Jennifer Wang: Piano Circle

Now that the semester is coming to an end, I can say I’m glad I joined the piano circle – even though I have mixed feelings on my experience. It was great to get a taste of Japanese college student life through circle activities and meeting new people, especially since the piano circle was a diverse group with different backgrounds and levels of experience talking with foreign exchange students.

While everyone was friendly, I found it hard to make closer friends. Since many of them don’t have a particular interest in spending time with exchange students, they tend to stay within their groups of friends that are solidified outside of the circle. In making piano circle friends outside of the circle’s room (box), I found that the power of your school year was surprisingly strong. Surprisingly so in that I didn’t observe any emphasis on senpai-kohai relationships in the circle, but ended up invited to an all first-year piano circle casual dinner at the 食堂. I additionally observed, when helping out at the school’s EVE festival, the other two first years that I was advertising our booth’s food with started joking around and overall acting casual very quickly, though they had just met that afternoon. Bonding within your own school year was evidently natural, and bridging the senpai-kohai dynamic to become close friends seemed rare if done at all. That also brings me to the point of my own ambiguous status as an exchange student, since although they invited me, I doubt they would have invited a third-year Japanese student. (Of note, as an exchange student, you’re also not an “official Doshisha student” for any event purposes, etc.)

The other major difficulty in making friends is that the piano circle has no fixed meeting times every week. While that’s ideal for fitting into it into one’s schedule, I would generally only see the same member once or twice per month even if I went at the same time every week. At the beginning, I asked a few members when they usually go, and the reply was generally “when I have time.” I was surprised by how some people always seemed to show up at the same times though, and wonder if there’s a reachable level of friendship where you’ll casually text the other when you’re at the circle box. Regardless, whenever I did go, the members were always open to talking and helping out with my homework. I could tell that some of them weren’t used to talking to exchange students, aka figuring out my strange Japanese, but they all responded to my questions and often asked questions in return.

Ultimately, I didn’t get that much piano practice done this semester, but I had an interesting experience! Even if I got along with a smaller percentage of the piano circle students than students that have a particular interest in meeting exchange students, I’m glad I got to meet a diverse group that is likely more representative of Japanese students as a whole. My one regret is that I wish I had understood the above dynamics earlier and made more of an early effort to become closer friends with some piano circle members. But I’ll be here next spring, and plan to continue my piano circle adventures until the end of the semester in February. The piano circle is a no stress, social option for anyone with even a slight interest in piano, and I highly recommend it. 🙂

Naomi Cormier: クレフ

立命館のアカペラサークルに参加してよかった、と思っています。色々な面白い経験があったし、学び事ももちろんありました。言語的に学んだ事と言えば、日常的の大学生の通り言葉とかよく聞きました。たとえば、KYは「空気が読めない人」という意味です。それにアカペラの曲を歌うときに、歌のソロイストが自由に歌うときの事を「フェークする」と言う言い方を初めて習いました。英語では ”to riff” といいます。

言語的の学びより文化的な学びのほうが多かったです。アメリカの音楽サークルの文化と比べたら、日本の学生たちは歌のクオリティに集中するより、メンバーの人と楽しんで話し合ったりする事の方を大切にしてました。大体日本の大学のサークルはタイトルは「テニス」とか「イベント」とか色々ありますけど、ほとんど学生たちの目標は遊んで楽しむことみたいです。あともう一つの文化的な学びは根気の事です。最初に参加し始めたときにはグループのメンバーと一緒に歌ったり話したりするのが難しかったんです。私はシャイではないので、すぐに友達になりたい気持ちがあったんですが、日本人は一般的に関係をふかくするのに時間が結構かかる事に築きました。でも毎週練習の時間にみんなと話してたら、だんだん友達っぽくなり、楽しい経験がいっぱいありました。
先週の練習では日本の冗談に当てられました。みんなで曲を歌い始めたら、みんながちゃんと一緒に歌わなかったので、一人の男性のメンバーが「ちょっとまって、もう一回。今回はみんな一緒に入ってきてね。絶対に入ってきてね。」といいました。このグループの中では、あまりそういう感じに注意する人がいなかったので、みんなでがんばらないとと思いました。ですから、彼が、「はい、1、2、3。。。」といって、みんなが一緒に歌うべきな時に私が一人だけ思いっきり歌いだしたんです。そしてみんなが笑って、「日本のジョークだよ〜」と言われました。すごく面白くて、私もつい爆笑してしまいました。グループのメンバーは「絶対に入ってきてね」といって、私だけを入るように、ほんとは「歌わないで」というメッセージだったが、入るべきだと思い込まされました。

一緒に練習したり笑ったりして、練習の間は真剣ではないが暖かい空気を作るのが大切だと感じました。

 

Stephanie Contreras: Kyoto Amateur Dance Club

I definitely planned on getting involved with a dance group while studying in Kyoto because I love dancing and I wanted to learn how a country like Japan practices an activity that can get very physical and personal. This is why I decided to join Kyoto University’s Amateur Dance Club. Every Saturday from 10am – 1:00pm, I took the Karasuma line and got off at Karasuma Oike station where I walked for a couple of minutes to the Kyoto Wings Center. Once I arrived I would head towards a small room where all the other ladies were changing into their practice clothes. One thing that surprised me was how comfortable they were changing in front of an outsider. They were not shy at all and immediately started asking me to call them by their first names and encouraged me to add –tyan. They were so kind and welcoming from the very beginning and I am so grateful to have been a part of their group.

One big difference during practice is that girls and boys practice away from each other. This is odd considering it is ballroom dance where it is essential for partners to move according to each others movements. In America, both women and men practice with each other from the very beginning. The only time they do not practice together is when learning techniques like proper posture and foot work, but when learning choreography you usually practice with each other. During practice, half of the room was used by the ladies to practice the choreography while the boys were on the other side practicing their own choreography. After everyone had memorized their choreography we began practicing together. In my opinion, this was very difficult. For example, if I made a mistake, my partner would not be able to help me because he does not know what I am suppose to be doing. Every time either one of us made a mistake, we had to ask our senpai where to place our feet when dancing with each other. It just seems to cause more trouble practicing separately.

Other than this, everything was so much fun. I learned several dances like the waltz, rumba, samba, and modern dance. I met new people, made new friends, and practiced casual speech. My CIP has definitely been one of my greatest experiences while studying here in Japan.

Guy Tada: Yosakoi and Kyoto Sightseeing

Because I switched my CIP in the middle of the semester, I experienced two very different atmospheres and learned a lot about Japanese relationships, especially in a group setting of young adults. I originally joined Yosakoi dance circle in the hopes of bonding with peers over our love of dance. Every Thursday evening by the Kamogawa River, we would practice for three hours and learn a dance each week. Everyone was very friendly and polite to me at first, but after a couple weeks it struck me how distant everybody seemed to be relationship wise—everyone used nicknames to address each other, and even when I asked their real name they would tell me their nickname. Also, during water breaks, people would break up from their formation and divide into little cliques, usually formed by school year. It was hard for me especially as an outsider to break into these circles and bond with anyone. Their politeness only went so far, and thus, there were very awkward times where I would stand around while people talked to their cliques around me.

In addition, because the circle had over one hundred members (and they were not required to come to every practice) there was a lack of unity across the entire circle I felt. Even when learning dances, the veterans would split off to learn a new piece while the first years would learn last year’s piece. There didn’t seem to be much social interaction between first years and veterans, and when there was, they would speak in a very polite manner. The members would use the same polite form with me no matter their age (granted we weren’t friends by that point) but what they meant as politeness I took more personally as a way of distancing themselves from me. Even right after they would speak formally to me, they would turn to their friend and speak in a very colloquial speech pattern – emphasizing the social gap between us.

After a point, I felt like I had observed as much as I could from the experience and wanted to try something more intimate and accessible. Thus, I joined a Kyoto sightseeing circle! This circle was much smaller than Yosakoi and was certainly nice in that I got to explore more of Kyoto, including sites such as Kinkakuji and Kiyomizu Dera. The members were all very polite and friendly, often trying to explain information about the sites we were visiting while walking. Like Yosakoi members, they used formal speech when talking to me, but I was also a year above them, so that may have been a contributing factor. And even though there were only twenty members or less, social conversations seemed segregated by school year as well.

Although I didn’t go to this circle as much as Yosakoi since I switched later in the semester, I did take away one major lesson from both experiences. It seems to me that for Japanese students, a lot of their friends and close bonds come from the circles they’re in. I’ve seen various friend groups from Yosakoi hanging out in the shokudou or around campus. And two members of the sightseeing group are even dating right now! Overall, I’m appreciative of the experience I’ve gained and definitely have a more nuanced idea of Japanese relationships.

Jared Slawski: Piano Circle

This semester I participated in Doshisha’s Piano Circle, and it proved to be a very interesting experience, despite being nothing like I expected.  For starters, there was no set “meeting time” for the circle.  Instead, there was just an open room in the Shinmachi campus building where club members could come in, play piano, and talk.  I went to the club almost every week, and stayed for a few hours every time.  However, I probably played a grand total of about 20 minutes of piano.  The rest of my time was spent talking with the club members.  We would talk about all sorts of things, from our majors, to our favorite music, to our favorite characters in Super Smash Bros.  It was a very informal environment, which I think helped me quickly get comfortable with participating every week.

Although convenient, the flexible time schedule of the club did have its downsides.  Since people could come whenever they wanted, and the club was comprised of about 70 people, I would rarely ever get the opportunity to meet the same person more than once.  This made developing any sort of deep connections practically impossible for me.  However, although the people would constantly change on a weekly basis, the general atmosphere of the club remained the same.  People would often bring their lunches to the clubroom, and just chat with the other members there.  Occasionally someone would play the piano, but there was never any real formal practice.

After seeing this week after week, I came to the conclusion that Japanese students use the Piano Circle as a way to meet new people with similar interests, and keep in touch with friends in a smaller, less crowded setting.  Actually playing piano is secondary to talking with people and hanging out.  When I think about it this way, I feel like this concept is reminiscent of my experiences joining clubs at University of Michigan.  While some clubs have serious, regimented schedules, a lot of them exist for the sole purpose of making the campus feel smaller, and providing more opportunities to get to know other people who like the same things that you do.

All things considered, I’m glad the Piano Circle turned out to be the latter kind of club.  It was great getting the opportunity to speak with Japanese students in a relaxed, informal setting.  However, as I mentioned before, it’s a real shame I didn’t have many opportunities to develop any deep connections with people, as I would often see them only once, and then never again.  Despite that, I feel like my participation in the club has taught me a lot about daily student life, and how similar it is to my own.

Augustus Chow: My CIP Blog

While I started my CIP in a temple and shrine sightseeing circle, the circle’s schedule proved to be unfeasible for a CIP project and I instead joined Klexon. Klexon is a volunteer organization in the Kyoto area that is the equivalent of a meet-up group. In this case, Klexon is a meet-up between fluent English-speakers and Japanese in the Kyoto area who want to speak English.

During my various CIP experiences with both Klexon and the sightseeing circle I’ve encountered a few facets of Japanese culture and society that seem to coincide with what I’ve experienced outside of CIP as well. In CIP, we are asked to make hypotheses and generalizations about the Japanese. But to a large extent, what my CIP experience has taught me is that there are various Japanese people who don’t all believe the same things.

For example, my first night at Klexon, we were asked to draw a fall festival from our hometowns and talk about them. Obviously, I had no choice but to write about Halloween. Others wrote about different festivals. I asked two Japanese people what their festivals celebrated, because they only explained what happened during the festival, and I’m interested in that sort of thing. Both said they didn’t know and seemed slightly troubled by my question, but, after the second time, one of them told me that the Japanese sometimes just hold festivals and that they don’t necessarily mean anything. Now, we weren’t speaking in his native language, so I can’t say for sure. I can think of half a dozen alternatives off the top of my head, but I had the sense that my questions had been offensive or perhaps troubling to him in some way. The next day, I spoke to my Japanese language partner and asked her what she thought of my question, but she thought it was a perfectly normal thing to ask and that the festival probably had some sort of origin.

So, while it is a small example, it still provided an insight that I try to keep in mind. Not all Japanese people will feel the same way about something. So I’m largely reluctant to do anything that involves making generalizations about a group of people.

Having said that, I’m going to make one based off of my CIP experience that has been supported by my interactions with Japanese outside of CIP. During my time with the sightseeing circle, we climbed partway up Fushimi-Inari Taisha. A little way up, we all went to a stone where you would make a wish and try to lift the stone. If you could lift the stone your wish might come true. I lifted it, yay me, but my wish is a secret ;P—Anyway, after everyone tried lifting the stone, people started asking everyone around them if they had a girlfriend, particularly those who couldn’t lift the stone. I got the feeling they were asking whether they wished for girlfriends, but my Japanese wasn’t good enough to tell. Then, they asked me if I had a girlfriend. Now, in the U.S., that kind of question is a little forward, because, if the person doesn’t, that might be inconsiderate. Also, when someone asks you that there’s some level of connotation that they’re asking for themselves or for a friend. Fortunately, I didn’t jump to conclusions and assume I was being asked out. After I said I didn’t, they asked me if I was married; though, I misunderstood them to be asking if I wanted to be married. I said once I found the right person, yes, I’d like to be married. But, after that, I kept on hearing kekkon (marriage) being brought up in the various conversations around me. I was a little surprised, because Americans typically aren’t so forward about those questions with people they’ve just met. But, from what I’ve experienced in Japan both in CIP and outside, these kinds of questions seem to be pretty normal. For example, my friend’s adoptive Japanese family took a few of us out to lunch. In the middle of lunch, the mother turned to me from a long conversation with someone else and, without context, asked me what I thought of Japanese girls. Stunned, I managed to remember how to say that between American girls and Japanese girls either is fine. Another example would be in Klexon. One man I spoke to was quite interested in my love life and asked me if I had a girlfriend. After I said I didn’t, he said I should get a Japanese girlfriend. Upon hearing that I had a host sister, he asked if she was beautiful. The next day, I went to my Japanese language partner and asked if these kinds of questions are normal. She explained to me that they’re pretty normal questions when people first meet new people. So, while these questions may be incredibly awkward and forward in America, they appear to be standard operating procedure here in Japan.

So, yes, I would say that I’m reluctant to make generalizations about groups of people. But, at the same time, there are customs and cultural norms that are different here than elsewhere. I guess that’s just something to keep in mind.

Ryan Hull: Doshisha Animal Life Circle

If I were to summarize my experience with the Doshisha Animal Life circle into a single (albeit hyphenated) word, such a word would be “eye-opening.” From start to finish, I can say with sincerity that my opinion of Japanese culture, especially that of young people here, has drastically evolved from a generally positive yet uneducated perspective to a conflicted yet informed view on their lifestyles. Via my various interactions with said students (or lack thereof), I can conclude that Japanese students are passionate about their circles, but less so regarding new – read: foreign – members of these organizations.

When I entered my first two meetings alongside a friend from KCJS, I was initially stunned by the small size of the club. I would later find out that nearly no one at the University knew that my circle existed, which I likely should have researched before jumping into the fray. Regardless, the first couple meetings were attended by only a few people, and were fairly quiet. I was impressed, however, by the enthusiast manner in which I was greeted by the president of the organization, both electronically and personally. Via social networking, she expressed her excitement to meet both myself and my friend, and in person, she gifted to us small Japanese candies and confections. This, in conjunction with how kindly the other members reacted to our entrance, led to my initial hypothesis that Japanese university students were eager to accept foreign students into their midst. However, as I will elaborate upon later, this was the warmest response I received all semester. The first two meeting ended on disappointingly anticlimactic notes, as the members sat and discussed administrative manners for about an hour and a half for both sessions. Regardless, I was able to gather that university organizations here are held to a high standard of organization.

As the next few meetings passed, I began to observe a pattern in the students’ behavior: they would appear very excited to see us when we first joined the meeting, but after this initial excitement, would begin to divide into two distinct groups. Said groups consisted of the men, who did not attempt to make conversation with us, and the women, who attempted to keep us involved in the conversation but didn’t exactly succeed. However, it was the thought that counted in this situation, and it was appreciated. I began to hypothesize that a) perhaps Japanese students, especially the males, needed some time to adjust to foreign students entering their organization, and b) that Japanese university students are emotional and financially committed to their extracurricular activities – my friend and I were blown away when every single member of the organization purchased an optional custom sweater that was not exactly inexpensive, in order to support their circle’s financial state.

The next two weeks brought new realizations regarding Japanese student culture. I began to spot a striking similarity which the circle bore to Japanese corporate culture – the length of time needed to make executive decisions regarding the club’s future. As in Japanese corporations, this circle took awfully long to decide on the simplest matters, due to the necessity of having everyone’s consensus. In fact, so much time was spent on making decisions that, coming from an American perspective, not much progress was ever made during these meetings. On a brighter note, I was able to conclude that while not always inclusive, Japanese students remain unfailingly polite – although a community had yet to form between myself and the other members, I could always ask questions and felt comfortable speaking up.

As the organization’s first major event of the term drew nearer, a new ambience began to envelop the organization – that of intense, physical work. Finally, I began to see tangible results of the students’ decision-making, notably the creation of arts and crafts needed to make the circle’s booth at the event look its best. However, as with many aspects of Japanese society, this came with a caveat. Because the Japanese students began to enter a mode of tight focus as their plans came together, they began to speak less and less to each other during meetings, and naturally, less and less to myself and my friend. While I was using my meager art skills to help craft various decorations for the display, I would attempt to engage in conversation with a few people, only to be answered with brief responses. I began to hypothesize that though students seemed to chat frequently and openly during informational or planning meetings, work meetings were a time for just that, and not much else. Looking at the situation from a happier perspective, I noticed that the students were visibly pleased with work, either because a) I was a foreigner, and they didn’t exactly know what to expect, or b) they genuinely appreciated that I had done my best and admired the results. In all honesty, I had expected quite the opposite: large amounts of criticism until my work was perfect.

In the penultimate week of my Community Involvement Project and as my final meeting approaches, I feel that several of my former hypotheses stand true and are only strengthened by the experiences I have had with the members of the Doshisha Animal Life circle. As mentioned earlier, I stand by my belief that it is difficult for Japanese students to accept foreigners into the activities of their circles, let alone become close friends with them. This belief is only further solidified by one glaring disappointment: even though I participated in the preparation for the previous festival which the circle had a booth at (which I could not attend), I never received an invitation to participate in the largest circle event of the year – Doshisha Eve, at which I ran into the members in an uncomfortable situation. In fact, I was never actually informed that the organization would be participating in the event, leading me to the conclusion that perhaps I did not make clear my intentions for joining the circle upon first meeting its members. Stemming from this disappointment,  I remain able to say that Japanese students, though passionate and dedicated to their circles (as can be seen by the Animal Life circle’s relentless attempts to sell its hot chocolate at Doshisha Eve, and large financial investments by nearly all its members) remain unsure of how to accept foreign students into their midst. In hindsight, I would have attempted to make my intentions of joining the circle quite clear upon first meeting the students, so as to avoid an awkward situation like that of Doshisha Eve. These intentions would include being involved in the students’ activities outside meeting times, so that I would be better able to observe these students in more relaxed settings. Regarding my experience holistically, there are many social aspects which I would have altered, but I believe that I benefitted from my experience educationally in that I was exposed to the intricacies of the deceiving culture of Japanese youth.

Grace Xu: Doshisha Piano Research Society

At the beginning of the semester, Director Mason introduced the Community Involvement Project (CIP) to us as, rather generally speaking, a mini-ethnography project. We were all to try our hand at being ethnographers – to find a circle or club activity and act not just as participants but also as observers, doing our best to formulate hypotheses about our activities and the communities we were to supposedly study, making note of cultural practices and rituals while we attempted to learn them ourselves.

If producing an ethnography – or practicing ethnography – was the end goal of the CIP, then I must be completely honest here and admit that what meager observations and experience I have gathered seem wholly insufficient for anything resembling ethnography. After spending most of the semester trying (and failing) to do as Director Mason suggested – in other words, trying to find a circle that I was both passionate about or at least interested in and revolved around a skill/subject I had some talent for – I ended up joining the Doshisha Piano Research Society out of (mostly) frustration and a lack of better options. Looking back, I think that these negative feelings I held during my entrance into the circle were the root cause of my lack of success, so I would like to reflect a bit on my experience here in case it might be of use to aspiring ethnographers among the future KCJS students.

But first, allow me to backtrack a bit. You might be asking yourself, what exactly is ethnography? Simply speaking, the term ethnography refers to a systematic method of studying people and cultures, and is characterized by certain features such as prolonged first-hand study and participant-observation research methods. Leaving aside the more general discussion surrounding the utility and legitimacy of ethnographies as a tool for cultural interpretation, however, I’d like to instead examine a claim by Hoey – that, despite the recurring issue of objectivity in social science research (or in other words, how researchers can ensure some degree of validity and credibility in their work) it is precisely this very human element of reactivity that makes ethnography possible. In Hoey’s own words:

Ethnographic fieldwork is shaped by personal and professional identities just as these identities are inevitably shaped by individual experiences while in the field. Unfortunately, the autobiographical dimension of ethnographic research has been downplayed historically if not discounted altogether[…]The explicit professional project of observing, imagining and describing other people need not be incompatible with the implicit personal project of learning about the self[…]Good ethnography recognizes the transformative nature of fieldwork where as we search for answers to questions about people we may find ourselves in the stories of others. Ethnography should be acknowledged as a mutual product born of the intertwining of the lives of the ethnographer and his or her subjects.

Although I personally may not agree completely with Hoey’s rather poetic description of the relationship between ethnographers and their work, I do agree in the interpretation of the above quote that a deep and personal investment is required in order for ethnographers to be successful in their work. Of course, that is exactly the opposite of the sort of mindset I held entering the CIP, and a large reason why I think truly useful/insightful ethnography is so difficult. The shallow and to be honest, rather superficial observations I made on my meager trips to the piano circle – how, for example, the circle’s club room was tiny and narrow, shunted to a corner of a side campus in a gloomy building along with dozens of other circles, or that despite being called a research society not much research on pianos was actually done in the few hours I accumulated at the circle – reflect more upon myself then the community I was called upon to observe, and if anything show a innate lack of ability for ethnography rather than an admirable, if amateurish effort for social science/anthropological research. I could, for example, posit that the reason why the piano circle is so popular among the university students (there are at least 30 members, judging from the quick glance I had at the sign up sheet) despite there being only 2 pianos available in the circle’s room, is because of a hesitancy to create noise and thus cause meiwaku, or disturbance to one’s neighbors at home. Is this perhaps reflective of a tendency in Japanese culture to put the needs of the group or others before one’s own desires, of a subconscious and constant awareness of the needs of the community over one’s own? And so on.

But more importantly, no effort of mine could conceal such continued and blatant speculation, nor the fact that I wouldn’t even consider myself as having made a single acquaintance from my CIP (does one person who somewhat begrudgingly added me on Line and whom I haven’t contacted once count?), much less any friends or other lasting relationship. I have decided to be completely honest in this summary of sorts and admit that I have absolutely no viable hypotheses regarding this community I unwittingly “joined”. Quite simply, it was a personal endeavor perhaps doomed to fail from the start. On top of my long commute, my decision to take three afternoon electives (for my home school’s engineering major requirements), keeping up with recruiting activities back home and even just enjoying what little time I had with my host family, the additional burden of involving myself in yet another commitment was, I suppose, something I couldn’t help but avoid in order to prevent myself from stretching too thin. Or rather, perhaps it was impossible for me to be successful from the start after so many failed attempts at joining other clubs and with the kind of distant and impersonal expectations I entered with. Perhaps, in the end, it is just as Hoey said: that only in truly deep and intimate involvement – indeed, personal commitment and passion from the very beginning – that ethnographic success can be found.

Sources: Hoey. Brian A. “A Simple Introduction to the Practice of Ethnography and Guide to Ethnographic Fieldnotes.” Marshall University Digital Scholar (June 2014). Available at: http://works.bepress.com/brian_hoey/12

サラ・ヘイファー:手話サークル

日本に来る前に、アメリカの手話ができます。私の家族は耳が聞こえないので、うちで手話を使います。でも、どんな手話か国によって違います。日本の手話はとても違います。手話は国の文化を映し出します。ですから、日本語を勉強、日本の手話も勉強した方がいいです。それに、耳が聞こえない人とも話すことは大切です。私は日本の耳が聞こえない人たちの文化についてもならいたいです。

京都で、たくさん手話ができる人がいます。みみずくという会はとても古くて有名です。みみずくは場所が十五あります。(みみずくというのは、大きい耳のふくろうのことです。)でも、みみずくはちょっと大きいです。たくさん人がいます。そのために、ちょうどいい人を見つけるはむずかしかったです。よくメールしましたが、ちょうどいい場所がありませんでした。それから、先生が私をてつだってくださいました。先生は手話のサークルを見つけてくださいました。

そのサークルは、同志社大学にはありません。京都大学にあります。実は、そのサークルは私の家にとても近くて便利です。サークルのメンバーはやさしいです。それに、手話のことがこうふんします。まだ行っていませんが、うれしいです。木曜日に行き始めます。よかったです。絶対にたくさんならいたいです!

ニア・マクドナルド:「GRADATION」サークル

私はまだGRADATIONというサクールに入っていないから、入りたい理由を説明する。もちろんセクシュアリティの問題は私にとって大切な問題だ。でも、もう一つは社会の問題を通じて文化の違いが分かると思うからだ。日本の文化が分かりたいし、この経験を通じて自分の文化ももっと分かりたいし、日本人のセクシュアリティの生活と考え方について習いたいので、このサクールに入りたいのだ。実はサクールの人からメールで私の意見とセクシュアルオリエンテーションについてはっきり聞かれた。私はそういうのはいいと思った。そしてもし入れなくてもいいと思う。このサクールはセクシュアルマイノリティのための安全なスペースだから、私が外国人であることがめんどくさかったら、それは分かる。結局、一番大切なことはみんなの気持ちと経験について心配しないで話せることなのだ。