A City by the Bay

Appeared originally on Voice Up Japan

Japanese version, translated by Kiyou Kamisawa

Several international students at Japanese universities speak to Voice Up Japan about their current situation outside of Japan, and why they won’t be returning to Japan anytime soon.

“It was two, three months of going back and forth between two schools…and the whole thing got cancelled,” explains Irene, a third year exchange student at one of Japan’s most prestigious universities. She was left with more than half a year gap because her exchange program had been abruptly cancelled. With the semester already ongoing at her home university, University of Southern California, Irene reached out to both schools to continue her study abroad program. After months of emailing, calling, and signing petitions to advocate for international students to continue their studies, Irene was not allowed to enroll in either school, and was thus forced to take a gap semester. When she left Japan on February 5th, Taiwan had not been included in the list of countries in Japan’s comprehensive travel ban. With her student visa expiration date soon approaching, she may not be able to return to Japan anytime in the near future. As a result, her belongings are split between Japan, California, and Taiwan.

Irene, along with her band mates at her music club circle while she was in Japan.

Hundreds, if not thousands, of international students face similar situations in which they are unwilling or unable to return to Japan, foregoing internships, scholarships, and job opportunities. Although the Japanese government has expressed intentions to lift the ban on foreign residents, many cite unclear regulations, unfair requirements, and unease about the Japanese government’s handling of the coronavirus crisis. Various measures targeting only foreign nationals have already been met with widespread criticism, which only serve to further deter students from returning to continue their studies.

As a international student, navigating the many requirements in order to return to Japan safely is difficult because of unclear regulations and constant changes to the existing guidelines. On many foreigner community forums, many have been asking for advice in returning to Japan but have been met with comments that state that returning to Japan is on a case-by-case basis, and each person should inquire of their corresponding embassy or consulate in order to prevent misunderstandings. Due to rising daily cases, process in order to return to Japan, difficulty in maintaining proper social distancing guidelines, and continuation of online school, I have also decided to postpone my return to Japan indefinitely, like many other students.

Japan currently has an entry ban on 159 countries (as of September 1), and re-entry of foreign nationals with status of residence are limited to four categories: “Permanent Resident,” Spouse or Child of Japanese National”, “Spouse or Child of Permanent Resident” and “Long Term Resident” (including the spouse of a Japanese national or Japanese child who does not have these statuses of residence; the same applies hereinafter). As for students and working visa holders, they have been allowed one-time entry permissions from August 5, but only for those who had left the country before their destinations were included in the travel ban list. Non-Japanese nationals must fulfill certain requirements such as a re-entry confirmation letter (from the embassy/consulate in their home country) and a negative PCR test result within 72 hours of flight.

The only case for foreign residents who have left Japan before the ban to enter Japan is under humanitarian reasons, such as a death in the family. However, special permits for re-entry are based on a case-by-case review, so re-entry is not guaranteed. Starting from September, Japan will loosen entry restrictions on foreign residents, after coming under criticism from the foreign community and business groups that have been heavily affected by the travel restrictions. Many have been stranded abroad for months, unable to visit their families.

University response

Many universities have been scrambling to fill in the gaps to accommodate incoming foreign students who are unable to enter Japan. Rachel Tse, an incoming freshman at Waseda University, stated, “After the Immigration Bureau closed, I haven’t been able to receive my COE (Certificate of Eligibility).” The COE is required to apply for a student visa, and without a visa, she cannot enter Japan. “I think the school could have done more [in informing students], but I don’t think they have the responsibility to do that,” she continues. “If they could send an email to notify students about the travel situation, that would be helpful.” She has already paid for the down payment for her dormitory for September and October, and worries whether the school will refund her for the lost costs.

According to a representative at Waseda University, in a survey conducted April 2020 in the international political science and economics department, 39.1% expressed that they were spending the 2020 Spring semester out of Japan, with 17.7% who expressed they may be moving in and out of Japan depending on travel restrictions. With Waseda having the largest number of international students at 8,000, 5,000 could not return to Japan, according to a webinar hosted by Aiji Tanaka, President of Waseda University, at the US-Japan Research Institute (USJI).

Financial concerns

Her sister, Jacqueline, an incoming senior also at Waseda, says, “I am thinking about deferring for one semester.” After leaving Japan on June 6th for Hong Kong, she has been unable to return and worries how it will affect her job hunting opportunities. For many students, some are considering a leave of absence, citing a loss in job opportunities, online schooling, housing lease contracts, and safety. However, they fear that doing so will risk derailing their plans in terms of scholarship and visa expiration dates.

Jacqueline Tse, along with students from her dormitory at a Hanami, or spring blossom viewing, picnic.

While many universities have also provided emergency scholarships and financial assistance programs for students during the pandemic, foreign students are at a disadvantage, either for not having access to the physical paperwork needed or for fulfilling certain requirements such as duration of stay in Japan. Some students are ineligible for scholarships that require the students to reside in Japan, or require specific documents such as utility bills or other evidence that students cannot access if they are abroad. With online banking services still under development and online banking unavailable for Japan’s post bank services, students find it difficult to either cancel utilities, rent, or other services that were paid previously through bank transfers. For large cash payouts by both federal and local governments such as PM Shinzo Abe’s 100,000 yen subsidy, those stuck abroad missed the deadline, while having to continue to pay their rent and bills in Japan.

Many international students are heavily dependent on financial aid, and with many services and assistance inaccessible by students who are abroad, many students feel left behind by the government. Many Japanese industries rely heavily on foreign workers and the government has consistently boasted about increasing foreign student enrollment to fill labor shortages. “The government should provide more support for international students,” Jacqueline says. “The future [for international students] is very insecure.”

Opportunities elsewhere?

Some students who spent their last semester abroad who planned to seek job opportunities in Japan have decided on other options. Some students like Leigh, who were scheduled to graduate after the spring semester, have decided to stay in their hometowns. She was initially planning to start shuukatsu, or job hunting in the spring, and extend her visa if needed to continue job hunting. With her student visa set to expire in December, she has opted instead to seek opportunities elsewhere instead of returning to Japan. “If I was there [in Japan],” Leigh states, “I planned to have fewer classes so I could job hunt.”

Travel restrictions have further alienated international students and foreign workers, causing them to decide to seek work or further education in their home countries. It is a paradox in which the Japanese government desperately needs foreigners to supplement their labor shortages while treating many long-term foreign residents as second-class citizens. Asymmetric information between universities and the Japanese government have left many students out of the loop.

Long-lasting impacts

Coupled with the Japanese government’s handling of the pandemic, many students feel uneasy about returning anytime soon. “Everything has deterred me [from going back to Japan],” Jacqueline lamented. She cited rising case numbers in Tokyo and shrinking job opportunities. While some programs at Waseda have not received any requests to delay enrollment, some universities which depend heavily on foreign enrollment may start to feel the squeeze. With many universities spending the fall semester online as well, many are revising syllabuses to better incorporate students and professors in an online setting. Some are planning to use a hybrid system, in order to keep some in-person classes while maintaining proper social distancing measures.

Further limitations such as PCR tests required for only non-Japanese residents have come under scrutiny as Japanese nationals are not held to the same standard. “I don’t think it’s fair,” Leigh states. She worries that testing before and after for foreign nationals is rendered useless if there are possible positive cases (of Japanese nationals) on board the same flight. Depending on the country, some may have difficulty acquiring PCR tests, and testing results may be delayed, and thus not make the deadline of 3 days before flight, according to the Japanese guidelines. Testing can also be costly in some countries: in Taiwan, it costs 7000 nt, or around 25,000 yen. Coupled with a two week quarantine, many of my compatriots feel that extra costs associated with the process of going back outweigh their need to return. With many small limitations adding up, students are more inclined to stay in their home country, weighing the risks and costs of returning to Japan.

Limited access to PCR testing, additional required documentation from embassies or consulates, two week quarantine, and vague guidelines continue to deter students from returning to Japan. “I have to cancel my ticket,” Irene says. “I won’t be back anytime soon.”

Opinion

After a Semester of Online School, I Don’t Know How to Go Back

September 4, 2020 acitybythebay

As universities open this month in Taiwan, I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. With school online this fall semester at Waseda, I’m struggling to decide whether or not to take the leap: a gap semester, and thus delaying my graduation. But without a concrete plan in mind, I’ve just been aimlessly trying to keep myself productive in order to combat the guilt of cancelled internships and derailed plans. With just a little under a month before the fall semester starts of my last year at Waseda, I’ve realized many changes after I’ve started online school.

My normal college routine before Covid-19 was typical. I woke up at 8, made breakfast and coffee, packed lunch, and got dressed while listening to the New York Times The Daily podcast. I would buy groceries on the day I didn’t have work or late classes, before the mom-and-pop grocer closes at 6. I juggled school, my part time work, volunteering, and club activities. And when I went back to Taiwan for break, I packed lightly, since I figured I would be back in Japan after a couple weeks.

A couple weeks in, outbreaks were growing in Korea, US, and Europe. A month in, I bought Animal Crossing: New Horizons. Two months in, I bought new sets of clothes for summer. I wasn’t going back anytime soon. Waseda had announced that school was online, and I was locked out of Japan.

My internet was spotty, one week into online school. I couldn’t access the school’s Collaborate Blackboard function, and I couldn’t drop the class either, since registration had already ended for that department. After tattling to another professor in my own department, Waseda informed me that they had dropped the class for me. I guess it’s good to study politics; I get to apply it to my academic life as well.

I noticed something, one month into online school. Tens of The Daily episodes were left unheard. I suddenly couldn’t keep track of assignments. I couldn’t recount what I had learned in the previous week. I constantly checked if quizzes and online assignments had time restrictions: I couldn’t complete them without checking back at lecture notes. It was difficult for me to post on online forums, even though I had always participated in live discussions.

While my Animal Crossing island was becoming more developed, my academic career wasn’t developing at all.

Classes were held live through Zoom, or on-demand, with recorded videos. Some classes, normally 90 minutes in duration, were shortened, while some others had videos that were nearly two hours. In the beginning, I would take notes on the slides while listening to the videos. Midway through, I simply listened. Towards the end, I treated the lectures like The Daily: listening while doing something completely different.

There were consequences: I had a terrible writer’s block when writing my final reports. It seemed like I hadn’t learned anything at all. When I had to give presentations, I felt waves of anxiety and nervousness that I had never felt before. It seemed that the lack of public speaking throughout the entire semester had caused me to suddenly fear any sort of public speaking at all. As I scrambled to finish my assignments before the deadline, I wondered if I could ever go back to pre-Covid college education. I had become so used to just spending hours on my laptop, socially distant and academically distant.

It is imperative for universities to continue online education: protecting students should be their number one priority. Unfortunately, students will have to continue to suffer in places where the pandemic is not under control. Another semester of online school will be difficult, but necessary in order to prevent the further spread of the virus.

Opinion

What 100,000 Means To Me

August 21, 2020 acitybythebay

As deaths in the US surges over 100,000, and as the season turns from spring to summer, it seems as if this is the new normal: socially-distanced walks in the park, Zoom happy-hour sessions, your college experience brought right to your doorstep. For most, life has not been the same, despite continuous reopening schemes across the country. As states continue to grapple with the coronavirus outbreak, the lives lost are no longer extraordinary, the images of overrun hospitals and empty streets no longer emblazon newspaper headlines. It seems as though the initial panic has been forgotten between the lines of fine print, as we attempt to accept the spread of the pandemic as a normality. Sometimes I forget, as well. I worry about the future; I worry about the present. And sometimes, when I lie in bed at night, I worry about the past. I think about what 100,00 means to me.

When deaths in the US hit 100,000, the New York Times displayed a thousand names on the front cover. For a few minutes, I scanned the page, looking for a name. Looking for Uncle Al’s name. Then I realized, with only 1,000 names, the chance of his name appearing was less than a mere one percent, which is lower than the mortality rate of Covid-19 in the US. The probability of Uncle Al being alive is higher than the probability of me finding his name on the list. I didn’t make it far down the list before thinking about how many people were like me, scanning the page to see if their loved ones had made the front cover as well.

Sometimes I wonder how scary it must have been, alone in the nursing home. My head likes to play games with me; the scene of an empty corridor appears briefly in my imagination. What is it like to harbor each breath, waiting for help? What is it like to long for your loved ones, but be left to suffer in silence? What is like to stare blankly at the ceiling, praying for tomorrow?

Sometimes I wonder if a nurse had been there for his last moments. I wonder if a nurse had been there to hold his hand until the end. I wonder if he could feel the warmth of the human touch through the layers of protective clothing. But as my head continues to play games with me, I think about the coldness settling in despite the sweltering heat. I think about the constant wailing of sirens through the night. I think about thousands upon thousands of people passing alone, with unsaid words upon their lips and unsaid goodbyes on the tip of their tongue.

I wonder how he contracted the illness. Was it an unassuming nursing home worker? Was it another patient? And where did they get it from? A family member? A friend? Perhaps it was a son or a daughter, a grandson or a granddaughter. Were they my parents’ ages or were they like me? It very well could’ve been someone like me, a young person in their twenties. It could’ve been someone else. We always think, someone else. Someone else passes the disease. Someone else will get it. Someone else will die. But what happens when you are that someone else? Who will you blame next?

And lastly, I wonder if my peers think about the same things I think about at night. Do they also look for a family member on that New York Times cover? Do they also imagine the loneliness of thousands of people dying alone every day? Do they also have unspoken words for their departed loved ones? Does 100,000 mean the same thing to them as it does to me?

When they go out, do they think about the nameless people they don’t know, who may end up succumbing to the illness? When they go to parties, do they think about those living with extended family members at home? When they sleep at night, do they see the same images I see when I close my eyes?

This is what 100,000 means to me. But I am far from being alone. Millions of people share my story. We all share the same narrative across the US, as this story continues to be told day after day, month after month. I hope that my story will mark a grim reminder that while I am not alone, over 100,000 have passed in silence.

Expat Musings, Opinion

Tokyo 2020 Employees: Where Do We Go Now?

April 4, 2020April 5, 2020 acitybythebay

There is little reprieve for the many contract workers, freelancers, and interns of Tokyo 2020.

One of the reasons why I chose to study in Japan was to be able to live in the same city as the Olympics; to feel the vigor and unity as hundreds of thousands of people join underneath the five interlaced rings. I, along with thousands of others, joined the volunteer program. I, along with thousands of other college students, raced to apply to the olympic broadcasting program, which would consequently make us employees of the olympics broadcasting systems. And I, along with thousands of others, were let go last week, when the International Olympic Committee and the Tokyo 2020 Organizing Committee announced that the Olympics would be postponed.

I knew that the Olympics would have to be postponed. Months leading up to the announcement, I had doubts about Japan’s capacity in holding the Olympics in the midst of a global pandemic. While Western media praised Japan for its efforts and often alluded to the mystery why Japan had avoided the fate of many of its neighbors inundated by the novel coronavirus– Japan had deliberately avoided widespread testing and relied on contact tracing in order to keep the cases at a minimum. For months, discontent over the current incumbent government has been stirring over a multitude of problems: tax policies, corruption scandals, inability to enact social change, and the response to the coronavirus pandemic. The mismanagement of the Princess Diamond, resulting in 712 infections and 10 deaths was just the brim of what to come.

I briefly wondered whether I should rescind my position. The virus had no sign of stopping as it ravaged through Europe and America. If the Olympics were to be held in the summer, what sort of precautions should I take? Would I be endangering myself, exposing myself to thousands of people everyday in enclosed spaces like stadiums, broadcasting trailers, or commentary rooms? Would I be endangering others, interacting with my teammates, my colleagues, and thousands of other Olympic employees?

I expected that the announcement would come soon, as countries were quickly dismantling in the midst of the pandemic. Health care workers in America were pleading for people to stay home; city upon city were issuing quarantine orders. Borders were closing down as thousands of people rushed against the virus to return home. I watched as headlines blared new jumps in cases and new jumps in death tolls. A week prior to the announcement, the government continued to press on, refusing to consider any derailment to their dreams of Olympic grandeur. And yet the world screeched to an abrupt halt as everything shuttered down around us.

The announcement was brief: the Olympics was to be postponed to 2021. I felt relief for a moment before the sinking emptiness and realization hit me. Yes, I would be safe this summer. Yes, I would not be exposing myself to others. And with a brief statement that was released the next day by the broadcasting systems, me, along with thousands of students, and thousands of freelancers, contractors, and volunteers at the Olympics, were let go.

I realized that I would have to do over the series of tests, applications, training sessions, group discussions next year. My place would not be guaranteed. Hundreds of other students around me gave up coveted positions at other firms for a chance at the Olympics. Many of us are scrambling to apply to other positions, only to find out that many firms, facing an economic crisis, have shuttered their internship programs and turned back new recruits. Our plight cannot compare to the thousands of contract workers and freelancers who work during the Olympics, serving as ticketing organizers, broadcasting professionals, and transportation service providers. With rescinded contracts, many may be without work for several months. Most Olympic employees are on a contract basis without the safety net that other full-time employees have. There is no unemployment insurance to collect; there is no compensation for lost time. At the end, all of us are faced with the same question: where do we go now?

With the world in disarray, there is little hope for the many who have become unemployed. There is little solace in the misfortune of many who have the same plight. However, we will continue on, as we always have.

Opinion

Where Are The Asian American Public Figures Now?

March 18, 2020April 10, 2020 acitybythebay

Coupled along with the spread of coronavirus, xenophobia is spreading from shore to shore, causing Chinatown to become deserted as fearful patrons avoid the entire area. Asian businesses have seen a loss as much as 80% of customers, and Asians have become targets of racially charged abuse. Asian students have been bullied, and in some cases, violently attacked. Authorities have spoken out and have been investigating some of the major cases of racism, but when will it stop? How can we prevent more abuse against Asian Americans in schools, workplaces, and public transit? Is there any preventive action against xenophobia during crises such as covid-2019? What are authorities doing to help protect Asian communities across America?

According to UNICEF, there are 5 ways to fight racism and xenophobia. The White House is unwilling to set aside its partisan differences to fight not only the virus but also the xenophobia that accompanies it. And the White House is doing next to nothing in combating either. President Trump’s last few years of antagonizing China has done nothing for the millions of Chinese Americans besides encouraging an irrational fear of China, which has spurred a green light to racism. His continuous tirade against Chinese businesses and government has done little to help either country’s economy, and the continuing trade war has soured US-China relations. And with the spread of the novel coronavirus, Chinese Americans and other Asian communities have been caught in the crossfire.

Xenophobia in the US, unfortunately, has been normalized as a constant for many people of color. An infographic released by the University Health Services by University of California, Berkeley, was heavily criticized for advising that “xenophobia: fears about interacting with those who might be from Asia and guilt about these feelings,” as normal. The school later apologized for their actions and took the infographic down. Is this how authorities fight racism on its campuses? By normalizing it? Several students at the university have recalled experiences such as being called “coronavirus,” or told to “go back to China.” Many of those who face harassment in public transit or other public places have expressed frustration at the lack of empathy by the public. “Each person I turned to looked away. The room was silent.” Tien wrote when she was harassed at a Vietnamese nail salon.

There is little reprieve for the Asian community administ the crisis. While local officials have promised to investigate cases of racism, the general public have failed to call out hate speech and prejudice. Using humor to justify hate speech and other forms of racism is hateful; and speaking out against racist news or occurrences is a step in the right direction. Western media has painted the Asian community as cover art of non-Asian coronavirus patients, blaming them for poor hygiene and different eating practices. American media has always been a victim to constant fear-mongering; President Trump’s entire campaign was run on populist, inexorable fears of the “other,” thus alienating minority groups. America’s love of fear and American media have spearheaded racism against Asian communities, at the expense of decimating local Chinese economies.

So who are the ones who are leading the fight against anti-Asian sentiment in America? Who were the ones who called for Asian representation in film and other media? Where are they now? In 2018, we were treated to “Crazy Rich Asians,” and in 2020, coronavirus? There has been a lack in Asian public figures who have called out against the xenophobic experiences of Asian Americans. While some have condemned hate speech on social media, most of them have remained largely silent. Is it too much to ask for Asian-American influencers in 2020 to engage in political activism? Many of them have endorsed political candidates. When will they begin to endorse their own communities that they have vowed to vouch for? There have been some occurrences of Asians coming together to protest against the discrimination they have faced, such as trending hashtags of #JeNeSuisPasUnVirus (I’m not a virus) from French Asians, and We zijn geen virussen! (We are not viruses!) by Dutch Asians. There is a lack of a rallying cry of Asian Americans; Tien’s experience at a Vietnamese nail salon illustrates how fragmented Asian American community is.

If nobody stands for Asian Americans, who will?