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Spelman Spotlight
Page 13
An American in Japan: Being Black Wasn’t Easy
By Gretchen Cook
Sooner or later, any foreigner in Japan
will hear it. “Gajin desu yo!” yell uniformed
pointing children. “Gajin desu yo," whisper
groups of old women as a foreigner walks by.
it means: “There’s a foreigner!” And take it
from me, while living in Nagoya, Japan for
the past ten months as a Black American, I
heard it every day.
With a population of over 2 million
people, Nagoya is Japan’s fourth largest city
and home of several large household-name
corporations such as Toyota. Still, it’s like a
“sleepy” town, as different from the better
known Tokyo as Beaumont, Texas is from
New York City. It’s a more traditional city
than Tokyo— a city that has managed to hold
on tho its “Japoneaseness.” Tokyo, by con
trast, with its ever-increasing internationali
zation and large concentration of foreigners,
may not strike one a Japanese at all.
And it was here that I experienced mod
em Japan with no sightings of samuri, geisha
girls, or kamikaze pilots or many of the other
things Americans sterotypically associate with
my host country. Those concepts are as dis
tant to them as images of the cowboys of the
Wild West are for us. However, I discovered
that a good bit of today’s Japan still live in
dark ages with prejudice, ignorance, and stere
otypes with regards to Black people, whether
American, African, or from anywhere else.
Going on no matter what
I arrived in Japan in August 1988 during
the upheaval of newspaper articles about
degrading Black mannequins and other im
ages of Blacks on store bought paraphernalia.
That was also just after Michio Wantanbe,
one of Japans highest government officials
made racist remarks about Black Americans.
Knowing that I was en route, my friends
from around the country phoned me, and
asked me why on earth I would want to go to
such an obviously racist nation to spend a year
in school. Several friends tried to convince
me not to go. However, after having planned
this adventure for more than three years and
having struggled to obtain scholarships and
grants, and after having been accepted into
the program and assigned a host family, there
was no way I was going to change my mind.
If there was racism in Japan, I was going to
have to face it head on, make the best of my
time there and do whatever I could to dispel
any of those negative images in the minds of
the Japanese I was to encounter.
Once, a Japanese friend’s mother wasn’t
too pleased that I was her daughter’s dinner
guest. I had been invited to dine with a
university friend at home. However, she did
not happen to mention to her mother that I was
Black, although she did know I was a for
eigner. Upon meeting me, the shock on her
mother’s face was all too clear. She was very
tense through dinner as we watched the Olym
pics on TV. One of the athletes on TV was
Korean and she made it a point of telling me
that she hated Koreans. Then she turned to her
daughter and said, “I also hate Black people
and Chinese!”
I was very upset, but remained calm
enough to leave and return to my host fam
ily’s house where I promptly screamed into
my pillow, which was about my only means
of releasing my frustration in Japan. The next
day, the friend apologized repeatedly and told
me she knew her mother did not like Black
people, but she thought that if her mother
actually met one, she would change her mind.
Fortunately for me, this type of episode
only happened twice. However, I was con
stantly asked upon first meeting whether I
was an athlete or an entertainer. And when I
relied neither, there was usually a look of
disbelief, especially if I mentioned that I was
a Toyota scholar at Nanzan University, one of
Japan’s top private schools. These reactions
bothered me, for I was quick to realize that for
the most part, whenever I saw a Black person
portrayed in the media, it was either an ath
lete, an entertainer, criminal or starving refu
gee in Africa.
Of course, this was not bettered by the
little tar-black dolls with the over-sized pink
lips wearing hula-skirts, and an earring through
the nose, which were frequently seen at rest
stops along the highway. I remember going to
such a place with my host family, all eyes
turning to stare, and seeing those types of
dolls hanging from the ceiling all over the
store. I looked at my host mother, almost in
tears, and asked her if that was what I looked
like in her eyes. She said no, but it seemed as
if no one could understand why those images
upset me so much.
The Mighty Pen
After that experience I wrote two articles
for one of Japan’s national papers, one was
about Black AMerican History Month and its
significance, and another in which I wrote a
review of the movie “Mississippi Burning,”
which I used as a vehicle to air my views on
racism and give background on Black Ameri
can History.
I received such approval that I decided to
try to organize the 18 or so Blacks living in the
area so we could hold lectures or a cultural
festival and have a support network for each
other.
I joined a small African and Black
American Studies group which consisted of
Blacks, Whites and Japanese, most of them
professors at different universities. We held
meetings, sent other bits of information and,
since we lived in various cities, kept in touch
mostly through letters.
I must say that, although Japanese still
have a long way to go to overcome their
general xenophobia, I have seen great strides
made by groups, such as the Japan Anti-
Apartheid League (Japanese are “honorary
whites” in South Africa), and by individuals,
such as a young boy in Okasa City, who
disapproved of the “tar baby” dolls and col
lected as many as he could find.
He and his parents displayed these items
at a meeting and called for them to be discon
tinued. They formed an organization to fight
racist stereotyping in Japan.
Better times ahead
Most of my time in Japan was not spent
focusing on racism; however, I made many
close, special friends, spoke their language
every day, taught English part-time and learned
traditional things such as the tea ceremony
and how to tie a kimono. I learned that the
Japanese can be warm and friendly, just as
any other people can be.
After a while, I actually felt a sense of
nakama or that I really belonged to my host
family. I argued with my host sisters—there
were four of them—just as if we were real
siblings and had a few disagreements with my
host parents; however, there were no prob
lems that could not be overcome and laughed
about later.
I had to adjust to removing my shoes as I
entered any home, learn how to take a Japa
nese bath, the ofuro, learn how and when to
bow to certain people, learn Japanese table
and other social manners, learn humility, adjust
to bringing gifts with me when I went to visit
anyone’s house, and how to avoid a pervert’s
hands on the crowded subways and buses.
All of these adjustments, not to mention
the fact that I was in a place alien to me and my
culture, can be very trying on an individual.
But I am extremely grateful to have had such
an eye-opening, learning experience in the
Land of the Rising Sun. Sayoonara.
This article was reprinted with the per
mission of The Columbia Flyer.
Gretchen Cook, C’90 at her graduation from Nanzan University in
Japan flanked by her friends, Yoshie Yeu-sensee and Ootsuka-sensee.
Back in the Day: The Rockefeller Contribution
By Monica Lynn Briggs
What’s the “real deal” when it comes to
the Rockefellers and their claim to Spelman
College? What was their donation to Spel
man’s History? Why are the buildings and the
college itself named after members of the
Rockefeller family? The story begins with
the founding of Spelman Seminary.
In the summer of 1882, Sophia Packard
and Harriet Giles, our founders, spoke at
Wilson Avenue Church about their mission at
Spelman, then known as the Atlanta Baptist
Female Seminary.
During that year, over a century ago, they
were raising funds to expand the seminary
from the basement of Friendship Baptist
Church. John D. Rockefeller, a member of
the Wilson Avenue Baptist Church, was in
attendance for the presentation of Packard
and Giles. Upon hearing their story,
Rockefeller donated $250 toward the devel
opment of a new academic facility and added
the money in his pockets to the collection
plate for Ms. Giles and Ms. Packard.
In April 1884, the Rockefellers paid the
Atlanta Female Baptist Seminary an unan
nounced visit for the third anniversary of the
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founding of the school. Upon arrival, Mr.
Rockefeller learned of the bind the school
was experiencing. They, in conjunction with
Friendship Baptist Church, owed $15,000 in
mortgage payments. The facility was shared
with Morehouse college. The school raised
approximately $4,300 from Black Baptists in
Georgia and friends. Recognizing their di
lemma, Mr. Rockefeller donated the remain
ing balance so that the seminary could not
only pay for the property, but operate in a
facility separate from Friendship Baptist
Church.After this gesture of kindness, Pack
ard and Giles decided to change the name of
the seminary to Spelman Seminary, in honor
of the parents of Mrs. John D. Rockefeller,
Mr. and Mrs. Harvey B. Spelman.
There are six buildings on our campus
named in honor of members of the Rockefeller
family. They are: John D. Rockefeller Hall,
Bessie Strong Rockefeller, Sister’s Chapel,
Abby Aldrich Rockefeller, Laura Spelman
Rockefeller and the John D. Rockefeller Fine
Arts Building.