I don’t have any tattoos. In fact, I think tattoos are ugly and I would never intentionally get one. Why one would intentionally blemish their skin like that is beyond me.
(and if you disagree, then go ahead, but this is my opinion and I’m sticking to it).
I haven’t put a lot of thought into the topic, but lately a particular image has been sticking out at me, about what I would get as a tattoo, if I ever somehow decided to get one.
Here it is.
This is the Japanese word for foreigner, pronounced “gaijin”. And I think this word, above all of the other words in all of the languages I know, describes me the best.
For I have no home, no place to which I belong.
One of the reasons that Japan appeals to me as much as it does is that it’s not here. In fact, it’s about as far from here as it’s possible to get, in all ways. Physically, culturally, linguistically, spiritually – you name all the ways, and Japan is the exact opposite of my world.
I have never been comfortable being the outsider, but I have always been the outsider. In every situation I have been in, for as long as I can remember, I have been the gaijin. I am a gaijin in my own country, I am a gaijin in my own culture, I am a gaijin in my own faith, I am a gaijin in my own skin. And the most appealing thing to me about Japan is this: At least in Japan, at least when speaking Japanese, I am expected to be the gaijin.
In my world, others perhaps do not see me as the gaijin. They see me as a member of the in-group, as an American, as a Christian, as all sorts of things and labels that I could (and often) do take but never fit. But to Japanese, I am a gaijin (or gaikokujin, if that makes you more comfortable). I will always be a gaijin. I will never not be a gaijin.
And frankly, I think in some ways I prefer that. The low expectations of being a high functioning child in Japanese culture. In many ways, it beats what I am in my own culture.
Maybe that is why I am learning Japanese.