Essay : Young and Subtle Racism, and Friends' Help

 

Allow me, as an old-timer, to share a small anecdote from nearly 40 years ago.

Back then, I was a student at an international school in London. This institution was known as the American International School, and its curriculum offered two distinct paths: the SAT qualification for middle schoolers, and later, the choice between the International Baccalaureate (IB) and the American ACT for high school students. Students in the ACT track—primarily Americans—had little to no interaction with the rest of us. Our classes didn’t overlap, and our paths rarely crossed.

One winter day, a new American student joined our school.

Among the lively group of American students, one of them decided to introduce me to the newcomer, likely as part of the routine pleasantries. “This is my Japanese friend,” she said.

The newcomer’s reaction caught me off guard. With a grimace, he blurted, “Japanese? No way. I have nothing to do with them.”

Taken aback, I initially planned to let it slide with a simple “Oh” and walk away. But something stirred within me—a need to respond. So I turned back and said, “Judging by your accent, you must be American. In that case, might I suggest you return home as quickly as possible? You’ll find no shortage of Orientals while wandering around London.”

He looked utterly flummoxed, staring at me as though I’d spoken in tongues.

As I turned to leave, European friends of mine, who’d been standing nearby, moved away with me. By doing so, my friends sent a silent yet powerful message to the newcomer: What you said was wrong.

A few days later, during my shift as the school librarian, I was busy shelving returned books when I crossed paths with the American newcomer again. He wandered into the library and stood at a distance, watching me. I wasn’t sure what he was up to, so I chose to ignore him and resumed my task.

Soon after, some of my European friends entered the library. Our school’s library boasted books in many languages, and I often sought my friends’ help in identifying whether foreign titles were fiction or non-fiction. As usual, we chatted in English—the school’s common language—and my friends kindly helped me sort the books.

At some point, I was called away by a teacher to assist as an interpreter for Japanese new students. Later, I learned that while I was gone, my European friends had said something to the American newcomer. I never found out exactly what, but whatever was said seemed to have made an impression.

In the following days, I noticed the American often loitered nearby while I chatted with my friends. He wouldn’t join in but appeared to be listening from a distance.

Then, unexpectedly, he approached me one day and said, “Sorry, I was wrong.”

I hadn’t been dwelling on the incident, so I simply replied, “No problem,” and left it at that.

Reflecting on it later, I realised this boy might have had little exposure to Orientals back in the United States. Despite America’s reputation as a multicultural nation, its sheer size means some people grow up in environments with minimal diversity. Perhaps his initial reaction stemmed from ignorance rather than malice. Seeing his fellow white classmates interact with me and other Orientals might have challenged his preconceptions.

While I can’t be certain of his thoughts, his apology made me happy. It felt as though he was saying, I no longer have an issue with Orientals.

He continued on the ACT track, while I pursued the IB. Our paths didn’t cross again, but I’d like to think that moment of exposure to a more diverse world left a lasting impact on him.

When he said, “Japanese? No way,” I genuinely feared it was the start of outright racism. But thanks to my friends, the situation never escalated. Their solidarity, both silent and spoken, shielded me and perhaps nudged that boy toward reevaluating his stance.

Though I’ve since lost touch with those friends, I remain deeply grateful. They not only stood by me but may have also influenced someone to change for the better.

When people encounter those who are different for the first time, they tend to react in one of two ways: with dislike or indifference. The American newcomer initially leaned toward dislike. But in a school where Japanese students were plentiful, he would inevitably encounter more of us. I’m grateful he came to accept our presence, and I owe that shift, in part, to my friends. Their kindness and courage made all the difference.