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Some thoughts on America having seen it from afar

A smazy, dreamlike re-entry from Seoul, Korea and Tokyo, Japan -- two cities that were later to open its borders post-COVID and have been experiencing a high volume of American tourists this past year. Although I’ve visited the motherland, South Korea, a few times in the last 12 months, this was my first time back to Tokyo since 2017. There was a season where Japan was the most important international destination in the world to me. After college, I even lived there to study and write about street fashion, which cast the bedrock for The Hundreds. It was invigorating to return.

While Korea continues to draw attention for its pop culture influence, Japan has been quietly suffering from a depressed economy and has therefore become a haven for bargain hunters. If there was ever an affordable time to visit Tokyo, I’d suggest going now. It was eye-opening to travel from one capital that was bustling with frenetic energy to another, just three hours away, that was subdued and humbled. Tokyo’s heartbeat was faint, its approach cautious. My friend Tiffany said it best, that the nation presently feels like it’s turning inwards, tending to its wounds, watchful and vigilant for what happens next.

This is where Japan eventually prevails, however. History has proven that patient observation leads to thoughtful consideration and then sublime execution. Even with a battered economic morale, Tokyo was upright and steadfast. Shikata ga nai. Since it’s become costly to import Western brands, many of the stores we visited were proudly investing into domestic labels and Japanese fashion like Undercover, Cav Empt, Kapital, Needles, and BlackEyePatch. I was also struck by the changing of the guards. Japanese streetwear has long been sentried by the OGs and godfathers. It was refreshing to see newer labels draw younger lineups like 9090’s flagship grand opening in Harajuku.

One thing that I asked locals in both Korea and Japan was their perspective of the U.S. How did we look to them? For generations, America has been the leader to follow, the lighthouse peering through the fog -- but lately, we’ve lost much of that halo.

“You guys look absolutely crazy. It’s entertaining to us, but it’s sad to watch.”
“America is low class. A country of fake Gucci belts.”
“Why don’t you mind your own business? I’ve never understood why you fight over things that have nothing to do with you.”
“It almost seems like there are dark forces at play. Like, your government or other powerful people are pitting you against each other.”

This was unsurprising. Wherever I travel – Europe, Mexico, Canada – I’ve asked the same questions of the locals. And the response has echoed the above.

“You’re from California? You have such a bad homeless problem. How do you treat your own people that way?”

Within minutes of returning to LA, I drove by a homeless encampment under the freeway bridge. Late last evening, news broke of a mass shooting in Maine with twenty innocent Americans dead. Meanwhile, the Israel/Palestine social media fight (that rarely surfaced in Asia) has spilled over into all parts of daily life here.

I miss Korea and Japan. Jetlag aside, it’s been difficult to reacclimate to the dirtied sidewalks, disorganization, and social despair. Having spent time in a land where cities move and sound like stately forests, America feels like a cultural cacophony of discordant customs and maladjusted relations. Yet, much of what makes the U.S. disagreeable is also what makes it exceptional. This is a broad generalization, but Asian culture can be homogeneous, conservative, and consistent. There are rarely issues with racial diversity because there is no racial diversity. There is lesser disruption because that may be something to avoid instead of an opportunity for positive change and growth.

There’s a great deal of social friction here because there are myriad voices, experiences, and opinions. They are bound to clash, but they are also fit for beautiful collaboration. In the customs zone of LAX, I was enchanted by the assortment of hair colors and styles, bodies of all shapes and sizes, different modes of dress to signal various identities, and the symphony of colorful languages. People were grumbling at each other, repeating themselves to be heard, and running into all sorts of dead-end walls like a mouse in a maze. Yet, they were expanding in their humanity and potential for new ideas, their minds opening beyond the known.

Yes, in this country, we fight about international affairs because many of us call those places home and those people brothers and sisters. Our borders don’t just stop at the beaches. The United States is a microcosm of the planet, a representative sample of the greater earth. So, when the world is at war, we are at war. But the world’s best is also us at our best. Empathic, we feel it all, embody all of its pain and pleasure, and carry its load. Sympathetic, we are one family. When I pick up my son from school, I rejoice with him when he tells me about receiving a high score on a test. I get protective when I hear a bully is picking on him. I hoist his bag of books on my back and I walk side by side with him all the way home.

America is an absolute, bloody mess. But I believe in her. The violence and crime, the inequaltiy and political combat, the mental health fallout and job loss are all immeasurably scary. But this is the home of the brave. Land of the free doesn’t imply a comfortable, effortless existence. We fight for our freedom. Generations have suffered and sacrificed themselves in the name of progress and betterment. And through that pain, past the peril, we stand in unique territory. There’s no place like home.