What does it mean?
Even if you live there your entire life, Japanese people will always consider you a gaijin. You’ll have a “gaijin card”, you'll rely on a gaijin community, you'll go to places and restaurants for gaijins. On Sunday you'll go to your favorite gaijin -team's baseball game (the Swallows) and if you need to find a job, sell your couch or hire a maid, you'll browse a gaijin website: www.gaijinpot.com .
And you know what? I’m starting to consider myself a gaijin even when I am back home. An "outsider" in my own hometown:
“I am an alien. I’m a legal alien”…
Bebe' is how I've heard people calling me since I was born, probably. It's my nickname. One of the few little things that keeps me connected to my roots. Connected to that world that seems so far away. Where my only language was Italian, where I used to play with my sisters any kind of game while our complicity grew into the strongest bond I could imagine. A world where my heart was thrilled and impatient just waiting to see the whole family together watching a movie after dinner. Where my dad's cuddle was the most precious moment and my mom's sweet presence was the pillar of my happiness.
So "Bebe'" it's me. The more intime and private me.
Looking at the word, I don't even have the appropriate keyboard to write the Italian accent "è"! In English it might sounds funny. It's actually funny in Italian as well (the direct meaning is "baby")...but to me it's just my name. It's my name pronounced by people who love me and who really know who I am and who I was.
I didn't think about that when I came up with the name for this blog, but now that I'm writing this post my attention is caught from the dichotomy of the 2 words, GAIJIN and BEBE':
The first is a Japanese precise word that stands for "outsider', "stranger". A rigid word considered even rude, to usually label someone the rest of the community is not 100% comfortable with.
Bebe', on the other hand, is the more reassuring, inclusive and familiar word I can personally think of.
And it is probably in this perpetual contrast that my reflections, together with my whole life, have reason to exist.
