Growing Up Without Questioning Identity
Growing up in Hawaiʻi as an Asian American, I was part of the ethnic majority. I never had to question my identity—not really—and for that, I know I was incredibly lucky. So when I moved to Japan, I assumed it would be a smooth transition. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but looking back, that assumption was naive.
Explaining What “Asian American” Means
I never expected that living in Japan would mean repeatedly having to explain what being Asian American actually meant. Yet now, in my ninth year here, I still find myself answering the same questions:
“So, your parents are from Japan?” “So, you’re half?”
What puzzled me most was that many of the people asking these questions had even been to Hawaiʻi—yet the idea that I, along with my parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and even great-great-grandparents, could all be American was still somehow difficult for them to grasp. I suppose when you’re on vacation, concepts like race or ethnicity aren’t things you consciously think about.
The Privilege - and Frustration - of Blending In
I understand where the assumptions come from. Because of the way I look, people often assume I’m Japanese and that I speak the language fluently. In some ways, that has allowed me to have what people might call an “easier” foreigner experience in Japan. I’ve never been stopped by the police and asked to show my residence card on the street. But even with those privileges, there’s a lingering frustration that comes from having to explain myself over and over again—only to realize that many people still don’t fully understand, or don’t seem interested in learning more.
Part of that might be on me. I still struggle to articulate my identity clearly, possibly because I’m still in the process of figuring it out myself.
University and the Search for Belonging
During university, I struggled to find my place. I wasn’t sure whether I should try to be more Japanese, or less. At a time of major transition in my life, I just wanted to feel comfortable and accepted. But instead of fitting in, I found myself caught in an identity crisis. For most of my life, I was just “me.” That was enough. But suddenly, I had to explain who I was, and in doing so, I was forced to confront parts of myself in ways I hadn’t before.
Downplaying One Side, Embracing Another
In the beginning, I downplayed the Japanese part of myself. I wanted to prove—almost defensively—that I was American. I did everything but pull out my passport. A lot of that stemmed from the shame I felt at not being able to speak Japanese well, or not knowing much about the culture. I felt like a fraud.
So I began to study the language more seriously. I practiced my pronunciation so carefully that people wouldn’t suspect I was a foreigner. I tried to blend in, and for the most part, I succeeded. Japan is a society that often rewards conformity, and at first, I appreciated the ability to move through daily life without being labeled an outsider. But eventually, I realized that blending in too well comes with its own cost—losing sight of who you really are.
Losing Yourself in the Crowd
When I moved to Tokyo, that feeling intensified. In a city of millions, it became even easier to fade into the background. The pressure to conform—to match the norms and expectations around me—never really went away. As a young adult trying to figure out life, it was hard not to fall into that rhythm. I spent my first two years in Tokyo feeling somewhat invisible and even less certain of where I belonged. Entering the workforce brought a whole new set of challenges, but I’ll save that for another time.
What I’ve Learned (So Far)
Over time, I’ve learned that there’s only so much I can do to explain myself. At the end of the day, it’s up to the other person whether they want to listen or understand. Some people are genuinely curious. Others are just trying to make conversation. And then there are those who simply don’t want to get it—no matter how clearly you explain. In those moments, I’ve learned it’s not always worth the emotional energy to keep trying.
Still Searching for Balance
I still haven’t figured everything out. Ironically, when I visit home in Hawaiʻi now, I feel more like a foreigner than I used to. Living in Japan has changed me, sometimes in ways I didn’t expect. I’m still trying to find balance between all the different parts of myself—American, Asian American, Japanese-passing, English-speaking, outsider, insider.
If you’re thinking about moving to Japan, just know that it won’t always be easy. You’ll find that things you thought were stable parts of your identity may get questioned. You’ll be pushed into unfamiliar emotional and cultural terrain. But for me, despite the challenges and frustration, these past nine years have still been worth it.
That said, take my story with a grain of salt. Everyone’s experience in Japan is different. I recognize that as someone who passes as Japanese, I’ve been shielded from many of the negative experiences other foreigners face. But if sharing this helps even one person feel a little more seen or understood, then I’m glad I wrote it.