Double and Not Half

Mixed-raced children are called hafu in Japan, from the English word “half.” When I was younger, being a hafu felt like a benefit wherever I was. My friends in the U.S. were interested in learning about Japan and my family was part of a Japanese community. I was the center of attention with my Japanese friends and relatives because they had never met a foreigner. I spoke both English and Japanese fluently, and didn’t doubt my identity or abilities within those languages.

As I grew up, I started noticing when I would be treated differently in Japan because of my appearance. I used to enroll in a Japanese elementary school for a few weeks every summer. One time, there was a teacher who clearly did not like me. He would make comments on my appearance and call me a gaijin, a slur for foreigners. On my last day at the school, the teacher sneeringly said that he was glad I was leaving. Another time in Japan, my mom and I went shopping and an old woman walked up to me to say, kuni ni kaere, go back to your country. I didn’t fully comprehend what was happening, but I started doubting my sense of belonging in Japan.

When I was nine years old, my family moved to a more rural part of the States. I lost my hafu friends, and we didn’t go to Japan as often. I spent more time being exposed to English-language education, entertainment and friends. I lost my ability to think and speak fluently in Japanese. I became self-conscious of the way I spoke Japanese, and felt ashamed of losing my sense of Japanese culture. I was deeply connected to this language, but I doubted myself because I saw how I was different from a “normal” Japanese person. I acquired a strong sense of insecurity about my cultural identity.

Furthermore, my naturally reserved personality intensified my self-doubt. As a child, I would talk sometimes, but I was often really shy and I kept my thoughts to myself. Language was a means toward introspection and interpreting the world around me rather than communicating with other people. My identity and worldview, the thoughts in my head, were developed by the two languages I grew up in. But, I got to an age where it became necessary for me to speak to other people to establish my identity and social belonging. Being forced outside of my comfort zone and noticing my embarrassing mistakes when speaking Japanese reinforced my fear of not being Japanese enough.

During this time, I started learning French in school. It felt weird and uncomfortable, but different from English and Japanese. When learning French, I was forced to speak in order to gain fluency. With English and Japanese, I could say what sounded right to me. That didn’t work with French. I didn’t know what sounded right or wrong. I just had to physically say something to notice mistakes and improve my fluency. Learning this new language put me outside of my comfort zone in a new way. Speaking French didn’t feel comfortable (and still definitely isn’t), but it felt liberating because I had no personal connection to the language. There was no mental barrier of doubting my identity. When I went on a cultural exchange program to France in high school, I was shocked by how comfortable I was saying what came to mind and not worrying so much about making mistakes. My host family welcomed me and treated me with kindness regardless of what I said. This felt so different from the shame I felt when I spoke Japanese in Japan. It felt refreshing to learn a language and culture that wasn’t my own.

After graduating high school, I was able to direct more of my self-exploration. I wanted to regain what I had lost from my Japanese identity. For the first time, I planned a trip to Japan by myself and reconnected with my Japanese friends who see me as I am. Throughout my adolescence I had been feeding my own self-doubt. Slowly, I learned to appreciate the wisdom and worldview I gained from being a hafu and the two cultures I grew up with. Stepping away from my insecurities with French also helped me have a growth mindset with language. I was always making mistakes and facing challenges, which caused me to let go of my fear of speaking.

Until recently, I’ve had a difficult time feeling secure in my identity, and felt like two sides were fighting for power over each other. I now know that it’s more of an integration, and that my identity can be a mix rather than a conflict. Lately, the word hafu itself is starting to be considered a negative slur in Japanese. My parents now like to use the word “double,” not “half,” to reinforce the fact people aren’t missing anything by being “half,” but instead gaining twice the benefit by being “double.” This usage isn’t very common yet, but I hope more people start replacing hafu with labels that are more representative of the benefit of having multiple cultural and linguistic backgrounds.

It has become clear to me how each language I know has contributed to who I am. English is the language that helps me think critically. My dad was always the one I would consult to solve problems and talk about the state of the world. As it’s the language of the country I grew up in, I feel at ease and confident with English. Japanese is the language that defines my values. My mom taught me to take care of myself and my surroundings with respect. I learned to value the small joys in life and the present moment from Japanese culture. And French taught me to let go of being perfect. I learned that using a language is a life-long process and that my relationship with language changes constantly.

Through my experience with several languages, I learned to be verbal and express my thoughts and identity. I still have a reserved personality, but don’t feel as shy and scared to speak as I did before. Each language that I know has contributed to my identity and helped me grow in different ways. I think in one way or another I will always have difficulties finding a balance among languages and cultures, but now I know how to have more confidence in my voice. Having gone through challenges with my identity has given me wisdom and new perspectives. I hope in the future to keep learning how to use my linguistic abilities to my advantage. I’m excited to keep learning French (and maybe other languages), and see how becoming more fluent in French adds another side to my identity. My linguistic background has made me a better person, and I’m proud to call myself a “double,” or a “triple” in progress.

Mika Holtz ’22 is a junior at Smith College, majoring in neuroscience and French studies. Her hobbies include dancing and traveling, and the places she calls home are Burlington, Vermont and Nagoya, Japan.

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