Hibito, on the left, has become the first Japanese to land on the moon, while his older brother, Mutta, chases after to becoming an astronaut himself.

Space Brothers won some notable manga awards, and has recently been turned into a live-action film and an anime series— so it’s definitely increased the attention on Japan’s role in space exploration, which is mainly guided by Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency (JAXA).

Photo by Kirt Cathy.

But a manga alone isn’t the only thing increasing attention over Japan’s role in space exploration— or specifically, Japan’s leadership role in space!

Coming this March, the International Space Station (ISS) will have its first Japanese astronaut as the commander of the ship!

But before we get into this future head honcho, I asked myself, who was the first Japanese man in space? Who was the first Japanese woman? Who was the first Japanese to spacewalk? I thought it’d be interesting to touch upon some of the “firsts” in space for Japanese people and see some of their awesome, out of this world (literally) accomplishments.

First Japanese Man- or Men- in Space?

So I think it’s a given that we should identify who the first Japanese person was to go to space.

Except I have come to the realization that this is kind of hard to determine.

It really depends on how you define “first” and if you consider Japanese ethnicity or citizenship.

If you want to know who the first person of Japanese ethnicity (regardless of citizenship) to fly to space, then it would probably be Great Astronaut Onizuka Ellison Shoji Onizuka, a NASA astronaut and the first Japanese American (and the first Asian American) to reach space.

Photo by NASA

Onizuka went to space for the first time on space shuttle Discovery’s mission STS-51C in 1985. But most remember him as being part of the crew of space shuttle Challenger disaster in 1986 that killed Onizuka and six other astronauts shortly after launch.

A tribute monument for Onizuka in Little Tokyo, Los Angeles. Photo credit Sam Howzit

But if you want to know who the first Japanese person with Japanese citizenship to reach space was, then it would be Akiyama Toyohiro.

BUT HE WASN’T AN ASTRONAUT.

Photo credit famille.sebile

Toyohiro was actually a journalist who was working under Tokyo Broadcasting System (TBS) when he was chosen in 1989 to train for a commercial flight to the Mir space station, which was maintained by the Soviet Union at the time. According to Encyclopaedia Britannica, the Soviets claim to have received 14 million dollars for his flight, and TBS is expected to have spent about 20 million dollars for Toyohiro to fly and report about life in outer space for 8 days. That’s a really expensive first commercial spaceflight!

I actually had no idea that a journalist was the first person of Japanese citizenship to reach space— but as a space enthusiast myself, it kind of gives me hope that someday, I too, will maybe be able to go to space…

Okay, so Who’s the First Astronaut of Japanese Citizenship to Reach Space?

Growing up in Japan, I remember constantly hearing this guy’s name as the first Japanese astronaut— so I guess it was natural that I didn’t really know who the aforementioned journalist was.

Photo by McGill Research and International Relations

Mamoru Mohri was a Japanese astronaut selected by Japan’s National Space Development Agency (NASDA, before it was renamed to JAXA) in 1985. He was eventually chosen as the first Japanese national astronaut to board space shuttle Endeavor’s mission in 1992. Growing up, I remember everyone referring to him fondly as Mohri-san, the first to represent Japan in outer space. Because of US and Russia’s clear dominance in space exploration, Mohri-san boarding the Endeavor was considered to be a big honor and a step for Japan to continue building their influence in space exploration.

Mohri-san influences Hibito and Mutta in their dream to becoming astronauts.

Mohri-san can even be found in the aforementioned anime Space Brothers as a critical role in influencing the two protagonist to become astronauts. Mohri-san continues to be revered to this day by many Japanese, old and young.

First Japanese Woman in Space

So we’ve exhausted our debate on who the first Japanese male in space was. What about female?

Photo by NASA

Chiaki Mukai, or Dr. Chiaki Mukai, was the first Japanese female to go to space. Before becoming an astronaut, she worked as a cardiovascular surgeon. In 1985 she was selected by NASDA as an astronaut along with Mohri-san, and flew off to space in 1994 on space shuttle Columbia.

Seeing as female astronauts was not as common back then (let alone a Japanese one), Mukai may have inspired many Japanese women to take on the dream of becoming astronauts themselves, or getting involved in science-related fields. Her life as an astronaut has been made into a drama as well, and along with Mohri-san, she continues to be respected by many Japanese.

First Japanese to Spacewalk

Space walks are the trippiest things ever. I mean, just the thought of being flown to space gives me the chills (in a good way), but, being outside? Exposed to space? Now that must be an experience.

So who was the lucky Japanese guy that got to be the first space walker? His name is Takao Doi, and while he no longer is an active astronaut with JAXA, he continues to work in space-related fields.

Photo by Giving to Rice University

Doi was chosen as an astronaut by NASDA in 1985, along with Mohri-san and Dr. Mukai. I guess 1985 was a big year for NASDA, having chosen some of the earliest Japanese astronauts. Doi flew to space on space shuttle Columbia in 1997 and conducted Extravehicular Activities (EVA), dubbed by many as “space walks”. Through two space walks he logged close to 13 hours in outer space, and became the first Japanese to do so.

Doi-san is all smiles in outer space.

Doi, no longer an active astronaut, began working at his appointment in 2009 at the United Nations’ Office of Outer State Affairs (UNOOSA).

And last but most relevant to current news…

First Japanese Commander of the International Space Station (ISS)

First Japanese man (or men) in space, first women, first space walk… Japanese astronauts have come quite far in manned space exploration, and Japan will finally have their own astronaut, Koichi Wakata, be the first commander of the International Space Station (ISS) this March— and he’s in space right now as I write this!

Astronaut Wakata as he boarded the Soyuz rocket in November, along with the Sochi Olympic torch.

Wakata, chosen by NASDA in 1992 as an astronaut candidate, flew to space for the first time in 1996 on board space shuttle Endeavor. He’s flown to space quite a lot and has been on four space shuttle missions. He’s quite the veteran, getting the job done up in space, but he’s recently been known to have created some fun light painting photos in zero-gravity, which he tweeted.

He’s been hailed by Japanese space enthusiasts as stepping up the leadership role for Japan in space exploration. I suppose you could say he’s going through a bit of celebrity-phase right now— the guy has his own biographical manga now for kids that aspire to become astronauts like himself.

There’s Much More…

These astronauts are very famous and well-regarded as paving a way for some of the “firsts” in space for Japan, but they’re certainly not the only ones contributing to space exploration. JAXA recently selected three new astronauts, two of which have already been assigned on a mission in the near future. I’m positive that in the future, we’ll see these currently active astronauts continue to represent Japan and make some remarkable accomplishments of their own!

Everybody wave!

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I’m well aware of the amount of story summaries, spoilers, and background informations out there about The Wind Rises, so I wanted to discuss something a bit more different.

A lot has occurred during the last few years in Japan, with the most notable and society-changing incident that took place obviously being the Tohoku earthquake and tsunamis that wrecked Japan in March of 2011. Two (now almost three) years later, Japan is still dealing with the aftermath of this natural disaster— not only is Japan still rebuilding from the devastations of the quake, but the nuclear meltdown in Fukushima continues to worry the livelihood of the Japanese people. In addition to the natural disaster, the Japanese government under Prime Minister Abe is striving to pull Japan back up economically. Of course, the Abe regime’s actions and efforts aren’t without criticisms, as it is frequently condemned among the Japanese public.

In short, Japan is going through some tough, stormy times.

Ghibli’s Kaze Tachinu might be a historical fiction based on a designer of the fighter plane Mitsubishi A6M Zero— but as I watched the film, I couldn’t help but compare the Japanese society of today to that of the one illustrated on screen in front of me. Perhaps it’s the tumultuous times that Japan faced in the last few years that overlaps with the turbulence of Japan before it launched into WWII, but the events and scenes within the film forced me to compare the current Japanese society with the one that Jiro Horikoshi (the main character) lived in during a pre-WWII era.

So I came across this question and wanted to discuss it a little further after watching Miyazaki’s final masterpiece—what did Miyazaki want to say about the Japanese society today through this film? Hopefully I’ll be able to give a different perspective of this film without giving away the plot!

To Be “Japanese”

One thing that’s particularly interesting about this film is that it’s based on an actual historical figure, Jiro Horikoshi, who designed the infamous Zero fighter planes.

Throughout the film, Jiro meets people of different countries— the famed aircraft engineer and designer Caproni of Italy, the European engineers he meets during his travel to a German aircraft manufacturers, to name a few. I think this movie might be the first time Miyazaki illustrated interaction of characters of different nationalities so clearly to the audience— and perhaps intentionally to make the audience (in this case the Japanese ones) think of what it means to be Japanese.

Historically speaking, Japan appears to have always played the role of “catching up” to the West— for the longest time, Japan’s goal has been to modernize to join the ranks of US and the European states, and maybe even surpass them. Miyazaki’s film touches upon this notion in the film through Jiro’s interaction with the engineers of a leading German aircraft manufacturer.

But the highlight here isn’t that Japan lagged behind technologically in terms of aircraft manufacturing— it’s how Jiro interacts with his German counterparts. Jiro’s a collected individual, and seeing the way he interacts and negotiates to achieve an “equal playing field” with the German workers might have been Miyazaki’s desire to remind his Japanese audience to be proud of who they are. It’s not exactly imbuing them with nationalism persay, but perhaps Miyazaki wanted to remind his Japanese viewers that despite certain disadvantages to other states, their country holds a lot of good qualities as well, many of which are portrayed through Jiro’s personality and nature.

Slowing Down

There’s quite a lot of comparison between the “old” and the “new” in the film, during which Jiro was at the forefront of modernizing and making the “new” generation of Japanese airplanes. Jiro might have been placed in charge of designing a new, fast and durable fighter plane in the film— but throughout the film, he drops hints of his appreciation for slowness.

Jiro’s plane is lugged onto the testing field “old school” fashion— using oxen.

“Is “fast”, “modernity” and “convenience” the be-all and end-all?” I felt like Miyazaki was constantly throwing this question at me during the film. It’s an appropriate question for the Japanese society today, especially in the light of recent Fukushima nuclear disaster in 2011. Sure, nuclear energy is convenient for a country like Japan that lacks energy resources— does it mean it should put its dependency and priority on it? This might just be one example, but I felt that Miyazaki was beckoning his audience to question this dependency on modernity, and instead consider the alternatives and remember how things were done in the past. There’s not only one way to do things— and perhaps Miyazaki wants his audience to recognize the implications of such conventional methods on the society today.

All You Need Is Love

Jiro and Nahoko share a kiss sporadically throughout the film.

My god, the PDA in this film.

I’m sure many of you are aware that this movie, aside from being about the aspirations of a budding aircraft engineer, also has romance. In the film, Jiro meets and falls in love with a beautiful yet ill-fated girl Nahoko. Despite her illness, the two lovers seek to cherish each other, treasuring every moment that they get to share together.

Miyazaki films aren’t known for overt displays of affection— if I think back, the first time I recognized obvious kissing being part of the film was in Howl’s Moving Castle, when Sophie kisses Howl and in Ponyo on the Cliff By the Sea, when Ponyo also kissed (more like pecked) Sosuke at the end of the film.

Regardless, The Wind Rises goes past the light pecks and kisses and really goes above and beyond to show Jiro and Nahoko’s love for one another— and if the film insisted on such blatant forms of PDA all throughout the movie, I knew it meant something significant.

Despite the volatility in their era, Jiro and Nahoko stuck to one another and supported each other— Miyazaki might have wanted to relay the same lesson to the Japanese society today, which also faces equally disturbing political and socioeconomic issues. As a country still rebuilding from a massive earthquake, there’s a lot that needs to be taken care of in Japan— perhaps through his film, Miyazaki is urging the Japanese to support one another, to cherish your loved ones, and to have each other’s backs in this time of struggle. The Japanese society is still in for a wild-ride, and the people can’t possibly stand it without the help of others. As simple as it might sound, helping other people- and being helped by them- can’t be any more relevant to the Japanese society than today.

All you need is love— and everything will fall in place. I felt like that message sat well in me at the end of this beautiful movie.

So, when this film comes to a theater (or download) near you, be sure to watch out for some of these things. What does this historical film say about society today? Certainly something, anyways. If you’ve seen the film let me know what you thought too (without giving away spoilers!)

Seen the movie already too? Think differently about what Miyazaki wanted to relay in his final work? Post on the comment below!

Until I turned 8, that is.

At age 8 my father, who worked for a  Japanese trading firm, jumped on board the growing number of Japanese expatriates that worked abroad; my family found ourselves in Texas that year.

Within months I switched from drinking Yakult to drinking Capri-Sun and from watching Doraemon to things like “Arthur” and “Hey Arnold!” I attended a public school, picked up English as my second language, and made American friends of all races.

I am, what my motherland labels, a kikokushijo (帰国子女).

The increasingly globalized economy has forced many Japanese companies to send their workers abroad. Countries of destination range from anywhere in the world, such as neighboring Asian countries (like Singapore, where I lived for 2 years), America, and even Africa for some. And when these employees go abroad, what do they do with their families?

Bring them along, of course!

Children of these Japanese expatriate families thus gain the label of kikokushijo, or literally “repatriate children”. These Japanese children experience most or parts of their education abroad in international and local schools; some, if available, choose to attend Japanese schools in their localities. Regardless of what type of education they receive overseas, these kids are plucked out of their motherland and raised in a society completely foreign to them. In the US, a similar term, “third culture kids,” has also come about as a way to distinguish these children who spent significant time out of their parents’ culture.

Because of their unique and globalized upbringing, kikokushijo have gained somewhat of a particular image among the Japanese media and society–but despite few stereotypes that portray these kids as “special elites”, some kikokushijo find their motherland not as welcoming upon their return. That brings us to the question: who are the kikokushijo, really?

Kikokushijo In Media: Super-Children!

The Japanese media — especially in anime and manga alike — often use the kikokushijo label on major protagonists.

Perhaps one of the most famous kikokushijo of all time is the tennis prodigy Ryoma Echizen from Prince of Tennis, Konomi Takeshi’s best-selling manga with a cult following of fans all around the world. In the story, he’s set as a tennis prodigy who grew up in Los Angeles. He then moves back to Japan, tries out for his school’s tennis club, and becomes the number-one freshman rookie of his team, unleashing some mind-blowing tennis moves that are probably scientifically impossible to mankind.

Or perhaps some may recognize Taiga Kagami from recent popular series, Kuroko No Basuke. Like Ryoma, Taiga hails from Los Angeles and moves back to attend high school in Japan. And again like our favorite tennis prodigy, he joins his school’s basketball club as an eager freshman, talented with skills that he’s learned through playing ball in the States.

Some of you might recognize this familiar character from one particularly infamous anime — Asuka Langley Soryu from the Evangelion series is also considered a kikokushijo. Oh, and she happens to be part German, which just puts more emphasis on her “foreign” background as well.

We’re not crazy maniacs, I swear.

Somehow, the kikokushijo labeling finds itself in popular manga and anime– and it’s tacked onto protagonists who are often unusually talented in one particular activity, whether it is sports or manipulating giant, humanoid robots.

In short, kikokushijo are seen in the media somewhat like super-children with special talents. Of course, not every kikokushijo comes back to Japan with special abilities, though I guess I wouldn’t mind trying my hand at a robot or two.

“Saving” Kikokushijo

But snap back into reality– these kikokushijo are no super-freaks of nature. In fact, the Japanese society saw them in a much more negative light during the 1970s.

Japan, until recently, had a tendency to lean towards homogeneity, with a particular desire to keep their country relatively “Japanese”– and such was the case four decades ago, when returnee children were seen as “too individualistic”, “too different”, and “too Westernized”. In the eyes of the Japanese public, these children needed to be “saved”– they needed to be reintegrated back into Japanese culture. All foreignness had to be stripped away from these returnee children; the languages they’ve learned overseas, the ideas, norms and values they became accustomed to during their time abroad was seen as “unfit” for these kids to have if they were to return back into the Japanese society.

Perhaps this is the reason why the term kikokushijo was invented– in order to categorize the children for easy detection by the public, so that they could be salvaged from their doom of being “un-Japanese”.

Of course, such narrow-scope of views on returnee kids didn’t last very long. As the world became globalized and interaction with the international community increased during the 1980s economic boom, the Japanese society began to see these children as an important asset to the future of their country.

After all, many of these returnees came back with language skills and were comfortable interacting with different cultures– and Japan realized that it needed such assets to uphold the country’s presence in the international society as a global, modern country. Because these children often times came from well-to-do, educated families with high-income earning parents, the Japanese public began to see kikokushijo as belonging to a certain “elite” class. In the eyes of the society, kikokushijo were  children who had access to different opportunities abroad, especially in terms of gaining fluency in a foreign language.

One way Japan began to embrace their kikokushijo more can be seen through their education system. Japanese middle and high schools as well as colleges began to accommodate returnee children by instituting special category in their entrance exam procedure, dubbed as kikokushijo-waku (repatriated student category). Those who apply through the category are given special attention to their background living and studying abroad. The exams also takes into account the difference in educational systems that these returnees have been raised in, since some choose to attend international and local schools, while others stay within the Japanese educational system via Japanese schools in their localities.

Hostilities Still Remain

Shift in attitude towards these returnee kids doesn’t necessarily mean that the old stereotypes and prejudice went away. In fact, it’s very much still present.

Growing up as a kikokushijo myself, I’ve heard countless of horror stories involving fellow returnee kids being bullies and shunned at school, simply because they’re… well, different.

Blurt out a word of foreign language and you receive intense stares from the whole class. Talk about your experiences living abroad as frankly as possible, and you’re perceived as bragging. Bullies force these returnee kids to speak in a foreign language to “prove” that their life abroad is the honest truth, when a good chunk of kikokushijo do not learn a new language because they attended Japanese schools in their localities overseas.

Some teachers in local schools fail to help their class understand and welcome the returnee into their community. A friend of mine who returned to Japan during middle school once mentioned that her teacher simply shrugged off the situation as shikata ga nai, or “it can’t be helped”– that by living abroad we automatically become subject of bullying, and that it’s no surprise because we’re “different”.

I remember in 5th grade my parents, who predicted that they too will return to Japan sooner or later, discussed placing me in an international school so that I could avoid this grim fate of being yet another victim of bullying in a local school. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I did return to Japan for schooling, and find myself shuddering at the ominous thoughts and stories I’ve heard of the negativity kikokushijo face in their own motherland.

Bringing An End To Kikokushijo Dilemma?

Kikokushijo are becoming even more common in Japan, and it’s no surprise. With the ongoing globalization and Japan’s positive attitude towards being more open to the international community- be it cultural exchange, trade, and business- there is bound to be increase in the number of expatriate families being sent abroad.

Nowadays, the Japanese society is more understanding of these returnee kids than the past– there are certainly more schools that understand the needs of these returnee children, accommodate them, and give them a good experience coming back to their motherland. And certainly not all returnee children become bullied just because of their different background. Many of them settle down with no particular issue, make friends, and their life goes on as usual. But certain stereotypes do remain, which can lead to misunderstanding between returnee children and the local Japanese communities.

Preexisting stereotypes and prejudices are not easy to let go– and some will surely continue to see us in a strange manner. Contrary to popular forms of media, kikokushijo are ordinary Japanese children—just because they lived abroad doesn’t automatically make them any better at anything, be it tennis, basketball, or… operating huge robots.

Kikokushijo may be a different batch of kids within the Japanese youth, subject to pros and cons of being “different” in one way or another– but as Japan learns to actively interact globally, perhaps such dilemmas that these kids face when returning back to their motherland will die out.

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