There's More to Being Cute Than Being Cute

The prevalence of cute things, ways of dress, and behavior is impossible to overlook when living in Japan. In my research for a paper on keitai denwa use and personalization, I came across an interesting theory on the culture of kawaii ("cute") in Japan. Sharon Kinsella viewed the cute culture as youth's reponse to regimented social controls and bleak views of adulthood. In contrast to Western cultures where youth rebel in often angry or vengeful ways (like "punks"), Japanese youth prefer to bask in the nostalgia of childhood to ward off the feelings of responsibility and selflessness that are associated with adulthood, especially parenthood. Girls thus indulge themselves on "kawaii" designer goods, speak and write in childlike manners, and decorate their personal belongings in feminine symbols (hearts, stars, smiley faces) and popular animated characters. To think of being cute as a strategy of rebellion seems strange, but it makes some sense. According to Kinsella, ideas of maturity in the West focus on individual authority and rights, while maturity in Japan is thought more to be able to cooperate in groups and fulfill obligations. "Either way the result was the same, teachers in the West were as infuriated by cocky pupils acting tough, as Japanese teachers were infuriated with uncooperative pupils writing cute and acting infantile," she goes on to say.

The Pink Panther was made to be a sly character, but Japan turned the idea of him into a cute kitten-looking "panther pal".



This was found in a keitai denwa store; the mushroom is the symbol of NTT Docomo. I'm unsure how mushrooms with human characteristics are considered cute, but it seems even companies that sell the most practical of goods geared toward all generations have such little mascots.


Speaking of mushrooms, I went to a bar in Kyoto called "The Mushroom Bar", that had low orange lighting, smiley faces all over the walls, and kids' toys on each table. The bar's owner had his hair shaped like a mushroom. The bar wasn't nostalgic or even kawaii, just terrifying.

This concludes my blog of Japan for the semester. Thank you for viewing my photos and reading my babbling text. Japan is a culture of much more depth and dimensions than I gave it credit, but hopefully I represented it in as appropriate a way as I could.

Strange Japan

The concept of cultural relativism is, briefly, the understanding of and respect for aspects of another culture in their own context. A place where cultural relativism is most definitely not practiced is a website called weirdasianews.com, a blog updated on the quirky or "just plain sick" fads happening in the East. What's best--or worst--about weirdasianews.com is that users, mostly Americans, can comment and, um, share their insights about the news and images they see on the site ("lol them crazy japanese", i.e.). The Western idea of Japan is difficult to generalize, but one of the notions that exists is that Japanese culture is just strange. Claiming that some part of a culture is "strange" is ethnocentric in that it is usually said with dismissal of the practice or lack of understanding of it.

I admit that these following pictures were taken solely because I thought they were strange. I wanted visual evidence of some differences that may exist between Japan and America, and these hold to that in an entertaining way. It's much more difficult to visually represent the situation for women or the concept of seniority or the "herd mentality" within Japanese business culture. Instead, I can take pictures of statues or people in costume, call them strange, then go home.

This was taken in Himeji. I don't know who the character is supposed to be.


This was taken in Shijo. I, again, don't know what it is supposed to be, if anything.

Japan's Rising Pet Rate

Before I came here, I had an idea of Japan as an animal-less, or at least pet-less, nation, partly due to the lack of green space and tight living quarters. To my surprise, I found dogs everywhere. As the seminar houses are located next to a park ("Gaijin Park" or "Beer Park", as we call it), I often witness Japanese owners walking their dogs, sometimes more than one dog at once. They're not always small dogs, either.


The pet industry in Japan is in fact booming. Over 40% of Japanese homes contain a pet, and animals are being considered "part of the family." They're allowed to stay and sleep indoors, they're dressed fashionably, they're given psychiatric drugs to ease depression, they're given professional massages, etc. This also includes prairie dogs, apparently.

I took this picture in the park in front of Himeji Castle. A man had trained her using whistles, and could make her walk, stop, spin, and stand up on command. After a brief show, he then scooped her up into his bag and walked away.
Many attribute the rising importance of pets in Japan to the declining birth rate. The amount of DINKS (Double Income No Kids) households are increasing, and the void is being filled by pets, who perhaps are considered children whose care is less demanding or career-restricting for women.

I could also conclude that the aging society leaves many widowers craving the companionship of a pet in the home.
The rising prevalence of and focus on pets in present-day Japan reflects wider social change that's affecting the every-day choices of individuals, especially women.

More information: It's a dog's Life, and Japan's Pet Industry

No More Bridges

In reponse to Keiji's blog entry 11/9/2007:

Keiji's blog post entitled "Bridge" expresses concern about the poor condition of bridges in Japan, even asking "Why does the government [do] nothing?" The Japan Times article linked in the post discusses the aging of bridges and how delaying repair could lead to disasters similar to the bridge collapse in Minneapolis, Minnesota this past summer. Interestingly, the question of the past couple of decades has been "Why does the government do anything?" when it comes to construction within Japan. The Japanese construction state is enormous and terribly corrupt, sucking up large sums of taxpayers' money for useless construction projects that are not tied to public need. According to Jeffrey Broadbent, dirty pork barrel politics maintains the construction state; politicians benefit with votes and financial support for their elections when they exploit the system.
Thus it is curious that the Japan Times article in Keiji's post is concerned about lack of financial resources to support the repair or replacement of Japanese bridges. Many elaborate bridges and roads have been built where none were truly needed, and money has been poured into unsightly projects such as the placement of concrete tetrapods on 50% of Japan's shoreline. The repair of unsafe bridges is necessary and definitely within the construction state's budget. The prevention of future public works projects that serve no social need should be yet another priority.

For more information, please see Jeff Kingston's book "Japan's Quiet Transformation: Social Change and Civil Society in the 21st Century" and the chapter on Downsizing the Construction State.

Lions, Pandas, and Foreigners, oh my!

As discussed in the film "The Japanese Version", many Japanese people view foreigners in Japan like they would pandas: cute, interesting to look at and touch, fun to "play" with. As an American living in Japan, I have indeed noticed the giggles and finger-pointing in my direction. I've also played games with Japanese strangers, like "Let's Speak English" or "Let's Kampai". While it sometimes feels like admiration, it also makes me feel a sense of unbelonging. I will remain an outsider, or a panda, to Japanese people as long as it says on my birth certificate that I was born in America.


At the Gaidai Festival this past weekend, many school clubs formed their own fundraising booth to sell a certain food dish. Walking through the human highway between booths, festival attendees are bombarded with questions and marketing pleas. To international students, it's in broken English: "Excuse me. Are you hungry? Please try udon!" It is very difficult to refuse such a thing without regret, and for me my Japanese is too poor to convey a reason why I would not want udon at that moment. The photo above showcases this exact occurence, and actually features a fellow Visual Anthropology student (the tall panda in yellow) who was likely unaware of my camera.


This photo was taken in mid-September at the Danjiri Festival. We, as obvious pandas, were personally picked out of the crowd and rushed to the Tourist Information office where we were dressed and shuffled together with other young Vietnamese tourists, without any explanation. After the photo opportunity, we were escorted around the festival by Otoosan, the lovely Japanese man on the right, who led us to the best spots to view the Danjiri floats. With red and white ropes tied around our heads, we were directly marked as pandas to attract even more attention to our cuddly selves.

To be an outsider in Japan can be difficult even when just dealing with awed strangers. There is always a sense of discomfort being an "Other", though of course any outsider treatment I receive is not nearly as severe as that which many outsiders face on a daily basis in America.
Pandas are welcome in Japan--as long as they remained unarmed.

American man in panda mask for Halloween, posing with Japanese man in a white face mask.

Trick or Treat or New Cultural Practice

A Japanese friend once told me what he “kind of” misses about America, where he spent a year studying: the homes (couches and fireplaces, more specifically) and also the holidays. While Japan is rich in seasonal or religious festivals, the amount and ways of holiday celebration trails behind America, at least in the commercial market and also seemingly in spirit. Granted, the “spirit” of American holidays may be exaggerated by the commercial market, but there is often some hype around a certain holiday almost every month.

In Japan, the celebration of Halloween manifests itself in very few places outside of Tokyo Disneyland—where it is said to have started just two decades ago—and Kansai Gaidai. With the encouragement of Westerners and alcohol, however, some Japanese are willing to partake in costume wearing and candy consumption.

A restaurant called "The Lock-Up" in Shiji has adopted some familiar American Halloween customs for the special night: ghouly masks set up on shelves, blacklights, animal costumes, people banging on walls and screaming, and pop reggae playing overhead (well...). It is interesting to think about the transfer of such traditions from one culture to another. If Disneyland can play such a large role in bringing (at least) the material aspects of a major holiday to a different nation, that proves that there are definitely "sell-able" parts of culture. Halloween in America is hardly tied to the Christian religion anymore, but what Japan took of it is even more generic, the scrapings off the top. Maybe I'm making this a bigger issue than I should, but it's fascinating to witness how cultures influence each other in such small ways outside of economy, religion, gender roles, family structure, etc. You physically see it on the bodies of the people:

The Photographer that Couldn't

"Photographs will offer indisputable evidence that the trip was made, that the program was carried out, that fun was had" (135). As Susan Sontag writes in her chapter "In Plato's Cave", photography is widely practiced and has become a crucial part of the documentation and memory of daily activities. Tourism is most obviously associated with photography, and it is interesting to visit cultural events in Japan--like festivals--and watch how others scramble to create physical proof that they were there.


This past Tuesday I attended the annual Kuruma Fire Festival in the Kumura prefecture of Kyoto. Sorry to use an overused metaphor, but we were packed like sardines as we shuffled up to get a glimpse of the flames. I tried to take a picture from far away because everyone else seemed to be doing it, but the distant scene was obstructed by another photographer. I can see the fire in his camera, but not my own. The technology of digital cameras allows us to hold the camera above our heads and capture a scene we can not see ourselves when in a large crowd of tall foreigners. I feel as though this cheapens the experience--to watch something beautiful through the eye of a camera--but at least I can tell people I have been there, which is the point of tourism, right?


I tried with all my might to get a good-looking picture of this event. Here, men are crowded around one of the two mikoshi, a portable shrine. The colors were stripped away when I used flash, and movement was blurred when I didn't. Even if I did get a clear shot, there is still a curious filmmaker in the corner, interfering in my own anthropological work. What troubles we have to go through to avoid the interference of other spectators with cameras, while being interfering photographers ourselves.

What I learned from being a photographer who failed is that some experiences are just not meant to be captured on film. Margaret Mead is right in that visual anthropology enhances our cultural studies, but in the case of the Kumura Fire Festival, my CoolPix camera could never capture the smells or the cold or what it felt like to walk down an emptying street framed in flaming torches.