Have I Grown Softer? Musings of an Expat Living in Japan
Have I Grown Softer? Musings of an Expat Living in Japan – This article continues my Memoirs series, tracing another small shift I’ve noticed after living in Japan for more than two decades. It’s a story about something I didn’t expect to change — and didn’t even realize had changed until a moment caught me off guard. Maybe you’ll recognize a bit of yourself in it.
Where to Begin?
I guess you could say my story began a number of years ago, when a foreign teacher from America tried to intimidate me by staring directly into my eyes. Well, he may not have been intentionally trying to intimidate me — and it may have been someone else, about something else — but this is where I’ll start, I suppose. I had something to say that even surprised me back then…
My name is Brett, and I am a Canadian living in Japan. I’m guessing I’ve lived here for about 25 years now. An English teacher by day, father by night.
Anyway, back to my story about how I became squeamish under the gaze of another. Actually, I need to go even further back. I promise I’ll return to this moment.
Blue Eyes
Back in Canada, when I was a boy, I remember hearing sayings like, “You can see a man’s soul when you look him straight in the eye,” or “Look them in the eyes — it’s the simplest way to show respect,” or “Look me in the eyes so I know you mean it.” There were soooo many anecdotes back in the day, it’s not easy to pick just one. In any case, when you’re speaking with someone, you should maintain eye contact so they know you’re listening.
Actually, when I was 13 years old, a pretty blonde girl with blue eyes had to give a speech to the class. I made eye contact with her and I swear, my soul was sucked out then and there. Ahem … Sorry.
In the past, eye contact was important.
Let’s fast-forward 25 or more years to when I came to Japan.
"Don't Make Eye Contact!"
When I started teaching English back in the Nova days — you know, the before “bankrupt-and-locked-out” days — I was told that it wasn’t a good idea to stare at Japanese people in the eyes because they might find it rude or even offensive.
This was strange to me, and definitely HARD. As teachers, we need to look at students directly to ensure they’re comprehending everything. I was asked a couple of times by staff and students alike not to stare too hard because it made them squeamish.
Yes, you can see the parallel coming now, can’t you?
It also explained why I sat alone on the train despite the train being full. What was it — my cologne? Was I ugly? What??? By the way, cologne on a train is a no-no, despite how wonderful it smells. People usually don’t wear perfume, cologne, or deodorant (yes, really) in general, and if they do, it’s very faint. I digress again.
Anyway, I knew of the eye-contact phenomenon — I just didn’t know it.
The Culture Behind It
In Japan, direct eye-contact is only made in TV or movies, or when they are in love (like in Canada) or when they are very very angry. Otherwise, they look at your face, or everywhere else. It is polite.
When you have as many ways to communicate with body language as the Japanese people do, eye-contact isn’t really needed now, is it?
Simply, Japan is a high-context culture. People don’t need to spell everything out. A glance, a pause, a tiny shift of the shoulders — these things carry meaning. You learn to read the air, not the eyes.
I still can’t read the air by the way.
Back to the Now
And somewhere along the way, without noticing, I adapted.
I stopped locking eyes with people the way I used to. I softened my gaze. I let conversations breathe. I learned to listen with my whole body, not just my eyes. And the strangest thing happened: people sat beside me on the train. People didn’t stare at me as if I were a foreigner (even though I clearly am), and I didn’t even know it was happening.
So when that American teacher stared at me years later — eyes wide, unblinking, full of whatever point he was trying to make — something inside me recoiled. Not out of fear, but out of unfamiliarity. It felt… aggressive. Loud. Like someone shouting in a quiet room.
I remember telling him I was uncomfortable with the staring, and I apologized for saying that, too.
That’s when it hit me.
I had grown softer.
Not weaker. Not timid. Just… different. Copilot AI would say I became “more attuned to the space between people, more aware of how presence can be offered without force.” Yadda yadda.
Who knows — I don’t think I’ve gone that far. I still can’t “use the Force” yet. But I can say that I’m more aware of things now.
Still, when looking at my niece on Zoom for the first time in over 25 years, I was kind of stunned and uncomfortable once again. Perhaps it was the passage of time, or this crazy thing called “I am turning Japanese even though I don’t think so.”
By the way, if you are my student, I will still stare at you for comprehension purposes — just a little softer. And maybe that’s the real change. Not that I’ve lost the old me, but that I’ve learned another way to be. If that counts as “growing softer,” then I suppose I’ll take it.
I Just wish my tummy wasn’t as soft.
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