Aquaman was simply a terrible movie with dull and pointless CGI underwater battle scenes every ten minutes. The abundant battles against Aquaman and the weak sea commanders were already decided before they even began. Everything was so predictable and corny; My friend foretold that Aquaman and Mera would develop a romantic relationship after seeing only their first interaction. By the time the movie was over I was extremely eager to leave. I trudged out of the theater, completely abandoning my tradition of watching the post-credit scene and the explanation videos on Youtube.

Despite the disappointment, while washing my buttery hands in the bathroom I couldn’t help but sympathize for Aquaman’s difficult situation. On earth, he is valued by his supernatural abilities rather than his personality, and in Atlantis, he was treated as a traitor because he is half-human. Being between both worlds and not having a dependable place to belong is something that I closely relate to.

Both of my parents are 100% Japanese and I have lived in Japan my entire life. Only knowing this, many would assume that I am a typical Japanese fifteen-year-old: a student who has had minimal exposure to the United States and rides the packed train to school six days a week in a black military-style school uniform. In reality, however, I am nothing like this typical Japanese fifteen-year-old that I just described. I listen to J. Cole, binge watch The Good Place, and support the Boston Celtics.

These American influences are all because of my father’s insistence on receiving an American Education. My father’s rich and abounding experiences such as attending UC Santa Barbara, and working at a bank in New York City has led him to believe this. He views English, the “universal language”, as a gateway to greater opportunities. This belief has drastically impacted my upbringing and how I identify today.

From preschool up to middle school, I attended international schools in Tokyo, learning with English as the primary language. I balanced both languages, my life divided into English at school and Japanese at restaurants, while talking to my parents, and at piano lessons. Currently, I am a sophomore at a boarding school in New Hampshire. Now, I only go back to Tokyo around three times a year and because of this, my Japanese identity is slowly fading. I feel guilty about how I have already started to forget some Kanji and it feels weird to say specific Japanese phrases like “sorena~” which I used to say regularly.  

My guilt about my Japanese identity fading is further supported by a recent incident that happened this winter break. In Hawaii, I was eating dinner at the Tanaka of Tokyo. There was an old Japanese couple seated next to us pointing at the menu and speaking in broken sentences, struggling to communicate their order to the waiter. Being native in both English and Japanese, I felt it was my duty to help, so I jumped in and assisted them in placing their order. After we had eaten, they thanked me by offering slices of their unfinished New York strip steak. We began to have a conversation and they asked me questions like where in Japan I was from and how I speak such fluent English. After I explained everything, there was an uncomfortably long silence. Suddenly, they leaned forward, lips tightly pressed together and eyebrows furrowed. They mentioned their daughter, a young woman who attends UCLA and aspires to be a doctor. In my opinion, she seems like a perfect daughter with lofty aspirations and tremendous courage. But then they reveal that they view her as a traitor to Japan.

“Her selfishness made her betray the country that raised her,”  they criticized.

Then the old couple started to describe their love for Japan and all the amazing aspects, alluding to the sushi, efficient public transportation, and safeness.

They stood up and grabbed my shoulder, “don’t make the mistake my daughter did,” they snarled as they headed towards the exit.

Maybe they were right. I am betraying my country. I stood in the bathroom of the O'Neil Cinemas remembering this particular moment. Looking at myself in the mirror, everything about me seemed American. My hairstyle was a fade, my rolled up long sleeve shirt was from Vineyard Vines, and my phone in the back pocket of my washed, ripped jeans from Pac Sun buzzed from Snapchat notifications.

But then it hit me that just like how Aquaman was half human, me having American influences didn’t make me a traitor to Japan. I still loved the convenience of the Seven Elevens and vending machines on every block. Tokyo Tower was what reminded me of home. I may not completely fit the profile of a typical Japanese person but that doesn’t nullify my love for Japan.