Sad Japanese Academia

Last fall, while looking for a place to live in Vancouver for the first time, I mentioned to a potential roommate that I teach about transgender issues. He responded, "Thank you for doing that for us." Until then, no one had ever expressed gratitude for my work in transgender studies. Instead, I had always been criticized for lacking the qualifications and not understanding transgender feelings. I was constantly told, "That's not right, that's not enough," and faced continuous criticism.

After fleeing to Canada and quitting academia, I was told that it would be a waste of my talent, which made me wonder if I even had any talent to begin with. I received support to continue my work and realized that I had never been encouraged in such a way before.

Even when I heard that certain professors praised my work, I was never directly complimented. Perhaps I was doing a decent job after all; despite being continuously criticized, I kept going and did my best until I completely burned out.

When I spoke out, I was praised for making good points by people in Canada. It felt good to be appreciated and recognized.

Then I realized that being constantly criticized despite my efforts was unfair. Being told to be grateful just for being read, or simply being consumed without acknowledgment, was exploitation.

When I voiced this, I faced more criticism. Even when I engaged in critical reading, thinking it would be beneficial for overall progress, I was either criticized for doing unnecessary work or ignored.

Wondering what it had all been for, I got angry for the first time, only to be scolded for expressing my anger.

That is my experience with Japanese academia and the academic world.

That’s everything for my career as a first-generation transgender activist and the first transgender studies professor in Japan in a closet for over 16 years. If I was out, I couldn’t get the position. I well understood that.

I also never told about my indigenous roots, though. The fear of further marginalization kept me silent.