Loving Japan, missing home

So much talk about leaving the U.S. for other countries. A friend and colleague of mine at CHI 2025 asked if I was on the job market soon, because her university was putting forth money to help hire and recruit marginalized scholars in the States. I told her that no, I had only finished my second year, but I appreciated the offer. While here in Yokohama and Tokyo, I thought a lot about what life would look for me if I were to move abroad for work. In Japan, I picked up greetings and conversational phrases, and believe I could very well learn the language if needed. But as I walked through spaces, I felt stares. Stares at me, the other, an American, but a strange one. One with a mustache and breasts. One with a deeper voice and long hair. One who does not look Japanese, but does not look fully White as well.

“Are you sure, sir? We have that suitcase in black, blue, grey…” the lady at Ginza Karen, a cheap suitcase carrier I found in a quick Google search, asked me.

“No, pink is good.” I replied politely.

She continued to ring me up, but about a minute past this exchange, she asked me once again.

“We have black, blue, grey…” She said.

“No, pink is fine.” I replied firmly.

I think she could tell I was getting a little irritated. Her coworker came up and started to ask me the same question, but she shushed her and said something in Japanese that I could not understand.

As I left Ginza Karen, a Vietnamese family stood near the doorway, having just bought a black suitcase themselves.

“Wow, a man bought a pink suitcase? It’s so pretty…” The maternal figure in the family said under her breath in Vietnamese as I passed.

Before I fully left Ginza Karen behind though, I turned back around to the Vietnamese family.

“So pretty! Pretty like me!” I replied in Vietnamese.

The family breaks into laughter, smiling at me. I tell them I speak Vietnamese as well, and head to the Nihombashi Station on the Asakusa Line in the heavy rain.

It rained on my first day in Tokyo grabbing that pink suitcase, and it’s raining now on my last full day here as I pack that pink suitcase. I think of the Vietnamese mother who did not mean any harm in misgendering me, and I miss my mother’s accent. I think about how if I lived here, or anywhere else outside of the States, for that matter, that I would be so far away from her. I would be far away from my sister, from my loved ones, from the world I grew up inside. The transphobic, racist, sexist, classist, ableist, imperfect world that is the United States of America. I understand those who left and are leaving, but I’m from here (or there, as I’m writing this in Minato City in Tokyo). Because some evil tyrant and a wave of right-wing extremism is plaguing my home, does that mean I should leave it? My mother and father left Vietnam at a young age, settled in New York, entered an arranged marriage, and had me. From there, they developed a life that was hard-earned, and despite the difficulties, they both live lives here that won’t dramatically change anytime soon. At least, I hope.

I’m loving Japan, but I’m missing home. Traveling alone has been a fulfilling experience, but it’s also been a lonely one. I miss having family or a partner by my side, but I’ll be home soon enough. So much of my life has been spent feeling different and like an individual who is disconnected from others, but actually being disconnected from my loved ones, thousands of miles away, makes me realize that I am much more like them than I realize. I am Hibby, but I am also my mother, my sister, my partner and previous partners. Yes, growing up had its own difficulties, interpersonally within my family, but also within the broader world around me that couldn’t understand the mishmash of identities that I carried and grew into. Would it be so much better elsewhere? Maybe. Would I be happier there? I don’t know.

Tomorrow, my Delta flight will take me back to Detroit, and I will step foot back in the States. A bittersweet feeling, after having so many wonderful experiences and moments here in Japan that I will carry with me forever, but one that is familiar to me. To a better world, someday. I hope that by staying, I can help make progress towards that world, even if it’s only a little bit.