Let me tell you a bit about my journey …

Growing up:

Born and raised in the US and speaking English “so well,” people might think I had no problems feeling at home here. But being a child of immigrants, I grew up in a Japanese household even while living in the midst of “mainstream America.” I got guidance on how to be Japanese but not how to be “American.” Being unaware that cultural differences have important consequences, my teachers at school and church did not think to teach me their ways; they probably thought the etiquette, discipline, etc. that parents normally teach their children was the same for all cultures. As a result, I often failed to do what was expected of me and was often scolded or treated with contempt. The strategy I figured out as a kid to try to reduce these unpleasant experiences was to hide my Japanese-ness and make myself as inconspicuous as possible. On the other hand, the kind of bullying I experienced was much lighter than what elementary and secondary school kids are facing these days. It breaks my heart when I hear of the plight of children who are being bullied nowadays.

Things were not easier when I got home. From the pressures of being an immigrant, I suppose, my father was abusive to my mom and me. My brother, being male, may have fared somewhat better. But, being a kind-hearted soul, I imagine that he suffered a lot, too. The fact that our mother was pursuing a career as a university professor and being thwarted by racial and gender oppression added to the tension at home. I don’t remember much about my childhood. I don’t think I could afford to remember. It was not a happy time.

Going to church:

Mom had my brother and me attending church starting in grade school. I think she thought it would help us assimilate better into American society, but it was an alienating experience. When at nine years of age, I told a Sunday School teacher that I had visited temples and shrines in Japan during my summer vacation, she told me to stop worshipping idols or I would go to hell. When I tried to point out that sightseeing is different from worshipping, she quoted John 14:6 and imposed on me her interpretation that basically meant that Jesus said “I am the White way, the White truth, and the White life and no one comes to God except by being White.” The message that Jesus died for my sins so that if I repented, I could go to heaven after I died also did not click for me. As a grade schooler, I wasn’t worried about what would happen in the afterlife! I was trying to figure out how I was supposed to live this one.

My mother taught me that devoting myself to easing the suffering of others in some way would be a worthwhile goal. What she did not teach me was how not to despair, given how much suffering there is in the world. Of course, it’s not as if I could articulate that I felt hopeless at that young age …

Then I went to CHURCH:

When I was 28, I happened to hear of a Black gospel band that needed a bass player. Nothing I had previously experienced in my life prepared me for what I felt the first time I played a program with them! The singers were singing with an intense hope and an infectious joy … and they were people who I knew had much more difficult lives than I! How can they sing like that? I held back tears to make it through the program and promised myself that I would seek out more of this, even if I had to go to church!

For the first time in my life, I heard about a God who would “wipe away every tear from their eyes,” a God who “makes a way out of no way,” a God who “sits high and looks low.” I had never heard that God cares about people who are suffering injustice or that God would go with someone as an advocate into a courtroom or a boss’s office. I think that was because all of the Christians who had tried to convert me to Christianity prior to that life-changing day had been White.

What I was hearing from Black Christians was not Good News because I felt that I myself was so oppressed. Even though I experienced some discrimination, I had plenty of opportunities to build a reasonably good life. But to know that God intervenes on behalf of people who did not have such opportunities as I and who were subjected to enormous oppression … that truly was Good News and I wanted to follow a God like that!

A change in direction:

I spent several years learning to see with new eyes, with eyes of faith instead of this world’s eyes. Time and again, what I saw was help seeming to come out of nowhere for people who were in what seemed like hopeless situations. As a result, I became convinced that God could really be counted on. This faith of African Americans is indeed a great power that has sustained them through the injustice they suffered in chattel slavery and the Jim Crow system as well as the oppression and violence that continue even to this day. I finally found an antidote to the hopelessness I had suffered with all my life.

In closing:

In my writings, I am very critical of patriarchy in Japanese culture. This is based on some painful experiences with my father and a few other men born in the Meiji or Taisho eras. So it may not be fair to make sweeping statements about Japanese society in general. Comparing experiences with others, particularly those from different cultures has been very enlightening and healing for me. So I welcome and appreciate your reactions. Although I may not be able to respond to each of you, your feedback will help me as I continue to ponder and write. Please contact me here.