Well, after collecting banal thoughts and scribbles over the last couple months ago and leaving the content-heavy posts to Ariel (i.e. the drudgery), I finally have the motivation to piece together a blog post on what are possibly my two favorite topics: cultural psychology and introversion.
...Although still, of course, not nearly as thoroughly or as organized or as succinctly as I would like - although those who know me are laughing, as they know that’s not possible. Well, this is a post on introversion after all...
As we close up our first month in the fourth country we’ve lived in together, I’d like to think that Ariel and I are getting better at culture shock. However, to be honest this probably has more to do with the fact that we have hopped from country to country in order of increasing structure and ease of living. I don’t think we’ve really been stressed or uncomfortable so far (barring typical work complaints and the difficulties of setting up home that are found everywhere), part of which I would attribute to the elevated quality of life available for introverts in Japan.
While Japan has been stereotypically labelled a land ruled by introverts, I’d have to balk at that assessment. For the most part, there are very high expectations for the Japanese to perform and excel in social situations, much like for those in any similarly developed country. I think we draw this conclusion more because we are accustomed to America, which is such a clear example of an unilaterally pro-extrovert culture, so Japan’s more equal treatment seems so striking.
As I mentioned before, I think the implications of this mindset manifest in ways that make daily life subtly yet considerably more pleasant for the average introvert. I think the simplest way to show this is to relay how it plays into a single weekday for me.
Each workday at our company (and as far as I am aware, for almost every other corporation in Japan) begins with a reading of the company principles. As we work for both a parent company and its subsidiary, this ritual takes the form of two morning meetings for us. In the first, the reading is closed off with a celebratory “Oh!” and a pumped fist; in the second, an overhead clap and fist bumps with neighbors. Initially I found this practice quaintly cultish and charmingly corporate, but over time I have come to appreciate the sense of community and oneness it brings. It seems, to me, an interesting compromise between the desires of introverts (I want to stay at my desk and get settled in before talking to anyone) and extroverts (I want to get up and talk with people to start my day). It’s an overall win for the company, as goals are clarified, announcements are made, and company culture is reinforced. And for me: I don’t have to chat with strangers, there is physical contact that feels bonding but not overly intimate, and I’m free 15 minutes later to settle in with limited interruptions.
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My first several bathroom breaks while working here were spent contemplating the complex etiquette regarding “flushing sound”. Much as it sounds, each toilet comes equipped with this feature to create a sort of white noise in an otherwise quiet bathroom. I myself have been quite shy about pressing “flushing sound” - was this not a tell-tale indicator that one was making sounds that needed to be covered? It would seem not. “Flushing sound” seems, for the most part, to be an introvert’s public bathroom dream. A chance to wash out the world during one’s extended restroom respite, an option to eradicate awkward silence in the inevitability of shared intimate space. Most people press “flushing sound” as soon as they get into the stall, and one can often hear a round of babbling fake toilets as you walk by the restrooms, drowning out the silence. Once shy of the hidden implications, I now happily join the chorus.
Stepping out of the (always) floor length, reassuringly isolated stall, I approach a set of single sinks and mirrors. After quizzing Ariel on the subtleties of bathroom architecture (she loves me) I think I can safely say that an extrovert would never notice or care that mirrors in every Japanese restroom are divided, yet not having to share a large mirror and accidentally make eye contact with someone else who is admiring themselves or marveling at newfound crows-feet is a bizarre comfort in a series of bizarre comforts that ever so slightly increases introvert happiness without ever marginally infringing on the desires of extroverts. In comparison, the idea of any company in the US ever designing something with introversion in mind is laughable.
After, uh, bathroom trips, we occasionally venture out into the outside world (the building we work in is completely self sustaining, containing a full grocery store, convenience store, and several basement floors of quality restaurants, which is very nice in the rain!) to buy food. Here is where Japan veers into the stereotypical, especially in Shinjuku: the home of the original salaryman. Most lunchtimes eateries in this area are single seating only, complete with my favorite Japanese dining tool: the ticket vending machine. While the single seating can be a little inconvenient when you find yourself halfway across the room from your dining partner just because you really wanted ramen, I’m struggling to come up with negatives to the vending machine system. As these are often located outside of the restaurant, this gives an indecisive introvert basically unlimited time to painstakingly translate all the Japanese with their 3rd grade reading skills, decide on the perfect dish, and proceed into the restaurant with tiny receipt in hand as if the whole process took 5 seconds. Said introvert (who probably only managed to drag themselves outside and face the world knowing that they could carry out this process human interaction-free) may then snuggle up into their single seat with their carefully selected ramen, possibly companion free. I can see how this could be interpreted as introvert-centric, but really these are only some of innumerable restaurants in the area, and thus only a small selection of the possible experiences. As such, the eating options in Japan allow for a respite for introverts, but do not promote one personality style over another. Especially considering that the aforementioned introvert is likely to go on to spend their evening hours at a loud bar drinking with colleagues late into the night, this option is considerably valuable in efforts to maintain sanity.
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While out with one of my Japanese coworkers, she remarked that I, like the CEO of the company, was clearly intuitive. I was struck by this, not simply because so few people in the US would have actually pointed this out, not only because so far in Japan this has been noted several times, but because it was so clearly seen as a normal, positive trait that can lead to success. In the US, I have never been noted for my intuition in a professional setting, and that is part of what drew me to Japan (where I was specifically recruited for my interest in one-on-one interaction and the subtleties of psychology, by a CEO who consistently explained his reasoning as “just feeling”). I’m not sure which is more dumbfounding: the fact that this is indisputably valued in Japan or the absurdity that this will never be valued in the US. And yet, again, Japan has not discriminated, as Ariel’s extroversion is equally valued. Of course, after encountering a country wherein people with talents on both sides of the spectrum are seen as valuable, such an outlook seems obvious. When contrasted with the realities of the US, however, where many of my extroverted friends find themselves rising in the ranks while introverted coworkers often find themselves continually questioning their worth and suitability to the workplace, an appreciation for both extremes seems curiously dichotomous.
So for now, I enjoy the comfort of being a foreigner in Japan (being Japanese, of course, comes with a host of stresses to which I am ever so thankfully not beholden), in a culture that I find by no means avoids or abstains from social interaction and contact, but rather has erected natural ways of meaningful interaction that aren’t quite so imposing. A culture so deeply connected and focused on community yet so respectful of solitude; a place so interdependent yet so understanding of independence. From a socially liberal point of view, Japan could certainly be said to be behind in a lot of ways, and indeed is reminiscent of 1960s America in more ways than one. A positive, though, is the harkening back to the cult of character vs. the cult of personality, which is certainly easy for introverts to romanticize.
Of course there are qualifiers and exceptions and a dark side to all this, but I thought now it’d be nice to wax naively appreciate - perhaps another post for another time!
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