During our marriage my husband, Katsunori, and I have traveled together extensively, and our family has lived for substantial periods of time in three countries, two of which have been multicultural societies: Fiji, Nepal, and Japan. All of these locations have offered exposure to cultural diversity, to varying extents, and have left their own special mark on our family lifestyle and the upbringing of our daughter, Karin, who has spent more than half of her 14 years outside of Japan.
Our mutual interest in world travel set the tone of our relationship early on and ultimately determined the course of our life together, first as a couple and later as a family of three. Long before our daughter was born, we were attracted to the idea of establishing a multicultural family lifestyle. I am not sure that we consciously set out to raise bicultural children, but we did hope to create a family environment that welcomed new experiences, ideas, and cultural practices. I think our goal has always been to foster the idea that diversity is positive and desirable and that children should grow up with as much natural exposure to it as possible. Raising our daughter with this belief, we hoped it would help her feel more comfortable with the diversity within herself, as well as helping her to be more at ease with the diversity she would encounter in different world cultures and contexts.
Karin was born in Japan, but began her world travels at the age of three months. We took her first to the Philippines, and then moved to Fiji, where Katsunori worked for the World Health Organization. The capital city, Suva, has quite a diverse local population, not to mention a fairly large, multinational, ex-pat community. In many respects, this was a haven for us, and it may seem that raising a child to be multicultural would happen almost by default in such an environment.
The reality is a bit different. A family will only become as multicultural as attitude and interaction take it. People can easily remain monocultural while living in another country, and many ex-pat families can, and do, live lives nearly identical to those of compatriot families in their home-countries. As in Japan, Fiji has residential areas with high concentrations of foreign families and private international schools. Social interaction often remains limited to families from the same country or from within the international school community. Supermarkets, malls, and take-out shops provide the comforts of “home,” and it is not necessary to make many adaptations to a westernized lifestyle, or mingle with the local population, if a family prefers not to.
We chose to live in a relatively modest, and quite diverse, neighborhood. Most of our neighbors were South Pacific Islanders and Indian-Fijians, although there were a few Australian and Japanese households. On any given day, Karin and I would meet and greet a half dozen neighbors representing as many nationalities. On any given evening, the sounds of kava being pounded to the rhythms of Fijian singing would blend with the melodies of Japanese karaoke from up the street.
The members of our household included Ana Vetau, our Fijian housekeeper, and her daughter La. Although several years older, La was a favorite play companion for Karin and she was idolized by our little girl for some time. Looking back, I realized what a good role model La was. Bicultural herself (Indian-Fijian), La was trilingual and handled herself comfortably in different languages and different cultural situations.
Within our nuclear family, we tried to maintain an equal balance of Japanese and American culture. We made a conscientious effort to not emphasize one more than the other; our meals and daily routines reflected traits of both. For example, Karin had an American-style lunch box, but the lunch packed inside might be onigiri and umeboshi! Bath and bedtime routines were a mixture of both cultures also. Katsunori took baths with her and sing her Japanese lullabies, yet she slept apart from us in her own room from infancy. In regards to language, Katsunori and I followed the one parent-one language policy with Karin from the beginning. We each took turns reading stories, singing songs, and playing games with her in our own language. Both of us seemed to have grown up with the tradition of storytelling, and we carried the tradition on, each telling Karin tales about her families’ histories in Japan and the U.S.A.
In addition to Japanese and American stories, Karin’s library was stocked with books depicting other countries and children of different ethnic backgrounds. We also made deliberate efforts to make Karin’s play as multicultural as possible. Her toy box contained play things from countries we traveled in, as well as Japanese traditional games and American toys. Even her dress-up trunk had costumes from around the world. During visits to the U.S., I scoured toy stores for ethnic-looking dolls so that her first baby doll would resemble her as closely as possible. My rationale for this was that I wanted even dolls, toys, and storybook characters to serve as role models of diversity. Later, I used the American Girl Doll products to teach Karin about her Norwegian-American pioneering ancestors, and for years she surprised people by telling them that she was Scandinavian, just like her blond Kirsten doll!
My volunteer work took me to Fijian schools and, as often as possible, I took Karin with me. We visited Fijian village kindergartens and orphanages where Karin had the opportunity to join in with the Fijian students. She was shy at first, but became quite relaxed and happy to play with the children. When she reached pre-school age, I enrolled her in a small local kindergarten instead of the international school. The student population was predominantly Fijian, although there were a couple of Australian and Asian children, and the teachers taught Fijian songs and games as well as English. Karin blended into the group completely. Because of her Fijian-print clothing and year-round tan, she did not stand out from the other island children. At this kindergarten, differences among the children seemed insignificant and went hardly noticed.
In addition to the preschool, Karin participated in two playgroups. One was an international group comprised primarily of European and Australian children and the other was a Japanese group. The smaller Japanese playgroup provided increased exposure to spoken Japanese, and while Karin did not speak that much with the other children, I think that she listened and observed their play. She seemed to comprehend the Japanese mothers when they read a story or demonstrated a craft for the children. This exposure turned out to be very beneficial for Karin, for when she attended a Japanese yochien a year later in Saitama, she adapted well and blended in without difficulty despite being the only child of mixed cultural background.
Our living experience in Fiji was very positive for our family. Because the societal backdrop was neither American nor Japanese, neither of our parent cultures dominated and I think we avoided a situation where one parent imposed their values and culture on the family. When we interacted with other families, we were accepted as a blended Japanese-American family; we never had to choose a cultural identity.
It was a similar situation for us in the next country we lived in, Nepal. The country is a wonderful, cultural-crossroads with a long history of religions and ethnic groups mingling. Living in the midst of a typical Nepali community, we were able to observe and experience first-hand many traditional customs. In addition, we regularly participated in events planned by the American or Japanese communities for holidays. Parents were particularly active in these groups, as we all seemed to realize that holiday celebrations helped foster a sense of cultural identity among younger members of the community, especially those who had never lived in the “home culture” country.
As Karin grew up, we began to place more emphasis on our family holiday traditions. Katsunori and I made greater efforts to recreate holidays of our childhood, which for both of us revolved around food, and for me in particular meant elaborate baking preparations for Thanksgiving and Christmas. In some cases this meant considerable planning, additional expense, and assistance from family members back “home” to send supplies. Yet it was challenging and fun to put local resources to new uses, such as using Indian tikas and sari fabric to make Christmas decorations, and substituting local ingredients for unattainable foods like cranberries.
We honored some Nepali holiday traditions as well, such as Tihar – The Festival of Light – when Nepali families light oil lamps in the entrance and windows of their homes. And for the Nepali New Year, we draped our front door with marigold garland as did all of our Nepali neighbors. I think that the acknowledgment of so many traditions helped deepen Karin’s appreciation of the richness and variety of her own cultural heritages as well as those of other people. At any rate, Karin seemed to feel lucky that she had all these special occasions because she was an American and Japanese girl living in Nepal.
Karin attended two schools in Kathmandu, the British Elementary School and the Japanese Saturday school. Both schools represented multicultural communities. At the British school, a large percentage of the students and teaching population was Nepali, and probably 60% or more of the student population was from countries other than English-speaking countries or from multicultural families. The American and Japanese groups were the least represented, so Karin experienced being a member of a minority group while interacting with children of diverse backgrounds. At the Japanese school, her status was reversed – while all the children shared a Japanese heritage, most had another cultural heritage as well, Nepali or American, and monocultural Japanese children were the minority. It is my belief that these early school experiences must have shown Karin that being bicultural is very common and as natural as being monocultural.
Yet it was a monocultural society that we were next to live in. The orientation about Japanese school life that Karin received at the Kathmandu Saturday school proved – even more than academic study – to be invaluable when we returned to Japan. Karin’s re-entry into Japanese life was exceptionally smooth. There was a transitional period, of course, when she missed her previous surroundings and friends, but no episodes of culture shock. Having attended the Saturday school from grades one to three, she was already accustomed to the routines of the school day and methods of math and kanji instruction. Playground games and etiquette were also familiar to her, and she was readily accepted by the other children. On some level, they may have been aware that she is also American, but I am certain that Karin’s mixed heritage has never been an issue for her at school.
So, what lessons in multicultural family building did we bring back to Japan? Perhaps the most important lessons would be the importance of networking with international groups, and maintaining unique family traditions. When we moved to our current home, we introduced Halloween to the neighborhood, and everyone has now come to expect jack-o-lanterns and trick-or-treaters on October 31st. This has also provided us with a way of contributing to the local community and showing that, while our family lives in Japan and appreciates Japanese customs, we have other traditions that are also important to us that we would like to share.
I realize that my family’s story may seem removed from the experiences of families who have stayed here in Japan. The multicultural environments of Fiji and Nepal were very inspirational for our family and did present us with opportunities that we might not have had elsewhere. However, people reading this account should not underestimate the deliberate steps that my husband and I took in Karin’s upbringing. No matter where a family lives, cultivating a strong sense of cultural identity requires sustained effort and commitment. Parents must be able and willing to spend time telling their family stories, demonstrating cultural practices, and displaying pride in their cultural heritage.
The underlying principle that has inspired our multicultural journey is that parents should impart to their children the belief that accepting new customs and ideas does not have to be threatening or necessarily diminishing to one’s cultural identity but can actually enhance it. I am very pleased that it happened for Karin when she was a young child. Even if she does not remember detailed incidents of our time spent in Fiji and Nepal, I am sure the surroundings and interactions have influenced the person she has become. From my perspective, that person seems to be a proud, bicultural individual.
