Irish | Japanese
I identify strongly with the term hāfu. It comes from the English word ‘half’, and it’s used widely in Japan to refer to people of mixed ethnicity. It’s not ideal. I feel uncomfortable with the suggestion that I might be ‘half’ of a person for just being myself. However, the term is so widely understood in Japan that sometimes using it can be a shortcut to having to explain myself. Moving through the world as a mixed-race person can feel so complicated and heavy that sometimes it’s simpler to take the easy route. I treat labels like hāfu as a skilful means. This is a Buddhist concept that essentially means that language can only get us so far in pointing to the true nature of something, though at the same time we can’t escape the fact that language is an essential tool. Who I am is much more than what any language, whether that’s English or Japanese, can capture.
My Mum is Japanese and my Dad is Irish. My Mother has always been very accepting of who I am but as a child other family members would make comments about the combination of my European and Asian appearance. Society fetishizes people with White features, and this is particularly true of my own experience growing up as someone who is ‘White passing’. Whether it’s my weight, height, or the way I dress myself, I’ve felt pressure from both sides of my family to fulfil opposing beauty standards. I’m quite tall for a Japanese person so it’s physically impossible for me to ‘fit in’ with other women there. I’ve had to do a lot of unlearning to let go of these pressures and feel comfortable in my body.
Until recently, I was caught up in how other people perceive me. I found myself constantly assuming what the people around me made of me. I was obsessed and my self-consciousness was all consuming. It was a surging impulse to prove that I am Japanese, or Irish, or British. In trying to be visible, I had essentially made myself invisible.
These days I’m much more confident and surer of myself. This is partly to do with growing up and being in my mid-20s. I’ve also found comfort and joy in connecting with other mixed-race people. There’s a big group of half-Japanese people in London and we have regular meetups. Connecting over that shared feeling of being misunderstood and missing Japan has helped me feel less alone. Japanese and British society has shifted significantly over the past few years too. My experience is that people are much more open now and that’s reflected in how people in these two countries treat me. Ultimately, I’ve come to terms with the fact that for now I don’t fully fit in with either of these cultures and that’s okay! I’ve found the people who understand me, who make me feel at home.
I’d describe a lot of the women in my life as role models. Japan holds stringent societal standards for what it means to be a Japanese woman and in the past, I’ve struggled to come to terms with this. Like me, many of the Japanese or half-Japanese people in my life fall outside of these standards. This is particularly true of my Osaka roots! We’re known for being loud, (overly) friendly, and incredibly direct. However, seeing my Mum move through the world the way she does has helped me feel proud of my heritage. She’s one of the funniest people I know.
Although my Mum and I are based in England, my sister lives in Australia and the rest of my family are in Japan. My Jiji and Baba are getting old now and it makes me sad that I only get to see them every few years. I want to hear more of their stories, how they met at Jiji’s sock business (!), made a life in Osaka and how they dealt with a daughter who would end up starting a family with an Irish man and moving to England. More recently I’ve been feeling a pull to move back to Japan to connect with this side of my family. I want to do this before it’s too late.
I’m incredibly lucky to be working with one of my closest friends, who also happens to be half-Japanese. Julia and I work together at the same organisation here in the UK doing climate campaigning. Though the work that we do doesn’t relate much to our shared half-Japanese identity, we spend a lot of time discussing the history of radical movements in Japan and our shared experiences in activism. Sometimes we create these fantasies about the organising we could be doing over there. One day we’ll make this happen! Speaking in Japanese or, on the flip side, not having to use language to explain how I feel, is such an affirming part of my day-to-day life.