Reid Hildebrand: Impact Hub Kyoto

At the beginning of this semester, I knew my hobbies and I knew my interest in Japan, but I had no idea how they might intersect. I had lots of ideas: perhaps a regular photography blog or maybe a travelogue video or two to illustrate my time in the Far East. However, the CIP program soon seemed like a great outlet for creativity. I weighed my options and found one of two that I liked – initially, the Doshisha student television circle seemed promising (because I do student television at Wesleyan) but I had no idea if they’d let some foreign stranger jump into their production. The presentation for Impact Hub flicked a switch: it was exactly what I was looking for.

There, I would have a chance to use my creative skills and also have a tangible result that is not just self-satisfying but serves a somewhat larger purpose. The photographs I take and videos I create are used as promotional outreach to reach wider target audiences. I get to hone my skills and build my portfolio while also meeting a great group of like-minded people, more of whom walk through the doors at each event.

Initially, I was once again a foreign stranger with worth to prove. Impact Hub already got photography done casually on the side by some of their employees, but I felt like a devoted photo/video person could do them some good. It took a couple weeks to find my niche there: I attended two events to do photo and take some video. At my Wednesday afternoon sessions at Impact Hub I was careful to protect my work from prying eyes – in hindsight that absolutely reinforced the skepticism but I wanted the result to be a surprise. In early October, at the first intern presentation session, I showed the pictures I had taken and the event recap video I had made. The reactions were instantaneous and enthusiastic; my worth had been proven. Afterwards I was soon given much more slack to work at my own pace with my own method. A mutual trust had been established between myself and my superiors and co-workers at Impact Hub.

Now, the goals have extended beyond event photography and short documentary-style video. My last video was a short spurt of live-action animation set to classic American bebop, and a two-month project that I’ve been working on is slowly coming to fruition. The latter is a very cross-cultural project, which in itself epitomizes what Impact Hub is all about. A 60-second long animated promotional video describing what happens and what one can do at Impact Hub isn’t too much of a burden to take on, but to make it bilingual is something that I can safely say I’ve never done before. The translation into Japanese was a challenge twofold: firstly, the meaning needs to stay approximately the same, with connotations and conversational tone in mind. Secondly, the video has a very distinct flow and rhythm – things that occasionally need to be tweaked when switching the tongue from English to Japanese. Overall, I’m very pleased with how it has turned out – last week I received some excellent feedback, and soon I will settle down to knock it out and hopefully create something that they can use for a long time ahead. If I can leave a legacy somewhere in Kyoto, using my creative skills to make a difference is something I’m definitely proud of.

Zeynep Doga Arican: HUB Kyoto

My experience of interning at HUB Kyoto was a unique one since I had the chance to work in a welcoming environment in which new ideas are valued and encouraged. The best part of my CIP was to be able to have conversations with the HUB people with various occupations at the HUB events or during regular weekly meetings. It was really interesting to experience the alternative side of Kyoto.

At the beginning of the term, I was working as a project assistant and researching about the HUB projects from all around the world and writing reports on them. The main idea was to find a project that would suit HUB Kyoto’s needs and aspirations. After writing reports and presenting them to the HUB people for three weeks, I realized I was not making any real contributions to HUB Kyoto, since my project reports were not stimulating any further action. That is the reason why I decided to change my role in HUB Kyoto, and instead of writing reports on other people’s projects, I decided to come up with a project proposal and work on it. When I proposed my project plan, they were surprised and happy to see me taking a step forward by myself.

My project was basically an event in which high school students sell food and drinks to raise some money that could either be used for other HUB projects or be donated. My main goal was to create an event that would encourage young people in social entrepreneurship and get them interested in making money through simple events. The idea was appreciated a lot by HUB Kyoto and Eri-san, one of the members, introduced me to another member who is working as a high school teacher. Having a conversation with a young high school teacher was very interesting since I had a chance to listen to Japanese high school students’ aspirations and life styles. Yamashita-san, the high school teacher, was also very encouraging about the project and he was willing to work with me one on one to make the event better. However, after having a meeting to schedule the time for the event, we realized that it would be really difficult to find a time that would both fit the high school’s and KCJS’s schedules. In addition, only one month was left and no preparation had been done, which would require me to do a lot of preparation by myself while also dealing with the schoolwork. Because of this reasons, we decided to cancel the project. HUB people were sorry that I would not be able to carry the project out after having been preparing for it for almost three weeks. However, I was told that my project proposals were suitable to HUB Kyoto and they would be implemented in the future. Even though it was a little disappointing not to be able to carry out my own project myself, I was really glad to hear I could make an actual contribution to HUB Kyoto.

All in all, thanks to HUB Kyoto, I was able to see the world of social entrepreneurship in Japan and have a conversation with people coming from very different backgrounds, with various occupations and interests in life. The fact that they were very willing to listen me talking about the economic and social world in my home country, made me feel a lot closer to them, not to mention a lot welcomed and included. I felt very lucky to be given the chance to listen to their point of views in certain global issues. It was very interesting to listen them talking about Japan’s stance on global problems and the social conflicts modern Japanese people go though. At HUB, I always felt like a part of the group and the family, which encouraged me to learn more about the Japanese culture. When I compared the conversations I had with my host mom and the HUB people, I can see how different generations perceive national and global issues in different ways. Even though 4 months was a very short period for this particular type of CIP, working at HUB was an important component of my study abroad experience and I am very glad I chose doing it.

 

Emily Scoble: Taiko at Kitano Tenmangu Shrine

This semester I participated in a taiko group, Japanese drumming, based at Kitano Tenmangu Shrine.  While a little apprehensive, the group definitely welcomed me, as well as the two other KCJS students that participated along with me this semester.

Although I had participated in my college’s taiko group and had a little experience in playing taiko, I was unsure at first as to how this group would differ in comparison.  The group members, who range from middle school students to adults, made us feel welcome and a part of the group, although there were definitely awkward moments where I was not sure what to say or how best to help.  While we would play together and interact during practice or performances, the group would always make an effort to include us in dinners or other events after performances.  It was strange, at first, to not have many group members in the college age-range, but it was a good experience to leave the university atmosphere and have the chance to interact with people of different ages.   It was also interesting to observe the differences in language between different group members, such as the children who always used casual form, and the very formal interactions that occurred between the group and the people working at the shrine.

While the time spent playing on the drums and interacting with the group members was worthwhile, the lack of a consistent practice schedule, coupled with a large number of performances, meant that I did not get to participate as fully as I would have liked.  Because the other members already had a good grasp of the songs, there were multi-week gaps between practices so it was harder to learn songs and become part of the group.  In addition, even though we were able to perform a song in a few performances, I did not feel very confident; I would have greatly benefited from more practice.   Still, it was nice to feel included and interact with the members of the group and audience and have the unique experience of entering the shrine before each performance.  The group still has one more performance and a year-end party, so I am looking forward to having another opportunity to perform and talk with the members.

Katie Saibara: Taiko

One of the reasons I chose to come to KCJS was the CIP program and the opportunity to further immerse myself into Japanese society that it offers. As a member of my home institution’s taiko drumming club, I knew that I wanted to pursue taiko as my CIP. This semester, along with two other KCJS students, I have been participating in the Kitanotenmangu Taiko Association. Though previous taiko experience is not a prerequisite, it is definitely very valuable; for those who do not have previous experience, I would not recommend this CIP.

Unfortunately, due to scheduling conflicts and lack of practice time, I have not been able to integrate as fully as I would like into the taiko association.  Because the practices are few and far between (there have been only two this semester), there is little opportunity not only to learn taiko but also to get to know the other members. Unlike with many student groups, there are no nomikai at which to bond and speak casually. Most of my interaction with the taiko association members has been limited to simple instructions (often given in English) and small talk (for instance, “the momiji is very pretty, isn’t it?”). There is also unfortunately little time before or after practices and performances in which to converse.

The practices are also regimented in such a way as to not provide much time for conversation. The members will roll in individually and after setting up the drums together the leader will typically give a few announcements. Practice usually consists of running through each song in the repertoire once or twice after which everyone (men, women, and children) will assist in putting away the drums. After that, everyone will gather in a circle for more announcements and information regarding upcoming performances. One time, in order to share that he had received a coveted promotion, one of the taiko association members used extremely humble, keigo speech. This was surprising to me as before I had thought of the taiko association as an informal group in which most of the members had known each other for a long time. After this episode, however, I began to realize that when discussing plans and logistical information in regards to taiko, the members always used polite (albeit not as polite as keigo) speech. Whether this is simply a cultural custom or to show their respect for taiko and their activities, I cannot be sure.  When eating dinner together after performances the members will use casual speech when speaking amongst themselves and to us.

But despite the lack of regular contact and difficulty in learning all of their pieces without practicing, the Taiko association has proved to be a welcoming group. As a collegiate player in the U.S., my previous exposure to taiko had led me to view it as a serious musical and performing art led by professionals who have honed their skills over decades of intensive study and practice. The Kitanotenmangu taiko group is quite different. Though they do take on professional gigs, taiko is not the full time profession of any of its members. Yet, in practice, performances, and simply in eating dinner together, their love of taiko and happiness at being able to do what they enjoy is clearly evident despite the language barrier and skill disparity. Before I leave Kyoto, I hope to be able to participate in a performance and be able to bring back what I’ve learned about the taiko community to my college taiko club.

Mingtian Ouyang: Volunteering at KLEXON

Before coming to Japan, I had thought about many options as my CIP activity. When reading the list of extracurricular activities that previous KCJS students participated, I was really excited to see myself also becoming a member of a team, or a performance group in Japanese society. In the beginning, I only considered of learning a traditional Japanese skill, such as archery or a Japanese instrument, and avoid signing up for anything that is not “Japanese enough”. The main purpose of CIP is to let you be more submersed in Japanese culture outside of the classroom. However, everyone’s goal differs. It took me a few weeks to figure out what I truly want from my CIP experience. I want to improve my Japanese by communicating with people of my own age. Rather than joining an intense circle of sports or performing arts, where members focus more on practicing instead on communicating, I chose to join KLEXON, a circle that helps Japanese with any background to practice speaking English.

KLEXON is not an easy activity to participate. Members are usually expected to speak for 2 hours straight, in both English and Japanese, which is quite exhausting. Nevertheless, it is very rewarding. So far, I was able to not only meet many new friends who are from various backgrounds, but also gain knowledge and a deeper understanding of the Japanese language as well as Japanese society as it is today. When I went to a dinner party with friends I made in KLEXON and started having natural conversations in Japanese with them, I feel as if I have finally become a member of this society, a society that is very different from the classroom, and it is introducing me to Japan from another perspective.

KLEXON also helped me improve my Japanese colloquial ability. There were a couple of things I noticed which answered my question about Japanese language. For example, back in U.S. I was taught by my Japanese teacher to use honorific form when speaking to Sensei or Senpai, and use formal desu-masu form to strangers. However, in real life, situations are not always clear as to when to use what form. In KLEXON, I was surprised to hear people of the same age using different forms of speech (formal/informal/honorific) in the same environment or situation. More girls tend to be more formal than guys and people are generally more formal when speaking to foreigners. However, there were also some people who would use short form to start a conversation with a stranger. Finally, I realized that, the “rules” of using formal or informal speech that I learned in school are a collection of general social norms, which are safe to follow for the most of the time. Nevertheless, a native speaker’s speech style can be very flexible, because for them, the language is merely a tool to reflect his or her emotions. The form they prefer to use shows their character and personality. Therefore, regarding the proper use of formal/informal form, there is not a set rule that everyone should always follow.

Last but not least, I feel fortunate for choosing KLEXON as my CIP activity. I did not expect I was going to receive so much out of it. The relationship I have forged and the deeper understanding of Japanese language I have gained are valuable, and greatly enriched my study abroad experience.

Katsumi Morales: 弓道

I have been interested in archery from childhood, but until college, I never had the chance to experience it. However, once having experienced archery as a competitive sport, I realized that wasn’t even close to what I really wanted. I was never interested in sports, in competition or prizes. Although a lot of the motions and key points in 弓道 are parallel to those in the archery I practiced in the United States, being here, in this environment and practicing something fundamentally different, leaves me with a much more satisfied feeling after every hour I spend at the dojo, compared to the 2 hour practices I had back at my home institution which often simply gave me something more to feel stressed about. When I was a competitive archer, hitting the center of the target was the most important aspect, and everything that was done to improve your form was solely for that reason. Counting up points for scores and then comparing yourself to others always left me feeling like I was in the wrong place.
In 弓道 importance lies more in focusing and centering yourself. We are still learning and so most of our time is simply physical practice, but the feeling of the dojo itself and the environment created by the people there makes all the difference. The other day Jasmine and I had the privilege of watching our sensei and a few of our senpai shoot, and the formality and gracefulness of it simply reminded me of why I wanted to do this in the first place. Simple things like properly greeting our sensei make all the difference to me. The ambient in the dojo isn’t extremely formal, and I often hear my sensei chatting with some of her older students in a quite informal way. However when it comes to 弓道 itself, there is a formality which gives it weight, which separates it from any kind of sport. I watch others shoot in awe and respect because their every move seems perfectly calculated and the end result is quite beautiful. I have always felt the need to learn that kind of self-discipline, and so I feel very fortunate to have the opportunity not only to learn 弓道 but to learn it while being in Japan.

Vanessa Tenazas: Zenryuji Nursery School

Now that several months have elapsed, I can say that my volunteer work at Zenryuji has offered me some unique glimpses into Japanese culture and language through the lens of children and a nursery school environment. The dynamics between teachers and children, between head teacher and a supporting teacher, and between the children and myself have been of particular interest.

Prior to coming to Japan, I was already quite aware of the hierarchy built into Japanese society as exemplified through things like the degrees of politeness in language and the senpai-kohai dynamic. At the nursery school, when a teacher is making an announcement or instructing the children to do something as part of the routine (i.e. when lining up), she uses polite language as a way to signal the formality of what is being said. On the other hand, it was interesting to observe teachers using plain speech when reprimanding the children, which I imagine was done in order to capture the teacher’s frustration and put the children in their place hierarchically, since plain speech can indicate the speaker’s superiority over the listener.

On a related note, though I do not find the power structure at the nursery school to be anywhere near as rigid as a regular corporate setting, it is clear that not all teachers share equal roles and positions. The two head teachers of the group of kids I usually work with are responsible for making announcements, directing the children during their routine, and, if necessary, reprimanding the children. Meanwhile a supporting teacher will help clean up the room or pour the milk for each child during snack time. Here too I have observed the use of casual speech by the head teachers between each other and to the supporting teacher, but the supporting teacher will use polite speech in response to perhaps indicate their difference in position within the structure of the daycare.

In my case, exchanges between teachers and I are exclusively in polite speech, while at the insistence of the children our exchanges are in casual speech. One child even corrected me the first day when I used polite speech too much, saying that it put too much distance between ussince our relationship should be that of friends. While this would not happen even among my peers, I suppose with children the rules get a bit hazy due to their age. Without any direct equivalent in the English language, these kinds of observations have been consistently fascinating.

In terms of the culture of raising children, I feel like my experience at Zenryuji was just like scratching the surfaceof it. What struck me immediately was the physical contact between teachers and students, where a teacher will not hesitate to grab or push a child as a means of correcting their behavior. My Asian background led me to be less surprised at the time, but knowing that in America such a thing would never be allowed without consequences did make me stop and think. That was probably one of the biggest cultural divides I had noticed while volunteering.

What was strikingly similar to what I have observed in America, however, is that children here are also keen on “playing house” during playtime. Participating children each take a role in the family such as mother or father, and someone is almost always “cooking” something (I need not mention how many times I have had to “eat” curry rice made out of sand). I noted that since children just about anywhere are most familiar with what happens at home, that represents one extent of their imaginations at this point in time.

Similarly, the children tend to quarrel with each other very easily about small things like sharing toys and someone not “apologizing” enough for something they did. I find being consulted on such matters a bit of a handful since I am not always sure what is culturally appropriate to say. Usually in the case of sharing toys, other teachers will go for the diplomatic approach and encourage the children to share, especially if one child has two of something. In the case of having children reconcile through apology, I think more so than the child wanting to apologize on their own it is the teacher’s authority that compels them to do so. I know in my case even if I were to say someone should apologize, they would either continue pouting at me without following through on the direction, or would simply run away. It reminds me that even though I am well-loved by the children, due to my age and outsider status I am in this limbo between teacher and friend, making my influence less effective. Whether in the future I will become more of one or the other remains to be seen.

Carolyn Whittingham : Ohara Gakuin – Assistant English Teacher

A crucial part of the KCJS curriculum is one’s involvement in the CIP or “Community Involvement Project.” The aim of this project is to help KCJS students immerse themselves in a certain aspect of Japanese culture, and can consist of activities from volunteering at a hospital or nonprofit organization to participating in a Doshisha University club or circle.

Since I have aspirations to participate in the JET programme after graduation, and since I ultimately plan to pursue a career as a college professor, I opted to volunteer at an elementary/middle school called Ohara Gakuin as an assistant English teacher for the experience.

Ohara Gakuin is a quaint little school in the middle of the mountains a little ways outside of Kyoto City. The school consists of grades 1through 9, and they have also just recently instated nursery and kindergarten services. Since I do not have afternoon classes/commitments at KCJS on Mondays or Wednesdays, I volunteer on one of those days, once a week, from about half past twelve to 4 pm.

I shall hereby describe a typical day of volunteering. Since Ohara and Doshisha are quite far apart, I have to take a series of very strictly scheduled trains and buses to make it there on time every week, and the commute can take up to an hour. But once there, I typically will eat lunch with one class then teach two classes during Ohara’s 5th and 6th periods. The grades I eat with and teach alter every week, so I have a chance to interact with every grade 2-3 times over the course of 10 weeks. However, since I teach all grade levels the teaching itinerary is never consistent, but there is a pattern. Generally, with the 1st-4th grade (sometimes 5th) we tend to just play games, sing songs or do other fun activities that involve using English on a very minimal level. Whereas with the older students, we do grammar exercises, and dictation and reading drills (some examples include learning about relative pronouns and how to use the gerand in English).

Over all, teaching at Ohara has been a very eye-opening experience for me. Since I was born and raised in Jamaica, I can only compare the activities to Ohara to what I experienced in my own school system at home (as opposed to the U.S. where I only went to high school and college), and the overall operation of the education system is drastically different. First of all, in Jamaica, we have one teacher for all academic subjects who we work with every day, as opposed to staying in the same homeroom and having teachers come in and out depending on the subject. Another discrepancy is that in Jamaica, when a student or group of students started to cause a ruckus or disturbed class in any way, teachers are very quick to rebuke students about their conduct and discipline them if necessary. At Ohara, the teachers often turn a blind eye and continue teaching or simply wait for students to calm themselves down before resuming the lesson.

In addition to this, while working at Ohara something else that struck me as odd was the nature of the English education system in itself. For instance, when using the textbook, I often found some very unnatural English structures that are understandable, but would be very obscure to a native speaker, and also some expressions that seemed very ‘Japanese-y.’ In fact, I brought this up with some of the teachers there and they agreed with me! Therefore, we created alternative expressions/explanations and I was extremely pleased to know that my contributions had made some kind of a difference. Otherwise, the pacing of many of the classes seemed extremely slow, and consequently, I noticed that quite a few of the students had a hard time keeping focus for the full 50 minute class period.

Now, I understand that with only 10 visits to the school, I am seeing only a very limited example of what the system is like. Therefore, it is impossible for me to make judgements on the Japanese English education system on a whole based on my time spent at Ohara. However, I still could not help but consider the scholastic practices which are so different than what I am accustomed to on a critical level.

For instance, some of my findings included the realization that the pronunciation ability of the students in 1st and 2nd grade rivaled the ones of those in 8th and 9th grade, and classes in all grade levels spend a lot of class time focusing on perfecting their 「自己紹介」or “self-introductions.” Out of curiosity, I asked two teachers, whom I assist frequently, for their thoughts on the matter. It turns out that one teacher believed that the most effective method of retaining material learned in class is through repetition, and so because of that, progress can be rather slow. Conversely, the other teacher told me that the reason these inconsistencies exist is actually because the English program at Ohara is a fairly recent development. In fact, English language instruction was not fully incorporated into the syllabus until about 5 years ago. Currently, the elementary school students take English classes once a week for an hour, while the middle school children have English 4 times a week for one hour. Whereas beforehand, the 1st through 3rd grade did not have English lessons at all and 4th through 9th grade only had classes once a week.

The limited English ability of the students often left me feeling frustrated because I often felt there was so much I wanted to do or try that worked for me as a language student, but because of the strictness of the syllabus, because I could not express my sentiments clearly to the students and to avoid overstepping my boundaries, I often simply had to sit back, have faith in the methods employed by the teachers, and do my best to help where I could.

Additionally, I am a Cultural Anthropology/Japanese double major, so cultural differences among social groups, especially as they relate to Japan, are extremely interesting to me. Therefore, although volunteering at Ohara has been an extremely fantastic and rewarding opportunity, it is simply not enough. Thus, when I go on to (hopefully) participate in the JET programme, or whenever I have any other exposure to the Japanese education system, I intend to further my studies and research and derive some concrete theories as to how and why the system works the way it does.

James Hildebrand: Smiling Tomato

My CIP work with にこにこトマト has been extremely rewarding.  I’ve volunteered at a hospital back home, but my work at Kyoto University Hospital has given much greater opportunity to interact one-on-one with young patients.  Everyone involved in the program – a group largely composed of older Kyoto women – is remarkably devoted, spending multiple hours every week preparing and putting on any number of activities.

I’ve noticed that the overall environment is warm and relaxed without sacrificing productivity.  Everyone busily chats about their family, hobbies, and hometowns as they work diligently on things for the next week.  Recently we’ve been working on decorations for the New Year, but in the past we’ve made Halloween treat bags and Christmas-themed treats.

Still, I found myself wondering why these women, who could be doing any number of things with their time, continue to devote themselves so unfalteringly to the program.  As I spoke with them formally for class, listened to their usual conversations, and did research into the program’s history, it became clear to me that the reason many of these women continue to volunteer stems from desire to help the suffering families of the hospitalized children.

In fact, many of these women’s own children were at one time hospitalized at Kyoto University Hospital.  Because of this, I think they are intimately familiar with the pain and worry that a family with a sick child suffers.  Rather than move away from their own painful memories from the hospital, the women return every week to help total strangers.  In a newspaper article I found about the group, the author reprinted a letter sent to にこトマ by a parent whose young daughter had passed away during her hospitalization.  Though she suffered terribly, にこトマwas able to give her a little bit of fun and happiness.  For that, the family expressed deep gratitude.  Seeing those words, I felt like all the afternoons I raced from class on my bike to make it to the hospital on time were totally worth it.

Above all, what I’ve enjoyed most about my time with にこトマ is the fact that nothing marks it as exclusively “Japanese”.  I think many of us have grown up with American films and television shows that, while not necessarily belittling Japan, offer a largely static image of this country.

What I mean is, that when I talk to friends back home about my time here, they often rely on their knowledge of characters like Mister Miyagi from The Character Kid as a crutch in trying to understand Japanese culture.  I would be lying if growing up with these kinds of images hadn’t quietly influenced my own assumptions about what “community involvement” here would look like as well.

In a certain way, I think I allowed these American images of stoic, polite, and ultimately traditionalist characters color what I expected of the people I’d be volunteering alongside.  Given my limited experience with Japan prior to coming to Kyoto, I might have expected terms like 和, 甘え, or 建前 somehow made their way into my day to day volunteer conversations.  After all, cultural products like The Karate Kid teach us that Japanese people, in their alien cultural sagacity, only speak to foreigners in metaphor: the cherry blossom is a human life, a sweet karate kick is a crescent moon.

Of course, these stereotypes didn’t hold true.  The people I met through にこトマ weren’t interested in talking about tea ceremony or how to show your true heart through origiami.  Rather, through volunteering at Kyoto University Hospital I came to realize something that was ultimately far more comforting than one of Mr. Miyagi’s sermons.  That is, it doesn’t matter where you go – five minutes away from Amherst or halfway around the globe – good people are good people.  Despite all of our cultural differences, language difficulties, and painful histories, we can still connect through our basic human desire to help others, to realize our good will through action together.  The extremely foreign becomes remarkably accessible when you realize that in the end, we are all human.

 

Richard Farrell: GRADATION LGBT Circle

This semester I’ve been going to the lunch meetings of Doshisha University’s LGBT social circle, GRADATION. I had hoped to really get a picture of what it was like to be a member of the LGBTQ+ community as a college student in Japan. However, while I feel like I’ve been able to make some insights into the opinions of members of the group on their lives, I never really felt like I was really a part of the community or was ever really seeing what their everyday lives were like.

First of all, the group, by its very nature, is separate from the rest of the members’ lives. As I said in the last blog post, the members use nicknames in the club and agree not to relate any personal information discussed in a meeting to anyone outside of the meeting. I can’t confirm whether or not the names people used to introduce themselves were their real names or not. I got the feeling that for the most part the people attending the meetings didn’t know each other very well or at all outside of GRADATION. No one ever slipped and called someone by their real name. Other than two leader figures, one of which was the kaichō, there was significant distance between the members of the circle. Those two leader figures definitely seemed to know each other in ‘real life.’ They also usually sat next to each other. The rest of the regulars at the meetings always sat in the same seat, at least two or more seats from another person. To match the physical distance, there was obvious social distance between the members as well. Two of the regulars used desu-masu with the other members. There were also often awkward silences. Conversation was usually very hard to more forward. I’m sure that some of this was on my account, being a foreigner, but there was definitely tension between the members of the group as well. Whenever this happened, the kaichō or their friend would bring up a topic like food or anime that everyone could have an opinion on.

The topics of the meetings rarely turned to anything having to do with LGBTQ+ issues. When they did, there was a palpable apprehension from most of the members of the group. It was clear that the members were not at all used to talking about their sexuality. Mostly these conversations were about favorite districts, bars and clubs in Osaka. One day a member shared pictures of person in their class that they had a crush on. That was the closest the conversation ever got to the private lives of the members.

Another frustrating part of my experience was that gender never came up as a topic. In the meetings I attended there was never a Japanese person who performed as a woman. I’ve heard from others who attended that there are women who attend the meetings, but they are clearly a very small minority of the circle. Trans* issues never came up as a topic. In U.S. LGBTQ+ groups it is standard practice to give people a chance to request a specific pronoun to use when referring to them. Since gender pronouns are unnecessary in Japanese, this opportunity never came up. The gender identities of the group members were never discussed.

At first I was disappointed at the differences with American groups but I feel like this experience has given me a small look at how taboo LGBTQ+ topics are in Japanese society. And, consequently, how separate people’s ‘queer’ life is from their public life.