A Weighty Topic

It's funny but it's not.  Everywhere I go in Japan, my weight becomes a subject of much discussion and debate.  I'm big.  I'm tall.  I've lost weight.  I've gotten fat.  I have a small face.  I have "impressive" breasts.  I'm well proportioned.  How nice it must be to be me.

The commentators are not all men.  Just yesterday, I received a detailed commentary on my size from a 93-year old woman who analyzed my body in front of me, concluding with the following:  I looked good for my age, I'm lucky I have a small face, my breasts-waist-hip ratio works for my body-type.  These are compliments, I'm told.  The fact this analysis took place in front of me, hands reaching out towards my body but not touching, her finger resting on her lips as she looked me up and down is not the point.  Evidently I should have taken notes, suitably grateful to be assigned the lead.

Why the obsession with my weight?  Why do Japanese feel the need to comment on my weight and size?  Why the interest?

I am not alone.  Tall foreign men receive comments about their height, the conclusion they are impressive specimens.  Men with a gut are told point blank "you have a gut" as if they were in denial, unaware of their girth.  Women slender and with fewer protruding bumps are asked why they have "no butt" and/or if their ethnicity is to blame for the missing cleavage.

It's funny because the Japanese, often seen as reserved and polite do not project themselves as a whole where such bluntness would be forthcoming, especially about a topic of such sensitivity.  It's ironic.  Funny, sort of, but more ironic.  Where does this politeness disappear to when it comes to matters of size?

The same comments I received yesterday, had I heard them from a 93-year old American woman would have been met with a snappy comeback showing my displeasure.  Those standing around her would have attempted to shut grandma down, saying, "Grandma!  That's not polite!"  There would have been an open reprimand.  Grandma needs to be excused.  I would have received a private "I'm sorry she said that" later as the embarrassed daughter pulled me aside.

Yesterday, the two women with the 93-year old nodded as I received the analysis of my body.  This was a study.  This was a necessary critique of the only foreigner in the room.  Was it inappropriate for the matriarch to make these comments?  The two women did not think so.  Nay.  Nay nay nay.  It was an honor to have been the recipient of such detailed observation.  I was a flower, an elegant tree, a mountain painted with graceful brushstrokes.  I was a work of art.

Which is, of course, crap.  The comments about my size are entirely acceptable as it means I'm the focus.  This, too, is crap.  When "you got fat" is the observation made the at-least-you're-being-discussed line doesn't work.  Not for this American.

Let me be more specific.  The conclusion of this obviously very important analysis was that I was round.  This is the exact word used.  Now, being called "round" in English is not a good thing.  "You're so round" is code for "you're fat" which is when we get to assume the speaker is begging for a fist to meet a cheek.  In some cases, at least.  Yesterday I was not allowed to hit (not that I would).  Indeed, my "roundness" was evidently something these three women coveted.  Huh.  So, round is good?  Rather, fat is good?

I have no print-worthy conclusion to offer.  I will surely continue to be the recipient of what I'd be okay with as private thoughts.  Maybe we just all spend the rest of the day telling ourselves round is good and those who offer up these words really do mean well.

On Women in Japan: "The Rules Are Different Here"

Sometimes it's the conversations we have with our best of friends who then turn around and say something we weren't expecting that hit us the hardest.  This is one such case.

I get a call from a dear friend in Tohoku.  Let's call him Yuta.

"A bunch of us are concerned about the amount of time you spend with Kiki," he says out of the blue.  (Kiki is not her real name.)
"Why?"
And so it begins.
"Well, this is a bit hard to say but Kiki doesn't have a very good reputation in town.  She's business first, and then there's the fact she spends so much time out drinking at night--away from her husband and kids."
I don't say anything.
"Are you listening?"
"Uh huh."
"It's not okay that she's doing this."
"What do you mean by 'this'?  Is it the she's-focused-on-getting-her-business-off-the-ground part that's not okay or the staying-out-late-at-night part?"
"Well, the latter mostly.  Women, wives and mothers, can't just go out and party like she does.  And, to be focused on business over family, that's not cool either."

I like Yuta.  A lot.  Which is why his words pain me.  She's not allowed to be focused on her store and she's not supposed to be going out at night because she's a woman?  Because she's a wife and a mother?  Seriously?

"Let me get this straight," I say.  "It's because she's a woman that these things aren't okay."
Yuta pauses before he answers.  "Yeah."
"And, this is why you think I should spend less time with her.  That my reputation will some how be tarnished by being associated with her.  Is that right?"
"Something like that."

Poor Yuta.  If he were anyone else, if we weren't as close as we are he wouldn't have gotten the beating that came next.  I simply lost it.  I went for the jugular.

"You guys, you men, this is normal for you.  You're always out drinking, socializing, staying out late.  You guys prioritize your businesses over your families all the time.  That's okay, right?  That's what men do, right?  So, when Kiki does the same thing, trying to restart her business so she can contribute to the family income, and when she enjoys life with her unmarried friends for dinner or drinks, that's not okay.  Because she's a woman?  Are you kidding me?"  Yuta is trying to cut in but I won't let him.  "And, what about me then?  Some in the States say 'you left your husband behind to work in Japan.'  I go out with you guys, and Kiki.  We eat.  We stay out late.  Why is it okay for me and not for Kiki?  Is it because I'm American?  The rules are different for me?  Or is it just that the rules are different for Kiki because she should know better?  Local woman, married with kids, she's supposed to pack up her shop promptly at five pm and go home and cook dinner and bathe her children?  Yuta, this is dumb.  You can't say 'it's okay for Amya' but 'it's not okay for Kiki.'  You just can't."

I've hit a nerve.  Yuta's angry now, too.

"Look.  I'm just telling you what people are saying about Kiki."
"Back her up then!  You're in a position to tell those who say this about her that she shouldn't get read the riot act, get the cold shoulder just because she's a woman.  Do you say that?  Why don't you say that?"
Yuta sighs.  "The rules are different here," and adds, "for women."
"That's ridiculous," I snap.
"Yes, it is.  But it's also true.  You're right.  You don't get the same crap thrown at you because you're here helping us get back on our feet, and because you're a foreigner.  No one would dare say that about you."

We're both quiet.  I'm oddly completely drained from having yelled at him, and he's hurt his advice has been met with such a violent reaction.  Soon we mumble our good-byes and hang up.  The rest of my day I get very little done, my thoughts going back to Kiki, and Yuta's words.  The injustice of the existence of different rules for women infuriate me.  Do I stop seeing Kiki?  No way.  I won't get sucked into this muck.  Is Yuta right, though?  Will I get less done if I hang out with "the wrong crowd"?  Do I ignore these rules or play nicely in the sandbox?

The next time Yuta and I talk, I apologize.  I took it out on him, and that wasn't right.  He was giving me a heads up, and I could have taken that as valuable information but didn't.  He understands.  He agrees the double-standard is unjust.  There are more pauses in our conversation this time, each of us dancing around the uncomfortable air between us.

"I'm not going to stop hanging out with Kiki," I finally say.
"I didn't think you would.  Especially not after what you said last time."
"I realize I may be taking a chance, a risky one, that people will stop working with me because I spend time with Kiki.  But, I guess I honestly don't believe that will happen.  I'm associated with a lot of different groups.  Not everyone I work with is thought well of.  Right?"
"Right."
"If I as a woman stop supporting Kiki because she's a woman...well, that's a line I can't cross.  It's some code we have as women.  Or something."

Yuta says he understands and I choose to believe him.  The subject of Kiki hasn't come up since.  I've known the rules are different for women in Japan, and especially so in Tohoku.  To have them so clearly spelled out for me, however, is unsettling and off-putting.  My choice to ignore cultural protocol for the sake of supporting my kind may or may not have repercussions.  To date, I think I'm fine.  I'll let you know.