Guest Blog and Photos by Lexi Whitmore
A few days ago, I unwittingly walked into the perfect setup for a social experiment. I ended up having to go out for a late-night walk and, although Japan is a safe country, I was my usual paranoid self. When a foreign man came out from a side street right in front of me and continued walking the same direction, I tensed up and readied my plan of escape, or attack. I could run down that side street to that popular bar, or if he got close, I could spray him in the eyes with the little bottle of perfume in my purse. As an insane last resort, I could jump in the river. What rapist/murderer/grabby drunk has that much perseverance? However, I tossed out my imaginative plans when a Japanese businessman popped out on the other side of the street. On seeing him, I immediately crossed over. That shady foreign guy wouldn’t do anything to me with someone else around, would he? Even if he were that crazy, this upstanding citizen on my side would immediately come to my rescue. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued on my way, unburdened.
Fortunately, my walk was a long one (in mostly well-lit, well-populated areas from that point), and I had time for some critical thinking. My reaction was actually intriguing, once I made the connection. I have heard people imply that Japanese are a little racist because of their reactions to foreigners: interest, like you’re an exotic zoo animal; unease, because you have no idea how to behave in their society; fear, because you don’t have the same moral compass. These reactions are all generalizations of course and I get irritated when I hear people assume and oversimplify about a country I love. But the interesting thing is this: in Japan, I have had all of these reactions to foreigners myself. I once saw a white waiter in a popular Shibuya restaurant, and I positively gaped at him, like he couldn’t see me staring. And as my paranoid walking experience showed, I feared a foreign man much more than a Japanese man. When I saw him, I felt like I was seeing someone far detached with nothing in common with me. He was a wildcard, and I wasn’t particularly excited for a chance to find out what kind of man he was. When I saw the Japanese man, however, I felt like I knew exactly what to expect of him. I knew what his rules were, and I trusted that he would do the right thing and follow them if the situation required it.
Am I a “racist” too? Do I have some innate fear and loathing of white people? I would hope not, as I have some as friends and am one myself. (Important note here: Of course, foreigners are not only white people; we are just the most anomalous in the Japanese landscape). Or am I racist in the other direction, believing that all Japanese have some perfectly outlined code of behavior, and that every member of society behaves in an honorable way? The obvious conclusion is that I don’t believe either of those things and neither do (most) Japanese. Through this one little experience, I finally have a logical rebuttal to people who cite behavioral evidence when insisting that Japanese naturally have an offensive attitude towards the foreign: in Japan, I instinctively felt the same way towards people of my own race. The reactions that I described above are products,not of a xenophobic/xenophilic national character, but of a society that is made up of 98.5% the same race. Now I know how to articulate that.

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Gallery • 1 Photos

A Racist in the Other Direction