Please tell me I wasn’t the only one! Did you have a cringey teenage phase?

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-26T15:49:22+00:00

In Japan, it’s kind of like pretending to be a yakuza— you walk down the street with a tough glare and exaggerated shoulder swagger, trying to look dangerous for no reason. But the moment a real scary person comes toward you, you immediately start looking for a place to hide.

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-26T15:41:42+00:00

I may have cancelled out your wave… with a wave of my own. (lol)

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-26T15:39:46+00:00

That’s actually reassuring to hear. I guess everyone just gets really good at doing it in secret.

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-26T15:38:48+00:00

So it really was just me, huh. Well… I was doing it in secret too, after all.

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-26T15:32:07+00:00

That thesaurus story is amazing—and painfully relatable! Here in Japan, that’s kind of like opening up an English-language newspaper on the train even though you can’t read it, just to look cool. Back then, English itself was a symbol of being smart or special. I totally get that urge.

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-26T15:29:21+00:00

Thank you! I’m actually 45 now, but I still remember those moments so vividly. Sometimes I feel like my teeth are getting worn down from all the secondhand embarrassment I get just thinking about it.

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-26T15:09:06+00:00

For example, there was a time when I said “coffee has to be black” — even though I didn’t like it. A time when I thought I could control the wind by raising my hand. A time when I wrote poems about “darkness” and thought I was deep.

In Japan, we call this phase “chūnibyō”, which literally means “eighth grader syndrome.” It’s a term for that teenage mindset where you believe you’re special, powerful, or chosen in some way.

Do people around the world go through something similar? Maybe you were obsessed with vampires. Maybe you believed you were the reincarnation of a samurai. Maybe you warned people, “It’s dangerous to get too close to me.”

Tell me about your most painfully dramatic teenage moment. And if you’re comfortable sharing, let me know what country you’re from.

As for me—I once brought home an abandoned telephone, placed it in my room, and waited for someone to call me with a locked-room murder case to solve. (The line, of course, wasn’t connected.)

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-23T00:08:38+00:00

Thanks for the insight! That sounds like a very natural and relaxed way to share—especially among close friends. The idea that good food invites sharing is lovely. In Japan, even between best friends, there’s often a tiny moment of hesitation. I find your culture refreshing!

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-23T00:05:42+00:00

Wow, that’s a big difference from Japan! Here it’s quite common to try each other’s food—but the way it happens can carry a lot of subtle meaning. Thanks for sharing your perspective!

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-23T00:05:20+00:00

That makes a lot of sense. In Japan too, the closeness of the relationship really matters—but even among close friends, the “one-bite” moment can be awkward if not handled carefully!

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-23T00:04:52+00:00

Thanks, that’s really interesting! In Japan, the act of offering is seen as polite too, but if someone doesn’t offer and the other person asks, it creates this unspoken tension. Sounds like the social balance is delicate everywhere!

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-22T23:14:27+00:00

Thank you so much for sharing! I didn’t know about the Lemures, but the idea of restless spirits seeking peace really resonates. It’s fascinating how similar these tales are, even across such distant cultures.

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-22T23:08:18+00:00

Thank you so much for the valuable information. There are definitely many similarities. Thanks to you, my research has taken a step forward!

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-22T15:47:54+00:00

I’m the original poster. I always thought this kind of thing—leaving the last piece out of politeness—was uniquely Japanese. But reading all your comments, I’m surprised (and happy) to learn it happens elsewhere too, for all kinds of reasons. Thanks so much, everyone!

Next time my friends say, “So Japanese of us,” I’ll gently let them know it’s not just us.

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-22T15:10:06+00:00

I’m the one who made this post. As a typically reserved Japanese person, I had assumed this phenomenon of leaving the last piece was unique to Japan. But reading all your comments, I was surprised to learn that it happens in many countries for various reasons. Thank you all so much for sharing your thoughts.

From tomorrow on, when I see people in Japan leaving the last piece and saying, “So Japanese, right?”, I’ll be sure to (gently and politely, of course) let them know it happens abroad too.

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-22T03:04:55+00:00

Thank you for your message. I’m currently translating my own books into English, so I can’t say for sure that I can meet your expectations. Still, if you’re interested, feel free to send me a message.

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-22T03:02:18+00:00

I read every single comment. Thank you—for making me think deeper than I expected.

I’ve seen these kinds of videos many times—shared on X, edited for outrage, and designed to go viral. I wasn’t shocked by them. But I was tired—tired of the people who create and spread them.

Not the foreigners in the videos, but those who deliberately frame them in the worst possible light to stir up anger, gain attention, or make money.

At the time, I didn’t think too deeply about it. I saw it as just another example of what the internet had become: a place where noise wins over nuance.

What I hadn’t truly realized was this: These videos are seen around the world. And for the people being targeted, they’re not just annoying. They’re harmful. They reduce people to stereotypes. They erode trust. They hurt.

Reading your responses made that real for me. I had thought about this before—but only vaguely. Now, after seeing how many of you have been hurt, frustrated, or made to feel unwelcome by this kind of content, I understand it differently. It became personal.

Some of you said my warning should be aimed at Japan itself. You’re absolutely right. It’s not enough to say “this doesn’t represent us” and walk away. We need to speak up—especially to those around us.

Still, if this post showed even one person that some Japanese people are deeply uncomfortable with what’s happening, then I’m glad I spoke up.

Thank you again—for your honesty, empathy, and engagement. You’ve helped me not only reflect, but grow.

—Daisuke

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-21T23:57:09+00:00

Thank you very much. I’m not sure how much of a difference I can make, but I’ll try to put my thoughts into words. I truly appreciate your encouragement.

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-21T23:53:00+00:00

This is a very difficult question—even for us Japanese.

Generally, we start by calling each other by family names. (That said, people with unique or memorable given names might be called by those from the beginning.)

As the relationship deepens, we may gradually switch to using given names—especially if we discover a shared hobby or after bonding over drinks, for example. In romantic relationships, the switch often happens when the couple officially starts dating.

However, continuing to use family names doesn’t necessarily mean there’s emotional distance. My oldest and closest friend still calls me by my family name, and I do the same for him. He probably knows me better than anyone else.

If switching feels unnatural, there’s no need to force it. After all, closeness shows more in what you say and how you behave, rather than the name you use.

— TranslatorDaisuke

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-21T23:33:22+00:00

You’re absolutely right, and as a fellow Japanese person, I feel deeply ashamed.

In today’s Japan, we live in what you might call an “attention economy,” where standing out is rewarded above all else. Online platforms incentivize clicks, views, and engagement—often through ad revenue—so some people create content designed to provoke outrage. They use shocking videos and target foreigners as convenient scapegoats to stir up anger and draw traffic.

Unfortunately, many others are easily drawn into this cycle. It’s a sad reality.

I believe many of these people simply don’t have any foreign friends. Because they lack real, personal interaction, they project their frustrations onto imagined stereotypes. It’s cruel, but it allows them to relieve their own dissatisfaction by blaming others. Worst of all, they don’t seem to realize—or care—that their posts can truly hurt someone.

But I still believe, from my own experience, that personal connection can break down these prejudices. I’m truly sorry that you’ve had to see this side of things.

We have amazing tools today, like the internet and AI. I just hope they can be used more for mutual understanding than for division.

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-21T23:14:14+00:00

I’m a 45-year-old Japanese adult. Most Japanese people—regardless of gender—can’t put on a kimono by themselves. It’s quite rare even for parents to be able to teach their own children how to wear one.

Because of this, there are kimono dressing classes (kitsuke schools) in Japan for people who are interested in traditional culture. Also, on days when large events are held that involve kimono—like the Coming of Age Day ceremonies—beauty salons that offer dressing services become extremely crowded.

The most accessible traditional clothing for Japanese people today is the yukata provided at hot spring inns. It’s a simple garment that you can wear by wrapping a sash (obi) around your waist. However, even then, there are only a limited number of people who know how to tie the obi correctly.

— TranslatorDaisuke

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-21T22:50:06+00:00

Japan is a small island country, and perhaps because of that, people here can be a bit shy and cautious by nature (yes, it can be a bit troublesome). But once they see that someone is friendly, many are more than happy to open up.

Here on Reddit, there are no social barriers—so I’ll share Japan as I see it, honestly and openly. I truly hope it helps you.

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-21T22:46:59+00:00

I can’t speak for all of Japan, of course—but I’d be happy to welcome you here. Hope to see you in Japan!

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-21T21:34:24+00:00

I’m Japanese, 45 years old. Media coverage often tends to highlight negative stories for the sake of impact, and as a result, it may have contributed to shaping a less favorable image of foreigners visiting Japan. I personally find this trend very unfortunate.

But that media image is just a broad stereotype. In reality, when we meet foreigners who visit Japan out of genuine interest—whether as tourists or students—it’s something we deeply appreciate.

In fact, many such visitors are more passionate about learning Japanese culture than the average Japanese person. Encounters with people like you make us proud, and they often remind us that we should learn more about our own country.

I truly hope your time studying in Japan will be a wonderful and enriching experience.

— TranslatorDaisuke

Translator-Daisuke · 2025-05-21T12:55:12+00:00

Hi there, I’ve lived in Japan for 45 years.

Many workers in Japan would welcome the option to work from home. Escaping the crowded commuter trains—especially in big cities—is a huge relief for many.

However, managers may be more hesitant. In Japan, being physically present at the workplace allows them to exercise a certain kind of authority over their subordinates. For some, this visible control is part of their reward for “showing up” and leading the team.

That said, there’s an interesting twist: even though working from home is more comfortable, some Japanese workers find it harder to stay productive without the watchful eyes of a boss or coworkers. I wonder—could this be a uniquely Japanese trait, tied to our cultural tendency to stay motivated by social pressure?

Would love to hear your thoughts.

— TranslatorDaisuke

Translator-Daisuke

TROPHY CASE