Seven years ago they got a chance to return. Keiji accepted a job at Georgia’s Emory University, and the Morokumas moved from Nagoya to the Atlanta area. Eiko, now 63, found America vastly changed. For one thing, she says, there were more Japanese everywhere, and not just rich ones. “Now everyone can come over,” she says. “There’s more middle class.” Homegrown items, from pickled daikon radishes to Japanese-language newspapers, are easier to find. And there’s a lot more support for Japanese families; Eiko currently cochairs Atlanta’s Tomodachi Club, a women’s group that fosters understanding between Japanese and Americans. For many new Japanese arrivals, it is the first place they turn for guidance. “They don’t start like I did, with no one helping me,” she says. “I know enough of life here so I can be a good adviser.”
Thanks in part to pioneers like Morokuma, living in America has never been easier–or more desirable–for Japanese women. Statistics are difficult to break down, but according to the Ministry of Justice, the number of Japanese women visiting America for any reason–study, tourism, business–rose from 1.7 million in 1993 to 2.5 million in 1998. In that same time period, the number of Japanese working at least short term in the United States rose from 305,000 to 453,000. Most are men, sent by Japanese companies for two to five years. They tend to bring their families, and settle in safe, affluent suburban areas. And even though few spouses can obtain work permits, most wives who come over end up feeling liberated by America’s independent, anything-goes spirit. “I feel that I am really free in the United States,” says Ritsuko Nakanishi, a 36-year-old mother of two who serves as the executive director of the San Diego-Tijuana Japan Society.
Many grow to love the lifestyle. “They like the atmosphere: the houses are larger, transportation is easier,” says Yukiko Willoughby of the Dallas Japanese Association, who married an American and moved to Texas 10 years ago. “In Japan, every small detail is observed by neighbors, friends, co-workers. Here there is more freedom.” Nakanishi has been impressed with American volunteerism, the way people offer up their services for school or community events. In Japan, she says, women wait to be asked and then say modestly, “I’m not sure I can do that, but it is a real honor to be recommended, so I will try my best.” She also appreciates the casual dress code. “We are always laughing about how we wear jeans and T shirts to bring the children to preschool,” she says. “In Japan, we dress nicely, even to just drop off the kids. It’s because we care about how other people see us.”
One of the biggest issues for Japanese living overseas is their children’s education. Japanese students perform extremely well in American public schools, no doubt because their parents remain strongly involved. According to Merry White, an anthropologist at Boston University who studies Japanese migration, when Japanese families started flocking to the New York area in the mid-’70s, they bought two sets of textbooks: one for the kids, and one for the mothers. “Kids who started in the fall with almost no English were at the top of their class by June,” she says.
Still, parents who planned to return to Japan worried that their children would have trouble readjusting to the schools there. So in the mid-70’s “Saturday schools” were born. The Japanese Ministry of Education set up classrooms where Japanese children could study not only their native language, history and culture, but also subjects like math in a more “Japanese”–or rote–way. Almost every major city in America now has a Saturday school; in San Diego, more than 500 children attend weekly. In some places, the Saturday curriculum has spurred heated debate between families planning to stay in America, who want basic language and culture instruction, and those planning to return to Japan, who favor more rigorous drilling. The Dallas Saturday school recently introduced less intensive “international” classes for students whose first language is English.
No amount of preparation can ease the transition back to life in Japan. “It’s harder to go back than to come here,” says White. “The process of re-entry in Japan is fraught with tests about whether you can make it: the husband has to fit back into the corporate culture, the kids have to fit back into school. And the woman may have let slide some of her family responsibilities.” Those who do go back often feel out of step. A mother who packs her child a peanut-butter sandwich and a cupcake for lunch in Japan, says White, might get a letter from the teacher urging a more nutritious “Japanese” lunch. “There’s more work to do to be a good mother in Japan than in the U.S.,” says White. When Eiko Morokuma first returned to Japan in the 1970s, she remembers being horrified when her youngest child acted “American,” sampling produce in a grocery store or speaking to her elders in a familiar way.
The longer a Japanese family stays in America, the tougher it is to return. Nakanishi has been in the country almost five years, and is not sure she ever wants to move back to Japan. “I think it would be difficult for [my son] to adjust to school in Japan,” she says. “He speaks a lot, and has his own ideas. I think that’s a good thing.” In the meantime, she is helping to ease the way for other Japanese. She has developed a seminar for newly arrived families that discusses–in Japanese–everything from banking to safety. It won’t solve all their problems. But it will no doubt help make the adjustment a little bit smoother.
