This week, an elementary-aged student said I looked “kowai”—scary. This was the third time I’d heard this from a student (that I could understand). The first two times, it was my light eyes that were needlessly terrifying the children. This time, it was my ‘scary hair like a witch’ that struck fear into their little English-learning hearts. And while it feels good to finally be able to surprise them by understanding their brutal honesty in Japanese (while also choosing not to think about all the other things they probably say about me that I can’t understand), I’ll admit it stings for a minute. But only a minute. Such is the joy of working with children, right? They will bring out all your insecurities (not that I was ever that insecure about my hair looking witch-like), make you confront them, and let you move on. And as a tall, white woman with piercings, tattoos, and bright red hair, I would be somewhat delusional not to expect them to notice that I look different.
As the initial sting wore off, I started to do my typical sociological analysis. (You try living abroad all the time and getting stared at like you’re a different species. I bet you’ll find yourself making the whole thing a little more abstract too.) Why do the kids find light eyes and big, curly red hair scary? I remember being told in Sri Lanka that I was “so beauty with [my] white skin and big nose!” At the time, while accepting the hilariously ironic compliment, I was also frustrated. Obviously, the influence of Western culture and its definition of beauty were incredibly strong, even in this poor, war-torn section of a relatively isolated country. Even here, these young girls were taught that beauty meant being tall with round eyes, a big nose, and—above all—white skin. So, when relating this to my current students, I’m thinking that maybe it’s a good thing that they find me scary. Maybe this means that they haven’t learned to internalize these Western, Hollywood definitions of beauty. Maybe they, with such a plethora of Japanese entertainment available to them, are able to appreciate the immense beauty that I see in the people here. While I don’t necessarily agree with all the manifestations of beauty that are promoted in Japanese culture (specifically the obsession with youth, especially in women—but this is another essay altogether), at least they are able to see beauty within their own culture and their own people.
However, I think there is another side of the issue to explore. By appreciating and respecting a more Japanese definition of beauty, are they learning to be fearful of what is different? Most people would agree that Japan is far from an “immigrant-friendly” nation. There are much worse places, of course (*cough* Arizona *cough*), but Japan definitely has a past and present of a unique type of nationalism that does not exactly encourage or welcome high levels of immigration. So, is my students’ fear of my foreign features some kind of symbol of their learning to fear all things (people) foreign? Perhaps that’s a bit of a stretch, but I think it’s worth noting. How do they learn to find those things ‘scary’ and not just ‘different’? Do most people in Japan have a reaction of ‘kowai’ when they see me?
And then, I remember the compliments I’ve gotten since I’ve been here as well. I’ve been complimented for being tall and light-skinned. I’ve been complimented for my hair color, my round eyes, and my long eyelashes. (I don’t feel too arrogant mentioning these things, since I am only responsible for one of them. As for the rest—thanks, mom and dad!) While riding on the train one morning, I was called ‘kawaii’ (cute, pretty) by a group of giggling high school girls. (Although, judging by the shocking- and rebelliously short length to which their skirts had been rolled, I suspect they may have been commenting more on the rebellious nature of my nose ring and red hair than mere ‘cute’-ness.) So, what does this mean? Perhaps the influence of a Western depiction of beauty does in fact infiltrate the culture, it just hasn’t hit my young students yet. As they grow older and have more contact with Western media, it seems they, too, learn that beauty means white skin and round, light eyes. This easily explains the growing trends of skin-lightening aesthetic treatments and eye surgeries to change color and shape. Maybe its not that Japan isn’t within the sphere of influence of Western concepts of beauty, but that it just takes more than 8 years to really imbed in the psyche. Now that I think about it, even in Sri Lanka I made a little kid burst into tears upon seeing me for the first time.
In trying to make sense of it all, I think I should take it one step further and ask: what do we in the US consider beautiful? (The very question of who we are is, again, another essay altogether. At this point, I’ll define we as those who look the most like me—white women). As white women, we generally learn that “a healthy tan” is beautiful, rather than paleness. We want to be impossibly thin, with big eyes and lips, and small noses. Skinny, dark, and doe-eyed—something almost none of us are. And what about women of color? They are traditionally taught (whether overtly or not) that they, too, are more beautiful and “desirable” with lighter skin. It’s the same with many of the women I knew in Chile and Mexico.
To attempt to pull it all together, I think that maybe it’s not as much about the exportation and internalization of Western definitions of beauty and desirability. Perhaps it’s nothing more than greener grass—wanting what you don’t have. Maybe it’s more the case that everyone is just looking to others and wanting what they have—basing our definitions of beauty on whatever we don’t see in the mirror. Of course, this is not true for all women. And hopefully, it’s not true for most. As I think of my two nieces—both so beautiful, but in such distinct ways—I hope this is not always the case. But I readily admit that I have all too often become entranced by the beautiful women of Latin America and Asia, longing for their dark features and tiny waistlines. But I guess, like all things, it’s a matter of balance—learning to see the beauty in others without denigrating your own beauty. And always, we must continue to question why it is we think the things we do, and the ways in which they influences our relationships with others and the world around us.
In an effort to end on a less cheesy, “Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy” sort of way, I want to mention that I plan to use my “kowai”-ness to it’s fullest potential as long as I’m teaching here in Japan. I’m learning to which kids I can give a quick, intense, wide-eyed stare to get them to quiet down, rather than a harsh word. And maybe for the real troublemakers, I’ll tell them that if they don’t behave, I’ll have my boyfriend come in to ‘discipline’ them—and then show them a picture of the guy from the movie Powder.
