Letter from Boston Across the Cultural Divide By MASAKO YAMADA	フレームで見る  英文をプリントする  脚注をプリントする
文化の違いを越えて 雅子さんのもとには読者からたくさんの電子メールが届きます。電子メールでのやりとりで見知らぬ人と心が通じ合うことも多いのですが、ときには、困った内容のものもあるようです…。

Many of the people whom I correspond via e-mail are people with whom I can't interact in "real life." With some people, this is because we live so far away from each other, we can't arrange actual meetings. We'd much prefer getting together in person, but e-mail serves as an imperfect substitute in the interim. With other people, though, e-mail is our primary link, and we probably will never have a real life relationship that is closer than the one that we have on-line.

Because I think I am a better writer than a speaker, I like using prose to express myself. I get a lot of mail from strangers because of this job, and one of the most frequent comments I get is, "Even though I've never met you, I think of you as a friend." Sometimes, the letters I've exchanged with my readers seem more vivid than even the most honest conversations I've had with my best friends. I've gotten queries on topics ranging from "Which should I choose: Wellesley or Yale?" to "How should I approach an international marriage?"

This is, of course, very flattering to me and it creates a warm feeling in my heart, but sometimes, I wonder whether this closeness is just an illusion. This week, I received a message from an e-mail friend that disturbed me greatly and I have spent a good deal of time trying to find a good way to respond. This reader is a middle-aged Japanese man whom I've met a number of times in Boston because he's doing research as a visiting scholar at Harvard. I was telling him about my short trip to D.C. and about the silly little "Cherry Blossom Festival" that I attended. I told him that I thought the event was "manuke." He gave me a lengthy, polite and roundabout reply on the "spirit of the Japanese." He wrote that I didn't seem to understand what being a "proper citizen" entailed because I'd grown up in the States.

I don't know if I'm just being young and disrespectful, or if I'm just being "a normal American," but this speech infuriated me. I certainly think I understand the beauty of a cherry blossom, but even if I didn't, I don't think that would make me any less authentic a Japanese. More importantly, however, I realized that whether or not I was considered a true Japanese by him, or any other "true Japanese," I didn't care. Maybe he's considered elite by Japanese standards, maybe he's older than I am, but he doesn't know as much about international relations as I do. It's pretty obvious that I'm not a "true Japanese" in the textbook sense: I've never been, and I'll never be. However, I can rest assured that there are plenty of people who take me as I am ― who, indeed, appreciate me for what I can contribute ― and this matters much more to me.

I've performed my "duties" as a Japanese ambassador to the States ― it's inevitable that I be considered a representative of the country, whether I like it or not ― for my entire life, but this is more through my day-to-day conduct than through anything else. I know that "cultural exchange" rarely occurs at festivals. I've participated in such festivals since I was a child. The PTA moms, diplomats' wives and student volunteers work very hard to coordinate the events (I usually think it's fun), but selling origami and yakitori in little stalls is easy. It's much easier than making new friends in a new culture. If nothing else, I can say that I am one of the most borderless people that I know. I know that I will find my way, somehow, someday, be it in the States, or Japan or some other country that I may yet come to know and embrace. I need people in my life, to be sure. I want their guidance, their affirmation, their understanding and their love. I also want to share my trivia, my jokes, my insight and my affection. I realize that for human interaction to be meaningful, however, there must be a fundamental spirit of generosity. I'm making some mighty highfalutin statements on the basis of one careless remark, but I think it's such "carelessness" ― it's not even good-humored, funny carelessness ― that creates deep rifts in what many people have struggled to create.

I don't need people to tell me who I am . and I needn't reply to those who do.

Shukan ST: May 9, 1997

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