While going from work to class here on campus, it is true that I often see some level of variation — meaning a sprinkling of international students and African-American students among the sea of Caucasians. These surroundings are mostly the same in my hometown as well.

I was born into a white, middle-class family. Financially, we have had our ups and downs, but the fact remains that I am rarely seen as anything other than part of the majority. I do not like to consider myself a racist, yet I am conscious of race at all times. Attending Ohio University, which is not exactly known for its diversity, only encourages that consciousness for me. So when I went to Japan, I knew that living in a society predominantly of a single race — a race different from my own — would offer me a new perspective on the issue of racism that I could never gain at home.

I never knew how difficult a lesson it would be.

There is a word for foreign people in Japan: gaijin. It literally means “outside person,” and that is exactly how people who do not look Japanese are treated in Japan. Even if a foreigner were to live and work in Japan, most Japanese people would never see that person as more than a visitor. In some cases, Westerners are even considered nuisances.

Whenever a Japanese friend realized I could read even the smallest amount of Japanese, I was praised for my intelligence. If an entire nation of Japanese people can read the language, why should it astonish them that someone from another country can read it as well? I know my friends did not assume that I was stupid, but they have this notion that Westerners simply cannot learn their language. Whenever I went to a café to order an American drink, I had to pronounce the English words the way Japanese people would. If I mistakenly said them with the correct English pronunciation, I received a confused look from across the counter. I might have trouble with the Japanese language, but it felt like a whole new kind of inadequacy when I could not even use my own language correctly.

The expressions of panic that I occasionally saw were far worse than any confusion or surprise, though. Sometimes children would shy away from me in the grocery store. Other Japanese college students who did not know me might deliberately take a different route so as not to pass near me. I have never felt particularly threatening here in the United States, and I find it hard to believe that my bearing changed drastically while in Japan.

The apparently rampant prejudices about foreigners would not be nearly so bad if they were not reflected in the government. Foreigners have no rights in Japan. While I was there, I legally could have been discriminated against at any time. I could be given poor service and even denied entry into any establishment. Honestly speaking, this very rarely happened to my friends or me, but that did not mean we ever forgot about our alien status.

With the impending threat of discrimination, being the minority gave me a new understanding of racism. I can better appreciate how it must feel to be treated unfairly in the United States. What surprises me more, though, is my new realization of how easy it is to be racist toward the majority. For those six months abroad, I almost felt as though it was my right to think or say whatever I wanted about Japanese people just because they had the advantage in numbers. I formed new prejudices about them that I never would have even considered if I had just stayed in America. I learned that no matter how educated I am and what kind of a person I like to think I am, I can still fall prey to racist thoughts.

I think a part of me changed while I was on the other side of the world, and I cannot yet say whether it is for better or worse. However, I do know that my experience as a minority and its corresponding emotions never would have been possible if I had simply stayed where I am now. Maybe learning something new about myself was not the most fun experience, but I consider it a valuable one.