech shooter was Asian, was slightly relieved that he was not Japanese, then went back down again wondering if people would even know the difference (which is shameful, I know. I’m not proud that these thoughts even crossed my mind.)

This indoctrination is very subtle; because in the ordinary course of my life, I do not feel the weight of my ancestors upon me. I do not feel the shame/disappointment/joy of my family. If my parents/siblings accomplish or excel in something, I do not feel the residual brightness fall upon my head. I do not think any thing I have done adds to anyone’s cache except my own (and to a smaller extent, perhaps to my parents).

I was born and raised in the United States. Raised in Christian church. I did not grow up hearing about ancestors or the “old” ways (except I knew my mom thought it was important to visit my grandparents’ graves. I just thought it was a respectful thing, but I see now it is also a cultural thing for her). I cheer for the U.S. during the Olympics, know next to nothing about Japan, can’t speak the language, don’t know the culture and am definitely more Euro-centric than Asian-centric in my thoughts and preferences (to this day my sister insists I should have been born into an Italian family; and there is some Italian family out there with some changeling that likes rice more than pasta, fish more than red meat and sushi more than antipasti).

The traces of these connections to my ethnicity and to group mores and ideals are faint, yet surprisingly tenacious. What on its surface looks almost wispily ethereal is anchored into a substantive foundation. And the reason why this came to the forefront of my thoughts? Because I read some guy’s blog.

He wrote about a particularly awkward and upsetting interaction with two men in Japan, seemingly yakuza types. Their exchange, which was written with humor, nonetheless embarrassed me because these men who acted so beyond the scope of appropriate behavior were Japanese. I do not know any of these people. Yet I felt responsible . . . so responsible that I actually apologized to this stranger (replied to his blog entry) about the behavior of two other strangers. That is not normal.

It’s surprising how deep-rooted these feelings of responsibility and ethnic representation are – that they do not even have to be articulated to take hold. Perhaps it is a secret government project using shame to control the masses: Japanese Mind Meld.