"We aren't bad people. We don't need to leave." Tattoos and Japan

            Here’s some background on this subject for some readers:

I knew enough about Japan—the culture, history, and society—before I came here to know one thing: tattoos are taboo in Japan. 

Without going into too much detail, the Japanese translation of tattoo is irezumi.  This word has a few meanings/translation, but if you use the word in conversation with Japanese people the thing that comes to mind are the famous tattoos found primarily on members of the yakuza.  These images come in the iconic forms of koi fish, dragons, tigers, and, well, I don’t need to explain this to you all, you know what a Japanese tattoo looks like.

I knew from reading and conversation with people that have been to Japan that tattoos are not accepted in some places.  You don’t show them off in a tradition setting—a shrine or monastery—and you simply can’t go to a public bath if you have tattoos that you cannot hide.  When people in the states asked me about problems I think I could have in Japan, I always talked about my tattoos. 

So unpopular in the USA, my tattoos are often the target of graffiti.

Now for the story: my experience.

One of the first things I talked about when I came to Japan was my tattoos.  When I stepped off the plane at the Kansai airport and started looking for the person in charge of transporting me to the University I didn’t have to look long.  The fact is I was found and the first thing said to me in Japan was

Rikako: “Matthew?”

Me: “Yes? Hello?”  

Rikako: “It’s me, Rikako from Osaka Kyoiku University.”

Me: “Oh, it’s so good to finally meet you!”

Rikako: “Yes, I found you because of your tattoos.”

            Now, I’m not so pompous to have brought up my tattoos with one of the international faculty at the university.  Rikako knew about my tattoos because one of my friends from Kyoiku University had met me while staying at ECU and told everyone about them.  In fact, she still tells everyone we meet about them even though I keep them covered almost all the time in public: which, if you know me, you know it is no small feat.

            So, what kind of mistreatment or evil glares did I receive because of my tattoo’s in Japan?  None, I think.  In fact, when people realize I have tattoos, it is a fiasco.  Within minutes I will be forced to remove my shirt and show them to everyone around.  But it doesn’t stop there.  The Japanese, especially females, love to touch them.  I’m using the term Japanese here, but it really isn’t only the Japanese.  Many of the East Asians I meet, once again, mostly females, love to touch my tattoos.

God.  All this attention from females in japan is just awful.

            So, of course, I talk about my tattoos and answer questions.  Many people ask if they can be removed and if they hurt.  Tattoos are pretty rare here.  In the USA, tattoos are all fine and good, but most people don’t have them.  I’ve been in plenty of situations in the USA where I am the only person in a classroom with tattoos or the only person in a room with tattoos, but Japan is different.  At one festival I turned to a friend and inquired “how many people here do you think have tattoos?”

            “One.”

            And he was probably right.  It is just something you know: no one here has tattoos.

            But, not long after being in Japan I was invited to an Onsen: a Japanese hot spring.  I said that I’d love to go, but doubted that I’d be able to:

            Me: “I have tattoos, so I don’t think I can.”

            Friend: “Oh? It will not be a problem.”

            WHAT?  Clearly my friend was out of his mind, but I asked more and more people and not one person though I’d have a problem.  What I learned that was my tattoos are not “irezumi,” they are western tattoos.  “Everyone knows the difference in Japan,” they laughed.

So, I forgot about everything I knew and accepted this new view.  After all, Japan is a big place.  This is Osaka after all.

But, of course, the story doesn’t stop there.

In November, I told a friend that we needed to do something fun on the weekend.  No one came up with a plan, and the night before I said “let’s go get a bath tomorrow.”  The plan was set.

So, come Sunday the four of us, one Japanese, two Americans, and a Frenchman headed into the city for some good food and memories.  You have to understand: going to a public bath in Japan meant a lot to me because it is just the type of thing you can’t do in the USA.  If you are into sports, I guess you can chill with a bunch of naked guys in the locker room, but it’s not the same.  This is a real and important part of Japanese culture that has deep roots in Shinto.  You simply can’t know anything about Japan and not know about public bathing.

Our Japanese friend took us to a massive multi-story business named Spa World.  It was a brilliant time.  We entered, gave a machine what amounts to 12 bucks and entered.  On the first floor you remove your shoes and then proceed to the appropriate changing floor. There, we grabbed some towels, but really we’re talking about washcloths here.  The four of us stripped down and headed to the main bath.  We made it to the bath and where we grabbed some large water buckets at a water station to rinse ourselves off before we hopped in.  My Japanese friend, ever the clown, drenched himself on accident with some cold water and we had a great laugh.  We took the last few steps towards the bath when a clothed man cut us off, looked me in the eyes, and tried his best to say, in English, “Do you understand Japanese?”

At this point, I knew what was about to happen.  I didn’t answer him.  I just looked at my friend and shrugged.  Not long after, we had been escorted to the changing room, escorted to the reception desk, received a refund, and were outside of the building.

“We don’t need to leave.  We aren’t bad people.”

These are the words my Japanese friend spoke to me while being instructed that we had to leave the spa.  This was a very interesting experience for me, but actually, it fit all of my expectations about Japanese culture.  It is interesting to think that only one month earlier, I knew all about this subject, but that I convinced myself that I was wrong, and my Japanese friends were right.

The night we were planning this trip, we were deciding where to go take a bath.  There are a few types of Japanese baths: sento, onsen, and giant spas like this one.  My friend mentioned that going to a traditional sento bath might allow me to experience Japanese culture best.  The ultimate irony here is of course that it wasn’t really me that learned anything through this experience, it was him.

            Now, we’re going to take some time to search of a small local sento that might let us bathe there.  I think it is possible, but my friend is perhaps a bit disillusioned.  I don’t think he at all expected this from his country: a country I think both he and I love.

After all, I agree with Wilson 100%.

            Note: In this post, I avoid referring to anyone by name.  I suppose this made me say things like “my Japanese friend” more often than I would like.  I don’t often think about him in this way: he is just my friend, but for purposes of reader comprehension and identity shielding, I decided to write this post in this manner.  In the future, I may just use fake names. 

            At any rate, this post is dedicated to my Japanese friend: you know who you are.  Let’s take a bath sometime alright?   HEY!  This time let’s make sure they won’t kick us out!