May 29, 2020: Neva Nowak – In this Corner of the World

By: Neva Nowak

This Friday, our class discussion centered on the manga In this Corner of the World, written and illustrated by Kouno Fumiyo, and the corresponding film. The manga is a rich, complex piece about a young woman coming of age and persevering in and near Hiroshima during the Second World War. Of the stories we have examined in class, this is the first that features a female main character. As the protagonist, Suzu navigates an arranged marriage, moves to a new town, and sustains her new family during times of war. I feel it would have been easy for the story to become a common one of female struggle and oppression. However, In this Corner of the World never stooped to the level of simplistic or stereotypical. Instead, it remained, always, a story about resilience, loss, and life through a female lens. 

Even secondary female characters in “In this Corner of the World” receive development. Though Suzu’s sister-in-law is originally characterized as cold and nagging, here we learn about the hardships of her past.

The film version of In this Corner of the World remained faithful to the art of the manga, and at more than two hours in length, the movie incorporated quite a lot of the original story’s content. Therefore, our discussion dealt much more with the common content of the film and manga rather than what was gained or lost in the process of adapting the story for the screen. One of the points I found most interesting in our discussion was the idea of “survivor’s guilt,” originally brought up by Lela, that Suzu may or may not have felt in the aftermath of various traumatic events that happened in the story. For example (spoilers ahead, be warned), Suzu’s niece, Harumi is killed in a delayed bomb explosion that also destroys Suzu’s right hand. It is clear from Suzu’s tearful apologies to Harumi and her mother that she feels deep remorse. Coupled with the loss of her hand — another devastating blow, given Suzu’s love of drawing — Suzu remarks that she doesn’t know what there is left to be glad about. However, when the atomic bomb is dropped in her hometown of Hiroshima (where Suzu had, until the last minute, planned to return), leading to the eventual deaths of her parents and the illness of her sister, so little time is left in the story to explore the effects these events had on Suzu’s psyche that many of us agreed it left us wanting more. Professor Uchiyama suggested that perhaps this choice to leave this topic unexplored is an intentional choice of the author’s and that many things may be said about the topic of grief by leaving some things unsaid. I do agree. However, I can’t shake the feeling of longing for further insight — which is, perhaps, the mark of a successful story.

Here, in the aftermath of her injury, Suzu reflects on Harumi’s death and the loss of her hand.

Friday’s class also included a quick check-in about the status of our research projects, the proposals for which were also due Friday night. Though my research partner, Lupe, and I originally intended to focus on the topics of modernism and nationalism present in postwar film and photography, our in-class examination of various animated film/text sets (including Grave of the Fireflies, Barefoot Gen, and of course In this Corner of the World) inspired us to shift our focus to the topic of animated and live-action versions of postwar texts. In our proposal, we detailed a plan to compare the 1988 animated Grave of the Fireflies to the 2005 live-action Grave of the Fireflies and the original short story by Nosaka Akiyuki. In this project, we will ask: to what extent do the live-action and animated versions of Grave of the Fireflies change or preserve the intimate details of personal memory present in Nosaka Akiyuki’s short story, and how do these films transform this memory into new cultural entities that shape generational memory of war?

Samantha Kosai – “Barefoot Gen” and Hiroshima

By: Samantha Kosai

Today we discussed the atomic bomb, primarily through the first two books of Keiji Nakazawa’s Barefoot Gen series. These books follow a closely-autobiographical journey of a boy named Gen and his family right before the atomic bomb drops on their hometown, Hiroshima, and its aftermath. Nakazawa writes in the form of a comic series; we read the first two and saw the 1983 animated movie. When we discussed the animated film, Lela brought up an excellent point about the use of animation in depicting the initial moments after the bomb drops. The horrific effects of the bomb slowly paint onto Hiroshima civilians and leave them looking somewhat like zombies.

This is the movie cover for the 1983 animated version we saw in class.

The class agreed that animation was able to show the destruction of the atomic bomb in a manner that allowed viewers to recognize and grieve its effects while not being too gory, like what might happen in a live-action remake. Bright colors and cutting between freeze-framed scenes also let viewers take in the damage done to Hiroshima victims in ways that are particular to an animated style. We discussed the differences between Barefoot Gen and “A Grave of Fireflies,” which we read Friday. We also read an article by Susan Napier that compares the two and agreed with her argument that both have different tones. Keenan shared that Barefoot Gen has an overall more uplifting tone that is reflected in Gen processing the war by taking care of his mom and younger sister, the only other survivors of his family. This reinforces a distinction Napier makes about victimhood and suffering. By being the latter, Gen does not enable victim consciousness to form. 

This is the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park.

We read two other articles about Hiroshima and the Peace Memorial Park. An article by Rinjiro Sodei posed the question: “Is the A-bomb known more for its power or misery?” which I asked the class as well. Keenan answered that it depends on who you are asking and the rest of the class agreed. The atomic bomb is internationally known but means different things based on your relation to the history of the war. I thought this was a really great point. We also read Ran Zwigenberg’s article and focused on the ethics of preserving the A-bomb dome, the use of calling the park sacred in political discussions, and student protests. One of the biggest takeaways I got from this part of our discussion was Lela’s recognition that it is not really our place to decide the ethics of how these issues are handled since we are not part of those communities. This is an important thing to remember as we continue to study history and go forward in creating it. 

I am working with Gabriel Galanti for our research project to study the depiction of comfort women in the Korean film Spirits’ Homecoming. This film is critical of the discriminatory actions comfort women faced and those who reinforce this system. We finished a draft of our paper last week and submitted it to Professor Uchiyama in lieu of a preliminary research plan to receive feedback on our work. It has been really nice working with Gabe; he is very dedicated to both this project and being a responsible and communicative writing partner. I’m looking forward to reading Professor Uchiyama’s comments and revising our paper based on them. 

Kamikaze Pilots and “The Wind Rises” – May 27, 2020

By: Keenan Goo

Historical photo of a departing kamikaze plane

Wednesday’s class covered the sobering topic of kamikaze (Japanese for “divine wind”), the division of the Imperial Japanese Navy whose defining characteristic was the pilots’ death by collision during their attack. By this point in the course, our class was familiar with the ultranationalist mindset that enabled such an egregious war tactic. However, this was our class’s first time delving into the realities of Japanese veterans (particularly undeployed kamikaze pilots) after the end of World War II. Overnight, those signed up to be kamikaze pilots but were never deployed devolved from Japan’s greatest heroes to living manifestations of the nation’s failure. They were even branded with the title tokko kuzure (Japanese for “kamikaze degenerate”).

Whether because of this societal rejection or because of the devastation of their unbeatable nation’s defeat, many kamikaze veterans ended up turning to destructive lives of crime or ending their lives altogether. In one insightful discussion, we compared World War II veterans in Japan with Vietnam War veterans in the United States. In both cases, it took time before the nation’s view and treatment of veterans improved from one of total disgust and disrespect. One of the modes through which this perspective shifted was through media and museums. Noble depictions in films and museum exhibits of soldiers’ letters to loved ones helped to humanize these historical figures and elicit sympathy from the public. Understanding that both media and museums played an important role in public memory, our class analyzed the relationship between these two factors. Neva insightfully pointed out that a topic covered by both types of education is accessible to more audiences. Furthermore, media and museums can establish a mutualistic relationship where they can derive content from each other while also consolidating and sharing the audiences they appeal to. In an ever-increasingly technology-dependent society, it is not difficult to see how this relationship could continue to grow.

Promotional poster for Hayao Miyazaki’s film “The Wind Rises”

Between the relevant films “The Eternal Zero” and “The Wind Rises,” our class chose to watch the latter. “The Wind Rises” was written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki who is well known for his anime films including “My Neighbor Totoro” and “Spirited Away.” This film follows Jiro—the designer of the Mitsubishi A6M Zero fighter plane which was later used by kamikaze pilots. Despite being the main event happening at that time, we were shown nothing of the actual war. As a civilian and not a soldier, Jiro lives an arguably normal life of falling in love and pursuing his dream of making beautiful aircraft. The mantra of the film is repeated throughout the film, “The wind is rising! … We must try to live!” We see Miyazaki portray this in two ways. Firstly, Jiro chases his childhood dream of building planes despite his knowledge that they will likely be put to destructive use. Secondly, he courts and marries a girl diagnosed with tuberculosis with full knowledge of her imminent demise. Our class agreed that Miyazaki’s film focused on life in the midst of one of the greatest life-disruptors in history. This contrasted with our previous anime film, “Grave of the Fireflies,” which primarily focused on death. On the topic of comparing these two films, Sam made the observant comment that the age of the protagonist was significant in each film. Jiro in “The Wind Rises” grew to be a fully independent adult and member of society who was able to choose what he did with his life, including his contribution to the war effort. This is quite different from Seita in “Grave of the Fireflies” who remains a child with little to no control over his world or the war. Life simply happens to him and his sister. It is safe to say that both films are powerful in their own ways and offer different valid viewpoints in Japan during World War II.

Screenshot from the movie “The Wind Rises”

In regard to my research project, I feel that I am making satisfactory progress. Tokko kuzure was actually the topic I was originally planning to research. However, I feel that most of my questions were answered by our readings for this class on kamikaze pilots. Additionally, I developed an interest in what is now my new topic: The effect of war memory on the Japanese Self-Defense Forces (JSDF). I have already identified some primary and secondary sources I plan to analyze further that will provide valuable insight into JSDF public relations in light of the discredits done by the Imperial Japanese Army.

Lela Ni 05/27/2020 Blog

By: Lela Ni

The topics of today’s class were the 1954 film Godzilla and the fourth game in the Metal Gear video game franchise, Metal Gear Solid. We examined these two pieces of pop culture through the lens of Japan’s post-nuclear anxieties as a society and nation as well as the parameters of their own art forms. Neva kicked off our discussion with a question about the latter: Why use movies (and other art forms such as literature and video games) to examine historical events? This is a question our class has deliberated on during previous classes, and it was especially topical today because many of the readings related to Godzilla try to move beyond film criticism and examine the movie from a historical perspective. The articles by Igarashi, Anderson, and Noriega offer several different ways we can read Godzilla. Igarashi, for example, introduces the idea that viewers can see Godzilla as a metaphor for the United States and the atomic bomb, and can understand the monster as a projection that helps Japanese society and individuals contend with the events of World War II. Anderson ties this latter interpretation with the concept of the “Other”–people cope with horrific events by casting them into external (and sometimes tangible) things. 

Honda Ichiro’s “Godzilla” (1954)

One particularly interesting part of our discussion was Lupe’s insight. Because the movie’s big moral conflict about the A-bomb was distilled into an interpersonal drama between human characters, the movie absolves the larger nation (Japan) from its real-world culpability in World War II. The movie overlooks the fact that such a bomb would realistically require a very expensive and perhaps national effort, and thus Japan as a political entity feels absent from this film even as the film is flooded with images of Japanese people, life, and culture. 

This “erasing” of Japan also occurs in the Metal Gear Solid game, but in this case, it is the ethnic markers of Japan that are removed. Several people brought up good points to explain this: Neva mentioned that video games, unlike films, became prominent during a time of increased globalization. Professor Uchiyama stated that if Metal Gear Solid was too explicitly Japanese, the game’s critiques about American foreign policy would be more difficult/controversial to pull off. There’s also the fact that perhaps the video game creators wanted to make their audience as wide as possible and thought white-washing the Japanese elements would make the game more accessible to non-Japanese players.

Metal Gear Solid – Video Game Franchise

Our class also had a lively discussion about the ontology of video games and how they are so experientially different from films. Whether or not video games (or any other medium or art, for that matter) are an effective means of delivering messages/lessons about the real world is a debate that’s still up in the air, but as Professor Uchiyama stressed in class, it is still important to study the intentions behind these things. Perhaps that is the value of studying fictional historical expressions–the choices involved in the process of creating them can be just as important as the products themselves.

An update on my research project: I’ve decided to go the creative route for my research project. I would like to write a short story in the form of an epistolary, or letters. I’m drawn to this form for this project because letter writing often features the first-person point of view, and this narrative closeness that I will have to develop to the narrator of my story will force me to inhabit her world and circumstances to a degree that a more distant narrator (an omniscient third-person point of view, for example) needs to a lesser extent. I’m not yet sure what the diegesis of these letters is going to be, but I do know that I want to incorporate letters “written” during World War II and letters “written” decades afterward. This is another strength of the epistolary form: you can really compress and expand and leap from time periods, which I want to highlight through my story because this class is, after all, about the memory of war. Aside from these details though, I don’t know what my story is going to look like. My writing process is also a process of discovery, and often I don’t know what I’m really writing about until I begin putting actual words down, so I try to go into a story as blindly and as openly as possible.

Lupe Mota “A Grave of Fireflies” / May 22, 2020

By: Guadalupe Mota

This Friday, we were tasked to read Akiyuki Nosaka’s short story “A Grave of Fireflies.” The 15-page story is an autobiographical piece that reflects the life of its author during the 1945 air raid that occurred in his home town of Kobe, Japan. Nosaka, much like the main character Seita, had his entire life shatter in front of him in moments during the raids. Both of his parents died and was left as the sole guardian of his 16-month old sister–unlike the story and film, Setsuko who depicts the role of his sister was 4-years old. This heartbreaking piece begins with the deaths of Seita and Setsuko who died months after the raids. Nosaka’s story tells of their journey of survival but also inevitable deaths. Both the short story and its adapted film interrogate the role of nationalism within the lives of both these children and the livelihoods of Japanese residents. The foreign enemy is never identified in the story, but we are often confronted with the enemy that nationalism plays which further entrenches the suffering of Seita and his sister–with the looming hope that his father, a naval officer, would rescue them. 

Screenshot from the movie adaptation of “A Grave of Fireflies”

I highly appreciated the insights of my classmates–especially those who gave honest initial reactions to the short story. Lela pointed out the interesting form Nosaka wrote “A Grave of Fireflies” in. Along with its difficult content, Lela indicated how visibly dense the actual text was. We could go to a page and not find a paragraph break and often read run-on sentences. However, most importantly, she mentioned how entangled the author is within his writing–an important take away that we should all keep in mind when we continue to read fiction stories or watch films rooted in historical specificity. Lela goes on to tell us that the writer should not be rendered invisible–when we analyze these works, we must also understand the personal and historical moments that these creators and artists are bringing into their work. This is particularly true of literature and film-making that present the audience with a traumatic story. The creative process may allow, however, for these difficult stories to be told. As several people mentioned as well, literature can take on the role of telling these stories that history is unable to–where traditional historical methodologies may not be able to tell the emotional truth of a person’s past or of trauma endured by society’s most marginalized. 

We also discussed the role that the animated film directed by Isao Takahata had on effectively telling Nosaka’s short story. First, Kenan importantly mentioned the role of music within the movie as it highly contrasted the plotline. He felt that the whimsical and beautiful movie was jarringly placed on top of the tragic lives of Setsuko and Seita. Many other of my classmates agreed that animation allowed the filmmakers to tell the story more accurately than a live-action movie could have. They even agreed with the film critic Roger Ebert when he said that a live-action actress would have taken away from some of the film’s most tragic moments including the death of 4-year old Setsuko. Lela also shared two pages from Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud which supported Ebert’s argument. The first page illustrates the heads of four men. As they appear left to right they become increasingly less detailed, and the comic reads: “When we abstract an image through cartooning we’re not so much eliminating details as we are focusing on specific details. By stripping down the image to its essential “meaning,” an artist can amplify that meaning in a way that realistic art can’t.” Thank you, Lela for providing us with this source. 

As for the research project, I am working with my beloved friend, Neva Nowak. Over the weekend, as we drove down Sunset Boulevard, we discussed our mutual love for photography and our intrigue for Japanese films. I mentioned the post-war Japanese photographer Daidō Moriyama whose mostly black and white photographs explore the themes of modernism and nationalism–an academic interest of mine. Neva previously worked on a paper for Professor Uchiyama on the 1971 film Throw Away Your Books, Rally In The Streets–where she explores similar themes. We came to the consensus that we bridge these interests in our final paper where we analyze post-war Japanese films and photography that are themselves critical to modernism and nationalism. As we continue to read and watch sources in this class, we spent about an hour after the lecture discussing our ideas and have begun an outline for our paper.

Black and white photograph by Daidō Moriyama

Ryan Barr’s Blog Post 5/20/20

By: Ryan Barr

Yesterday we discussed collective memory within Japan, specifically focusing on the role museums play in remembering World War II and how they influence collective memory in Japan. Jooyoun Lee’s article comparing and contrasting the Yasukuni Shrine and the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum was incredibly interesting to me. Lee discusses how these two museums are diametrically opposed in the way they portray the war, but both serve to teach a lesson about the perils of war and the prosperity of peace. I found this article to be the most enjoyable for me to digest, as it discussed the role that museums and collective memory have in the field of international relations. As an international relations major myself, this piece was much easier for me to really analyze the article’s strengths and weaknesses, and contextualize it within the broader field of international relations. 

Collective memory is a topic that is not widely researched in other areas of the world in regard to its effect on international relations. Our class discussed why that may be the case and brought up a lot of interesting points. I believe that Japan’s collective memory is studied with more scrutiny because it is very easy to see contemporary, real, long-lasting implications in their relations with South Korea and China as a result of their collective memory. When Prime Minister Koizumi visited the Yasukuni shrine as a private citizen, where 14 Class A War criminals are buried, there was an uproar by these countries who experienced great tragedy at the hands of Japanese imperialism.

The other articles discussed various museums within Japan, and some explained the process for how the museum decides on what pieces were to be put on display. This launched us into a discussion on the role museums play in society, how they are managed, and some ideas we had for the progression of museums into the future. We discussed how museums are given a sense of authority, almost like a scholarly article or textbook, as Lupe pointed out. Given this sense of authority, do they have a duty to provide the most objective, evidence-based information about historical topics? Should there be an outside objective party that reviews museums to make sure they are doing such? These are some of the questions we discussed. Lela had an excellent point about museums being similar to a thesis, where they are making an argument, and the exhibits they decide to show are the evidence to support this argument. This is apparent in the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum, where they are trying to prove how dangerous war can be, and how important peace is for the human race. 

Professor Uchiyama asked an excellent question which sparked another debate about whether or not we should have museums for those who died in aggressive wars, or died doing what others would deem as immoral or wrong. While I definitely believe that acts committed by Japanese soldiers and Nazi soldiers in the Second World War were egregious and awful, I feel as though it is not my place to say whether or not every soldier who fought on the Nazi or Japanese side were immoral, bad people. It is easy for us to look back now and condemn these people, however context matters. I believe that we are easily influenced by outside factors, especially from a young age. The Japanese soldiers were being fed a certain narrative since they were children, which ultimately led them to follow orders to do incredibly bad things. While it is easy for us to look back on these actions and condemn them from an outside point of view with significantly more information, I do not know if this is the just thing to do. Context should be analyzed and I look towards Hanlon’s razor which states, “never attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by ignorance.”

My research paper is going well. I am going to be extending a quantitative analysis that I conducted previously which analyzes how the Japanese invasion can shape how countries react to Japan today. I posit that as Japan’s relative power increases, the distrust of the Japanese manifests itself in a decrease in the amount of imports/exports with countries formerly invaded by Japan, reducing overall trade between Japan and these countries. These countries are fearful of a repeat of Japanese aggression, thus when Japan becomes stronger, they respond negatively. For this class, I will most likely be performing a case study on either South Korea or China to see if this argument holds up qualitatively.

Gabriel Galanti Blog Post 05/19/2020

By: Gabriel Galanti

This was a very emotionally charged week. These are tough stories, with a lot of controversial layers and conversations. I found The Rape of Nanking to be an incredibly thought-provoking piece. Iris Chang’s methodology centers around looking at the multiple perspectives of Japanese involvement in China during World War II. The first perspective is the Japanese perspective — how the breakdown of the army occurred, what orders were given, and how it was possible for the massacre to occur on the Japanese side. The second perspective focuses on the Chinese perspective and victims — the horrors that were experienced, the brutality they faced from the Japanese, and stories of extreme circumstances and unlikely survival. The last, and maybe most heavily weighted perspective, is the American and Japanese perspective. Chang takes the accounts of 3 individuals in the International Safety zone and examines their heroics and role in bringing the massacre to light.

Chinese victims about to be buried alive during the Nanjing Massacre

Interestingly, the structure of this week’s readings played an important role in dissecting the main theme of the week: what does it mean to be a historian and what does it mean to remember? We also read two articles by Daqing Yang that seek to answer these questions and describe what historical nuance means. The Nanking Massacre is a highly charged historical event with a lot of controversies and how we approach it is important. Yang specifically points to Chang’s use of certain sources and her questionable reading of them. While Chang is not a historian, misreading sources and information is important, especially when you consider that this was a New York Times bestseller and a lot of people used this novel to learn about what happened in Nanking. That’s kind of Yang’s point, that accuracy (along with historical judgment) is important. That being said, I enjoyed the class discussion on this fine line between historical accuracy and telling a ‘journalistic story.’

I really appreciated Neva, Lela, and Lupe’s points about how Chang’s methodology is not one of perfect historical accuracy, but rather trying to tell a story, and because of that they are willing to look past some of the murky historical spots in Chang’s book. I completely agree with their viewpoint, the whole of the controversy surrounding these events is always centered on the details, but the most important thing is that we stop and recognize that something bad happened here. I also appreciated Neva’s comments about not comparing two atrocities and simply focusing on scale. If we always focus on scale, numbers, and detail, we forget the emotional pain and trauma caused. It takes away from the historical narrative. That’s what makes it so interesting to properly remember something — there are multiple perspectives, multiple truths, and it’s hard to reconcile everything into one work. That being said, I do agree with Yang, that historical nuance and accuracy are important. The bottom line is that a combination of skepticism, nuance, and storytelling is needed to properly join a historical conversation — but history is an ever-changing and complex conversation — so our understanding of history is always moving and changing towards a complicated and nuanced truth.

A Chinese woman and man tied to a pole – Nanjing Massacre

My research project is going well! I have teamed up with Samantha Kosai and we are going to look at the depiction and experience of comfort women, how the representations of comfort women differ from place to place, and who is over or under-represented as a result. This paper will be reinforced by the readings in our class and a mix of outside scholarly articles. We will also look at the following movies: “Spirit’s Homecoming,” “The Apology,” “Great Cold,” “Gai Shanxi and Her Sisters,” and “Within Every Woman” and see what is available to review!

Farewell, Japan!

By: Shon Xiao

Hi! I’m Shon, a rising junior at USC. It’s been such a good three weeks here in Japan with the USC and Meiji students, it’s hard to believe it came to an end. In all honesty, the fact that it’s over still has yet to hit me, even though I’m already out of Japan while I’m writing this.

Our last day in Japan was a bit hectic, needless to say, but was still a wonderful memory. Around noon, Joe and I went to TeamLab Borderless, a recently established digital art museum with marvelous displays that constantly change as the day goes on. The museum had several rooms, most of them hidden behind curtains that blend into the wall. The sheer scale of the displays in the museum made the experience ethereal.

Projectors cast glowing displays on makeshift lily pads at TeamLab.

Joe and I returned to Sakura Hotel with only a little time before the Farewell Party at Meiji University. All of us USC students gathered in the café at Sakura to write cards for the Meiji supporters. Thanks to Jessica and Thomas, who organized the card-writing and bought the materials, each pair of USC students wrote a letter for each of their Meiji supporters. Krystal and I wrote messages for our supporters Ara-chan, Yuto, and Mizuki. I was lucky enough to bond with these three over the course of the program, particularly during the Kiyosato retreat. I also wrote a few letters for other Meiji supporters I bonded with to show my thanks. With only ten or so minutes before the Farewell Party, I regret not being able to buy more gifts and write more letters for the Meiji students. I definitely left out a few people that I was lucky to meet.

Taryn and Kenny showing off their beautiful letters.

The Farewell Party truly made the trip feel like it had come full circle, being held in the 23rd floor of Liberty Tower. We cheered, much like on the first day of the program, and began feasting. After finishing our meals, we heard several speeches from faculty and students from both USC and Meiji, all expressing messages along the lines of ‘time flew by fast, but we will never forget this experience.’ I’m sure that many of us resonated with this message. It was strange acknowledging that the program was coming to an end and that we would soon split apart and go our separate ways.

Professor Katada giving a speech at the Farewell Party.

After the speeches, the USC students and Meiji supporters exchanged gifts. USC students gave letters while Meiji supporters gave shikishi, a small board filled with messages from each Meiji supporter. It was so moving to see the amount of effort they put into their present and all the sweet messages written on the board. I promised them I’d treasure the gift forever and place it on my desk.

Unfortunately, many Meiji supporters were unable to make the Farewell Party because they still had classes to attend. However, the majority of the Meiji supporters made it to the second party that Tatsuya so kindly organized for us. I was happy to be able to say a final goodbye to all the Meiji students. We sang, danced, and overall had a wonderful time. I was able to bond even more with a few supporters.

USC and Meiji students celebrating at the second party.

In the middle of the second party, I stepped out onto the smoking terrace to get some fresh air. Out of curiosity and whim, I followed the stairs up to the roof of the building. There was a view of a quiet neighborhood of Tokyo, and I could faintly hear the blaring music and singing voices from downstairs. Detached from the party scene, I was really able to take in the moment and say a final farewell to the city of Tokyo. Or, at least, a final farewell to the program. I spent my time up on the roof reflecting on my time here and the friends I’ve made, despite not expecting to. I came into this program with little to no expectations in fear of being disappointed, but EASC Japan has been more than I could have hoped for. I’ve come to Japan once before, but for the first time I became close friends with Japanese locals and learned about more niche Japanese minority groups. While it’s bittersweet to say goodbye to Japan, I know for sure that I am coming back to learn even more. Thank you, GEA Japan, for giving me this opportunity to experience Japan in a unique setting. Time flew by fast, but I will never forget this experience.

Night view of a quiet street in Tokyo. I’ll miss these clean streets and tall buildings.

Thank you, Japan!

LAST PUSH! 6/6/19

By: Kenneth Wong

What a wild couple of days it has been! The last few weeks have flown by and this Maymester is coming to a close. This blog post is for June 6th, two days before the end of the program. I started off the morning by sleeping in until 9am! I feel like I am finally getting used to the time difference in this country just in time to fly back to the States. I started off the day singing in the shower so I know I’ve become too comfortable living here! Today, I went to a small cafe named Streamer in Naka-Meguro. The public transportation in this country is remarkably efficient and easy to use… after a few mishaps. Despite how directionally challenged I am known to be, I find that traveling around the big city has become a luxury rather than a nuisance.

Beautiful day in Naka-Meguro! Perfect weather for work in the morning and walking around at night.

Streamers Coffee Company was not meant to serve as a breakfast and hangout session. Three Global East Asia Scholars, myself included, worked diligently to finish the big final paper rough draft! After waking up at 9 o’clock, I had a little less than 24 hours to finish my draft and submit it to Professor Katada. The goal was to complete the rest of the project to free up the remainder of the day. After several drinks and one banana, I was able to finish! Even when faced with a deadline, I was still able to enjoy the aesthetic and beauty of working in Japan.

After the cafe visit came editing with my research partner, Thomas, back in Jimbocho. The majority of the day was set as the backdrop for students to finish working on their projects. We were able to finish the project relatively quickly, so I went to Shibuya later that night! Most of this trip has been traveling in large groups, so moving in a group size of 3 had its own challenges. The temperature was 87 degrees Fahrenheit, significantly warmer than the previous few days. This gave the night a fresh feeling and made night walking down the streets of Tokyo remarkably comfortable.

View of the famous Shibuya crossing from the train station! Much more hectic at night!

I no longer feel stressed roaming the streets of Tokyo! Being unable to speak the language has been an issue, but it has pushed me to come up with creative solutions to not being able to communicate effectively. I am effectively a foreigner in this country with a limited understanding of the Japanese language, but I have not let that hinder my enjoyment and workflow in this foreign land.

It has taken three weeks, but a rhythm has been very much established in my daily life in Japan. Whether it be onigiri from the local conbini (Convenience Store), Pocari Sweat from the vending machine, or going sightseeing in the busy streets of Shibuya, this research process has gone by in the blink of an eye. Spending the morning at the cafe was a much needed calming of the storm, but this last push towards the finish line has been sensational!

Sushi and the Korean Identity

By: Thomas Kim

Hello there!

My name is Thomas, and I’m a rising senior majoring in International Relations with a minor in Environmental Studies. Welcome to the June 4th edition of What and Where Has Global East Asia: Japan Eaten and Been to Today! On today’s edition, we indulged our taste buds in sushi followed by a personally interesting visit to a Korean school.

After a late night of working on my final paper draft, I woke up, hungry and ready for sushi. I held out, mentally fortifying myself against the thoughts of warm toast and butter in the lobby. In what seems like an eternity later, we finally made it to a revolving sushi restaurant in Shibuya.

Heaven on a Conveyor Belt

Growing up, my grandparents owned a sushi restaurant, so to see my childhood favorite, tamago (egg) sushi, made every bite even more wonderful. The food exploded with flavor, and we spent a blissful hour there, stuffing our faces with wonderful sushi and our eyes with little trains delivering orders across the restaurant.

Tamago sushi

Marinated Salmon sushi

Now to the big event from today: our visit to a Korean school. For some background, the ethnic Korean population in Japan is referred to as the zainichi, and they are historically treated as second-class citizens within Japan, even today. They originally came to Japan for economic opportunity when Korea was a Japanese colony from 1910 to 1945, and now the zainichi population has been here for several generations. Post-World War II, the respective North and South Korean governments began funding schools for the Korean diaspora that continued to live in Japan. Fast forward to the present, and there are only 9 such Korean schools left around Japan. In this time frame, the North Korean government has financially supported many of these schools.

“Tokyo Korean Middle and High School”

Junior High and High School Building

As soon as we walk through the gate, the buildings loomed a little ominously. What could we expect from a school that has received financial support from the North Korean government? Our guide for the visit escorted us into a conference room where he introduced the school and some of its history. The school, Tokyo Korean Middle and High School, is the largest of the 9 Korean schools still in Japan, with about 113 middle school students and 358 high school students. Established on October 5, 1946, the school is celebrating its 73rd anniversary, and most of the students are 3rd or 4th generation zainichi. The students’ nationalities are split between South Korean, North Korean, and Japanese. Our guide mentioned that the school is not geared academically towards funneling its students to college; rather, it seemed like the school wanted to bring athletic prestige as he rattled off the rankings of its various sports teams. Officially, the school has 3 pillars: Intellect, Ethics, and Athletics, and its main goal is to nurture the spirit of Korean culture by learning its language and history. Students are not allowed to use Japanese while at school, except for the younger ones who enter because they would only know Japanese. The students also come from all over Tokyo; some take a 2.5 hour commute because they take it seriously on behalf of their parents’ passion for them to better understand their heritage.

Student art depicting a chima-jeogori

After this general orientation, he took us to various classrooms in the junior high (7th to 9th grade) and high school floors (10th to 12th grade). I do not know what I expected, but I did not expect the students to look at us in the hallway and start smiling and waving at us. It could have been the traditional chima-jeogori that female students were wearing as well as the more elaborate ones that female teachers were wearing. It could have been the portraits of deceased North Korean dictators Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il hanging up at the front of the high school classrooms, or the teachers speaking to their students with a clearly North Korean-dialect. This showed me that even though the teachers themselves are zainichi, the North Korean influence is visible. Interestingly, the junior high classrooms did not have the Kim portraits, and the junior high English classroom was full of laughter and fun. Keith, who wrote about our earlier visit to Miyajima Island, was brought up to the front for the students to practice a conversation with a native English speaker! But as we traveled between classrooms, there were signs everywhere saying the same thing: “우리말”, which basically translates to “Our language”. This refers to their policy of using only Korean at school.

“Let’s use Our Language very well!” aka: USE KOREAN

After touring several classrooms and many waves and smiles later, we returned to the conference room, where our guide brought 8 high school students. The 4 guys and 4 girls split the table, so that they were separated by gender. Then began an awkward attempt at questions and answers from between our two groups, as the language barrier made it so Kyohei, Professor Katada, and our guide had to translate and facilitate conversation. When asked about how they, as zainichi living in Japan, see the North vs South Korea issue, they stated that they feel sad because all three groups of Koreans are all one ethnic group. They have a strong desire for reunification and seek to help play a role in that future. Because my project with my partner, Kenny, focuses on the immigrants’ perspective on living in Japan in the context of discrimination and anti-immigrant sentiment, I asked how they felt about discrimination as zainichi. The captain of the girls’ basketball team said that when they play against Japanese schools, sometimes the Japanese teams are normal and amicable, while others could seem cautious and wary about them because of who they are. She later went on to say that once she revealed her zainichi heritage to her Japanese friends in her youth, some stayed friends with her while others became fearful and hesitant to talk to her after that. She even experienced some bullying from it before she entered the Korean school.

At the end of our visit, we took a group photo and gave our thank you’s for the opportunity to learn about the school and talk to the students. I personally could not articulate how I felt. Even while sitting in the hotel and writing this blog post, I cannot find the best ways to phrase this tension that the visit gave me. As a Korean American, whose grandma fled North Korea when the Korean War broke out, I was honestly never super patriotic about my Korean heritage. This was made worse by living in South Korea for four years, a place I do NOT miss. Yet as a Korean American who had lived in South Korea before, the heavy North Korean influence bothered me. However, what I saw and heard from the guide and students was a completely different worldview. If anything, my perspective of South Korea as the “right” side because of my past and my knowledge of South Korea as a key American ally felt wrong. There was no North vs South. It was all one Korean people, living in an unfortunate and difficult situation to where our people are pitted against one another. These students are roughly half North Korean and half South Korean by geographic heritage, yet they do not feed into that notion. They consider themselves Koreans, albeit Koreans living in Japan. For me, as someone who still struggles with his Korean American identity at times, seeing these Korean Japanese students confirm their identities as simply Korean astounded me. Additionally, seeing Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il’s portraits at the front of the classrooms made me feel conflicted. Some of these students are proud to have North Korean nationalities, but it seemed like they had no idea about the plight of the North Korean people under these past dictators and the current dictator. Yet they are not the cult-like devotee citizens that we in America are taught about.

“Put your hand to your heart!” A message on pride for your Korean heritage

If anything, this visit truly opened my eyes to another worldview. I was raised in a North vs South Korea ideology by my Korean relatives and the American education system. To see another view, one that speaks to the Korean people as a whole, held with such strong conviction shocked me. While I still need some time to consolidate my feelings, identity, and thoughts after this visit, I can say that this visit was one of the most impactful events thus far on my Global East Asia Japan journey, as it shook me to the core, rattling my perception of my identity as an ethnic Korean. But why else do we travel if not to challenge our own preconceptions on identity and worldviews?