Musuta Kusaka's Everyday Journey with Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion in Japan

I have some regrets about my daughter’s name. Damn. I never thought I’d make such a big mistake. And that my daughter would find out so soon.

That day was March 31st this year, International Transgender Day.

My daughter and I were waiting for the Trans March parade to arrive in front of JR Shinjuku Station in Tokyo. Its official name is “Tokyo Trans March 2023.” It is an event calling for transgender rights and anti-discrimination, and we were standing by to cheer on the parade.

Right in front of us was one of Japan’s largest bus terminals, Busta Shinjuku. “There must be people who have to be nervous just to get on that bus. Isn’t that a terrible bus?” we said, as we talked.

“Isn’t it Rainbow Pride today?” my daughter asked, frowning at the bare sun. The sky was so blue that it could be called “bright, sunny day.” It seemed she had imagined the golden course of going to Shibuya, to see Tokyo Rainbow Pride, and then on the way back to press her father for a souvenir at the Pokemon Center. Fortunately, there is no Pokemon Center in Shinjuku. Unfortunately, there is a Disney Store. “That’s for next month. I’ll go there too, but it’s a different one today. Oh, here it comes.”

Blue, pink and white border flag. We waved at the first float that came. I still don’t know what to say at a time like this. I don’t think it’s “Good luck.” It’s not “Happy!” or “Congratulations” considering the purpose of the event. “We’re rooting for you” feels unnecessary. We’re just waving our hands.

So we decided to throw smiles at them. The man and the little one with the same face as the man were smiling and waving. The parade participants smiled back at us. Many of them said “Thank you.” We didn’t say a word. But we got thank you in return. This exchange is important, and I brought my daughter here because I wanted her to know about it. It’s not just understanding. It’s important to show understanding. There are people who are encouraged by that. It is said that transgender people make up 0.5% of the population, so there must be some in my daughter’s grade. Maybe one day they can help someone. Or they can be helped. I wanted her to know that on the ground.

Since we had come all the way, we decided to go there again. This time we moved to Yasukuni-dori. “Ah! Mickey’s store!” “These days it’s more of a penguin store than a mouse store!” I urged my daughter to the Don Quijote Kabukicho store.

We soon met the leading group as they turned around the course. By the second time, my daughter was no longer shy and was getting used to waving. “It’s the same person as before…” she said, a little awkwardly.

I can understand that feeling a little. When you go to the toilet at work, you say “Thank you for your hard work” to the person you pass on the way there. But when you pass the same person on the way back, what is the correct greeting to say? I know it’s not “I feel refreshed.” I wish someone could give a name to that awkward feeling.

March passed by. “I don’t care about March anymore! I want to eat cake!” Just as you’d expect from a first grader. His vocabulary is merciless. And he’s also cunning. There was a Saizeriya restaurant along Yasukuni-dori. “That sounds good. I’ll treat you.” We crossed the road and went into the restaurant.

Another reason why she bothered to come to the parade was this. It wasn’t for chocolate cake. It was to create an opportunity to talk about sex. From now on, she will encounter many different things. With friends, with the person she likes, with herself. But she felt that it would be a little late to start talking about sex until then. Before she hurts someone. Before she hurts herself. She wanted to get used to talking about sex as soon as possible. Because it’s up to her to decide what values ​​she holds as a result.

We talked about a lot of things. What kind of friends do you have now? I’m sure there are many different kinds among them. Everyone is a minority in some way. It’s natural that
there are many different kinds. There is a gradation between girls and boys, like spreading paint with your fingers. You will discover your own color from now on.
Your name is designed to be used both for living as a woman and as a man.

And the girl said, “Is it just women and men?” A child’s simple question points out the truth. Ouch. You’ve been found out. Did you notice that?

My daughter’s name is two kanji characters. It can be read as a two-syllable female name, and a four-syllable male name. That’s right. It’s at the two extremes of a very feminine name and a very masculine name, with nothing in between. I thought that if I ever felt uncomfortable with my name, I wouldn’t have to go through all the trouble of changing it. Six years ago, I hadn’t imagined that someone could be both feminine and masculine, or vice versa.

I can only apologize for my past lack of insight. “I’m sorry. It’s not just about women and men, this.” “I see.” “Wow, as expected. You notice something good about that.” I tried to praise her. “I see.” It didn’t work. It seemed that my daughter had learned much more from the Trans March than I had.

“I’ll give you half of it.” My daughter kept asking for cake but then cheated on it with gelato, and now she’s completely tired of sweet things, so she gave me the rest of the cake.

Where is half? Only 1/3, or even 1/4 of it is left. “Is this half?”
“It’s half. To me, it’s half. No matter how you look at it.”

This may also be a gradation. Just as half is different to my daughter and half is different to me, gender identity is also different for each person. Rather than whether it’s half or not, I hope that one day she will know the happiness of having someone to share it with. That’s what I thought.
The chocolate cake that I gratefully received had an exquisite balance of bitterness and sweetness.

On the way home. On the way to the station, we came across cherry blossoms in full bloom. Was that the nice smell we were hearing while waving at the parade? For my daughter, the transgender flag must be the blue of a clear sky and the pink of cherry blossoms. And the white of the Olaf keychain.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure how to view the Tokyo Trans March this time. I knew about the troubles the group had been having through their website and other sources. I had also seen the mixed reactions on social media. But for my family and I, it was definitely an event we were glad to have attended. Without a doubt.

I wonder if my daughter will come with me again next year. If she does, I’ll be happy to take her to the Disney Store again.

(end)