Freedom Has Many Faces

Ever since I came to Japan the first time, I have been trying to fit in. Yes, I realize that it is difficult to lose a tall blond girl in a crowd, but I figured that if I tried hard enough I might just be able to pass as someone who lives here.

So, I got rid of the shorts. I made sure all the skirts I bought fell below my knees. Spaghetti straps were replaced by sleeveless or covered up by a another layer. My bowing became habitual, as did the automatic sumimasen that passed from my lips in accompaniment. Meeting the eyes of a stranger, let alone another foreigner, was a mistake I no longer made. If someone started speaking to me in English, I quickly responded in Japanese, just to let them know that I was not a tourist in this country.

All of this to try to fit in, to become one of the faceless mass of Japanese society.

I am done with that now.

I have lived here for almost two years put together and I have finally realized that no matter what, I am always going to stick out. The effort I put in to try to convince others who really do not care what I say is not worth it. This revelation came to me as the temperature shot up the other day and I realized that I was considering wearing pants in 90 degree weather. Pants! What was I thinking? Is trying to not offend the little old grandma on the bus worth the potential heat stroke that I could incur? No. It is not.

And so yesterday I wore shorts, above the knees.
And today I am wearing a skirt, above the knees.
And when I go to Okinawa next week, I will wear a bikini.

There are times to fit in, and there are times to not care. I think it is time for me to stop being angry when the woman at the bakery thinks I do not know Japanese because I am talking to my friend in English. It is time for me to pull that miniskirt* out of the wardrobe and ride my bike aimlessly down the right side of the street. Who cares? Not me.

*I do not actually own a miniskirt.