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Expanding theComing OutNarrativeFROM CALIFORNIA TO JAPANDO WEHAVE TO BEVISIBLE TOEVERYONE,EVENIF THATMEANSPUTTINGOURSELVESINDANGER?”WANTTO HAVETHE LASTWORD?Send your article to:editor@metropolisjapan.comCAMERON KATAMARIBefore coming to Japan to become anEnglish teacher, I was heavily involvedin the LGBT community in SouthernCalifornia. We often discussedthe importance of being “out”and being proud of our identities,being confident in who wewere, and how our differencesproduced unique experiences.So one night in Japan, whenI found myself slightly tipsy atan after-school nomikai (drinkingparty) and realized that I wasgoing to come out to my coworker—aboutto assert my individualidentity on to a Japaneseperson—I was surprised by myhesitation. After all, I had beenout and proud with my family and friendsin the States for almost eight years. I wasfollowing the Western script of declaringspace for my identity to be discussedand wrestled with. I was making visiblewhat was previously invisible. And I wasdoing so in a space that was culturallysanctioned for “taking off the mask,” removingour flawless tatemae and sayingwhat we meant.And yet, there was this sinking fearsitting in my stomach. I remembered theone time at our bōnenkai (year-end party)when our school superintendent scoffedthat I was sitting like an okama (a faggot),my legs crossed and tucked to my sidein a lazy seiza lean. I remembered theaggressive lecture from my principal totake a date to Suidobashi, and to “take agirlfriend, not a boyfriend.”the last wordAt the time, I’d brushed the paternalisticlectures aside, but somehow they’dbecome lodged in my unconscious. Evenas I led my co-worker to the hallway of thesmall izakaya we were at, I paused, tryingto remember why I felt the need to comeout to my JTE. Did I want her verbalizedsupport? Did I want to change hearts andminds about queer people? Would shetell people? Would the board of educationfind out? How would this change theworking relationships I had built over thepast two years?Do we have to be visible in all partsof our lives? Do we have to be visible toeveryone, even if that means puttingourselves in danger—at risk of losingjobs, verbal harassment, fractured relationships?It wasn’t like I wasn’t open in otherparts of my life in Japan. I’d been theBlock 3 coordinator of Stonewall Japanfor the Kanto/Tokyo area for two years,running events for both the foreign andJapanese LGBT communities. I had myLGBT island, and I had my work island—and I kept them separate. Why did I wantto bridge them now? I had very little togain and possibly a lot to lose.Fumbling for the right words, I took adeep breath and told my JTE I was queer.She gave me a hug and thanked me forletting her know, and she promised tokeep it a secret. I found a strange senseof comfort in those words, knowing thatI hadn’t caused too many ripples in myworkplace relationships.When I showed up to work Tuesdaymorning, we exchanged quick nods beforereturning to our normal work routines.Although my friends back homewouldn’t have been satisfied with thisquiet acknowledgement of my identity,I felt a sense of relief.I also felt—and still feel—slightly melancholicabout the experience. In myJTE’s silent support for my queerness,I realized that my queerness was negligiblein the workplace. It didn’t seemto have a place, and I’m not sure it everwill. And that’s been a huge shift for me.Being so invested in LGBT organizingin California meant my queerness hadbeen the center of my identity. It framedmy friendships and all the projects I wasworking on—academic, literary and artistic.But here in the Japanese workplace,other parts of myself were the center: myhobbies, my foreignness and myEnglish ability. Queerness hadbecome compartmentalized,moved around and isolated toparticular (and important) spacesin my life outside of work. Ino longer see being “out andproud” as the primary way to flymy colors. I’ve found other waysof building community and sustainingit here in Japan.I’m still wrestling with thisrecent shift in consciousness.Coming to Japan, many sempaiex-pats warned me that Japanwas an extremely “closeted” society,where people were too timid to openlyembrace their identities. But I don’t feelit’s fair to judge a person (and an entiregroup of Japanese LGBT folks) based ontheir “out” status—especially in a culturethat’s different from how I was raised.The judgment of Japan as a “closeted”society is insensitive to the real, lived experiencesof Japanese LGBT-identifiedpeople. And I think it’s time to complicatethe discussions on visibility versus invisibility,the value of coming out as a toolof liberation, and the ongoing struggle todefine how we—as foreigners—engagewith queerness in Japan.Illustration by Christi Rochin■ Cameron Katamari is founder of bi-annualmagazine Homodachi and Friends. http://meturl.com/homodachiThe views expressed in “The Last Word” are those of the authors alone and do not necessarily reflect the position or opinions of Japan Partnership Co. Ltd. or its partners and sponsors.NEXT ISSUELAUGHTER KNOWSNO BORDERSTHANKSGIVINGTURKEY TIPSPhoto by Kohji ShiikiROLLER DERBYDEVASTATION38

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