The Deeper Root

December 17, 2007

I am from Japan, but most of my friends are Caucasians.

It may have something to do with the fact that the first place where I experienced US was Iowa.

It was the first time I experienced the conversation of family lineage. My mom’s side is half British and the other half is German… the white America, at this point, has all but lost touch with their roots, with the exception of the knowledge of their family trees.  People don’t claim the countries of their forefathers to be their own.

US is a country built on a very short history. Its core concept had amazingly innovative ideas for the time, true. But 500 years apparently is not enough to grow deep roots in. I know many Caucasian Americans who long for something deeper — be it a language or a culture or an ancient craft. Something to keep them more connected to a deeper root, even if it’s not their own.

I am Japanese, but I have lived more than the latter half of my life abroad. I’ve been in US now for 15 years. Most of my surroundings are Caucasians, including my family. It’s safe to say that I am very Caucasian myself, at least culture-ly.

But yet, the whole analogy of a banana — yellow on the outside but white on the inside — doesn’t really ring true for me. I don’t look like a Caucasian, nor sound like one, but the inside, the top half is heavily whitened but the bottom half isn’t. I do take pride in my cultural identity. I talk about Japan every chance I get, both favorably and unfavorably.

That said, therein lies the problem. I don’t know Japan. I don’t know Japan for at least two decades. I am from Japan but the Japan I came from is no more. To top it off, the Japan I came from was rather unusual in itself — my family is Christian. Less than 1% of Japanese in Japan are said to practice this religion, and we have a lot of values that don’t get along with those of our tradition.

So just like the generic America (and I mean that not in a condescending way, but a sympathetic one) and I have this in common: we’re both yearning to set deeper roots, but we have lost touch. The difference is that this yearning creates a shared thread among Caucasian Americans. I, on the other hand, am alone.

Uniqueness used to be my no.1 priority, and I made some choices earlier in my life to push me further into the uncharted territories, even sometimes alienating myself.

Well my friends, uniqueness is not a problem any more — connecting is.

Don’t get me wrong, I still connect aplenty. I have friends — good ones.

But I don’t have many Japanese friends. I don’t relate well to most Japanese people. Our values and life experience are simply too different.

That said, when I do connect to a Japanese person, I feel like that connection reaches deeper, faster, more effortlessly. A part of me relaxes when I’m with a Japanese person, whereas with others that takes efforts.  I’ve built my whole life on cross-cultural communication.  But this simply fills me up in places nobody else can.

I’d call myself a citizen of the world. I am part American, a tiny bit Brazilian, with a Japanese foundation. I am a foreigner in US, and relate well to others who come to this country — I’ve made friends with other Asians and Europeans, for example. I thrive in an international community. My friends reflect the diversity I have inside me.

Yet, there is no denying where my root is. In Japanese, we call it “furusato.” It’s more than a home town — it’s a place where you really came from. Japan moved on and didn’t remain as my furusato.  That is to be expected.

But that doesn’t mean that I stop yearning for my root.

I will yearn forever.

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