Mysterious laughter

The subtly of Japanese behavior can be very complex. A quick glance or the hint of a frown can be pregnant with meaning. But much of that is often lost to those not brought up here. Japanese laughter, too, is one of the ongoing mysteries of this fascinating culture. What outsider can know for sure what a Japanese smile or laugh really means?

I have been told that smiles often mask embarrassment or shyness. And laughter does not necessarily mean joy. So, I find I often have to really control myself when I feel I am being demeaned because I think someone is laughing at me.

The other day, for example, I was leaving work on my bicycle. I had to pass a long line of students waiting to catch a bus. I tried to eek my way passed them, but lost my balance and nearly fell over. My own students saw this clumsiness and started to laugh. My immediate response was to feel angry at what seemed to be rudeness. However, I forced myself to remember that laughter here can mean something very different than from where I come from. My students probably felt embarrassed for me to be in such an awkward situation in front of them, and also they may have felt embarrassed seeing their teacher in such a compromising position. This is a hierarchical culture, after all. So, their laughter was actually a form of kindness, showing me they were feeling how I must have felt.

Another time I was in an art class. None of us is very good, but we try hard. Once when we had labored for weeks on our pieces, the Sensei put them up one by one in front of the class to be evaluated. I was first. Of course, I felt awkward. My art is not great and my Japanese is appalling. But there I was in front of everyone stuttering and stumbling my explanations and receiving the Sensei’s suggestions. I was red with embarrassment and so uptight I could hardly breathe.

The next person was a man who loves to smear paint all over his paper. I love his energetic performances. But when his painting was in front of the class, he began to cackle. His non-stop laughter was high pitched and jittery. And pretty soon the entire class, even the Sensei, was laughing in the same way. I subtly looked around in wonder at this class reaction of nervous laughter, which was driving me nuts. I could not bring myself to join in their laughter, so I lowered my eyes so as not to show my confusion. Then it dawned on me that everyone’s laughter expressed their embarrassment. Surely all were feeling on edge, for themselves and for the man as well.

Several days later I talked about this with an advanced class of adults I have. Everyone said, "We Japanese know exactly what our smiles and laughter mean. They are no mystery to us at all!" I smiled. The ongoing mystery of this culture.

One area where I laugh and the Japanese do not is when it comes to talking about their spouses. Usually Japanese are very polite and considerate of other people’s feelings. They want to maintain a sense of harmony and pleasantness. But when it comes to talking about a husband or wife, what they say is genuinely shocking.

"That old flea bag." (When his wife is breathtakingly beautiful)

"That good for nothing husband of mine." (Who is the manager of a company)

"My wife is a terrible cook." (She is a gourmet.)

"My husband is a lazy good-for-nothing." (He works about fifteen hours a day and hands over his pay check to her every month.)

They often make faces as they say these disparaging remarks. I find all this so out of keeping and so unexpected that I always burst out laughing. I guess that is not what I "should" do, because the Japanese looked surprised or shocked when I do it. But my reaction seems to add fuel to their fire as they add a few more belittling remarks as icing on the cake. Of course, I laugh even more.

Over the years I have learned that in Japan it is rude to praise yourself or your family. That would put you apart from and above others, which no one wants to do here. So, by belittling yourself and your family members, you are really saying, "I am no better than you. In fact, you are better than I." That sign of humbleness is very highly regarded in this culture.

In fact, one of my favorite Japanese sayings is, "The heavier the stalk, the lower the bow." That refers to a stalk of rice. The more grains it holds, the more important and valuable it is. But also the more it bows from the extra weight it carries. Japanese see greatness as a huge responsibility. So, the greater one becomes here, the more humble they are required to appear.

With all these cultural differences, living here keeps me on my toes. And whenever I can, I always try to check with my Japanese friends about what certain behaviors might mean. I am constantly stunned and humbled to learn over and over again that I must never judge merely by what I see or initially feel, but rather to look deeper and try to discover what is truly meant. Not an easy task, but a very important one in all arenas of life, I feel. Wouldn’t you agree?