Reflection

What brought me to this multi-year project? I am asking myself as I reflect on the journey of research, storytelling, and discovery.

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Being born in the U.S., I grew up in Japan with family members telling me, “You know you are American, right, Seira?” It made me feel somewhat cool and, at the same time, brought me the sense that I am different. I am the only U.S. citizen in my family, among my siblings, and among most of my friends back home in Tokyo.

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I was encouraged to study abroad in the U.S., even though I am not technically a foreign student. I was interested, curious, and wanted to come see the U.S. someday.

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Then the transition happened sooner than I expected. I first signed up to be a one-year exchange student in my junior year in high school. One year — that time frame brought me some kind of security — one year later, I will come back to my ordinary life in Japan.

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The plan shifted. I decided to stay for another year, graduate from high school, and am now counting the days until college graduation. It has been 6 years since I moved my base from Tokyo to Oregon.

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So many things that can’t be listed here happened over the years, and I am grateful for each thing, even though it was tough at the moment.

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My view of Japan, where I am from, shifted over the years. People talk about reverse culture shock, and I definitely experienced it. It also opened my eyes to communities in Japan that I had not considered before.

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Several courses I’ve taken in college have also shaped me in this way. One course on Latinx autoethnography sparked my interest in exploring Japan from a different perspective than before. I found out that Brazil has about a million Japanese descendants who moved there to work in agriculture. I was shocked to learn I didn't know about it, and it introduced me to a wider range of Japanese people and others with connections to Japan in various ways.

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One summer, I did research on foreign workers in Japan, as I thought the population wasn't being discussed among the majority-Japanese people, the circles I often found myself in. I looked into how foreign workers can find support while living in Japan.

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At that time, I was trying to advocate for people in Japan who don’t necessarily have the power or access to speak out, which I think stemmed from my own experience living in the U.S.

Year after year, I would visit my family in Japan for a month or a few months, crossing the Pacific Ocean.

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Then I start to realize that plane rides back and forth hold a special meaning.

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I vividly remember this one time when I was traveling back from Tokyo to Oregon after the summer break. I spent almost three months with my family, which was wonderful, but also raised some questions. I remember my parents saying, “When are you going back to Oregon?” which, for me at the time, caught my attention because I understood that my home was Oregon, not in Tokyo. I found myself longing for home after being absent from my hometown and building a community in a new town. Once I boarded my flight to Seattle from Tokyo, I could only think of one question— “Where is my home?”

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As the plane took off, I thought I needed some distraction from my thoughts, so instead of watching a movie, I looked at what kind of songs were available on the plane. Then I found the song titled “HOME.” I was shocked. HOME is by Aki Angela, a Japanese artist. I knew the artist from before because I had sung her song at school before for a music festival. Angela grew up in Japan, though her American father influenced her.

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There wasn’t a particular line from the song that stood out to me, but I had my tears running down both cheeks as I listened to the song. It was probably my first time crying on a plane besides some crying I may have done as a baby. I think the tears came from all the reflection the song prompted while I was listening to it. I was looking back on my childhood, times with my grandparents, school life, and my memories of running around in a neighborhood park with my sisters and friends.

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By listening to the song, my initial question, “Where is my home?”, evolved into “What is home?”

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This question can be complex, especially for people who have multiple physical homes. As I've interviewed or had conversations with people, I’ve learned that home shifts and changes locations, but there's also something that doesn't leave.

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For me, Iruma, which is my grandparents’ house, is one of the unchanging homes. Whenever I visit, I am welcomed by my grandmother's distinct smell and bright smile. Memories would keep coming back to my mind.

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Working on this project also allowed me to explore where the soy sauce I grew up with comes from. Learning about family stories made me aware of my family history.

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Overall, I am grateful that I was able to explain my perspective on Japan, its culture, people, and even my relationship to Japan.

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Moving on post-college, I see myself expanding and exploring this passion for multicultural stories, and someday, if that is the plan, circle back to Japan to then tell stories of people in Japan with multicultural backgrounds.