Touching at Depth:
Intimate Spaces in the Japanese Family
By
Diana Adis Tahhan
A thesis submitted in fulfillment of
the requirements for the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy
University of New South Wales
2007
ORIGINALITY STATEMENT
‗I hereby declare that this submission is my own work and to the best of my knowledge it contains no materials previously published or written by another person, or substantial proportions of material which have been accepted for the award of any other degree or diploma at UNSW or any other educational institution, except where due acknowledgement is made in the thesis. Any contribution made to the research by others, with whom I have worked at UNSW or elsewhere, is explicitly acknowledged in the thesis. I also declare that the intellectual content of this thesis is the product of my own work, except to the extent that assistance from others in the project's design and conception or in style, presentation and linguistic expression is acknowledged.‘
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ii COPYRIGHT STATEMENT
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iii ABSTRACT
Touch, as it is conventionally conceived, appears to be lacking in Japanese intimate relationships. Physical or visible forms of intimate touch are generally relegated to particular body practices or contexts such as co-bathing and co-sleeping, and are usually uncharacteristic of everyday experiences of intimacy. Instead, Japanese relationships are commonly defined in terms of subtle forms of communication, such as ishin denshin
(heart-to-heart communication) and ittaikan (feelings of oneness), where feelings are expected to be inferred. However, it is unclear as to how such forms manifest feelings of closeness in the first place.
This study opens up these feelings of closeness through exploring the embodied experience and tangible connection in the intimate spaces of the Japanese family. It describes a relational experience of space, depth and touch that is beyond the scope of conventional theories of the body. Drawing on Japanese sociologies of the body as well as other sociological tools that are relevant to everyday Japanese experiences, this study also offers universal contributions to the understandings of how touch can exist as a manifestation of intimacy.
The first part of the thesis introduces the reader to the critical concepts and theories driving the study. The key ideas and understandings of Japanese relationships are also considered, leading to the suggestion that a conceptual understanding of embodiment will add to such literature. Part One concludes with a specific investigation of my field research on intimacy in Japan. The second part of the thesis explores how skinship
(intimacy through touch) exists and feels in Japanese parent-child and marital relationships. A theory of touch is developed, via Japanese relationships, which is not
iv restricted to physical or visible forms of touch. Described as touching at depth, this theory explores alternative ways of understanding experiences of intimacy that are not necessarily linked to tactile feeling or spatial closeness. Although bodily forms of touch exist in some relationships, other relational states become significant to feelings of connectedness, particularly as the child grows older.
The third part of the thesis explores this shift, along with how the Japanese child adapts to the world, when their initial ways of touching no longer exist. Emphasis here is not just on primary ‗home‘ relationships, but also on teacher-child relationships, and the way familial relationships shift as the child moves back and forth between the home and world. It becomes clear in Part Three that touch becomes felt differently as the child grows older and feels their significance and connection with the world in more encompassing ways.
v ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to extend my appreciation to my two supervisors, Associate Professor
Andrew Metcalfe and Dr William Armour. Andrew‘s support and encouragement has carried me throughout the most difficult times of my candidature and his work has truly changed my life. William‘s critical feedback, and demand for clarity, is also most appreciated.
I would like to thank Shannon McDermott, Duncan McDuie-Ra, Leanne Dowse, Nagisa
Fukui, Motoko Sugano and Mathew Dal Santo, for their personal and professional support throughout my candidature. I appreciate the guidance and assistance from
Masahito Takahashi, Glenda Roberts, Chihiro Thomson and Kazuhiro Teruya. I want to also thank James Roberson, who has provided guidance and generosity with his time.
Thank you to the Munakata family, particularly Hatsue san, who helped organise my classes and affiliations in North East Japan. I found true peace sitting under their kōtatsu of a night time, contemplating with her, the world of intimacy. Also, thank you to my
Tokyo family, the Yako‘s: without our initial experiences, this topic would never have come to life. And finally, thank you to all the women and men who shared their lives and stories with me. The tears that were shed in some meetings made it very clear to me that the world of intimacy is a much more complex feeling than can ever be described. I hope I do justice to their stories.
I would like to extend a special thank you to all the friends and relatives who have remained patient and understanding of this project. In particular, I am indebted to my parents, Steve and Katina, and my siblings, Pauline and John, for their ongoing support throughout the many years this topic was my passion. Thank you for bringing me into
vi the beautiful world of touch ever since I can remember, and keeping me there. I am also grateful to my Yia-Yia Andriana, for whom finishing has always been the most ―import‖ thing. And last of all, my husband Daniel, to whom I dedicate this thesis. Thank you,
Ünggy, for embracing this thesis as a part of our family ever since the beginning. It has been your continual strength and confidence in me that has sustained me throughout.
The very essence of touch and intimacy that emerged in this thesis was possible because of my loved ones. It is because of them that the love for this project developed, and has given me the ability to understand the infinite possibilities of love and intimacy. It is their hearts that are implicated in mine and in this very dissertation.
vii TABLE OF CONTENTS
ORIGINALITY STATEMENT ...... II
COPYRIGHT STATEMENT ...... III
AUTHENTICITY STATEMENT...... III
ABSTRACT ...... IV
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ...... VI
TABLE OF CONTENTS ...... VIII
NOTE ON THE TEXT ...... XII
PART ONE: LOCATING THE STUDY ...... 1
CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION ...... 2
BACKGROUND TO THE STUDY ...... 3
PERCEPTUAL DIFFERENCES ...... 12
NEED FOR THE STUDY ...... 17
PURPOSES OF THE STUDY ...... 19
THE RESEARCH QUESTIONS ...... 19
THE SIGNIFICANCE AND POSITIONING OF THIS STUDY ...... 19
THEORETICAL UNDERPINNINGS ...... 22
ORGANISATION OF THE THESIS ...... 31
SUMMARY ...... 32
CHAPTER TWO: LITERATURE REVIEW ...... 33
INTRODUCTION...... 33
THE VARIETIES OF JAPANESE RELATIONAL EXPERIENCES ...... 33
THE JAPANESE FAMILY ...... 37
TOUCHING SPACES: THE BODY, SELF AND MI ...... 54
SUMMARY ...... 62
CHAPTER THREE: STUDY DESIGN AND METHODOLOGY ...... 64
viii INTRODUCTION...... 64
RESEARCH DESIGN ...... 65
RESEARCH TECHNIQUES ...... 69
SAMPLING ...... 74
DOCUMENTING DATA ...... 75
PRE-DATA ANALYSIS: MAKING INITIAL MEANINGS ...... 76
DATA ANALYSIS: FROM CODING TO ―SEEING‖ ...... 76
RESEARCH AUTHENTICITY ...... 80
SUMMARY ...... 81
PART TWO: THE CHILD IN THE HOME ...... 82
CHAPTER FOUR: PARENT-CHILD TOUCH: (DIS)LOCATING THE BODY IN SKINSHIP ... 84
INTRODUCTION...... 84
MOTHER-CHILD RELATIONSHIPS ...... 87
ESTABLISHING SKINSHIP ...... 87
FATHER-CHILD RELATIONSHIPS ...... 109
ESTABLISHING SKINSHIP ...... 110
SUMMARY ...... 121
CHAPTER FIVE: WHOSE FUTON IS THIS ANYWAY? EXCLUSION AND INCLUSION IN
THE BEDROOM ...... 125
INTRODUCTION...... 125
CO-SLEEPING IN JAPAN ...... 127
EXCLUSIVE FAMILY RELATIONS ...... 130
EXCLUSIVE RELATIONS IN SOINE: ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE RIVER ...... 139
INCLUSIVE FAMILY RELATIONS ...... 146
INCLUSIVE RELATIONS IN SOINE: THE RIVER THAT FLOWS THROUGH THE FAMILY ...... 150
SUMMARY ...... 156
PART THREE: THE CHILD IN THE WORLD ...... 158
CHAPTER SIX: MOVING INTO THE BIG, WIDE WORLD ...... 160
ix INTRODUCTION...... 160
THE DAYCARE CONTEXT: KIKYŌ HOIKUEN ...... 164
KIKYŌ HOIKUEN: THE FAMILY OUTSIDE THE HOME ...... 165
SUMMARY ...... 188
CHAPTER SEVEN: ARRIVING TO A CONCEPTUAL UNDERSTANDING OF BELONGING
THROUGH THE FELT MEANINGS OF TOUCH ...... 192
INTRODUCTION...... 192
TRANSITIONAL TOUCH ...... 192
SECURING THE SPACE OF INTIMACY IN THE JAPANESE FAMILY: TOUCHING AT DEPTH ...... 198
SUMMARY ...... 215
CHAPTER EIGHT: HOW TOUCH FEELS AFTER FIVE ...... 216
INTRODUCTION...... 216
STAGES OF DEVELOPMENT ...... 217
PUBLIC DISCOURSES: WHY TOUCH STOPS ...... 241
SUMMARY ...... 247
CONCLUSION ...... 250
TOUCHING AT DEPTH: THE MEETING OF MI AND FLESH ...... 253
SUMMARY OF THE THESIS ...... 255
RECOMMENDATIONS FOR FURTHER RESEARCH ...... 259
LIVING SKINSHIP ...... 260
BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 261
APPENDICES ...... 290
APPENDIX ONE: LOCATION OF FIELD RESEARCH ...... 290
APPENDIX TWO: CLASS DESCRIPTIONS ...... 291
APPENDIX THREE: INTERVIEW DEMOGRAPHICS ...... 297
APPENDIX FOUR: NUMBER OF INTERVIEWS ...... 300
APPENDIX FIVE: OBSERVATION PROTOCOL ...... 301
x APPENDIX SIX: INTERVIEW SCHEDULE MINI-INTERVIEWS ...... 302
APPENDIX SEVEN: INTERVIEW SCHEDULE IN-DEPTH INTERVIEWS ...... 304
APPENDIX EIGHT: DESCRIPTION OF RESEARCH AND LETTER OF CONSENT ...... 306
APPENDIX NINE: FIELDWORK DOCUMENTATION ...... 311
APPENDIX TEN: A TRADITIONAL OBI ...... 312
APPENDIX ELEVEN: A MODERN OBI (I) ...... 313
APPENDIX TWELVE: A MODERN OBI (II) ...... 314
APPENDIX THIRTEEN: OBI AND ANSHINKAN ...... 315
APPENDIX FOURTEEN: DAKKO IN FATHER-CHILD RELATIONSHIPS ...... 316
APPENDIX FIFTEEN: ASOBI IN FATHER-CHILD RELATIONSHIPS (I) ...... 317
APPENDIX SIXTEEN: ASOBI IN FATHER-CHILD RELATIONSHIPS (II) ...... 318
APPENDIX SEVENTEEN: NEMURI KOMONO ...... 319
xi NOTE ON THE TEXT
The names of the participants in this study are pseudonyms. In some cases, participant names are indicated by family names together with the Japanese comprehensive courtesy title san, which is used to indicate Mr, Mrs, Miss, and Ms. In cases where the person was addressed by their first name, the given (pseudonym) name is used.
The Hepburn style of romanisation is used to represent Japanese words. For example, macrons such as ā, ō, ī, ū are used to indicate the long vowels of certain words as in okāsan (mother), otōsan (father), onīsan (older brother) and fūfu (husband and wife).
Those words in the Hepburn style are italicised and followed by English translations in brackets, as exemplified in the above examples. Macrons are not used for the Japanese words that are commonly used in English, for example, Tokyo.
Quotations from the narratives of the participants in this study, as well as those from publications in Japanese, have been translated by the researcher.
xii PART ONE: LOCATING THE STUDY
Part One locates the study within an interdisciplinary context. Comprising three chapters, the first part of the thesis suggests the ways in which experiences of Japanese familial intimacy might benefit from a phenomenological investigation of embodiment.
Specifically, Chapter One introduces the reader to the key concepts and theories driving the study. It draws together a wide range of issues and themes in Japanese communication and relationships that set up potential for inter-cultural misunderstanding.
Chapter Two considers the key ideas in the understanding of Japanese relationships.
The family is explored as the main relational context, and leads to the suggestion that a conceptual understanding of embodiment will help add to literature on Japanese marital and parent-child relationships. Chapter Three addresses the field research of intimacy in Japan at two levels. At one level, this chapter describes the research methods and approach in a traditional manner. At another level, this chapter is a self- reflective description of the data analysis process that occurred upon leaving the field.
It considers how some approaches to analysis opened, and how some closed, the experiences of intimacy held in the field material. This chapter attempts to overcome specific assumptions of Japanese relationships, and gives meaning to the deeper exploration of intimacy in Japanese families that follows in the main analytical sections.
1 CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION
This study explores intimacy, space and touch in the Japanese family. Focusing on parent-child relationships, it seeks to analyse the various forms of intimate touch (or skinship) between parent and child before the child turns five years old. After that age, touch is less visible and, in some cases, seems to cease to exist altogether. However, there still appears to be a state of connection and mutual understanding between parent and child that no longer requires physical or visible forms of touch. This study shows the ways in which intimacy develops between Japanese parent and child, and explains how touch may still exist even though physical forms of touch have ceased.
This study proposes that, for touch to provide feelings of intimacy, the meaning of touch is not located in the bodies of separate subjects or objects. Accordingly, parent and child can connect in intimate spaces without physical or visible forms of touch.
Instead, alternative theories of embodiment help to extend our understanding of touch from the finite body that is separate from the mind (Cartesian), to a sensuous experience and space that is all-encompassing and inclusive of more than just body
(non-Cartesian).
This study develops a theory of touch, via Japanese relationships, that is non-locatable and uncontained. This is what I call touching at depth. This study seeks to understand the meaning of emotional closeness, and whether or not spatial closeness or tactile feeling are required. Even if certain forms of intimacy and closeness are not necessarily visible, they are, nonetheless, felt. Understanding the ‗lived body‘ in a Japanese familial context, helps to open up experiences of intimacy and touch in everyday
Japanese relationships. On the one hand, this study demystifies some common claims
2 to Japanese uniqueness, showing that some concepts seen as typically Japanese can be found in other societies, even if they are generally unnoticed. On the other hand, touching at depth allows us to ask more specific empirical questions about the relational forms most common in different Japanese settings.
This chapter sets up the key concepts and theoretical issues upon which the study is based, and identifies the need, purpose, research questions and significance of the study. The background of the study is introduced through five central vignettes, which highlight cultural misunderstandings about touch and intimacy, and which lead to a discussion of the conceptual issues which set the context for the forthcoming chapters.
Background to the Study
This study developed from a hug: a simple greeting, a daily ritual, or indication of closeness. Growing up as a Greek-Australian in Sydney, my daily encounters with family and friends usually involved close physical proximity and bodily interaction via hugs and kisses. Not necessarily a symbol of love and intimacy, these forms of close physical contact were sometimes expected or required for greeting or farewelling distant relatives or almost-strangers. Nonetheless, when shared with close relatives or friends, bodily forms of touch contributed to feelings of belonging and comfort.
It was only when I experienced daily encounters without these physical forms of intimacy that I realised the assumptions I made about being close to someone. That is, I attributed visible physicality with feelings of intimacy and closeness. If visible forms such as hugs and kisses did not exist, surely there must be a physical gap or even an emotional separation between people. My initial cross-cultural experiences in Japan
3 presented me with feelings of uncertainty and incompleteness, precisely because these physical forms of intimacy didn‘t exist with host family and friends dear to me. There seemed to be different understandings of the body and touch that ‗prevented‘ intimacy, or, different expressions of intimacy that remained undetected by me. This is the context of the following inter-cultural vignettes and misunderstandings.
Vignette One: A Hugless Farewell
On a trip to Japan in 1999, I stayed with my beloved host family in Tokyo. After many family trips and outings, and helping my host parents in their soba shop, it was time to return to Australia. Before departing for the airport, I bade farewell to my okāsan
(mother), who was taking care of the shop while the rest of the family accompanied me to the airport. It was an encounter that would stay with me for several years and became the underlying motivation for this study.
For both okāsan and myself, this was a sad farewell as we did not know when I would next return to Japan, and she, bound to the soba shop and the financial burdens of a working class small-business, did not know if she would ever get to travel to Australia.
I went to farewell okāsan with the hugs and kisses that had been ritualistic throughout my upbringing. However, in this case, something held me back. Okāsan, who looked genuinely sad at my leaving, bowed and bid me goodbye, while I stood there wanting to hug her but not feeling comfortable doing so. So, with a pat on her arm, I left, just like that, with no hug or kiss or ‗real‘ goodbye. A feeling of ‗unfinished‘ farewell resided over me: how could I feel so ‗close‘ with someone but not feel comfortable saying goodbye in a way that reflected the closeness I felt? Upon my return to
Australia, a phone call from my host sister stated that okāsan had moped and cried long
4 after my departure. There seemed to be completely different behaviours at play here.
Firstly, I felt as though I could not farewell in the way I was accustomed, and secondly,
I had no concept or idea of the impact it would have on my okāsan.
Okāsan was genuinely sad at my departure but this was unnoticed by me, even overlooked, as I dealt with my own uncertainty: I doubted our closeness because it was not guaranteed or reaffirmed in the way I expected. For me, a departing hug signified a less cutting separation and symbol of our ‗physical‘ connection; for okāsan, there was no need for this presentation or expression. She seemed to feel the connection regardless.
This feeling stayed with me throughout my undergraduate days. Eventually I decided to undertake an Honours1 degree in which I researched emotion and Japanese
‗expressions of love‘. However, my approach was constrained by a Eurocentric-
Western view where love and intimacy were often measured through physical and verbal expressions such as ‗handholding‘ and ‗I love you‘. In order to understand the experience of intimacy in another cultural context, it was necessary that I suspend my beliefs and judgments of what pertained to an actual ‗intimate‘ relationship. I needed to find meaning in the experience of intimacy that was not locatable in defined or finite presentation or expression, for, surely, okāsan did express intimacy, though not in a way I could detect. My research then developed into a PhD on ‗intimacy‘ in Japanese marital and parent-child relationships. During several fieldtrips to Japan, the following
1 In the Australian University system, an Honours degree is an additional year (like Masters) where students undertake a combination of advanced coursework as well as a research project/thesis.
5 key scenarios have remained emblazoned on my memory, not only as cultural misunderstandings, but as examples of the issues that inspire this thesis.
Vignette Two: A Nude Awakening
A friend, Kiyomi, and I went to onsen (hot springs) just out from Mt Fuji in 2002. It had taken me some time to become comfortable and accustomed to co-bathing rituals; I could not understand the seeming lack of ‗touch‘ in close relationships, yet a naked association and bodily engagement existed in the bath which often involved certain forms of touch (such as, massage). It was that particular day that I became even more curious about the value of onsen, the nature of intimacy in this context, and what it signified for other contexts.
We sat and lay together in the rotemburo (open-air, outdoor bath), the water temperature approximately about 45°C, in -5°C surroundings, talking about her relationship with her soon-to-be-husband. It was all so unexpected when she leant over and grabbed my very naked body and hugged me. I was stunned. I could not understand why this dear friend would avoid hugging me when I said goodbye every time I returned to Australia, and then, there we were, completely naked in the water, and she found that a suitable occasion to be so ‗physically‘ close. I found it difficult to feel the so-called warmth, familiarity or relaxation that was associated with co-bathing and skinship. Instead, I was consumed with the fact that her breasts were pressed up against mine, and there was no shield of clothes to ‗protect‘ me. I was conscious of my naked body and Kiyomi‘s naked body, and the forms of touch she was comfortably exhibiting in the bath compared with outside. For me, the bath (and our naked bodies) still signified a sexualised level with which I was uncomfortable, while Kiyomi seemed
6 more caught up with being-together in a beautiful setting where our relationship was primary, not our nakedness. It was almost as though she could not see our nakedness, which I found difficult to ignore.
Vignette Three: An Undetectable Filled Space
Walking alongside another friend outside Shinjuku station one afternoon, we noticed a male and female in their late teens/early twenties walking in front of us. They were walking about an arm-length apart. My friend was commenting on how they seemed like such a kakko ii (good looking) and naka ga ii (close) couple. I had not at any point considered them to be a couple. I asked my friend how she could recognise their status, and her response was: ―It is obvious. Can‘t you see the way they are walking together, and the space between them (in the middle of them)? Can‘t you see how rabu rabu (in love/‗lovey dovey‘) they are?‖ Needless to say, I could not detect any form of intimacy between them. There was no physical or tactile contact, nor were there any looks exchanged. Of course, my friend might have been mistaken because we never actually asked them if they were ‗together‘. However, there seemed to be something about the space between them that my friend could detect and that I could not. It was becoming clearer to me that I was assuming intimacy was expressed primarily in visible, physical forms of touch. Because this relationship ‗lacked‘ these forms, I saw nothing, whereas she saw a space that was energised.
This distinction became more apparent when I pointed to another young couple who were holding hands and pecking lips and each other‘s necks while onlookers watched in disdain. I asked, ―They are a couple, right?‖ And she responded with, ―Yes, but they
7 are a bakappuru‖ (an idiot couple)2. There seemed to be an underlying annoyance towards those who engaged in such public displays of affection whereas there was a respect for more subtle connotations of intimacy. Those subtle forms of intimacy seemed to carry much more significance than the ‗open‘, ‗overt‘ ones. Furthermore, these overt forms of touch were often equated with sexual experience. On numerous occasions, I was informed that Westerners must be engaging in hatsutaiken (first age sexual experience) at a very young age as they show visible signs of their closeness through hugging, kissing and holding hands.
Vignette Four: The Bakappuru that was I…Almost
In the midst of my fieldwork in 2005, my partner, Daniel, my father, and a friend came to visit me in Japan. My host family invited us all to a nearby yaki niku (Korean-style
BBQ) restaurant. As I was incredibly conscious of these attitudes towards bakappuru, I avoided any displays of physical affection with Daniel. Upon leaving, my host parents and I trailed behind the others. They commented on what a lovely couple we made and how we would be happy in our married life (kekkon seikatsu). They both seemed quite sad and nostalgic, as if my marriage the following June would signify a shift in our family relations. As we continued to walk together, otōsan commented that Daniel and
I were very rabu rabu. Although rabu rabu in Vignette Four seemed to be detectable through the space between the couple, otōsan‘s reference to rabu rabu seemed to be signified through the visibility of our interaction (such as sitting close together, or
Daniel‘s arm around me). I questioned whether I had offended them and if the extent of our rabu rabu behaviour reflected a bakappuru. Otōsan and okāsan laughed and
2 These discourses of bakappuru have since appeared in magazines where it shows articles on young people aspiring to be an ―idiot couple‖ as a sort of deviant group in society (Egg, January, 2002).
8 otōsan responded in the following way: ―You didn‘t offend us. And the fact that you are getting married, we know it is a serious relationship. But we also know that you can‘t feel love in other ways because you are not Japanese. So we know that it is necessary for you to hug each other.‖
Although otōsan‟s comment reflects hegemonic discourses of Japanese uniqueness, it also suggested a significant point. His statement that I couldn‘t ―feel love in other ways‖ alluded to the fact that in his relationship with okāsan, there must be other
―ways‖ of communicating love that explain why hugs and physical contact are rendered unnecessary. This became even more profound when we visited relatives towards the end of my field trip.
Vignette Five: Families Farewelling like Strangers
I attended a family reunion with my host family and my otōsan‟s relatives in Nagoya.
About four families traveled from my host parent‘s hometown, Nīgata, to enjoy two days of onsen and catch-up altogether. Such a reunion for these families was quite unusual: they had not seen each other altogether for many years. We enjoyed onsen and dinner the first day and night and then headed out the next day to sightsee altogether. It is important to note that I had little trouble communicating with these relatives. Although I had not yet acquired a firm grasp of Nīgata-ben (dialect), the fact that otōsan and okāsan were originally from Nīgata meant that I had become accustomed to certain expressions and dialect. Furthermore, the lack of formality and use of everyday speech with these relatives helped overcome any communication problems. That is perhaps why I found the following situation difficult to overcome: it
9 was not necessarily a language barrier which prevented me from understanding the following dynamics and exchange.
Before heading off to each location, we would gather by the cars to discuss the next destination. After our visit to the local well-known temple, we once again gathered outside our cars. Everyone commented that they were hungry, and then said a quick
―jya-nee‖ (―see you later‖, which also implies an immediacy of ―see you soon‖) and we headed off. When my host father pulled the car over at a nearby restaurant, I looked around expecting the other cars to arrive soon after. Eventually I followed my host family inside and, when they ordered, I asked, ―Shouldn‘t we wait for the others to arrive?‖ They laughed at me and said, ―We already said our goodbyes. Didn‘t you?‖
I remember feeling so embarrassed as though I had completely misunderstood the language exchange which had taken place. But after playing and re-playing the scene over and over in my mind, I realised that there were much more complex issues at play here which contributed to my misunderstanding the situation. I did not realise that it was a final farewell for numerous reasons. These reasons are primarily shaped by my background and possibly the way in which I farewell relatives whom I won‘t see again for some time, possibly years.
There were issues of temporality, space, and calculation here. It seems that I expected a prolonged goodbye which might be signified by a substantial length of time, with an appropriate display of space and proximity. But what actually signifies substantial and propriety in this case? And isn‘t this quite a calculated way of looking at something which is simply a ―see you soon‖?
10
It made me consider what actually substantiates a goodbye. Even if not culturally determined, a goodbye is certainly influenced by traditional or cultural greeting-type.
For me, a prolonged, close-in-proximity hug would have represented ‗family-ness‘ and the sadness in not seeing the familiar other for a long time. They are, after all, ‗family‘.
Shouldn‘t family embrace and linger around, farewelling, bidding each other well, until they are satisfied that they can farewell no longer? This is the similar sentiment from
Vignette One with okāsan, where the closeness was not guaranteed or reaffirmed in the expression or presentation of the farewell.
It is precisely in the expectation for presentation and expression where this misunderstanding lies. There seems to be something completely different happening here. Maybe there is no reason to farewell in this way at all. Perhaps such a display is unnecessary for it is inherently or subtly communicated through the ‗see you later/soon‘, the parting glance, or the space felt between them. Also, if the farewell kiss or hug is mandatory, expected, or sought after, doesn‘t that take away the possibilities for intimacy? This brings forward the contradiction manifest in the case of the uncle‘s cousins‘ family friend who I always had to go and kiss at family functions. This does not reflect a ‗close‘ relationship, but was an action undertaken for the sake of protocol.
My predetermined ideas of intimacy were certainly impacting on my ideas of how a
Japanese family should say goodbye and how a couple or friends should behave in that relationship. I was grounded in the assumption that what I could see must demonstrate how they feel; but the point is that I did not know how they feel. Nor could I detect any feelings of intimacy. I was aware only of what I could term ‗distance‘. In all the cases
11 – the hug in the onsen, the rabu rabu couple walking down the street, the farewell to my okāsan, and their relatives - I was unaware of a thick, inhabited space between people, which enabled feelings of intimacy and closeness. I seemed attuned only with visible displays, understanding intimacy in a physical and finite way: you should greet and act in accordance with specific displays of intimacy.
However, just because these displays are physical does not mean that they are intimate.
For example, hugging the almost-stranger out of protocol is not a manifestation of intimacy; rather, the physical body is separated from feelings and possibilities for intimacy. This then reflects Cartesian assumptions where the body is separated from the mind. For the hug or kiss to be meaningful in the first place, there requires more than just the physical body of the hugger or the person being hugged. Just because those exchanging the hug might seem close, it does not mean the space between them is truly inhabited or lived. It seemed as though I was looking at intimacy in a ‗close‘ versus ‗distance‘ opposition that was grounded in Euclidean notions of dimensionised time and space. In other words, intimacy was defined and almost measured by a stopwatch (such as a prolonged goodbye) or a ruler (such as the distance between a couple). There was no attempt to understand the feelings or lived experience of intimacy in these relationships.
Perceptual Differences
The above vignettes suggest a key insight on the Japanese experiences of intimacy as well as my own judgments. I expected people to show their feelings to one another in ways with which I was familiar. Such an expressive model is reliant on situational context where certain expressions were expected in some, but not other, contexts. This
12 model sought a visibly detectable ‗closeness‘ between people and anything counter to this was perceived (by me) to have no space for intimacy. This became clear in
Vignette Two when Kiyomi hugged me in the bath. I expected, in fact sought for, a hug outside the bath, when we were clothed; not inside the bath where we were naked
(and I felt vulnerable).
Kiyomi‘s bath hug felt too close for me; as it was, I was distancing my naked body from hers. The irony of this too-close physical proximity for someone who usually enjoyed hugs and physical closeness in non-bath contexts, suggests that this vulnerability existed in our very different meanings of nakedness. For Kiyomi, the bath seemed to provide her with an ―air of easy, comfortable sociability‖ (Clark 1994: 9).
Perhaps she felt more closely connected to me because of the ―closeness‖,
―communication and bonding‖ experienced in co-bathing (Clark 1994: 112). This feeling is profound here as there seems to be a state of connection and relationality specific to this context. Furthermore, perhaps this state of connection and relationality is possible in other ways outside the bath, suggesting that the close hug would have been unnecessary for okāsan (Vignette One) because she still felt connected with me regardless.
This expressive model, and the expectation that feelings should be shown, requires particular attention. Although intimacy might seem to exist in an ‗expression‘, there is actually an alienation brought about by showing feelings. That is, there are assumptions of individual consciousness and identity, reinstating a subject who is showing the feeling. For example, I expected the members of my host family and their relatives to farewell one another in a certain way (Vignette Five). Anything contrary to that meant
13 that each individual had not expressed themselves clearly or effectively, contributing to my not even realising that they had said their ‗proper‘ goodbyes. However, this expressive model puts emphasis on the actions and intentions of subjects, thereby undermining the apparent claim about intimate relations.
The space between the couple in the street, to me, lacked intimacy (Vignette Three). I regarded them as separate subjects because they were not showing their feelings in ways that were noticeable to me. Yet they did not seem to be concerned with the space between them, nor was my friend. They all seemed to be able to detect a space that I could not. This presents the underlying Euclidean time-space assumptions I held about the dimensions and calculations for the closeness of a ‗close‘ relationship. They appeared to be distant, and certainly not indicative of the naka ga ii relationship with which my friend associated them. I required the feelings shown to represent small-
Euclidean distance, such as physical closeness, and long-Euclidean time, such as hands held for prolonged periods of time measurable in minutes or hours.
However, closeness, as it emerged in all vignettes, is not reflected in the space around one subject and the space around another subject coming into small-Euclidean-distance.
Instead, how the space between them is inhabited, and the feelings in this space, seems much more significant. Moreover, such feelings were not located in the individual subjectivity of my host mother who didn‘t hug me, or the family members from the reunion who didn‘t make a charade of ―I am going to miss you‖ in their farewells.
There seemed to be an openness between them that involved more than subjects and their separate bodies. There seemed to be a tangible connection between them that I just could not detect and was not adhering to the expressive model. I was focused on
14 physical parts of container bodies being touched or close, when really, it seemed that the feeling happening here was not located in subjectivity or body. Instead, the feeling seemed to happen in the space between them. The above scenarios suggest that feeling is not locatable in Euclidean terms.
The tangibility of this space is relevant not only to everyday Japanese intimacy but to the common discourses readily associated with Japanese relationships. For example, my Honours findings presented an emphasis on discourses of Japanese intuition, silence and non-verbal communication (Adis 2003). Physical or verbal forms were rendered unnecessary by interviewed and surveyed couples (both married and unmarried). Instead, the mutual understanding that existed in Vignettes Three and Five was reflected in responses such as: ―We don‘t have to say how we feel. Our partner or family member understands it without us having to say or show it‖; ―Because we are
Japanese, we understand each other‘s feelings‖; ―It is embarrassing to put those around you (mawari no hito) in a situation where you ‗enter your own world‘ with your partner and have no care for them‖. This usually highlighted theories and assumptions of Japanese uniqueness where ittaikan (feelings of one body), ishin denshin (heart-to- heart communication), and isshin dōtai (one body and mind) eliminate the need for physical and verbal expressions.
Such discourses of Japaneseness also challenge the existence of depth or connection in non-Japanese intimacy. They even extend to criticising non-Japanese (typically
Western) behaviours, associating holding hands and any displays of affection with a lack of attunement with a partner‘s ‗real‘ feelings. In some cases, it was claimed that
Westerners obviously ‗need‘ to hear words or be shown certain physical displays of
15 affection because they don‘t have the ability to detect intimacy any other way
(Vignette Four and Otōsan‘s comment that we ―can‘t feel love in other ways‖). The assumption was that these non-Japanese do not have the ―Japanese‖ capabilities of ishin denshin, isshin dōtai or ittaikan, and they therefore cannot understand their partner‘s feelings without direct verbalisation or physicality. Just as I entered the relationship as a subject, expecting the expressive model in each scenario, they often entered the relationship with predetermined ideas of what it was to be Japanese and what it was to be non-Japanese (such as, Otōsan‘s comment in Vignette Four and equating physical displays of affection with sex in Vignette Three).
The warm feelings in ittaikan, ishin denshin and isshin dōtai assume that feelings are mutually felt and understood. However, research on Japanese relationships is often generalising and un-connected with everyday ‗lived‘ experiences of intimacy, that is, the phenomenological or felt meanings experienced, filling people with feelings of intimacy. Often, studies which seek to explore Japanese relationships or intimacy as a topic of research are largely within cross-cultural research (Rothbaum, Pott, Azuma,
Miyake, and Wiesz 2000; Rothbaum, Rosen, Ujiie, Uchida 2002; Seki, Matsumoto and
Imahori 2002; Barnlund 1975) or with the West as a comparative point (Lebra, 1978,
1984, 2004; Iwao, 1993; Tanaka, 1984). This already presents limitations in understanding intimacy within a Japanese context as studies are often loaded with an
―imposed etic‖3 (generally from a Western perspective) of what pertains to intimacy.
Such imposed etics often fail to take into account the everyday lived experiences of how intimacy happens and is felt. An understanding of this feeling will help unpack the
3 Seki et al (2002) note that items of intimacy have typically been generated from translations of an existing instrument (often from the perspective of the U.S.) or adjustments to them. What something means in one culture might differ greatly from what it might mean in another (Seki et al. 2002: 304).
16 intimate spaces possible in relationships and overcome the misunderstandings in the above mentioned Vignettes.
Discourses of Japanese relationships often highlight nonverbal categories such as intuition, indirectness and expressionless (Lebra 1976; Iwao 1993; Barnlund 1975; Doi
1973). On the one hand, these categories presume too much, so that researchers do not think to explore how intimacy is actually felt and experienced in such real relationships.
On the other hand, if we explore references to these categories within a relational context, we might be able to make more subtle analyses of people‘s more subtle ways of communicating. Furthermore, we might be in a better position to explore the continuities and differences between Japanese and other forms of intimacy, without forcing these reductively into the two categories of Japanese and non-Japanese.
This tangible connection includes a state of relationality that opens up different ways of understanding the above Vignettes. For example, the fact that my farewell with okāsan was hug-less does not necessarily imply a ‗lack‘ in our relationship. Perhaps she did not require a hug because our closeness was felt in other ways. This also offers different ways of looking at the naka ga ii (close/intimate) couple walking in Shinjuku.
The space between the couple (Vignette Three), between okāsan and I (Vignette One), and between the family (Vignette Five), is tangible and tactile but not necessarily manifest in physically locatable forms.
Need for the Study
This study examines the tangible connection between Japanese parent-child relationships. When the child is young, Japanese parent-child relationships, particularly
17 mother-child relationships, are grounded in bodily endearment (Lebra 2004), prolonged physical proximity (Rothbaum et al. 2000) and skinship, a Japanese neologism based on the two English morphemes ‗skin‘ and ‗-ship‘, which is often paraphrased as ‗intimacy through touch‘ (Lebra 2004; Ben-Ari 1997). These states of closeness are often achieved via body practices such as co-sleeping (Ben-Ari 1996,
1997, 2005; Tanaka 1984; Caudill and Plath 1986) and co-bathing rituals (Clark 1995;
Lebra 1976, 2004). As the child grows older, however, these rituals and ways of achieving closeness change. Specifically, skinship and bodily endearment are said to exist prior to the child beginning school (Lebra 2004; Ben-Ari 1996, 1997, 2005), when relations of dependency between caretakers and children are strengthened through the abovementioned childrearing practices (Doi 1973). However, as the child grows older, these practices cease. Little attention has been paid to why this cessation occurs, how it occurs, or what replaces the younger forms of closeness.
Various accounts of Japanese relationships refer to subtle forms of intimacy, such as ishin denshin, ittaikan and isshin dōtai, that connect people, including parent and child.
However, it is unclear how such forms manifest feelings of closeness. There seems to be a relational space and tangible connection that develops in parent-child relationships that is not just felt in the body. This study attempts to unpack this relational space and tangible connection in parent-child relations with more conceptual care. Drawing on alternative theories of embodiment, this study pays attention to the felt meanings of intimacy. The touching and intimate spaces in the Japanese family are not contained by separate subjects, bodies or selves, but opens up possibilities for a tangible connection that emphasises feeling.
18 Purposes of the Study
There are three purposes to this study. The first is to investigate touch in Japanese parent-child relationships. The second purpose is to investigate the depth and space in these relationships which enable the development of bodily intimacy. The third purpose is to challenge assumptions that touch is based on the physical, finite body and to explore feeling in tangible connection.
The Research Questions
To explore the above three purposes of the study, I have developed three research questions: two questions are specifically related to Purposes One and Two, while the third question is related to Purpose Three.
1. What do patterns of bodily intimacy reveal about Japanese ways of being in
families (including parent-child, marital, and teacher-child relationships as an
extension of the home)?
2. How does the Japanese child find ways of belonging in the world when bodily
intimacy apparently ‗ceases‘ after a certain age and the tangible connection is
felt differently?
3. How does a non-Cartesian ontology allow for a deeper understanding of bodily
intimacy within a Japanese cultural context as well as more universal
applications?
The Significance and Positioning of this Study
This study is cross-disciplinary and explores experiences of touch as they exist in the
Japanese family, particularly in the context of parent-child relationships. In the field of
Japanese Studies, certain body or touch terms are used to refer to the intimacy and
19 contact possible through the body. For example, skinship refers to intimacy through touch while hada to hada no fureai refers to skin-to-skin contact. These states are often contextualised with body practices such as co-sleeping and co-bathing, and refer to the possibilities for closeness and intimacy via the body (Clark 1995; Ben-Ari 1996, 1997,
2005; Lebra 1976, 2005; Tanaka 1984). Although touch is referred to within the context of ―intimate caresses‖, the ―transfer of body heat‖ and a ―cosy warmth‖ (Ben-
Ari 1996), it is necessary to further explore these experiences to understand how touch via skinship and hada to hada no fureai might manifest intimacy in the first place.
The very etymology of the terms, skinship and hada to hada no fureai, suggest that touch is located in the body or the ―skin‖ (hada) of separate people. For these forms to provide feelings of intimacy, however, there is something deeper than just the body (or skin) of one subject and the body (or skin) of another subject. This study is the first of its kind to explore the felt meanings of skinship, hada to hada no fureai and other discourses of closeness (i.e. ishin denshin). I intend to further explore the cosy warmth possible in these bodily experiences of skinship by bringing forward alternative discourses of embodiment.
Although this study was driven by Japanese Studies, as the analysis progressed, it became clear that there was no clear paradigm for understanding felt experiences of touch in the literature on Japanese Studies. Even though touch is referred to, particularly in the context of body practices, it is not clear how touch manifests intimacy between people. It was therefore necessary to examine touch via certain sociological tools that are both dependent on, as well as independent to, a Japanese cultural context. The underlying conceptual significance of this study then is its
20 exploration of the conceptual possibilities of touch as a manifestation of intimacy that is not contained to or located in the finite and physical body. This study develops a theory of touch that draws on Japanese sociologies of the body as well as other sociological tools that are not only relevant to everyday Japanese experiences but also offer universal contributions to the understandings of the body and how touch can be intimate.
Using phenomenology to understand the relational space between the Japanese family and the felt meanings of intimacy, this study introduces a touching at depth. This depth opens up non-locatable possibilities for the experience of touch and intimacy. Rather than touch being defined in physical, visible forms, or Euclidean spatial closeness, there is an embodied experience and tangible connection in intimacy that draws out a
―sensuous interrelationship of body-mind-environment‖ (Howes 2005: 7). I want to show that this tangible connection and embodied experience between Japanese parent and child depends on how space is inhabited. This offers implications for the significance of the body and touch in Japanese parent-child relationships as well as other relational contexts.
This cross-disciplinary approach opens possibilities for understanding the felt meanings associated with skinship, hada to hada no fureai, ishin denshin, and so on.
The theory of touch developed is critical of Cartesian mind-body separations that often underly Western sociology, even sociologies of the body that claim to be non-Cartesian.
The Cartesian approach presumes a subject, an individual consciousness, in an alienated and surfaced body. Non-Cartesian understandings of the body, on the other hand, dislocate feeling and tangibility, so that the body is not just a conduit, and so that
21 connection is something deeper than just the body of one subject and the body of another subject. There is a meeting that happens through a depth and all-encompassing space that cannot be located in terms of a mind in a spatially distinct body. If explored with conceptual care, this touching at depth changes familiar ways social theory thinks about body, mind, environment, objects, heart, subjects, spirit, self and so on. Instead of assuming a world of finite subjects and objects, it becomes possible to appreciate the non-finite reality of relations. Relations are real yet are not things in Euclidean space or linear time, and not based on subjects contained in bodies.
In short, drawing on theorists within phenomenology, this study explores embodied experience and tangible connection in the intimate spaces of the Japanese home
(parent-child, marital) and the world (i.e. hoikuen, teacher-child). It describes a relational experience of space, depth and touch that is beyond the scope of conventional theories of subjects and objects.
Theoretical Underpinnings
This study is grounded by a theoretical framework which assumes that intimate touch involves a meeting which is not contained in separate subjects or physical, finite bodies.
In order to distinguish touch as an intimate and therefore relational encounter, and touch as a non-intimate and therefore non-relational experience, I will first turn for help to the work of Martin Buber.
Separate Subjects; Connected Beings
Buber‘s distinction between identity and relationality, based on two relational orientations, distinguishes between the space where potential for meeting is hindered, and the space in which intimacy happens. He calls these relational orientations I-It and
22 I-You (I-Thou in an earlier translation) respectively. His argument is our lives take place in both these states, which rely on each other. We do not, cannot, make I-You states occur; they happen, they befall us, but they also leave us to return to I-It states.
When theoretical assumptions of individual consciousness locate touch in the body of subject, there is a non-relational experience defined by a logic of identity. This
‗identity logic‘ is characterised by objectification, control and separation of people. I strives to know It finitely, making It into an object. This attempt to exhaust It into what the I ‗knows‘ ends up alienating both I and It, turning them into separate contained and identified entities. There is no room for who the person really is, for the world of I-It consists of things, desire, purpose and calculations. This is an empty relationship.
Touch, in these relationships, is loaded with self-consciousness and subjectivity. I touches the other (It) to achieve a certain state, just as I sought a hug to achieve closeness with okāsan. However, such a seeking, purposeful tension eliminates possibilities for meeting and intimacy. In converting the other into an It, a means to an end, the I is unable to experience the whole difference of the other.
Identity logic works to break down significant questions into easy-to-understand categories and themes. Yet these categories overlook the importance of larger conceptual issues. For example, Giddens categorises intimacy in ways that uncritically assume self and identity. Intimacy, for Giddens (1992), reflects exclusivity, a conscious striving to achieve a relationship or state of relationship. Like others,
Giddens has categorised love into the following categories: romantic (Giddens1992;
Singer 1984), sexual (Giddens 1992; Singer 1984), courtly (Singer 1984) and confluent
(Giddens 1992). Each category carries with it loaded expectations and guidelines of
23 what that ‗type‘ of relationship should entail. Jamison (1999: 477) states that Giddens‘ rhetoric of the ‗pure relationship‘ ―feeds on and into a therapeutic discourse that individualises personal problems and down-grades sociological explanations.‖ It is not the feeling between them that is important but the active seeking to achieve individual aims that take precedence.
Intimacy becomes self-fulfilling: ―knowing the traits of the other‖ (Giddens 1992: 63) or the categories that define ―each party‖ becomes central. Subjectivity and self- consciousness seem to underly pure relationships.
It [a pure relationship] refers to a situation where a social relation is entered
into for its own sake, for what can be derived by each person from a sustained
association with another; and which is continued only in so far as it is thought
by both parties to deliver enough satisfaction for each individual to stay within
it. (Giddens 1992:58)
For Giddens, confluent love exists when separate entities join together based on certain characteristics and personality traits. The relationship thus becomes conditional upon individual fulfillment and satisfaction, suggesting that love and intimacy arise from subjectivity and self-consciousness. I will argue, through Buber, that such a logic is actually conceptually very different from real intimacy. Purpose and rational actions, that are contingent upon what a subject gets from an other, take away the feel of intimacy that would otherwise occur in a meeting between people.
This feel of intimacy is possible in I-Thou relations where there are not separate subjects but a meeting between ―whole and active beings‖ (Buber 1958). Such a
24 meeting is based on a relational logic that includes states of connection and being implicated in and through one another. I-Thou are not separate identified subjects
(subject-subject) or subject-addressing-object. They find meaning through their relationship. The potential of I mixes with the potential of Thou in meeting. Such a meeting is reciprocal, responsive and participatory: they are implicated and connected, becoming a mixed relational being. The relation has a life that is not reducible to the lives of subjects. Characterised by sameness and difference at once, the meeting of I-
Thou does not include a conscious striving to find fulfillment and satisfaction. There are no borders but there is also no ‗merging‘. The undefined and infinite core of I becomes present to You in a meeting of spontaneity, as I and You participate and become present through their reciprocal relation. For Giddens, it is the striving for sameness, satisfaction and fulfillment (for self) which makes the other into an object
(It). In I-Thou, however, there is respect and a capacity to feel difference as well as sameness.
In meeting, our qualities are not defined (i.e. finite) but take the form of potential in being. In the uncalculated and unselfconscious ‗filled presence‘, boundaries of who each person is are blurred. Touch simply happens through this connection. It is not a meeting of separate subjects or bodies but a new, mixed, inclusive body that happens through relation. There is a sort of infinitude where there are no definable people or objects or places. There is a kind of everywhere-ness where everyone is in relation, implicated and touching, yet there is also respect for the unique (but undefinable) difference that each participation makes to the whole. I does not touch You to achieve a certain state. Through a depth and all-encompassing space, touching happens between them, in a non-Euclidean space. In the very calculations made through
25 categories of confluence, sexual and physical, we lose the feel for what intimacy really is. In meeting, however, there are no calculations or constraints; there is no attempt to control-the-unfolding-occurrence. There is at once a sense of stillness and a sense of life unfolding (without any one having to make this happen).
Touching Bodies
One way to understand the feel of intimacy is through ‗touch‘. However, understanding of touch too is often limited by the conceptual language used, and by certain assumed ideas. Touch has been viewed in various ways (Josipovici 1996; Montagu 1986) but rarely do these works detail what touch actually is, how it feels, and how touch can be a manifestation of intimacy. Instead, touch is referred to as physical contact, tactile communication, and bodily contact. However, these terms restrict touch to the finite, located matter, the physical body. Such physical forms of touch are categorised and closeted; there is a rational actor/body, a toucher and touchee, a cause-effect.
‗Physical‘ and ‗tactile‘ forms are used in a mechanical way to achieve a certain state.
For example, I touch your body, you touch mine. Subject and agency are separate and immersed in the identity logic that disables any possibility for intimacy. There is no potential for connection and relationality in touch as this ‗type‘ of touch is a rational, known, social, passive or active action, contained within a framework of the body that is separate and split from anything else. However, touch as a manifestation of intimacy is not physical or from the ‗body‘; what is overlooked is the spontaneity and feel of touch that is intimacy.
The very word ‗body‘ poses conceptual problems in the first place. ‗The body‘ implies an entity, individual or subject: my body, your body, his body, her body, that body.
26 ‗Bodies‘ are simply there: ―a thing I dwell in‖ (Merleau-Ponty 1964a: 166). The body has been viewed in various disciplines as socially constructed, meaning that the body is seen as a social phenomena or outcome of social forces; or naturalistic, where the body is a biological base upon which arises the superstructure of society (Shilling 1993: 16).
These views are often manifested in those assumptions of a mind-body split which view the ‗body‘ as an entity. And bodies as entities cannot really touch. These bodies are separate and contained in their own identity. There cannot be a connection of
‗bodies‘ as only bits of the body can touch at any one time. When ‗bits‘ of a body attempt to touch another ‗bit‘ of a body, these bodies are only separate entities desirous of completing themselves by getting what they want from the other. They will never be whole, for a body on its own, as an entity, is un-alive, a thing. Touch does not happen purely through the proximity of matter. For a connection to occur there is something deeper in touch than just the finite, identified body. There is a meeting and connection between people that enables possibilities for a touching at depth.
This touching at depth experience includes infinite possibilities in the lived body.
When people connect with other people, objects and their environment, they feel a wholeness, a potential, a connectedness, that isn‘t located, and isn‘t finite. This study draws on two philosophers who draw out this sense of connected corporeality, Maurice
Merleau-Ponty and Hiroshi Ichikawa. They talk of bodies in terms of, respectively,
―flesh‖ and ―mi.‖ In order to understand the potential of the lived body and dislocate mind-body dichotomies, both Merleau-Ponty and Ichikawa phenomenologically develop ideas that include the space around and between body and mind through flesh and mi.
27 For Merleau-Ponty, body in its wholeness is conceived as flesh. The flesh of the person is connected to and implicated in the world where a hand, for example, ―takes its place among the things it touches, is in a sense one of them, opens finally upon a tangible being of which it is a part‖ (Merleau-Ponty 1968: 176). Flesh finds meaning through participation, an intrinsic connection or ―real contact‖ (Cataldi 1993: 62), and in this sense it is not, strictly speaking, accurate to talk of the body. In this connection, there is a spatial difference making touch possible; that is, two sides of the same or different bodies are different but yet in each other, in touch. This spatial difference is what makes proximity through touch possible: without these different sides of touch
(touching-being touched) there would be no touch because there would be no distinction. But, crucially, these differences cannot be spatially identified. There is difference as hand-touches-hand, but you cannot say, in real contact, which hand is which.
It is the reversible relation between bodies that makes this spatial difference possible
(Merleau-Ponty 1968). In the flesh ontology, this reversible relation occurs where
―every perception is doubled perception‖ (Merleau-Ponty 1968: 264). There is a circularity that blurs body-world boundaries. A ―mutual mingling‖ (O‘Loughlin 1995) occurs as people participate in and through one another. They are no longer separate or distinct bodies but a different body that includes the experience of others. Touch happens in flesh, the body touches through flesh, intimacy finds meaning because of flesh. Indeed, the body is the vehicle through which touch can occur but it is flesh that connects and makes proximity through difference, and intimacy, possible.
28 Ichikawa‘s concept of ―mi‖ ascribes a similar depth to flesh, including the body but not restricted to or contained by it. For Ichikawa, the body is not an entity but a ―relational existence between the other and self‖ (Ozawa-de Silva 2002: 6). The word mi is typically translated as body, but deliberately has not been translated here. To refer to
Ichikawa‘s concept of mi simply as ‗body‘ attributes mi to the physicality of the finite body, and disregards the depth that mi includes.
Mi refers to the body as a potential whole and moves beyond the fixed idea of the body as finite and physical and ―enclosed in the skin‖ (Ozawa-de Silva 2002: 8). In mi, there is an infinite (all-encompassing, whole, not-contained) space that includes body, mind, heart (spirit), self, relationality, and whole existence, including that which is attached to mi (i.e. garments or belongings of the body).4 Similar to the flesh ontology, the understanding of the depth and space of mi helps us move beyond the body as finite and physical to a state of ecological connectedness that includes much more. In this state of relationality, just as we become implicated in flesh and meeting, we become a different mi in relation with other people, ―hito no mi ni naru‖ (Ichikawa 1993: 91).5 In terms of perceiving self through another, Ichikawa also incorporates the notion of reversibilities: ―I am both the subject that is doing the touching as well as the object that is being touched‖ (Ozawa-de Silva 2002: 6). In other words, mi breaks down the
4 For a succinct description of the meanings of the word mi, see Ozawa-de Silva (2002: 27-28) who describes the 14 different meanings of mi, including dead flesh, living flesh and so on. 5 This can be directly translated as ―to become another person‘s mi‖ but refers to the relational equation of 中心化 (chūshinka; centralise mi) to 非中心化 (hichūshinka; decentralise in relation to another person‘s mi) to 再中心化 (saichūshinka; re-centralise mi but mi has changed because of the relationship with other mi). This relational equation refers to the dynamic changing nature of mi when mi becomes implicated, internalised, and positioned in another person‘s mi. Although this relational equation requires further exploration, it is beyond the scope of this thesis and is necessary to first apply mi to a localised context.
29 binary opposition of subject or object, and reveals a different ontology that includes subject and object.
The all-encompassing space in both mi and flesh are useful conceptual tools in understanding Japanese patterns of intimacy and the embodied experience possible in concepts such as skinship, hada to hada no fureai and subtle forms such as ishin denshin. Furthermore, examining the felt meanings of intimacy helps to open up different ways of understanding Japanese relationships, as seen in the abovementioned vignettes. In most cases, it is suggestive that there are forms of intimacy and closeness that are not necessarily visible but are, nonetheless, felt. Understanding the lived body in a relational and ecological context helps to open up the experiences of intimacy and touch in Japanese relationships.
By dislocating the dichotomy of mind-body, the depth in flesh and mi find meaning in the whole. This wholeness includes the person, not as exchanging individuals but as parts of relationship, through their participation with the world. The whole person and relationship cannot be measured, contained or reduced to a series of objects or static shapes or shades. Merleau-Ponty and Ichikawa extend our understanding of whole/person even further: in the lived body there is experience beyond self- consciousness. There is no rational actor or subject but the participation of another person in touch that ―comes about through the total experience of living and acting in space‖ (Montagu 1986: 14). In that whole and undefined ‗life‘, there is potential for real intimacy and meeting. This notion of whole will be explained more concretely in the context of the embodied experience of flesh and mi in rituals of intimacy in parent- child, as well as cases in marital and teacher-child relationships.
30
If we return to Vignette One, we can see that okāsan did not hug me because our meeting (or farewell) included much more than just our bodies. For me, our bodies were subject-centred where I intentionally sought a hug. For okāsan, there was a filled space between us that included our hearts, bodies, minds, as well as previous meetings, which left the finite physical form unnecessary and paltry in some ways. But this space and feeling was undetected by me because my anxiety made me self-centred and therefore inattentive to what was present. I desired some predicted outcome and so couldn‘t be present to what was happening, there and then.
Organisation of the Thesis
This thesis is divided into three sections with two main analytical sections. Broadly speaking, Part One introduces the key concepts and theories driving the study, along with the Literature Review (Chapter Two) and Methodology (Chapter Three). Part
Two explores how touch is manifest in the home and how these forms of touch impact on parent-child and marital relationships. Chapter Four, the first data analysis chapter, specifically explores the different forms of touch according to father-child and mother- child relationships. Chapter Five examines the way in which this space is inhabited in the family in the context of relational and identity logics. Co-sleeping is the site through which this is analysed and specific attention is paid to the intimate, or non- intimate, spaces in marital relationships.
Part Three describes the changing nature of bodily intimacy with the child as he/she begins to live simultaneously in the world and the home. Using a hoikuen (daycare centre) as a case study, Chapter Six explores how certain forms of touch are manifest
31 in a formal institution as an extension from the home. Furthermore, this chapter shows how the hoikuen helps prepare the child for future transitions, particularly in the absence of body forms of touch. Chapter Seven explores how the child finds ways of belonging in the world when there are changes in the space the child once inhabited through certain forms of touch. Empirical findings are analysed in dialogue with relevant theories to further develop the sensuous lived experience of intimacy. The final data analysis chapter, Chapter Eight, examines the weaning process for parents and children and the rationalisations for such a cessation of touch. Dominating rationales exist with an overarching reality that fits with principles of Japanese identity, but reaffirms a sense of belonging via a touching at depth.
Summary
This chapter has introduced the study in various ways, first through personal stories and experiences and then through the critical concepts in, and theoretical underpinnings of, the study. Such concepts show the fundamental issues at stake in analyses of touch in an intimate context, and provide a basis for the following chapter, on the Japanese familial context.
32 CHAPTER TWO: LITERATURE REVIEW
Introduction
This chapter firstly considers key ideas in the understanding of Japanese relationships.
In particular, the family is explored as the main relational context. Parent-child and marital relationships are examined, as well as the dynamics between them, leading to the suggestion that a conceptual understanding of embodiment will add to such literature. Secondly, this embodied experience is analysed within the context of theories of Japanese selfhood. Discourses of the shifting and relational Japanese self help to mark out the dynamics and space between people. It is suggested that a phenomenological assessment of these experiences helps to open up these shifting and relational states. Finally, alternative theories of embodiment are explored, presenting the scholarly tools that will be drawn on throughout the subsequent chapters. These tools offer further implications for Japanese relationships, and the intimate spaces between them, as well as opening up more universal themes regarding the felt meanings of intimacy.
The Varieties of Japanese Relational Experiences
According to common idealised notions of Japanese relationships, the Japanese are
―expressionless‖ (Matsumoto 1996) and ―indirect‖ (Iwao 1993; Barnlund 1975). It is also said that, putting feelings into words is a sign, for the familiar Japanese other, that these feelings are not necessarily deep or sincere (Barnlund 1975; Lebra 1976). The emphasis is on more subtle forms of communication (such as ishin denshin and isshin dōtai) where the listener is expected to be able to infer feelings (Clancy 1986; Doi
1974). In almost all cases, it is suggested that what is not said is as important, if not more important, as what is said. Thus we find that for Kumagai, for example, Japan‘s
33 racial and ethnic homogeneity has contributed to a ―mode of non-expressive, ‗high- context‘ communication in which the spoken word is often less important than nonverbal communication skills‖ (1996: 10). Silence is considered a ―powerful non- verbal communicative‖ device that is ―available when meaningfully filled with action‖
(Kohn, 2004: 169).6 This ―desirability‖ for silence is ―coupled with the moral belief that silence is a sign of honesty and trustworthiness‖ (Lebra, 1976: 28).
Over the past three decades, however, there has been an increase in works that bring the above assumptions of relationships and communication into question. There have been several attempts by particular authors to move beyond categorisations of direct/indirect and to provide less exoticised ways of looking at Japanese communication and intimate relationships. For example, Sturtz (2002) and Smith (1999,
2004) challenge traditional paradigms of Japanese communication, particularly within the context of intimate relationships. Sturtz challenges accounts of Japanese men as
―silent‖ and stereotypes of the Japanese man‘s ―unemotional, self-restrained exterior‖
(2002: 51) by showing that Japanese men‘s language style is in fact more similar to women than has previously been assumed. Similarly, Smith (1999, 2004) presents data which challenges traditional paradigms of communication and relationships. Romance fiction, the medium7 through which Smith finds narratives of successful love, explores how Japanese couples communicate in their intimate relationships. Her analysis shows that the particular Japanese couple in the romance fiction does in fact engage in direct
6 Using the martial arts, aikido, as her site of reference, Kohn states that ―one‘s body cannot ‗listen‘ carefully to ‗contact‘ with other bodies during practice if speech is being interpreted at the same time‖ (2004: 169). 7 Music is another medium through which intimate communication has been examined. For example, Yano (2002) and Occhi (2000) have investigated the ways in which people may express their emotions through forms of musical performance, for example, Enka (romantic popular songs).
34 verbal communication and expressions of love. Although Smith recognises that romance fiction might only be a small aspect of understanding how love and marriage is construed in contemporary Japanese society, it nonetheless brings forward important ideas and findings which challenge traditional stereotypes of Japanese relationships as non-verbal and indirect.
Seki, Matsumoto and Imahori (2002: 305) suggest that Japanese conceptualisations of intimacy ―involve a greater number of emotions, feelings, and role understandings and appreciations rather than tangible behavioural manifestations‖. That is, communication might encompass more ―intangible‖ feelings.8 Rothbaum, Pott, Azuma, Miyake and
Weisz (2000) refer to the concept of ―accommodation‖ in their analysis of close
Japanese relationships, suggesting that Japanese relationships are not necessarily indirect but constantly accommodating themselves to others. Their concept of accommodation includes the notion of ―empathy‖ (Rothbaum et al. 2000: 1122) which is also commonly considered important in Japanese relationships. The quality of empathy includes being sensitive to and considerate of another‘s thoughts, feelings and views (Nagashima 1973; Lebra 1976; Tobin, Wu and Davidson 1989).
Such views might sometimes be used to reinforce discourses of Japanese uniqueness
(or nihonjinron), to represent hegemonic ideology such as homogeneity, harmony, and consensus (Befu 2001; Sugimoto 2003). However, various authors ‗unwrap‘ the more subtle qualities in a larger, relational context. For example, Hendry (1993) does this through the concept of ―wrapping‖, exploring the variety of ways that wrapping itself
8 It is interesting to note here that Seki et al (2002) associate tangible with finite.
35 can provide fundamental insights into communication. Drawing on wrapping as a cultural pattern, she uses the layers of wrapping of a gift to signify the deeper meaning of the actual gift. It is often how the gift is wrapped and the care taken in its layers and presentation that is significant. She associates similar patterns in wrapping with language, the body, social relations and space. Wrapping, for Hendry, is an indirect way of revealing a certain state or way of being. What might actually appear to be distance or formalism is actually wrapped in significant non-verbal codes of communication that carry a deeper meaning.9
Matsumoto (1996) also explores potential misunderstandings in communication through maintaining the importance of emotions in Japan. He posits that common misunderstandings regarding emotional expression need to be considered within the context of display rules. He states that there are certain social rules regarding emotions that are established and maintained in Japanese society. Although the existence of these rules might allude to the belief that ―the Japanese people are relatively emotionless people‖, Matsumoto notes the importance of emotion in Japan, while insisting that it needs to be seen within its appropriate context (1996: 4). Matsumoto concludes that it is wrong to believe that emotion is repressed in Japanese society: rather, display rules form a mutual understanding of what is deemed (in)appropriate behaviour.
This does not mean that intimate relationships are not experienced or felt in other ways.
Although there are still references to the Japanese as ―lacking‖ words of endearment
9 For example, Hendry (1993: 64) refers to enryō, consideration, which can refer to care and distance at the same time.
36 and being ―inhibited‖ from bodily affection (Lebra 2004: 75-76), there are also references to other forms of relationality that imply intimacy. For example, there is increasing literature on the way in which interpersonal communication has changed with the types of media surrounding people, in particular, the mobile phone. For example, Takahashi (2007a, 2007b) notes that mobile phones act as accelerators in the
―stages of intimacy‖ for Japanese adolescents in terms of content and frequency of contact. Kotani (2004) also notes that Japanese youth are largely connected to people through the media (such as mobile phones and email), while Ackermann (2004: 72) suggests that mobile phones (either for email or telephoning) bring about a new kind of communication and networks to establish identity.10
Literature in a Japanese familial context provides interesting insights and possibilities for intimacy in other relational contexts. Sharing the different forms and manifestations of intimacy helps to open up the ―meanings and dynamics‖11 relevant to Japanese relationships in a larger context.
The Japanese Family
Literature on the modern Japanese family includes various works that examine marital and parent-child relationships. Firstly I address the literature on marital relationships and the main discourses and attitudes associated with marriage in contemporary Japan.
Secondly I focus on parent-child relationships with particular emphasis on the specific
10 See also Yano and Katsuno (2002) who look at kaomoji (face marks) to personalise texts. 11 Rothbaum et al (2000: 1123) highlight cultural difference by moving beyond the ―importance and strength of expressions‖ and instead look at the ―meanings and dynamics‖ of relationships. Although their research on close relationships is conducted in a cross-cultural context (i.e. U.S.-Japan), they recognise the dangers associated with an ‗expressive model‘. That is, the degree of intimacy or ‗closeness‘ in relationships does not depend on the type of expression (which would emphasise the actions and intentions of separate subjects); instead, the meanings and dynamics of a relational encounter would include more than that which is visible and easily detected.
37 literature on mother-child and father-child relationships. Before exploring these relationships, however, an important note needs to be made about the concept of the
Japanese family as a whole, which impacts on any potential distinction between marital or parent-child relationships as separate dyads.
The basis of the contemporary Japanese family rests upon the feudal concept of ie
(Kumagai 1996), which attaches importance to ―family pedigree, lineage, and consanguinity‖ (Sugimoto 2003: 170), and which reduce the woman‘s role to a subordinate position (Wakita 1993).12 The ie, as a corporate body, ―owns household property, carries on a family business, and emphasises the continuity of the family line and family business over generations‖ (Ochiai 1994). Otherwise known as a ―stem family‖ (Ochiai 1994: 59; Kumagai 1996: 16), the ie includes only one child continuing to live with his or her parents after marriage.13
For Nakane, the ie is not the equivalent of ―family‖: ―household‖ is closer to the conception ―since it includes all co-residents and is not necessarily restricted only to the members of a family‖ (Nakane 1967:1). Furthermore, this concept of ie as household incorporates that which is ―normally formed by, or around, the nucleus of an elementary family, and may include relatives and non-relatives other than these immediate family members‖ (Nakane 1967:1).
12 Wakita (1993) explores the formation of the ie in the medieval era to determine whether the relegation of the woman in the home leads to the subordination of women. She refers to the system where the wife was brought into the household (yometori, lit. taking a bride). This patriarchal unit included a husband and wife where the wife comes to live with her husband and all children born of the marriage with them. This does not reflect a new home together but one conditional upon the husband. 13 The child that remains with his or her family is usually the chōnan (eldest brother) (or in some cases, the chōjo (eldest sister)) who ―succeeds to the headship of the corporate body‖ (Ochiai 1994: 59), that is, the ie. Usually the parents have great expectations for the chōnan but, in some cases, might extend this expectation to a younger son, or sibling, particularly if the eldest son has not met their expectations (Kondo 1990; Hendry 1981).
38
Although the functions of the ie have changed over time, the stem family structure and the cohabitation of extended families indicates the survival of the ie system (Sugimoto
2003; Kumagai 1996). It is often noted that family values seem to override conjugal importance. However, the associated values and practices are changing as three- generation houses include more independent lifestyles of all members, even for elderly members who might still cohabitate. These values are ―not concomitant with the traditional stem family system‖ (Kumagai 1996: 20).
In contrast to the stem family structure is the nuclear family, or kaku kazoku. The nuclearisation of the Japanese family has been accentuated by the increase of newlyweds moving out of the family home into their own dwelling (Kumagai 1996;
Ochiai 1994). This has come with an improved status of women and more equal sharing between the marital couple. Nonetheless, there are still certain characteristics between husband and wife that still exist from previously held attitudes associated with the ie. Most pertinent is that a secure model of the conjugal relationship may be relatively less important than a secure model of the family relationship, which may include grandparents, ancestors, along with the nuclear family (Rothbaum et al 2002:
338). This needs to be considered in the context of the literature on both marital and parent-child relationships: there is a centredness on the Japanese parent-child relationship with a ―correlative deemphasis‖ on the conjugal pair (Caudill and Plath
1986: 247).
39 Marital Relationships
The voluminous literature on marriage in Japan includes works relating to gender
(Shimizu and Levine 2001; Jolivet 1997), and to changing patterns in marriage14 (Iwao
1993; Lebra 1976, 1984; Hendry 1981; Blood 1967; Kelsky 1989, 2001a, 2001b), but particularly relevant to my discussion is the literature focusing on attitudes, intimacy and communication within marriages (such as Lebra 1984, 2004; Iwao 1993; White
1997; Jolivet 1997).
Literature on Japanese marriages commonly ascribes a lack of importance to the conjugal relationship. Although this lack is often grounded in East-West dichotomies and imposed etics, it nonetheless contributes to discourses on marriage that emphasise the perceived restraints on communication and intimacy, and the low significance of husband-wife companionship (Blood 1967). Blood notes that part of this problem is semantic, that is, ―there is no word for marital companionship – which may be one reason why [our] couples list it last among the potential values of marriage‖ (1967: 71).
More recent literature notes changing attitudes towards marriage, which includes discussions on the nyū famiri- (the new family). This new family is thought of ―as focused on a marriage between two sexually and emotionally bonded people‖ rather than a ―precondition for procreational and economic family building‖ (White 2002: 77).
However, even in recent discussions, Japanese couples are referred to as unpassionate.
For example, Iwao notes that Japanese couples hold ―pragmatic, nonromantic views of married life‖ which are not subject to ―whims of passion‖ (1993: 93), while Lebra
14 This shift includes various elements, for example, marriage at a later age, more ren‟ai (love) marriages (as opposed to omiai, arranged, marriages), and an increase in interracial marriages.
40 (1987, 2004) refers to the lack of emotional and sexual closeness between the conjugal pair.15 Irrespective of marriage type (whether arranged, omiai, or love marriages, ren‟ai), marriage in Japan is represented by ―suppressed intimacy‖ and ―estrangement‖
(Lebra 1984).
This ‗lack‘ in the husband-wife relationship is further reinforced in literature as the parent-child relationship, ―the main axis‖ (White 2002: 48) of the family, takes precedence. Generally this is grounded in discussions on child-centredness (kodomo chūshin) that is largely associated with mother-child relationships. For example, Lebra
(1984) found that her interviewees rarely commented on their emotional attachment to their husbands but would readily emphasise their attachment and devotion to their children. Due to this emphasis on the parent-child relationship, the tie between husband and wife is seen as ―fragile without the motivating presence of children‖ (White 2002:
89).
This fragile bond is said to be reinforced by a lack of communication and interaction
(Iwao 1993; Lebra 1976, 2004). Iwao (1993: 78) posits that:
The relationship between a Japanese husband and wife is almost too distant,
with too little sharing; in a sense, the two parties are too far apart for collision
to occur.
Husband and wife appear to live independently where there is no mutual sharing or intimacy. This is further reinforced through popular discussions of kentaiki and
15 Discussions on sexual dissatisfaction in Japan are rapidly drawing on discursive labels such as sexlessness as a fundamental problem in Japanese marriages (Yoshihiro 1994; Ataka 1995; Yoshimura 2002; Kamayama 2004).
41 kateinai rikkon. Kentaiki refers to a sense of growing tired in marriage (Mathews 1996) while kateinai rikkon refers to an ―‗in-house divorce‘ in which spouses have almost nothing to do with each other and may even live separately‖ (White 2002: 88). Lunsing
(2001: 184) notes that, in kateinai rikkon, the ―emotional and romantic relationship between…a couple have been suspended‖. However, if we take into account the above literature of Japanese marital relationships, it is possible to suggest that there is not a suspension of the emotional and romantic relationship as this may never have existed in the first place.
Various literature on the Japanese family refers to the husband‘s presence as unnecessary and almost-inconsequential. For example, Lebra (2004: 82) refers to
―overburdened women‖ who have given their husbands the ―nickname sodaigomi, meaning a huge pile of waste that they would just as soon do away with, if possible‖.
Salamon (1986: 136) also refers to wives who accept ―a relationship where both she and her husband view him as a ‗lodger‘ in their home‖. These attitudes towards husbands seem underlying in various works on marriage and are associated with marital dissatisfaction, particularly for women. The ―social contract‖ of marriage16 is now associated with different social phenomena where marriage seems to be avoided altogether. For example, people are marrying at a later age, the birth rate is declining, and there has been an increase of parasaito singaru. ―Parasite singles‖ is a term introduced by Yamada (2000) that refers to the phenomenon of children staying at home with their parents until a much later age.
16 Dale (1986) refers to the tradition of arranged marriages as a social contract, however, this contract seems prevalent in love marriages as well. For example, there is an expectation and exchange logic manifest in marriage (i.e. what will I get out of this) that certainly evokes similar tensions with a social contract.
42
There are also ―romantic illusions‖ of women that do not include marriage and children altogether (White 2002: 100). According to Nagase (2006: 45), women associate
―single life with liberty‖ and want to ―enjoy single life for some time before getting married.‖ Marriage and childrearing are increasingly considered a pressure, with women still being forced to quit work once married or pregnant. In an attempt to avoid such pressures, some desire to travel overseas (akogare) in searching of romance
(Kelsky 1993, 2001a). These, along with the parasite single phenomenon, all contribute to the current lax attitudes towards marriage and childbirth.
Although the above discussion of marriage highlights emotional and sexual dissatisfaction and disengagement in marriage, there is also certain literature that seems to contradict this seeming state of separation and ―instability‖ in marriages. The stability of marital relationships is related to the complementarity in roles, successful rearing of children, and participation in wider kin ties (Imamura 1987; Iwao 1993;
Vogel 1996). Marriage is considered to complete a person, as seen in the Japanese term ichininmae, which refers to becoming a whole person once married (Iwao 1993;
Hamabata 1990).
In contradistinction with the passionless, sexless and emotionless marriages mentioned above (page 40), the same authors also refer to a closeness and connectedness in
Japanese marriages. For example, Iwao refers to marital couples as ―two people [who] can tacitly and effortlessly depend upon each other and be totally at ease with one another‖ (1993: 77). Furthermore, Lebra (2004: 89) notes that ―the mutual aloofness of husband and wife…is not necessarily a sign of estrangement‖. The ease and effortless
43 dependency within these relationships create a tension with the apparent ―distance‖,
―suppressed intimacy‖, and ―estrangement‖ that exists.
Furthermore, discourses relating to intuition are also present in the literature on
Japanese marital relationships (and, familial relationships more generally). Expressions of love ―sound strange when used within the family, as they suggest a distance between family members, a denial of the taken-for-grantedness and mutual interdependency that is highly valued in family life and close friendships‖ (Tobin 1992: 37). For the conjugal relationship, understanding ―attained without words is more precious than that attained through precise articulation‖ (Iwao 1993: 98). Other authors have similar undertones: words are perceived to be paltry signifiers compared to reading subtle signs, signals or having an intuitive grasp of a partner‘s feelings (Lebra 1976).
There is an ontological issue at play here. If one expects to hear something or needs something to be spoken, there is a subject, agency and purpose. On the other hand, there are endearments that might be said without agency, need or purpose, or might be felt voicelessly. Conceptual care is required to explore the felt meanings behind these connections and experiences. A phenomenological approach will contribute to opening up such issues of proximity or closeness through apparent ―distance‖ and
―estrangement‖. Otherwise, Japanese marriage and communication are brought to a
‗superior‘ level that assumes mutual understanding and intuition without understanding the intimate spaces between them. For example, ishin denshin (heart-to-heart communication), isshin dōtai (one mind/body), and ittaikan (feelings of oneness), often refer to the nonverbal intuitive capabilities a marriage (or other relational context) might have. However, often the significance of the experience or feeling is overlooked.
44 It is unclear how people become connected in these ways (via body, heart, and mind).
Rather than viewing these as categories or prototypes, it is important to explore their experiences in a relational context. Therefore, the marriage that is ―too far for collision to occur‖ yet is also ―at ease‖ will make more cultural sense as attention will be given to understanding different ways of being connected.
Amae, the desire to be indulged (Doi 1973), is also seen as a characteristic of marital relationships. Amae is considered to be ―telepathic, pre-linguistic, and does not need the medium of language‖ (Doi 1986:138). Such feelings of amae develop within the context of marriage as a husband and wife come to depend on each other without the need for verbal expressions of desires or needs. Dale (1986), however, criticises the elasticity of the concept of amae since ―it may explain, and simultaneously mystify, everything Japanese‖ (1986:137). Salamon examines teishu kampaku (male chauvinism) as an expression of amae where women cope with such behaviours of teishu kampaku and still indulge their husbands. Lebra (1978) refers to amae in terms of around-his-body care whereby women do everything around their husbands‘ body
(i.e. dressing him). Although both Lebra and Salamon state that many women might complain about this constant attention-demand by their husbands, ―they also betray their enjoyment of being so unquestionably indispensable‖ (Lebra 1978: 39). Amae, hence, might be a manifestation of intimacy but a phenomenological understanding of its implications might help open up the felt experience of amae and how it manifests feelings of intimacy.
The above discussions of marriage present an underlying tension. The distance between the couple might not actually be a separation but a filled inhabited space that
45 connects them. According to Tanaka, conjugal love ―develops ‗naturally‘ as the couple grow old together and share many experiences‖ (1984: 231). Lebra (1976) also refers to this as love through ―cohabitation‖. It seems that more attention on lived experiences might help to open up these seeming contradictions. The relative ―deemphasis‖ on the conjugal couple (Caudill and Plath 1986), or, kodomo chūshin, for example, might not exclude certain members of the family but might extend beyond the marital relationship (fūfu) while also including them.
Through the voices and examples of my participants, I will draw out the ways in which intimacy exists in the life of the family. Certain experiences and feelings are not just relevant to a marital context. In fact, certain states of relationality (i.e. empathy, consideration, ishin denshin) are considered to be the premise of all Japanese relationships. The meanings ascribed to certain marital contexts can also be applied to parent-child relationships, helping draw out intimate experiences in a larger familial context.
Parent-Child Relationships
This section explores discussions on mother-child and father-child relationships.
Literature on parent-child relationships in Japan is often grounded in the centrality of the mother (Lebra 2004; Notter 2002), and in various contexts, the absence of the father (Nakatani 2006). Lebra‘s ethnographic observations suggest that ―the basic intimacy bond…for urban middle-class families of contemporary Japan is between mother and child, such that ‗parenting‘ means mothering‖ (2004: 67). Notter also emphasises the mother-child relationship as a ―sacred dyad‖: the domestic order, he
46 notes, revolves around a sacred dyad that is motherhood and by extension the mother- child dyad (2002: 62).
Maternal love and authority have been seen as almost timeless conditions for Japanese families. This image often involves ―a mother who devotedly and lovingly raises children‖ (Niwa 1993: 80). Viewing this within an historical context, however, we see that such an ideology is actually only 80 years old, based on Meiji ideology (Niwa
1993: 80). The role of parenthood, particularly motherhood, has had a much more complex history than summed up by the usual discourses of motherhood, such as ryōsai kembo (good wife, wise mother), kyoiku mama (education mothers) and kosodatte mama (mothers who raise their children), which emphasise the proper and expected role for mothers (Niwa 1993; Lebra 1984; Goldstein-Gidoni 2005).
Onna Daigaku (the ‗Greater Learning for Women‘) is an ethical treatise geared exclusively at women. Circulated by the beginning of the modern era, Onna Daigaku was written by Kaibara Ekken and focused on ―rules of propriety‖: particularly wifely duty and the ―customs of antiquity‖.17 Niwa notes however that motherhood is not even mentioned in Onna Daigaku. In fact, Notter (2002: 96) states that the word bosei itself appeared between 1900 and 1910 as a new word coined to translate the word
―motherhood‖. Otherwise, Onna Daigaku referred to women as unfit ―to raise children since they tend to be carried away by their love‖. They were therefore, ―ill suited as
17 For more, see extracts of Onna Daigaku (Chamberlain 1905): ―from her earliest youth, a girl should observe the line of demarcation separating women from men; and never, even for an instant, should she be allowed to see or hear the slightest impropriety. The customs of antiquity did not allow men and women to sit in the same apartment, to keep their wearing-apparel in the same place, to bathe in the same place or to transmit to each other directly from hand to hand. A woman going abroad at night must in all cases carry a lighted lantern; and (not to speak of strangers) she must observe a certain distance in her intercourse even with her husband and with her brothers‖ (Chamberlain 1905: 503).
47 educators and caretakers of the children who were the future heirs of the all-important household (ie)‖ (Niwa 1993: 72). Women were seen as procreative vehicles and if unsuccessful could easily be discarded; they were ―nothing more than a mechanism to deliver babies‖ (Niwa 1993: 73).18
The Meiji era involved various changes for the roles of women (Niwa 1993; Smith
1987). Educational background was seen to have a profound influence on the development of a child, thus ―education mothers‖ became a model of motherhood endorsed by the state. In order to further heighten the role of mothers, ‗female education‘ became promoted under a new slogan, ryōsai kembo.19 This concept was introduced and institutionalised in the Japanese state rhetoric during the late Meiji, early Taisho periods (Chalmers 2002). Smith notes that this slogan does not represent
Confucian principles but is instead, ―the Japanese version of the nineteenth-century
Western cult of female domesticity-a direct borrowing of the 1880s and 1890s‖ (1987:
7).
Ryōsai kembo refers to a woman who ―serves the state by attending to her husband well and raising her child wisely‖ (Niwa 1993: 75).20 Concepts such as ‗maternal love‘ and manuals on how to rear children became widespread and began impacting on various social levels (i.e. women‘s employment and advancement, pressure to quit after
18 It is in this context that the term ‗borrowed womb‘ is ubiquitous. 19 The term has since been promoted ―vigorously by male politicians who define women as domestic managers of households and nurturers of children‖ (Goldstein-Gidoni 2005: 163). 20 Niwa further notes that ryōsai kembo conflates two originally contradictory perceptions of women: the traditional definition of women as seen in onna daigaku, on one hand, and the western notion of sexual egalitarianism and ‗educating mothers‘ on the other (1993: 75).
48 child birth, inequity in compensation) (Niwa 1993). Furthermore, caring became considered to be an ―inherently feminine characteristic‖ (Chalmers 2002: 20)
Although the stereotype of good wife wise mother was opposed in the 1920s
(Chalmers 2002), attitudes towards motherhood still reflect such an ideology. This is often represented through the mother-child bond (Doi 1973; Caudill and Weinstein
1969; Tobin 1992), which is said to provide the Japanese housewife with her purpose in life, her ikigai (Vogel 1978; Sasagawa 2006). Such a ―purpose‖ is motivated by institutional ideals such as kyoiku mama and kodomo chūshin, reinforcing discourses of middle-class motherhood and remnants of ryōsai kembo. These discourses of motherhood symbolise devotion to children and self-sacrifice (Sasagawa 2006: 131).
Many women ―unquestionably‖ accept childcare as ―mothers work‖ (Nakatani 2006:
100). Neglect of these roles ―is inexcusable not only in the eyes of society but also in the mind of the mother herself, because the role of mother defines her‖ (Rice 2001: 86).
Jolivet (1997) refers to the social stigma attached to sending children to crèche: crèche- children ―are children to be pitied because their mothers have abandoned them in order to satisfy their personal and selfish ambitions‖ (Jolivet 1997: 34). Jolivet also refers to
Hirai Nobuyoshi, who criticises the proliferation of working mothers who send their children to crèche. Hirai (cited in Jolivet 1997: 104) accuses these mothers of being
―irresponsible‖, not loving, and no longer knowing how to fulfill their roles as mothers.
Jolivet (1997: 105) states that this reflects a determination to bring mothers back to the home full-time, or at least part-time, to their children. She refers to authorities and childrearing manuals that emphasise a ―proper‖ mother‘s fulltime devotion, and a
49 ―good‖ mother‘s self-sacrifice for her child. Bottle feeding and other tasks that ―make a mother‘s job easier‖ (Sasagawa 2006: 131), are also highly criticised by such authors.
There are other realities contributing to the pressures associated with motherhood in
Japan. These are often related to demographic change and urbanisation, separating
―women from kinship networks and the growth of the nuclear family‖ which isolates women to ―tiny nuclear houses‖ (Sasagawa 2006: 130). This isolation of mothers and their children is becoming more prevalent: a problem which confines them to their high-rise apartments without speaking to anyone for days (Jolivet 1997). Young mothers who rear their babies in urban areas are ―isolated from their relatives…without psychological support from their husbands, close friends, and neighbours‖ (Kojima
1986: 128). In many cases, this results in ikuji (child-rearing) neurosis (Kojima 1986:
127). Expected to be ―good‖ mothers with maternal instincts, an increasing number of mothers apparently feel they cannot live up to the expectations of those around them.
Kojima notes that, ―it is almost always mothers, not fathers, who suffer from child- rearing neurosis, since it is still the mother who assumes all the responsibility of child- care and education in Japan‖ (1986: 128). Social support, in the form of community- based classes, is offered for women and childrearing. There is also a move towards improving attitudes towards fatherhood, so that the emphasis is not just on the ―proper‖ mother.
Literature on Japanese mother-child relations often refers to the ties developed through bodily interaction (Lebra 1976, 2004; Caudill and Plath 1986; Rothbaum et al. 2002) and dependency (Doi 1973; Kumagai 1981). Specifically, two ways in which a mother
‗uniquely‘ and ubiquitously interacts with her child are through ―prolonged physical
50 proximity‖ (Rothbaum 2002) and amae (Doi 1973; Kumagai 1981). These will both be further explored in Chapters Four and Eight in the context of parent-child relationships, predominantly in terms of the touching spaces between them.
Mother-child relationships are most readily associated with bodily endearment and physical proximity as achieved through certain body practices, including co-bathing and co-sleeping. Lebra (2004) explores intimacy through the various forms of physical closeness and body practices which aim to bring mother and child closer: not only through ―physical proximity but actual body contact, or what the Japanese call
‗skinship‘‖ (2004: 138). She draws largely on ―body endearment‖ in mother-child infancy practices such as co-bathing, co-sleeping, breastfeeding and onbu (carrying the child on the back). What I hope to contribute to the literature on bodily practices and skinship in parent-child relationships is to explore the ways in which bodily endearment and physical proximity become manifestations of intimacy. For example,
Lebra (2004) refers to body warmth and feelings of oneness possible in co-sleeping. I hope to enliven the understanding of experiences of ittaikan through discussions of embodiment and a phenomenological approach.
More attention has been paid towards women than men in the literature on marriage in parent-child relationships in Japan. Images and understandings of Japanese men remain limited (Roberson and Suzuki 2003: 6). Most literature surrounding contemporary
Japanese men is grounded in the ‗salaryman‘ doxa. Dasgupta (2000) posits that the ethics and values ascribed to a samurai have been transferred and re-implemented in a contemporary context of salaryman. Various references to fatherhood in Japan are manifest in discourses of chichioya fuzen [absent father] (Nakatani 2006), sodaigomi
51 [pile of waste] (Lebra 2004), father as mere ―lodger‖ (Salamon 1986) and
―insignificant co-resident‖ (Lebra 2004). It has been noted that many fathers ―prefer to decamp‖ on Sundays, often playing golf rather than spending time with their family.
Jolivet (1997) refers to the ―abandoned‖ wives of such men as ―golf widows‖. This replaces what was once called tennis or ―fishing widows.‖
Other men prefer to fill their life with leisure time, relaxing more at after-work activities than in their own home (Allison 1994). Allison (1994) refers to the corporate nightlife and the tendency for men to prefer to attend after-work functions instead of returning home. Although Allison notes that some men might attend these establishments unwillingly, the corporate groupist ideology seems to prevent salarymen from being able to relax at home. She suggests that this is because these men ―are constantly reminded of the problems and responsibilities of being a husband and father‖ (1994:37).
These sorts of phenomena suggest that many men avoid the home, and prefer to spend as little time as possible with their families. Based on statistical findings, it has been noted that fathers spend as little as 16 minutes per day with their child (Nakatani 2006).
Rice (2001: 90) states that ―the absent father is so much a reality of the Japanese family that the majority of the mothers surveyed have made it a custom to eat early dinner with their children and prepare another meal for their husbands who come home well after the children have gone to bed‖. Discourses of fatherlessness (Jolivet 1997) have been brought into question with an increased literature on men‘s studies which explores whether these occurrences are by choice or lack of alternative. Increasing
52 literature points to men who prefer to spend more time at home than their long working hours and after-work activities actually permit.
As a result, discourses of fatherhood and the actual practices are notably changing
(Mathews 2003; Ishii-Kuntz 2003; Nakatani 2006; Roberson and Suzuki 2003). Men are beginning to ―question their work-oriented lifestyle, and to search for a new balance in work and other, more personal elements in their lives‖ (Nakatani 2006: 96).
Recent works on masculinities also contributed to a need to further explore ―diverse‖ masculinities (Roberson 2003; Mathews 2003; Ishii-Kuntz 2003; Dasgupta 2000).
Roberson and Suzuki (2003: 9) note that it is important to understand men and masculinities in Japan in relation to ―historically hegemonic models‖ but that it is also important to be aware of ―historical reductionism and cultural essentialism‖.
The realities of father-child relationships are changing. Mathews (1997, 2003) and
Ishii-Kuntz (1993, 2003) both challenge previous representations of fathers and husbands as ―absent‖ and preferring to be not-home. Specifically, Ishii-Kuntz examines the ―family man‖ who actively participates in childcare and housework, as part of exploring how ―‗childcaring‘ fathers construct and maintain their masculinities‖
(2003:198). Mathews (1996) examines the concept of ikigai within the context of family and self. Mathews suggests that some men ―may seek to live for their families or for their dreams rather than for their work‖ (2003: 110). Younger fathers are now more ―willing‖ to participate in childrearing, even in infancy years (Kojima 1986;
Nakatani 2006). Nakatani (2006) refers to these men as ―nurturing fathers.‖ In
Chapters Four and Five, I hope to open up the intimate spaces for father-child
53 relationships, to show the ways in which ―childcaring‖ and ―nurturing fathers‖ do exist; their caring and nurturing ways might just differ to mothers.
The experiences of bodily intimacy in the Japanese family need to be considered in a larger relational context. To understand the different ways of being connected in parent-child and marital relationships, we need a framework for understanding the intimate spaces between them. The following section explores the ways in which alternative theories of embodiment contribute to a framework that understands touching spaces and ways of being connected in the Japanese family.
Touching Spaces: The Body, Self and Mi
Engaging with Self
The Japanese self has been described in terms of situationalism (Benedict 1946; Lebra
1976, 1994), empathy (Aida 1970), and dependency (Doi 1973). Furthermore, the
Japanese sense of self has been characterised as multiple, moving and relational
(Rosenberger 1989; Kondo 1990; Bachnik 1992a). There is an emphasis on being aware of others or, sekentei (Lebra 1976; Inoue 1977).
Lebra sees the socially defined Japanese self as only one of three ―levels‖ of self:
The social or ―interactional‖ self is at the basic level, where Japanese find
themselves most of the time; above this level is the ―inner‖ or reflexive self,
which centres around the kokoro (heart/mind) and engages in monologue, with
a leave of absence from dialogic involvement; at the highest level, there is the
―boundless‖ or chaotic self, where the boundary disappears between subject
54 and object, self and other, or the inner and outer self, so that both the social
and the inner self are upgraded into an empty self. (1994: 108, emphasis added)
Lebra‘s reference to the ―boundless‖ level of self is highly relevant to my discussion of touch and intimacy. There is a deep, unintegrated sense of connection where the boundary between self and other, and subject and object, disappear. However, it is the
―basic level‖ of interaction that has received most attention. For example, situational domains are constructed based on the intersection of dimensions of paired sets of terms such as uchi/soto (inside/outside), omote/ura (front/back), tatemae/honne (behaviour publicly appropriate/real feelings). Lebra recognises that this distinction ―perhaps characterises human culture in general, but it is essential in determining the way
Japanese people interact‖ (1976:112).
The boundaries of these ―Japanese spatial terms‖ (Lebra 2004) are, for Kondo,
[c]ontextually constructed, shifting, and therefore referentially empty; they are
not dualistic, essentialist categories. Using these terms invokes a complex series
of gradations along a scale of detachment and engagement, distance and
intimacy, formality and informality. (1990: 31)
According to Kondo (1990), the Japanese self is interrelated with others. Similar to
Lebra‘s notion of ―boundless‖ self, Kondo notes that the plurality of selves and their relationality blurs boundaries of self and society. She posits that ―you are not an ‗I‘ untouched by context, rather you are defined by the context‖ (1990: 29).
Bachnik (1994) positions the ―Japanese spatial terms‖ according to self and society, along a series of directional coordinates reflecting degrees of insideness and
55 outsideness. Rather than viewing self as a ―fixed‖ entity, Bachnik (1994) explores self through a ―cline of distance‖ from self to society (uchi to soto), exploring the relatedness between self and situation, and the general principles and patterns transcending context. In order to do this, she looks at the relationship between self and society at different fixed points. In this way, Bachnik views self as constantly shifting but at any moment self is identifiable at some point along the sliding scale, e.g. engaged, detached, spontaneous, disciplined: along this sliding scale, self is defined by shifting (Bachnik 1992a: 153). This shifting and moving between different modes is
―central to the organisation of self…initiated and defined at any given ‗point‘ along the sliding scale‖ (1992a: 159). This differs to the ―boundless‖ sense of self as it would not be clear or defined where self is at any given point, as there is an unintegrated, connected sense of relation.
The ability to shift ‗fluidly‘ between different modes is referred to as kejime. Previous work on kejime focuses on kejime as a major pedagogical focus in Japanese education, particularly preschools (i.e. Tobin 1992; Rosenberger 1992). Kejime includes the process of making distinctions: how much omote versus ura one wishes to convey:
―how much discipline, submission of self, or boundedness, and conversely how little emotion, self-expression, or spontaneity is appropriate in a given situation‖ (Bachnik
1992a: 159). A focus like kejime facilitates the overcoming of self/society dichotomies by relating self to society on an interactional level in relationships, which considers others and their feelings.
The aim is not to become separate and autonomous from others but to fit in with others, to become part of various interpersonal relationships (Markus and Kitayama 1994: 97).
56 Markus and Kitayama note that the ―goal is not individual awareness, experience, and expression, but rather, some attunement or alignment of one‘s reactions and actions with those of another‖ (1994: 102). In other words, the focus is not on ―self‖ but on the
―relation‖. However, there is a critical point here that needs to be made about this
―attunement or alignment‖ between people. If there is an emphasis on homogeneity or fitting in with others, then conceptually, there is no possibility for relation or attunement, as the focus is on self and separate subjects coming together or ―uniting‖.
When the relationship is primary and ―boundless‖, however, there is connection and engagement and difference.
Kelly (1991) analyses the theme of ―engagement‖ in the Japanese self as not just
―facial surface and body cavity‖. Instead, the ―commitment to fulfilling a role fully and the capacity to respond openly and wholly to others are both compelling idealisations of satisfying engagements‖ (Kelly 1991: 401) which also involves the self as an energy field (ki) and as a spiritual force (kokoro). Similarly, Kondo takes theories of selfhood to a level that incorporates ―kokoro, the heart, the seat of feeling and thought‖ (Kondo,
1990: 105):
[E]motions and energies cannot be left on their own, to focus on themselves,
lest the kokoro become intent on the expression of its own selfish desires, with
no thought for others. Indulgence and laxity would allow us to slip into the state
of wagamama, selfishness, the root of all negativity in human life. One must
find means to polish the kokoro, to heighten its sensitivity, to shape it into
magokoro, a sincere heart, or sunao na kokoro, a naïve, receptive, sensitive
heart.
57 Kondo argues that this concept of sensitive heart directs the energies of feeling towards
―constructing selves in human relationships‖ (Kondo 1990: 105). It is not a heart that indulges in its own desires but is sensitive, empathetic and considerate (omoiyari) to the ―needs of others‖ (Kondo 1990: 105). The opposite of the ―sensitive heart‖ includes characteristics such as ―someone who is self-indulgently anti-social, who allows egocentric quirks to disturb smooth social relations‖ (Kondo 1990: 105). A self that insists on separateness from human bonds is selfish (Long 2005: 382). Being engaged with others connects self with heart and feeling, and offers a way to explain the continuum between shifting Japanese selves with the world in a more embodied way.
Discourses on self and personhood have also been viewed from a religious perspective.
Long explores similarities in Buddhism and Confucianism, stating that ―self is located beyond the body‖ (2005: 382). This is not meant to be a transcendental relation but one that includes objects: for Buddhism, the ―true self‖ is the connectedness ―of all things‖
(Long 2005: 382). Self does not necessarily develop through others but also includes the state ―between‖ them. Similar to Buber‘s state of betweeness, Watsuji ―advocated the notion that the Japanese self was one of aidagara, or ‗the space between‘ individuals rather than located within an individual mind‖ (Long 2005: 383). Moving further into this phenomenological school of thought, Kojima (1998) notes that the experiences of self require a reciprocal relation with ―you‖. Japanese concepts of self thus cannot just be viewed in structuralist finite ways but can also benefit from understanding the feelings and space between people as well. The following theories of embodiment might help to open up the intimate spaces that exist in Japanese families, as well as add to the meaning of self in a Japanese context.
58 The Body and Being-Embodied
The emergence of alternative discourses on human embodiment that have arisen in
Japan, have created the conditions for rethinking Japanese experiences of intimacy.
Work on ‗the body‘ in Japan is generally based on Western (Cartesian) assumptions of the distinction between, and separation of, the mind and body. Such a distinction grounds bodies and selves as individual entities or social symbols, and there is no reference to ―feelings or physical qualities‖ (Ozawa-de Silva 2002: 21). This section explores the emerging field of embodiment and possibilities for understanding the feel of intimacy in Japanese relationships. The lack of a phenomenological understanding of everyday intimate experiences, however, illuminates the need for a reassessment of
Japanese relationships and the touching spaces between them.
Cartesian distinctions are particularly evident in scholarly papers on Japan in English, which focus on reproductive practices (Coleman 1991), the commodification of the body, including representations of the body and ‗body projects‘ (Clammer 1997; Miller
2000; 2003, 2004; Frustuck 2000; Ginsberg 2000), as well as the meanings of sexual imagery in media and art (Allison 2000; Lloyd 2002; Screech 2002; Bornoff 2002).
Specific body practices and projects suggest how individual bodies are worked, plucked and stretched (Miller 2003, 2004). Carefully calculated by the subject, the body becomes a commodity through these projects and aesthetic salons (Frustuck,
2000; Miller 2003). An example of this is seen through breast enlargement for women via ―bust-up‖ techniques (Miller 2003). In such projects, single body parts are chosen for improvements (Ginsberg 2000): the body and its ―parts‖ are isolated entities or things, under the judgment and surveillance of the self.
59 Alternative discourses of the body have arisen in contemporary Japanese literature as well as some English translations and commentaries on these works (Yuasa 1987,
1993; Ichikawa 1991, 1993; Nagatomo 1992; Ozawa-de Silva 2002). The emphasis on mind-body relations helps to overcome Cartesian assumptions of the distinction and separation of the mind and body. Offering an understanding of the body that includes a depth and space which implicates others, these theories of embodiment help to open up the quality of intimacy and touch between Japanese people.
There are two main Japanese theorists, Yasuo Yuasa and Ichikawa, whose theories of the body help to draw out lived experiences in a Japanese context. Capturing the dynamic and whole function of the lived and living body in relation to the body‘s environment (Nagatomo 1992: 60), Yuasa emphasises the importance of the
―inseparability and the oneness of the lived body-mind‖ (Nagatomo 1992: 67). For
Yuasa, ―bodily existence is included in the mode of being in the world‖ (Ozawa-de
Silva 2002: 30). Yuasa explores the ―Cartesian disjunctive mind-body dualism‖ through an energy phenomenon ki (Yuasa 1993: x). Ki-energy mediates between body and mind connecting and coordinating the two.
Ichikawa‘s work is predominantly drawn out in this thesis. Ichikawa‘s concept of the mind-body relation draws on the ―lived body‖ as the key (Ozawa-de Silva 2002;
Nagatomo 1992).21 In his book entitled, Seishin toshite no Shintai (The Body as Spirit),
Ichikawa claims a relationship between spirit and body by arguing, counter to
Cartesian dualism, that the body is spirit. Ichikawa does not reduce the body to spirit,
21 Turner incorporates the ―image of the social actor as an embodied being into social analysis‖, however Ichikawa and Yuasa deal with the concept of ―lived body‖ (Ozawa-de Silva 2002: 21-22).
60 but rather, phenomenologically describes the lived content of the human body
(Nagatomo 1992: 3). However, it is his book, Mi no kōzō: Shintairon wo koete
(Structure of mi: overcoming the theory of the body) (1993), that is used to draw out the following chapters. Ichikawa (1993) explores the body as potential whole, through the concept, mi. Mi reflects a similar depth to Merleau-Ponty‘s flesh but incorporates a multi-layered nature. Mi is not finite or physical; Ichikawa moves beyond the ―fixed idea that the body is enclosed within skin‖ (Ozawa-de Silva 2002: 27). In mi, there is an infinite space that includes body, mind, heart (spirit), self, relationality, and whole existence, including that which is attached to mi. For Ichikawa, ―the body is not an entity, but a relational existence between the other and the self‖ (Ozawa-de Silva 2002:
25).
In addition to Ichikawa and Yuasa, Nagatomo also examines the work of the Japanese
Buddhist thinker, Dōgen. Dōgen explores the concept of the body by returning to nature. Nagatomo finds similarities with Merleau-Ponty, stating that the underlying assumptions in Merleau-Pontian and Buddhist thought, regarding the human body, suggest that the body must be approached holistically (Nagatomo 1992: 83). For example, Dōgen states that the natural world and physical world share the same elements (such as Water and Fire). That is, the body and nature are inseparable.
Nagatomo and Ozawa De-Silva both note that although these theorists are Japanese, it is a mistake to infer that ―the subject matter, the concept of the body…is distinctively and uniquely Japanese‖ (Nagatomo 1992: xvii). Ozawa De-Silva notes that, Ichikawa, for example, does not attempt to bring mi into theories of Japanese uniqueness, rather, his ―concern is for semantic and conceptual clarification, and in fact promotes universal applicability‖ (2002: 27).
61
These alternative theories of embodiment help to unpack the dynamics and meanings ascribed to Japanese relationships. In particular, they provide the conceptual tools to understand certain lived experiences in intimacy, particularly, the experiences of the touching spaces between people. The body, as an individual entity, implies a lack of relatedness with other ‗bodies.‘ Only when the body is seen in its potential wholeness can we move beyond body-as-entity and see bodies in relation and the inhabited space between them. If we understand embodiment and the whole person, we can then unpack the way in which body forms of touch and certain body practices, such as co- bathing, co-sleeping, and onbu, can become a manifestation of intimacy.22
Phenomenological meanings of embodiment, intimacy and relational space will contribute to the development of a theory of touch, which will help us understand the experiences of intimacy in a Japanese familial context. For example, through such lenses of embodiment, experiences such as ―bodily endearment‖ and ―bodily warmth‖ can be further explored, which will help open up the meanings of the touching spaces between people. Ichikawa‘s conceptual tool, mi, is a useful way to approach Japanese body forms of intimacy and touching at depth, and might also highlight a universal logic on relationships and touch.
Summary
This chapter has examined the various literature surrounding Japanese marital and parent-child relationships. It has presented key theories of embodiment that will help
22 Alternatively, conceptualisations of relationships often assume people as rational thinking subjects with separate bodies and minds. If we understand embodiment and the whole person, then we can understand certain practices like co-bathing, co-sleeping, massage, are not so out-of-place or sexualised; the body is not necessarily objectified or desired. It is a part of the whole.
62 open up the touching spaces in the Japanese family, as well as demystify some common claims to Japanese uniqueness. These alternative discourses of embodiment will allow us to ask more specific empirical questions about certain relational forms in
Japanese intimate relationships. The following chapter addresses the field research of intimacy, suggesting that a phenomenological approach will help to provide a deep exploration of intimacy in Japanese families.
63 CHAPTER THREE: STUDY DESIGN AND METHODOLOGY
Introduction
This study seeks to understand the lived experience of bodily intimacy in Japanese families. Whereas the previous chapters have sketched the categories that produce assumptions about intimacy (that is, my own assumptions about the perceived visibility of intimacy in Chapter One; and assumptions about estrangement and distance in
Japanese Studies literature in Chapter Two), the examination now turns to a more specific investigation of my field research on intimacy in Japan.
To address the purposes of the study it was necessary to enter the field (Japan) and not only observe interactions between Japanese people but also hear, through their voices, experiences of intimacy. In order to understand the experiences of bodily intimacy in parent-child relationships, and to seek answers to the research questions (particularly
Research Questions 1 and 2: page 19), there were two other relational contexts examined in the field. Understanding attitudes towards marital relationships contributed to a deeper understanding about Japanese ways of being in families, while teacher-child relationships at a hoikuen helped to unpack the forms of touch in a place that, for some children, is an extension of the home.
One of the main challenges of fieldwork, and its associated genre ethnography, is to avoid the imposition of ―researcher assumptions‖ (Hammersley 1992: 11). The
Vignettes in Chapter One presented my assumptions and expectations regarding the presentation and expression of intimacy. However, augmented through observations, interviews and the use of informants (Kellehear 1993), being in the field (Japan)
64 enabled close engagement in daily life (Marcus and Fischer 1999), showing me, and therefore challenging, my assumptions about intimacy. Intimacy was felt between people; it just required a certain sort of sight to be open to these feelings.
To understand this experience of feeling intimacy, this study required a suspension of pre-existing beliefs to bring forward ―unnoticed possibilities‖ (van Manen 1990).
Phenomenology offers different understandings of the lived experience by breaking through ―taken-for-granted meaning in everyday life to call the reader to encounter the phenomenon in a new and fresh way‖ (Sharkey 2001: 18). Such a ―thickened description‖ permits the researcher ―to ‗see‘ the deeper significance or meaning structures, of the lived experience it describes‖ (van Manen 1990: 122).
Through participation, the researcher enters the field with an awareness that is significant. This awareness is vitally different to self-consciousness as it is manifest as a non-defensive attention to the researcher‘s own feelings and responses to a situation but is not loaded with the researcher‘s (self-conscious) identity. The intention is not to prescribe social ideology or imposed etics, nor is it to defend the researcher‘s knowingness. Instead, the researcher is open to notice and stay with the wonder and unknowingness that emerges through participation, enabling a respect for the participant‘s experience and ‗emic viewpoint‘ (Handwerker 2001; Kellehear 1993).
This chapter presents the different phases in the study design and methodology.
Research Design
The study aimed to investigate the lived experiences of bodily intimacy in parent-child relationships, with attention also paid to marital and teacher-child relationships. Table
65 One summarises the major phases of the research process as defined by the project and outcomes. The study was conducted in three separate locations in Japan: Tokyo, North-
East Honshu, and Western Honshu.23 Within each location, a range of activities were undertaken, including participant-observation and interviews (for a full list of what activity was conducted in which location, see Appendix One). Participation- observations were conducted at three central institutions: a Daycare Centre (hoikuen), a
Public Health Centre (hokenjo) and a Hospital (byōin). The main activity in each was to observe classes which included parent-child, marital, or teacher-child relationships.
A retired midwife, Yumi, helped establish my contacts and affiliations with these institutions.
The range of classes included pre-natal and post-natal classes, parenting consultations, sex education classes, and hoikuen classes. A full detailed description of classes is provided in Appendix Two. These classes were useful to observe the practices of intimacy as well as the discourses and materials associated with, and distributed in, each class. Furthermore, they contributed to my deepening understanding of the experience of bodily intimacy by allowing me to be part of (as well as an observer and object of) the experience and classes.
23 These locations were chosen for two main reasons. Firstly, limiting my analysis to one metropolitan context (i.e. Tokyo) would not necessarily provide an insight into the depth or variety of Japanese intimate experiences. I felt that a multi-site ethnography, which included both regional and metropolitan areas, would offer more diverse experiences of intimacy, and contribute to a less-generalised understanding of Japanese forms of touch and ways of being intimate. Secondly, through previous field experiences in Japan, I had established formal and informal ties with certain institutions and people. These institutions or contacts were located in these three main locations and helped to establish participant-observation classes as well as interviews. Through these contacts and institutions, I was able to develop ties with other contacts and institutions which opened up possibilities to obtain rich information on the lived experiences of intimacy.
66 From these classes, and through snowballing, I was able to make contact with prospective interviewees. These interviews were vital as the stories people told made meaning of bodily intimacy. Although these stories might have been coated with rationalisations upholding ideological constructions of Japaneseness, there was also a level at which their descriptions of their own relationships manifested subtleties of their lived experiences of intimacy. For a list of interview demographics and location at which the interviews occurred, see Appendices Three and Four.
Table 1: Phases of the Research
Time/Place Project Outcome Phase One: Pre- Made contact with future Established fieldwork Fieldwork Preparation affiliations and affiliations24 (formal and institutions as well as informal) and gained main contact in North- ethics approval. Sydney - UNSW East Japan (Yumi) who helped consolidate my networks. Jan 2004 - Aug 2005 Through dialogue with a Pre-Interview and Pre- native Japanese associate, Observation Stages. I established appropriate interview protocol and further contacts. Phase Two: Fieldwork Met with key contacts, Received printed material and Data Collection supervisors and on organisations as well as facilitators with whom I agreed on project aims, had been in roles, responsibilities, and
24 These affiliations also included two university affiliations, Waseda University and Yamaguchi University.
67 Tokyo, North-East correspondence. procedure. Honshu and Western Honshu Conducted interviews in Established collaborative North-East and Western and trusting relationship; Aug – Dec 2005 Honshu (Appendices Five contacted other and Six). prospective interviewees through these participants. Observed classes in North-East Japan (Appendix Two).
Participated in Daycare Learnt strategies and Centre classes, attitudes towards sleep- particularly at sleep-time time and touch between in each class. teachers and children.
Field notes; Clearly documented Recorded some information of situation interviews and and thoughts as event discussions in classes; itself was happening. Interview and participant- observation notes. Phase Three: Pre-Data Transcription and Discussed key ideas and Analysis translation of interviews. findings and was able to critically reflect through dialogue with my Sydney - UNSW transcriber in the context of certain language use and cultural assumptions. Jan – Jun 2006 I was also able to clarify my translations with a native Japanese teacher. Phase Four: Data Analysis of transcriptions Realised that by coding
68 Analysis transcription material I was developing categories Sydney - UNSW instead of letting ―unnoticed possibilities‖ emerge; began to use Jul – Dec 2006 phenomenology as way of analysing transcriptions. Phase Two of the research centred on the main field experience. The three central inquiries sought to explore:
. How parent-child relationships were described, not just in the context of
intimacy, but in everyday contexts;
. The certain forms of childrearing practices deemed relevant to skinship; and,
. The essence of the lived experiences of bodily intimacy in the lives of my
participants‘ relationships (which often included marital and teacher-child
relationships)
These were addressed via the following combined research techniques.
Research Techniques
Observations and Pre-Observation Stages
Participant observation became an important component of the research methodology.
Observation provides the leverage between what is said and done (Clausen 2004). It has been suggested that there are forms of observations where the researcher can
―see‖ without being the focus of attention (Glense and Peshkin 1992). However, in this case, the process was shaped by the fact that I was a foreign woman in a regional city where non-Japanese nationals were not as common as in metropolitan cities such as Tokyo. My presence was always announced and my role was more of an ―observer as participant‖ (Glense and Peshkin 1992), although sometimes I also became the
69 object. The premise of observer as participant is that ―the researcher remains primarily an observer but has some interaction with study participants‖ (Glense and
Peshkin 1992: 40). The observation protocol used in all cases addresses the number of participants, the location, facilitator, length of time, aims and themes/content covered in each class. Refer to Appendix Five for a sample of the observation protocol used in each class.
Approval was granted before attending each class. I was firstly introduced to the head person of that particular institution: the head of the byōin, hokenjo, and hoikuen. Then, prior to the beginning of each class, the facilitator would sign a consent form approving of my participation/observations. At the beginning of each class, the facilitator would announce to the members of the class that I would be making observations and possibly asking some people questions. There was no case in which anyone complained or stated a preference for me not to be there.25 Upon leaving each institution, I went and de-briefed with the head person, discussing my findings from the classes. When I went to schools to attend sex education classes, I was introduced to the principal of that school and after each session there would be a brainstorming session with facilitators and teachers discussing the content from the class. Although I was informed by each head that I could use the name of their association or institution in this thesis, for the privacy of my participants, pseudonyms are used for the institutions as well as all participants.
25 There was one case however, in a post-natal class on breastfeeding, where a woman expressed a preference to learn how to breastfeed her child apart from rest of the group. This was not necessarily due to my presence; it seemed a personal preference for her to be apart from all the other mothers in the room as well.
70 Interviews and Pre-Interview Stages
Two types of interviews were conducted: first, mini-structured interviews, and second, unstructured in-depth interviews ―to penetrate more deeply and sensitively into the subtle world of social and personal meaning‖ (Kellehear 1993: 1). Mini-structured interviews included some specific questions but the in-depth interviews avoided asking leading questions and giving participants the cues with which to respond. As Hastrup notes, ―we cannot ask people about their impressions and then experience their answers to be cultural truths. People do not speak in truths. They answer questions, which we ask‖ (1992: 31). Consequently, most in-depth interviews and questions were broad and relied on contexts which gave participants the space to delve into their own thoughts.
That is, interviewing styles were required that would produce content-rich data which were not constrained by pre-established categories. For example, questions such as
―Can you tell me about some good things that have happened recently in your family?‖ sometimes opened up the space for the participant to discuss what they considered to be significant in their intimate relations, compared with me offering the terms, ideas and context which I sought to ‗define‘. For a full interview schedule for mini- interviews and in-depth interviews, see Appendices Six and Seven respectively.
Interviews were drawn from two sample groups. One sample group consisted of participants from the abovementioned prenatal, postnatal and hoikuen classes, while the other group developed from ‗snowballing‘, where prospective interviewees were contacted through other contacts made during fieldwork. Mini-interviews were generally conducted in or after the actual classes. In addition to obtaining consent from the facilitator and head of the organisation, I also ensured I obtained individual consent from each interviewee. This involved approaching the prospective interviewee in or
71 after the class, explaining my research, and, if they were interested, ensuring they sign a consent form before beginning the actual discussion.
The pre-interview stage for the unstructured, in-depth interviews was more formal than for mini-interviews. After making initial contact by way of phone or meeting, I showed the prospective interviewee a description of my study, along with a letter of support from my Head of School.26 Before commencing the interview I asked each participant to sign the consent form and, if granted permission, recorded the interview. For a copy of the research description, along with the consent form and translations, see Appendix
Eight.
The type of interview depended on where the interview was to take place. For example, interviews with participants from the different classes generally took place within the class time and were therefore characteristic of mini-interviews. This meant that there were time constraints and I therefore needed to ask quite specific questions regarding the nature of their intimate relationships with their partner and child(ren). On the other hand, interviews outside of the classes in North-East Honshu and then in Western
Honshu had little, if any, time constraints and there were opportunities to go into more detail.
All interviews were conducted in Japanese. Although the initial introductions included formal speech, the language used throughout interviews was generally informal. This was partially deliberate, so as to achieve a level of comfort where my participants felt
26 This letter showed that I had ‗institutional support‘ as well as academic support from a Japanese Professor.
72 they could talk openly about their experiences and feelings towards physical intimacy with their child or partner, without being restricted by language formality and protocol.
Mini-structured interviews were based on four main questions, specifically regarding the nature of skinship and childrearing (Appendix Six). These interviews often resulted in lengthy discussion, but the styles of the questions were more of an attempt to capture precise information that could be categorised. Thirty-eight of these interviews were conducted, generally for about 20 minutes per interview. I noted participants‘ responses into a journal and clarified any responses before the interview was over. By taking notes in Japanese, I was able to avoid imposing any of my own ‗translations‘ of terms or responses. That meant that when research Phases Three and Four were to take place, I would be able to work with the ‗authentic‘ responses from the time of the actual interview.
As I recorded most in-depth interviews via dictaphone, the nature of the questions and note-taking was different to mini-interviews. Instead of asking specific questions regarding the field of physical intimacy, I began unstructured, in-depth interviews with inquiries about general experiences (for example, events from the night before with the family; see Appendix Seven), noting the words and expressions used to describe their marital and parent-child relationships and feelings towards these relationships. Their descriptions of specific events and feelings were able to offer insights into the more unconscious experiences in their relationships, particularly in the context of feelings.
This way, participants did not categorise their responses in terms of what I appeared to want to hear. The questions were so broad that participants were often unaware of what
I was looking for and thus spoke in an unstructured, uncategorised manner. I was then
73 able to follow-up their comments using their language (words and expressions) instead of imposing my own categories and language. This gave the participants room to elaborate. I then drew concepts and ideas from these discussions. These interviews ranged from about 45-90 minutes. The notes taken during interviews were later attached to the transcribed version. Written using both Japanese and English, these notes often reflected my feelings about the participant‘s reaction or response and sometimes gave a different or deeper insight to the interviews that might have been lost in hearing the tape or reading the transcription.
Sampling
My sample size needs to be considered in conjunction with the process of my study.
Along with 30 in-depth and 38 mini-interviews conducted with 53 participants in
North-East Honshu and 15 participants in Western Honshu (Appendix Four), participant-observation classes also need to be accounted for in my overall sample size.
The combined number of interviews as well as participants from participant- observations (552 people; Appendix Two) equals 620 participants. Due to the nature of the classes and the audience for whom they catered, a large proportion of my sample size was women between the ages of 28-40. Forty-nine interviewed participants were women while the remaining 19 were men.
As mentioned above, interview participants were most commonly contacted through
‗snowballing‘ where I was introduced via other people. I followed new leads during fieldwork and pursued discussions and interviews with contacts (and subsequently, their contacts). This often resulted in ―information-rich cases for in-depth study‖
74 (Patton 1990: 182). In many cases, I interviewed two or more members of the same family at separate times.
Documenting Data
The documentation of data was undertaken in four ways: field notes, notes (taken at the time of interview or participant-observation), recording via a dictaphone, and the collection of material distributed in classes, purchased by or given to me. There were five specific questions or themes I addressed to best capture fieldwork experiences
(Appendix Nine). Generally, however, notes (in the field, interviews and participant- observations) were adapted from Spradley‘s (1979) use of field notes. This included: short notes made at the time of the experience, interview or observation; expanded notes made as soon as possible afterwards; a fieldwork journal to record problems and ideas arising during each stage of fieldwork; and a provisional running record of analysis of interpretation and speculation. As this was a complex study which involved going to different places (regions, classes, institutions) and speaking to various people, field notes were constantly being updated and documented as an aide memoir.
A digital dictaphone was used to record some interviews as well as some fieldnotes. A feature of the dictaphone meant that I could upload interviews immediately onto the computer. Whether I recorded interviews or merely took notes depended on the type of interview (mini-structured or in-depth) and the location it took place. For example, one interview was conducted in a café after informally meeting a man who was in the midst of a divorce, and who was interested in being a participant in my study. Due to the location and spontaneity, I was unable to record this interview, even though it became characteristic of an in-depth interview (such as, the length of time, nature of questions,
75 discussion and so on). Furthermore, interviews were only recorded if a participant
consented.
The type of material collected from classes included pamphlets and manuals on
childbirth and childrearing, information about support networks for parents (especially
mothers), baby-aid kits (including milk formula) and so on.
Pre-Data Analysis: Making Initial Meanings
Phase Three was a vital part to the development of the research. This phase was post-
fieldwork but pre-data analysis. Upon returning to Australia, a Japanese associate27
began to transcribe interviews and some class recordings. Furthermore, another
associate28 checked my translations of the transcriptions. This gave me the opportunity
to critically reflect through dialogue with these women in the context of language use
and cultural assumptions regarding intimacy.
Data Analysis: From Coding to “Seeing”
Phase Four began with coding five separate forms of ―written‖ material:
- field notes
- participant observation notes
- interview notes (made at time of interview)
- material (books, magazines, pamphlets) distributed by institutions or
purchased by me
- interview transcripts
27 This person was a Japanese national female who was a postgraduate student in the same faculty. 28 This associate was also a Japanese national female who has taught Japanese Communication classes at the university for several years.
76 Coding consisted of the following process: I went through each piece of written material separately, looking for common themes or terms associated with skinship.
After this first reading, I started to notice that I was limiting my search by coding participant responses to physical forms of intimacy. In other words, my fieldwork material was allowing me to see that I had been working from a preconceived idea of physical intimacy, and that this was constituting an unwarranted bias. Because my participants‘ experiences of intimacy were being identified with physical forms of skinship, I was characterising relationships with non-visible forms as indirect, silent and inexpressive. I was developing themes in a fairly mechanical way, not necessarily crude frequency counts, but certainly coding the terms that emerged from the transcripts in a structured way. I was not finding meaning in my participants‘ lived experience; I was coding and fitting responses into categories and was not feeling alive to the potential or meaning in the responses.
There were several points in my second reading of the transcripts where weaknesses with my interview technique became evident. At times, I had not followed through with questions nor had I further pursued what the participant was speaking about.
Identifying touch with physical forms of skinship sometimes prevented me from encouraging a deeper response from my participant. Simply asking a further question such as ―What did that feel like?‖ might have pursued the feel of the experience instead of letting the thought pass.
Welch (2001) explains the ―torturous‖ initial process of analysing participants‘ text dialogues:
77 I had assumed the position of ―knower‖ of other peoples lives. ―The surgeon‖
was in control as the dissection of texts proceeded with unfettered haste. I was
on a mission to reveal the concealed, to make the tacit explicit and to bring
clarity to that which was obscure. What was unfolding was a recipe for disaster:
I had begun to treat the text as a lifeless object for interpretation through which
I would instill life. In my haste, I had forgotten the fundamental rubric: to
respect the text as a representation of a person‘s lived world and be open to the
wonder of experience. (Welch 2001: 68; emphasis added)
It was not my role as a researcher to assume knowledge and control, to assert my mastery by constraining the life in the text, making it a ―lifeless object for interpretation through which I would instill life‖. Consequently, the life I was trying to give it was reduced; I was not available to the change that I‘d have to accommodate if I engaged in ―open dialogue‖ or ―attentive attunement‖ (Welch 2001: 68). What was required was a completely different process, one where ―making meaning of the material breathes new life into the text‖ (Brearley 2001: 79 cites Jipson and Paley
1997). Rather than constraining the text, the aim became to use ―alternative forms of representation to create spaces in and around the data, from which new things can continue to erupt‖ (Brearley 2001: 79). This had a profound impact on my understanding of intimacy, of what it means to be Japanese or Greek-Australian, and of the tedious debates that follow from identity and expressive claims. I began to see the text in a new light: I was now coming from a no-position that emerged between these supposed identities. I was now not denying or affirming either position; I was neither subjective nor objective.
78 This new process involved a dialogue with the text and material. I stopped using computers and categories to generate themes. Instead of trying to find what I sought in the texts, I made myself available and let the words, phrases, passages, pauses, and silences approach me. I began working with the aspects of the texts that struck me as interesting. I would also listen to the tapes of the interviews, to pick up other subtle nuances that the transcriptions might not have allowed. I would note my thoughts in the margins of the transcripts: ideas regarding skinship, patterns emerging, and key phenomenological theories issues that seemed to be insightful. I would then go through these notes and those words and phrases and passages of interest in a workbook style.
This involved an initial analysis of the content of the interview, and then developing a dialogue with certain theoretical texts that helped me unpack those apparently easy-to- understand, taken-for-granted issues. Only after that did I begin to try and understand the argument it exemplified and how it could be used in the context of skinship and parent-child, marital and teacher-child relationships. What began as a coding nightmare, constrained by terms and meanings that were empty and lifeless, eventually became a
―thickened‖ insight: ―not a rule-bound process but a free act of ‗seeing‘ meaning‖ (van
Manen 1990: 79).
The lived experiences of intimacy in the relationships of my participants were drawn out into several broad themes, in dialogue with certain theoretical arguments. The
―essence‖ of these themes involved whole people, not necessarily subjects, and the relationship between them. The ways in which participants engaged in skinship was
―seen‖ in a different, ―thickened‖ logic: skinship was no longer contained in the body and characterised by physical intimacy. I was beginning to realise that this language of the body was associated with the finite identity logic presupposed by most sociological
79 thought. The infinite possibilities between people, and the fleshy space around them, became the space where my analysis opened up.
Research Authenticity
Participants interpret experience within specific contexts which ―results from social interaction and interpretation‖ (Neuman 1991: 368). The quality of the analysis involves the participant‘s viewpoint which includes their ―subjective responses and experiences‖ (Neuman 1991: 368). At times, it is difficult to determine the authenticity of the actual response. Nonetheless, it is necessary to provide ―a faithful and accurate rendition of the participant‘s lifeways. To the extent that these may be eccentric, singular, or idiosyncratic when compared to other groups, they still require reporting‖
(LeCompte and Goetz 1982: 54). Even if they seem to be untrue or inaccurate, they can still show ―revealing‖ (Neuman 1991: 369) patterns and insights relevant to the experience of intimacy.
The quality of this study is able to be seen through several areas of the methodology already mentioned. Firstly, through dialogue with a native Japanese associate, I established appropriate interview protocol. Secondly, the actual fieldwork involved stories told that are naturally located in the participant‘s subjectivity. However, I was able to interview members of the same family which provided a greater depth to the situation, from various story-tellers‘ perspectives. Thirdly, the second reading of material in Phase Four enabled another level of meaning, which was also related to discussions and clarification of terms and expressions with my two Japanese associates.
Finally, the following chapters present the stories of my participants through direct quotes along with English translations. Often, specific emic terms appear in their
80 original form. Although the etymology of the kanji is explained in English, I avoid translating a key word or expression ‗directly‘ into an English word to maintain the relevance of the certain term. Therefore the data analysis involved working directly from the Japanese content of the texts to maintain authenticity.
Summary
The research experience described here offers ways to overcome categorisations and assumptions presented in Chapters One and Two and gives meaning to the deeper exploration of the felt meanings of intimacy in Japanese families in the following chapters. These chapters now move to an in-depth analysis of the lived experiences of intimacy in parent-child relationships in the context of touch. Through an exploration of touch in father-child and mother-child relationships in Chapter Four, its impact on the whole family, including the conjugal pair, in Chapter Five, and the way touch is experienced and changes as the child moves from the home to the world in Chapter
Six, I will show that touch exists in intimate spaces in significant ways that offer insight into Japanese relationships and understandings of touch. Chapter Seven demonstrates the way the child (and parent) find ways of belonging in the relationship when touch moves to encompass other forms, while Chapter Eight offers insights into the reasons for the cessation of touch. Firstly, however, Chapter Four begins with an exploration of how skinship exists in mother-child and father-child relationships.
81 PART TWO: THE CHILD IN THE HOME
Part Two begins the analysis of the forms of touch in the Japanese family, primarily in the context of parent-child relationships in the home. Comprising of two chapters,
Chapter Four and Five, Part Two develops an understanding of the intimate spaces and contexts in which touch occurs in the home. Specifically, Chapter Four presents an analysis of the various forms of touch according to Japanese mother-child and father- child relationships. Drawing on a phenomenological understanding of embodiment, this chapter draws out the feel and experiences of skinship, based on interview content and observations. Mother-child relationships are contextualised largely in terms of body forms of touch, while father-child relationships draw less on body forms and more on subtle forms of connection. For these various ways of touching to manifest intimacy and connection in either relational context, touch is dislocated from its
‗physical‘ form to include more than just the finite body. Although touch is experienced in different ways, Chapter Four highlights that it is through a fleshy, encompassing space that feelings of intimacy become possible.
Chapter Five further explores the intimate and touching spaces between the family with particular reference to soine (co-sleeping). This chapter suggests that soine‟s role as a site of intimacy in the Japanese family depends on the way the space is inhabited.
Moving to include the relational dynamics of marital relationships as well as parent- child relationships, the chapter distinguishes two relational orientations in the context of co-sleeping in the home: a relational and non-relational experience. These two experiences are drawn out in terms of an exclusive relation and inclusive relation, the former drawing out issues of desire, exclusion and separation that come into play when
82 a child is used to separate the conjugal pair; the latter draws out experiences of intimacy in co-sleeping where touching and connection occur even when not co- sleeping in the same room. A non-Cartesian lens on the body helps to open up these different intimate spaces and experiences of skinship in parent-child and marital relationships.
83 CHAPTER FOUR: PARENT-CHILD TOUCH: (DIS)LOCATING THE BODY IN
SKINSHIP
Introduction
This chapter focuses on the depth and space of touch in a Japanese familial context.
Specifically, it explores what patterns of bodily intimacy reveal about Japanese ways of being in parent-child relationships. Furthermore, this chapter begins to develop a non-Cartesian ontology that allows for a deeper understanding of bodily intimacy within a Japanese cultural context. The aims of this chapter are two-fold: 1) to explore the ways in which skinship is manifest in Japanese mother-child and father-child relationships; and 2) to pay conceptual attention to the different ways of feeling close in these relationships. Skinship is discussed within its common translation of intimacy through touch. However, the different forms of touch that exist in Japanese mother- child and father-child relationships help to unpack the meaning of skinship and how touch is conceived.
A grip, stroke, caress, hold and push are examples of different forms of touch.
However, the nature and feel of each form of touch requires a relational understanding of what is happening between the person who is touching and the person experiencing the touch. For example, a grip might be vicious and aggressive in some cases, while in others, it might be the extra holding-on grip that makes a hug more profound.
Depending on the state of relationality, the grip will have a different feel. Similarly, a caress, in one relational context, might be an indication of an intimate association, or in another, an invasion of one‘s body (such as, a loving touch versus a sexual assault).
84 What is necessary in understanding the feel of touch is to recognise the type of relationship and how the body exists and changes in that relationship.
When touch is purposeful and anticipated, there is a subject‘s body and an object‘s body. The subject will use their body to overcome (to seduce or overpower) the body of the other person. The vicious grip or invasive caress reflects the control or constraining of the object‘s body by the subject (through their body). There is no intimate relational experience in this sort of touch as the body of subject and the body of object are located within alienated, finite, identified entities. Such bodies have no depth or space between them that can make this form of touch intimate; there is distance at the same time as over-closeness (invasion). There is a Euclidean assumption about the positionality of things: there is a subject moving through
Euclidean space, and this thing can only be positioned at any one time in any one place.
When touch is used as a technique or a tool to overcome the subject, there is no space or depth for intimacy, only that distinct position that defines thing-ness.
The touch that has possibilities for intimacy is not comprised of subject and object.
There is a relational meeting between whole and active beings (Buber 1958). For example, the intimate caress ―aims at neither a person nor a thing. It loses itself in a being that dissipates…‖ (Levinas 1969: 259). In other words, there is ―nothing‖ actually being touched. There is no body of the subject or body of the object. In a relational state, the body of the caressing person and the body of the person being- caressed becomes less clear. There are no clear borders: who is caressing whom is blurred as the positionally defined body of the touching person and the body of the person being-touched can no longer be felt. This is a critical point in this study, and
85 will be further drawn out in this chapter in the context of how touch becomes a manifestation of intimacy in Japanese parent-child relationships.
Touch becomes felt between people, but not because of finite bodies. In the relational state of being-together, there is a space and depth between them where something passes through the relation. This depth is characterised by a non-Euclidean space where the quality of the feeling is a wholeness that is undefined. This feeling moves touch from being defined within the container of the finite, subject-object‘s bodies to a
‗fleshy‘ relation that incorporates more than just body. The quality of touch in such relational states of being have ―no aim, no lust, and no anticipation‖ (Buber 1958: 11).
There is a reversibility in the touch (touching simultaneously being touched) that opens up the meaning and quality of touch as a form of intimacy.
The ontology of touch developed in this chapter helps to establish a more conceptually clear meaning of skinship. Touch can only be a manifestation of intimacy when the feel of touch and space is taken into account. This chapter is divided into two parts to explore touch in Japanese parent-child relationships: mother-child touch and father- child touch. Observations as well as direct quotes (plus translations) explain and explore the meaning and significance of skinship in these relational contexts. These insights help to develop our understanding of the lived experience of bodily intimacy in the lives of my participants, and the felt meanings associated. We begin with an exploration of mother-child relationships and the forms of touch that exist when the child is under five years old.
86 Mother-Child Relationships
As mentioned in Chapter Two, the family in Japan is often centralised on the mother- child dyad (Notter 2002; Lebra 2004). Although literature on the modern Japanese family might emphasise the growing importance on the conjugal pair (Kelsky 2001b;
White 2002) or father-child relations (Ishii-Kuntz 2003; Mathews 2003), there still seems to be a ―symbolic significance of the Mother, motherly love and motherhood in
Japanese society‖ (Notter 2002: 96). Notter refers to the Japanese mother-child relationship as a ―sacred dyad‖ centring the family on such a dyad. He notes:
If we accept the premise that the domestic core revolves around a central sacred
dyad, then it is clear that motherhood, and by extension the mother-child dyad,
is in modern Japan the base upon which the sacralisation of the domestic order
is constituted. (Notter 2002: 96)
Chapter Two drew out this centrality of motherhood in various ways, predominantly seen in the context of expectations of the ―good‖ and ―proper‖ mother. Another way in which this centrality is seen is the mother-child bond that is strengthened through childrearing (Schooler 1996). This section draws out these mother-child ties in the context of skinship and the prolonged physical proximity often associated with this bond (Lebra 2004; Rothbaum et al 2002; White 2002). Most significantly, this section explores how certain forms of touch feel, and how they become a manifestation of intimacy in Japanese mother-child relationships in the first place.
Establishing Skinship
Snippets 1-11 represent the various ways in which skinship is interpreted and defined by mothers (see underlining in each snippet). Many of these responses are from
87 mothers in the classes I attended, which meant that the interview style was generally mini-interviews where time was limited. This resulted in asking about skinship via very specific questions such as ―In what ways do you do/practice skinship with your child‖
(dono yō ni kodomo to sukinshippu wo shimasuka?). In-depth interviews, however, involved less concrete questions, allowing the conversation to generally flow into how the mother enjoys spending time with her child, and often that response was a manifestation of skinship.
Consider the following responses:
Snippet 1: 言葉通じないから抱き合う 。 Because (my child) doesn‘t understand what I‘m saying, I hug him/her (Kaori, 31 years old, mini-interview) Snippet 2: マッサージをしながら、象さんの While I massage my baby, I sing the
歌、カエルの歌も歌います。 ―elephant song‖ and the ―frog song‖ (Ayumi, 29 years old, mini-interview)
Snippet 3: 安心させるように抱っこしたり、負 So that I make my child feel anshin, I んぶしたり、声をかけるし、そばに hold her, carry her (onbu style), speak to her in a nice voice, and it‘s important I いるのが大切。 am next to her. (Sayaka, 37 years old,
mini-interview) Snippet 4: 光も―おんぶ‖が好きです。我が家に Hikaru likes onbu. When he comes to my 遊びに来て、温子におんぶしてもら house, Atsuko does onbu for him. っていました。前より後ろにおんぶ Children seem to prefer onbu on the back
88 する方が、子どもは好きなのようで rather than the front. I think it is because
す。安心 感が大きいのだと思いま there is a lot of anshinkan. The す。母の動きと同じだし、背中が胸 movements with the mother are the same, the child is bonded (stuck to) the back or としっかりくっついている、この肌 the chest of the mother, and there are lots と肌の触れ合う面積が多きいことが of touching (skin to skin) areas, which 安心感につながっています。 may be related to anshinkan. (Yumi, 52 years old, in-depth interview) Snippet 5: おっぱいするのが一番いいスキンシ Breastfeeding is the best skinship. I love
ップ 。長い間にずっと一緒にいるの being close together for a long period of が大好きです。その時は赤ちゃんと time. That‘s mine and my baby‘s time. (Yu, 35 years old, mini-interview) 私の時間。
Snippet 6: 言葉だけで伝わらなかったら、さわ If it is not communicated by words, るのが必要です。安心できるだった touching (sawaru) is necessary …if trying to make the child feel anshin, I ら、さわるとか、抱きしめる。 touch or hug. (Yukika, 35 years old,
mini-interview) Snippet 7: 私の考えでは、スキンシップは一緒 In my thoughts, skinship is sleeping に寝ることです．．．添い寝。いつ together…soine. Because you are always も近くにあるから、安心です。また close, feel anshin (referring to child but can also be mother). Also, holding hands は、一緒に手をつないだり、お風呂 together, and taking a bath. Because the に入ったり．．．お風呂は日常的な bath is an everyday thing, it becomes ことだからスキンシップになる。 skinship. (Hiroko, 35 years old, mini- interview) Snippet 8: 添い寝するとき、おっぱいします。 While we are sleeping together (soine), I breastfeed my baby (Keiko, 32 years old,
89 mini-interview) Snippet 9: スキンシップの中で、触れることは Amongst (all the types of) skinship, there
多い。会話少ないので, 触れるのは is a lot of touch (fureru). Because there is 大切です。小さいとき、おんぶし not a lot of talking, touch is important. When they are small, we onbu and hug. て、だきしめる。 (Ayumi, 55 years old, in-depth interview)
Snippet 10: 子供とのスキンシップ。。。それは Skinship with my children…that was もう、毎日、あの、お風呂入れて、 everyday in the bath, I guess, and going それこそ、公園で遊んで、食事を作 to the park to play, making dinner and feeding them. In my home, even now, って食べさしました。うちは今でも there are times when I have baths with 主人と一緒に入る時がある。または my husband. Also, these days, we have 今頃は孫も一緒に入る時もあるし。 baths together with our grandchildren. So だから孫と 3 人 4 人が入ってみたり we have a bath with them, the three or します。そういうスキンシップとか four of us. But whether it‘s skinship, そういうの全然関係なしに、あの、 there‘s never a relationship with it その、意識的にいうたら変な言い方 (meaning, we don‘t think about it), だけれども、意識なしに、一緒に入 although it‘s a strange expression, we take baths together unconsciously ってることがあります。もう、もう (without consciousness). It just seems それは当たり前みたいに。 natural (atarimae). (Ayako, 60 years old, in-depth interview) Snippet 11: 抱き合う、ギュウ、おんぶ好 I like hugging, squeezing and onbu. We き．．．一緒に絵本を読んだり、ふ read picture books together, play/roll とんでごろごろしたりします。スキ around on the futon. Skinship is skin to skin contact and heart to heart ンシップとは肌と肌のふれあい、心 contact/communication, for the child to と心のふれあい、子供も満足、また be satisfied as well as the adult. (Harumi, は大人も満足です。 35 years old, mini-interview)
90
Literature on skinship and mother-child relationships usually emphasises ―bodily endearment‖ (Ben-Ari 1997), ―bodily warmth‖ (Lebra 2004) and ―prolonged physical proximity‖ (Rothbaum et al 2002). The above snippets seem to reinforce these states of bodily connection and contact. However, an important note needs to be made here on the choice of terminology used to define these forms of touch. I deliberately avoid the binary of physical/non-physical in my discussion of skinship. For touch to be a manifestation of intimacy, there is more involved than a physical, finite body.
Although the snippets might conventionally be seen to uphold the Cartesian disjuncture of physical and non-physical, I avoid following such conventions. If I take this up myself in the following discussion, I am forcing my argument into uncongenial inaccurate terms which perpetuated my initial misunderstandings
(Vignettes, Chapter One) that began this study in the first place. Touching seems to become present, it is felt, in ways that are not just located in the finite ‗body‘.
Skinship in mother-child relationships was at times explained within the context of experiences such as playing in the park (Snippet 10), reading picture books (Snippet
11), speaking in a nice tone/voice (Snippet 3), or heart-to-heart communication
(Snippet 11). The majority of examples of skinship, however, were more commonly defined in terms of bodily experiences such as bathing together, hugging, onbu, sleeping together, holding, picking up and squeezing the child, massage, holding hands, climbing on the mother‘s back, and breastfeeding. Although these seem to refer to skinship in physical terms, for this to be an intimate experience, touch is not located purely within the body. The mother‘s body and child‘s body are not separate entities. For skinship to truly exist, the space around and between the mother and
91 child needs to be considered, to determine whether the form of touch is actually intimate.
This chapter does not assume that all participants‘ references to and experiences of skinship are truly relational. That is, this chapter does not aim to determine who is in relation and who is only saying that are engaging in skinship (but are actually engaging in more subject-object relations). There is already a certain level of self- consciousness in each snippet as participants respond to the questions which I asked.
However, the intention of this chapter is to pursue the meaning of skinship through exploring what happens between parent and child, and the feeling of the touch between them. Chapter Five, on the other hand, explores the spaces between families and whether such spaces are intimate or not.
There are six forms of skinship which help open up an understanding of the experience of mother-child relationships and the feel of intimacy between them.
These are: breastfeeding, onbu, massage, co-bathing, tone, and heart-to-heart communication. Co-sleeping (soine) was common to several snippets and requires lengthy discussion, but this takes place in a separate chapter (Chapter Five). Co- sleeping thus is only explored here in the context of breastfeeding.
Breastfeeding
For Yuko (Snippet 5), breastfeeding is considered ―the best skinship‖. She loves being together with her child for prolonged periods of time, saying that it‘s ―their‖ time together. It is not the aim here to decipher whether this experience is ―theirs‖ in an exclusive sense, or whether it is an inclusive experience (these experiences will be
92 explored in Chapter Five). What is important here is to understand how the experience of breastfeeding can be a form of skinship for a mother and child at all.
The idea of ittaikan (feelings of one body) resonates in this experience of breastfeeding (Lebra 1976). Mother and child are held close together in a space of connection where there is no calculated concept of time or space. Participating in the experience, and getting ‗lost‘ in the feel of one another, helps open up possibilities for this space of breastfeeding to be intimate. The feelings of this connection need to be further explored.
In Japan the mother views her baby much more as an extension of herself, and
psychologically the boundaries between the two of them are blurred. (Caudill
1972: 195; emphasis added)
Caudill‘s comment and the experience of breastfeeding can be viewed within the context of mi and flesh, whereby the baby as an ―extension‖ of mother and the
―blurring‖ of the boundaries between them, help to unpack the feelings of ittaikan experienced in breastfeeding. There is not a clear feeling of where the borders are between mother and child. That is, in the state of breastfeeding, whether sitting or sleeping (for Keiko, Snippet 8), it is difficult to feel where the mother‘s body ends and the child‘s begins. There is a fleshy space in which mother and child find themselves blurring boundaries of who is whom. But, in this boundary-less, thick space and ―prolonged proximity‖, there is a ―mutual mingling‖ (O‘Loughlin 1995) between mother and child that involves a reversible relationship significant to flesh: the mother feeding (touching) the child is also being-touched (acknowledged, nurtured) by the child as the child feeds/suckles the mother‘s breast.
93 Such a mutual mingling needs to be considered in terms of Merleau-Ponty‘s reversibility and the ways in which mother and child connect with and respond to one another through touch. The body begins to perceive itself when touched. Through this mutual mingling, the touching person becomes the touched person. There is a ―sort of reflection‖ in this reversible relationship where touch becomes ―animate‖ in the flesh.
Merleau-Ponty views this reflection and felt perception through a meeting of
―perceptible-percipience‖, whereby there is not just a ―unidirectional relation of the one who perceives to what he perceives‖ (Merleau-Ponty 1964a: 167) but a reverse in the feel. He notes that reversibility is the idea that:
…every perception is doubled with a counter-perception…, is an act with two
faces, one no longer knows who speaks and who listens. Speaking-listening,
seeing-being seen, perceiving-being perceived circularity… (Merleau-Ponty
1968: 264)
There is not a one-sided touch but a reciprocal, reversible relation which opens up possibilities for touch to be a site of intimacy (mother touching child and reversibly mother being touched by child). Through such circularity, the body is no longer separate and no longer an entity. The mother‘s body (and breast) does not contain separate individual components or ‗bits‘ which come together with other bits (such as the child‘s mouth). In fact, various forms of skinship in the snippets seem to include
‗bits‘ of the body coming together with bits of the other body. But for these forms of touch to manifest intimacy in the first place, there is not a sum of separate ‗things‘. A hand, a breast, a mouth, on its own is purely physical; it is the intrinsic connection that gives the hand, breast and mouth meaning. What is touched, in intimacy, is the whole.
94
This concept of whole includes connection and a quality of warmth that disables any opposition of separate bodies, ‗sides‘ or individual components. This warmth is transferred between parent and child through ―body heat‖ (Ben-Ari 1997). It is important to draw out the further implications of this warmth and connection and how this form of skinship becomes a manifestation of intimacy. Firstly, the mother is accessible to the child just as the child is accessible to the mother. As Winnicott notes:
Her baby must be able to feel the warmth of her skin and breath, and to taste
and see…there must be full access to the mother‘s live body. (1981: 89)
As we can see, the experience of breastfeeding also includes the skin and breath and taste of the mother as well as the child. This is not a combination of individual components but a space that is inclusive. For Keiko, this warmth and access seems to be best experienced through lying while breastfeeding her baby. Their bodies positioned close together involves a similar form of body contact as Yuko‘s experience.
Secondly, the baby is an ―extension‖ of mother and the borders between them are unclear. The flesh that holds mother and child includes mother, child, and that surrounding and between them. Ichikawa‘s mi is a useful concept to draw out here as mi includes an all-encompassing space whereby that which is attached to mi (mi wo tsuketeiru mono) (Ichikawa 1993: 81) becomes a part of or implicated in mi. That means that the warmth and sense of connection softens the border and blurs the
95 boundaries between mother and child so that they are implicated in one another (hito no mi ni naru) (Ichikawa 1993: 91).
Insofar as this connection exists, it is possible for feelings of contentment and security
(or, anshinkan) to develop. The term anshinkan was commonly used to describe various experiences of skinship. In particular, anshinkan was associated with the state required to fall asleep (see Chapter Five). The etymology of the kanji anshin (安心) suggests that the state of being connected, and the ‗warm‘ feelings associated with skinship, require more than just the body. The meaning and application of anshinkan is highly relevant to mi and the experience of breastfeeding. The all-encompassing space between mother and child is inclusive of more than just their bodies. Anshinkan incorporates the kanji compounds 安, whose etymology refers to meaning such as contentment and peace, with 心 (heart) and 感 (feelings). Anshinkan thus refers to an emphasis on the feelings of contentment and relief or peace of the heart (not just body) in the state of being anshin. This is a critical point in recognising that skinship is inclusive of more than just body. Similar experiences of warmth and anshin resonate in other forms of skinship. But in the case of breastfeeding, it is the connection of fronts, hearts, and bodies which opens up spaces for an intimate experience.
Onbu
Onbu, another form of skinship referred to by mothers, is a ―traditional…form of transport…papoose-style (onbu), on the back‖ (Lebra 1976: 141). However, rather than necessarily being used as a ‗practical‘ means through which the child is carried
(or, ―transported‖), onbu and obi (the sash that holds the child) seem to be used more
96 as a way to experience skinship. For Kaori (Snippet 1), onbu seems to be an effective daily way of touching and connecting with the child. The front of the child‘s body touches (connects with; is wrapped to) the back of the mother, or alternatively, the front of the mother‘s body connects with (is wrapped to) the front of the child‘s body.
The flesh of the mother‘s world includes the flesh of the child‘s world. Together they are wrapped in each other‘s space where, again, the child is an ―extension‖ of the mother, and where a blurring of boundaries seems to occur.
As Yumi said in Snippet 4, ―the movements with the mother are the same‖. These movements of the mother and the response of the child to these movements shift the space between them. The space might shift from one that is fast paced and rushed, or one that is more relaxed and slow. This space will hold the mother and child differently. In some cases, the intention behind onbu might hinder possibilities for the space between mother and child to be intimate. For example, if the mother uses onbu as a means to achieve an intention (such as, getting from A to B in a quicker way than a cumbersome pram might allow), the child‘s needs are not primary. The obi might be used as a disciplining or ‗strapping‘ mechanism, where the mother‘s separate body overcomes or attempts to control the separate body of the child. There is no space or possibility for intimacy here as this relation is filled with separate subjects and bodies.
That is, mother and child might be more aware of their own separate bodies rather than the space between them. Similarly, if the carrier is nervous, the child‘s response will be to stiffen, rather than relax, in the ‗strap‘. (See Chapter Six, Case Study One, which will further explore this).
97 However, when onbu is a ritual or experience of ‗fun‘ or relaxation (i.e. Hikaru in
Snippet 4), so that it helps the child sleep, or so that the child can experience something from an elevated position, the space between mother and child shifts. Who is holding whom becomes less clear as both mother and child become used to the touch and space between them. They are in relation to one another and this space extends to and includes the obi. Here the obi takes on a different meaning. For example, the traditional obi is a thin sash which wraps mother and child together (see
Appendix Ten). More modern obi are made of thick material and often include hard and containing seats (Appendix Eleven). The space between carrier and child seems to almost restrain, suspend or seize the child. Often bound by clips and buckles, these more modern obi (seat-like) provide little more than a functional purpose of carrying the child. Although this might provide both mother and child with some form of anshin (contentment/security) due to the ―prolonged physical proximity‖, it is not necessarily a site of intimacy as more traditional obi might be, because of the
‗barriers‘ these more modern style obi might induce.
In the case of Yumi, she and her daughter Atsuko use the more traditional obi, which resembles a sheet. This type of obi does not seem to hinder the space between carrier and child. In other words, there are no boundaries containing carrier or child as separate, nor are there restrictions with movement. Yumi stated that in this type of obi,
―there are lots of touching (skin to skin) areas, which is related to anshinkan‖. It seems that it is the experience of warmth felt between them that enables onbu, and these ―touching areas‖, to manifest intimacy. There is a responsiveness between carrier and child, making the space between them less finite and more felt.
98 An example that comes to mind is walking with a friend to a station in Tokyo in 2007.
Her one year old son had a fever and had been unsettled the whole day. Although I suggested she stay at home with the baby while I walked to the station, she said he will settle once carried onbu-style. The type of obi she wore can be seen in Appendix
Twelve. Although she did not use a traditional sash nor did she carry her child on her back, she explained that the obi she used was made by a friend to resemble more traditional obi, and is her preferred type because it cradles her baby while they walk.
This form of onbu enabled a feel similar to that of breastfeeding, with the connection of mother‘s and child‘s bodies. Some women explained that such forms of obi, where the baby is carried on the carrier‘s front, are dangerous as the mother might not be able to see what is on the ground in front of her. But for this friend and her feverish child, the obi wrapped him to her, and within minutes, he was calm and asleep (see
Appendix Thirteen). He only stirred and became restless once she took him down. It seems then that in onbu, and these types of obi, the connection is not necessarily brought to consciousness until the child is taken down, whereupon there is a strange disjointed feel.
Flesh, in the context of onbu, also includes a reversible quality. That is, touching being-touched, or holding being-held, makes the space between mother and child intimate and fleshy. More specifically, this reversibility enables an openness of intimacy that is not a unity of different sides or different bodies (as is suggested in the usual application of ittaikan). Sides do not apply here, though there is still difference.
This spatiality includes a sense of being close and connected, yet not bounded. There is a ―boundless‖ sense of self (Lebra 1994) which includes a blending of mother- child-obi as the child and mother become wrapped through the obi. Again, that which
99 is attached to mi becomes a part of the fleshy relation (Ichikawa 1993). Mi encompasses the space between mother and baby where they are mutually responsive: the baby adjusts to the mother and the mother adjusts to the baby. Mother and baby are implicated in one another and there are no boundaries. This openness to one another is related to the type of obi the mother uses. Any purpose or aim in holding the child in onbu includes separate bodies of self and other and will impact on the potentiality for intimacy. Such notions of feedback and mutual responsiveness are further explored in Chapter Six.
Massage
In a book entitled, Baby Massage: Rearing the Heart and Body (Noto 2001) (rōmaji: bēbi massaji: kokoro to karada wo sodatteiru), massage is associated with
―strengthening the heart‖ and communicating love to one‘s child. Specifically, massage takes the experience of touch from just the body or skin and is seen to impact on kokoro no ugoki (movements of the heart). Kokoro no ugoki incorporates the feelings, thoughts and knowledge (Noto 2001: 52) that are said to be vital to the development of the child. The book seems primarily aimed at mothers, as the front cover and pictures throughout the book are only of mother and child. The reader is implored, at the beginning, to appreciate a shift in childrearing techniques in Japan that emphasises the importance of skinship. Noto states that childrearing techniques and perspectives regarding skinship have shifted, from nonchalant attitudes towards touching babies, to ―please touch your baby as much as you can‖ (2001: 20-21).
According to Snippet 2, massage was considered a form of skinship between mothers and their children. For Ayumi, stroking and massaging the body of her child while
100 singing a song was a ‗fun‘ form of interaction for her and her child. For the touch in massage to manifest intimacy, there are similar experiences as in onbu and breastfeeding, where there is touching and there is being touched, but it is not clear whose ‗touch‘ it is. The space between mother and child in massage becomes blurred and connected and mixed. This reversibility is characterised by warmth, anshinkan and reversibility, but possible only through flesh and the mutual responsiveness between mother and child. When there is intention and subjectivity, the touch is empty and lifeless. Through the example of massage and the cultural importance attached to this practice, this section raises the ontology of ―response‖ and
―purposelessness‖.
Massage, as an essential part of childrearing, was not just found in childrearing books or participant responses. There were also frequent massage classes conducted at the hokenjo which emphasised the importance of massaging babies after childbirth.29 For some parents, baby massage was a ‗fun‘ form of skinship (Snippet 2). For other parents, particularly fathers, massage was a self-conscious, scary experience that left the parent concerned as to whether they were holding, touching or stroking their child correctly. Although these massage classes at the hokenjo were aimed at encouraging fathers to participate in massaging their child as well, it seemed to be a more regular meeting between mother and child.
29 These classes were contextualised, in a broader sense, with the Japanese cultural practice of massaging others (more generally) which creates intimate connection. See Clark (1994) whose extensive analysis of the bath and co-bathing includes the cultural importance attached to massage and skin-to-skin contact.
101 In one case, a group of parents was sitting with their babies, ready to begin their massage class. This group began with all four mothers putting their child in front of them (even though the instructions had been, ―parents, put your child in front of you‖). The mothers seemed to be more comfortable or at ease with picking up and touching their child than their husbands were, though the latter eventually had their turn and began to follow instructions to massage their child. Often, when the baby was passed to the father, she or he would end up crying, with the mothers soon taking over again. It is unclear whether the child was more at ease with the mother‘s touch
(massage) because they generally spent more time together (which generally involved more bodily forms of touch), or if the baby was perhaps responding to the father‘s nervousness. Either way, these classes seemed to indicate a stiffness and mechanistic quality between father and child in the space of massage, where fathers seemed to approach this context with a purposeful intent that disabled possibilities for meeting.
Herrigel‘s (1970) exploration of purpose and purposelessness in his book, Zen in the
Art of Archery, offers useful ways of understanding massage and the issues at play in mechanical, lifeless touching. Herrigel (1970: 34) states that ―the right art…is purposeless, aimless‖. The quest is not to access certain ‗parts‘ of the child‘s body; similar to Zen Buddhist principles about the experience of Being, the way to be intimate through touch is not through trying to know it. There is no ―speculation at all but immediate experience of what, as the bottomless ground of Being, cannot be apprehended by intellectual means…one knows it by not knowing it‖ (Herrigel 1970:
7). It is not the consciousness of knowing how to massage; it seems that the purpose and self-criticism associated with ‗learning‘ and ‗knowing‘ the correct forms of massage made the fathers in this group more stiff. It seems that when touch is
102 calculated, knowing and conscious, it is not intimate. The parent (mother or father) is so full of subjectivity, trying to achieve a set outcome through the child, that there is no space for intimacy. It is the feeling and space between the relationship that becomes relevant in skinship. That is, the way the mother responds to her child and vice versa will contribute to massage in mother and child relationships being a manifestation of intimacy.
Buber‘s concept of responsibility is formulated in terms of the I-Thou relation and helps to further understand the relationship required in massage. Buber grounds his ethics in his ontology of the relation where I and Thou come into being.
―Responding‖ is a characteristic of meeting in the I-Thou relation. I has a responsibility to Thou: ―Genuine responsibility exists only where there is real responding‖ (1966: 20). In an ethical sense, I and Thou are ―obligated to answer in a trustworthy manner. One is accountable to the other person‖ (Charmé 1977: 169). In a lived sense, it is what happens when parent and child enter into an I-Thou relation, where there is neither subject nor object but the relation itself. Being in-relation and responding (being called to respond) is significant in understanding intimacy, the states of relationality, and the spaces of touch that can occur.
For massage to manifest feelings of warmth and security, mother needs to be attuned with the child and present to what the child needs. The space shifts between them; there is no calculated consciousness of mother‘s body and boundaries and child‘s body and boundaries. Rather, there is an unconscious touch in which mother (as subject) and child (as object) do not exist. If, in this state of connection, the flesh of the mother‘s world includes the flesh of the child‘s world, then mother is also being
103 massaged. ―By letting go of yourself, leaving yourself and everything yours behind you so decisively that nothing more is left of you but a purposeless tension‖ (Herrigel
1970: 35). This state of attunement and purposeless tension will be further explored in
Chapter Six.
Co-bathing
Co-bathing was also referred to quite regularly as a means through which skinship could be achieved. Literature on the Japanese bath notes that ―sharing the same bath and being naked together creates a situation where intimate communication can take place‖ (Clark 1994: 111). This is a particularly valued form of intimacy because of
―naked association‖ (hadaka no tsukiai) and the forms of touch and closeness that happen in the bath (Clark 1994). Clark (1994: 112) notes that sharing the same bath naked symbolises ―removal of the social trappings and barriers of normal life‖. For hadaka no tsukiai to manifest possibilities for intimacy, it hinges on the differences between being naked and ‗nude‘. A parent bathing with their child helps to create bonds through skinship (Clark 1994). For example, massaging, scrubbing and soaping a child‘s body, sitting together in close proximity, and talking together, were all examples given to emphasise the ways in which co-bathing can become a manifestation of intimacy. But it is precisely because parent and child enter the bath as ‗naked‘ beings and not nude ones, that skinship is possible in the first place. This concept returns back to my ―nude awakening‖ vignette in Chapter One, where I was shocked by Kiyomi‘s bath-hug. For me, this experience was based on nudity, and a fetishism of body parts (her breasts, my breasts), whereas for Kiyomi, our presence and being together in beautiful surroundings was primary.
104 The beauty of this naked meeting is seen clearly in Snippets 7 and 12, extending the experience of skinship from touch to an unconscious experience:
Extract from Snippet 7: 風呂は日常的なことだからスキンシ Because the bath is an everyday thing, it
ップになる。 becomes skinship (Hiroko, female, 35 years old) Extract from Snippet 12: 意識なしに、一緒に入ってること Unconsciously, we take a bath together があります。 (Ayako, female, 60 years old)
There is a similarity in both comments: there is a meeting in the bath that enables intimacy to happen. This meeting involves an unconsciousness: the bath as an
―everyday thing‖ (Hiroko, Snippet 7) and bathing together ―unconsciously‖ (Ayako,
Snippet 12) both challenge the bath as a consciously looking-to-‗achieve‘-type of skinship. For Ayako, it is considered atarimae (natural to do so): it is the very lack of consciousness with which Ayako and her husband enter the bath with their grandchildren that makes it possible for intimacy to just happen.
The quality of this ―everyday/unconscious‖ experience reflects an innocence which opens up the intimate space in daily co-bathing. Mother and child are not separate subjects or objectified bodies. Neither seeks any ‗thing‘ nor looks at any ‗thing‘. By being a part of the experience, they can see the whole that is not a thing. For example,
Kiyomi (Vignette Two) was not looking at me as a thing (i.e. breasts) but was looking at me as a whole person that included my relationship with her.
105 Skinship in the bath thus seems to be manifest through mi. Just as mi includes that which is in relation to the person, so the object such as soap, toys and towels used in the water become a part of the experience of bathing, included in the whole intimate experience. There is a removal of any sense of boundary from divergence in temperatures of different surfaces. The water encompasses the space between parent and child so that they are held together, touching, through an undefined experience of depth. The water is the thick space (Gibson 1966) that holds them and removes any sense of boundary. The water, its temperature, and the mixed surfaces, all take any emphasis off the surface or skin of each bather‘s body and instead, allows a touching at depth. There is no longer any position of toucher or touchee. Through these different surfaces, co-bathers connect and are surrounded in a state of mutuality.
For both Hiroko and Ayako, co-bathing is a ritual, a part of their everyday lives and experiences with their children (and for Ayako, now with her grandchildren). Rituals take us out of self consciousness. Although we might go about some rituals almost mechanically, or without ‗thinking‘, there is often a livingness in rituals that enables intimacy to happen in the moment. Time is ‗taken out‘ for this ritual of bathing; it is what is done regardless and is not loaded with any other purpose except an underlying one of hygiene. Although this everyday quality of co-bathing might seem to be a
‗conscious‘ part of the everyday (to get clean), its very ritualistic quality suspends the urgency of purpose. In this ritual of co-bathing, skinship just happens in the
―everyday‖ and ―without consciousness‖ because it is not necessarily sought after.
For Ayako, the bath is not deemed a means to achieve skinship, it just happens; for
Hiroko, it is because it is an everyday thing that skinship happens.
106 However, that is not to say that co-bathing cannot be used to create or deepen intimacy. For many, the family furo (family bath) was viewed in a nostalgic and melancholy way, such that extended families would participate in weekends away to onsen, to let the familiar patterns rekindle the feelings associated with furo, even years later. Thus the recognition of the importance of the ritual of co-bathing helps us understand certain forms of skinship and certain ways of being intimate. The very ritual of co-bathing allows conscious ‗knowing‘ ways of achieving intimacy to be put aside, allowing people to enter the presence of others in the bath. This in-between space (or, aidagara; Watsuji 1996)30 becomes significant here as the close proximity of bodies and the exchange of body heat contribute to the soothing and calming feeling (anshinkan) between bathers.
From the Surface of ‘Skin’ to the Depths of ‘Heart’ and ‘Tone’
As we have seen in the above examples and analysis, skinship in Japanese mother- child relationships seems to be readily achieved through bodily forms of touch.
Although such forms are exemplified through breastfeeding, onbu, massage, and co- bathing, these manifest skinship when the touch between mother and child is not located in parts of the surfaced, corporeal, finite body. Instead, it is the non-finite space and feel of touch, such as it happens between mother and child, that makes these forms of touch intimate.
Therefore, the nature of this space between people needs to be better understood. This emphasis on skinship as being more than just physical touch was summed up nicely by Harumi (Snippet 11): ―Skinship is skin to skin contact and heart to heart
30 This is the in-between space called liminal by anthropologists such as van Gennep and Victor Turner.
107 contact/communication.‖ It is clear that intimacy through touch, for her, is not just located in the ‗body‘ or ‗skin‘. Instead, the ‗heart‘ seems to be significant and underlying in such states of being in relation. Winnicott notes that ―the proper care of an infant can only be done from the heart‖ (1981: 105). Although this will be further explored in Chapter Five, it is important to note from Snippet 11 that skinship with one‘s child can be both skin-to-skin contact as well as heart-to-heart contact, opening up possibilities for skinship to include more than just physical or visible forms of touch. Intimacy is a relational quality that relies on the ontological change, from
Cartesian body to wholeness. Bodily touch takes on a different meaning that is not necessarily visible but understood only in the context of embodiment.
For example, for some mothers, speaking in a nice voice (Snippet 3) and singing a song (Snippet 2) is a form of intimacy. Yumi states that it makes her ―child feel anshin‖. Although other women (Snippets 1 and 6) note that their children don‘t understand words and therefore resort to ‗physical‘ forms of touch, it is important to note that words can be bodily as well. Although certain aspects of words might not be understood, others can be. Words do not only make sense in a ‗dictionary-style‘ of language but are also sounds that are appreciated and shared, even if not necessarily consciously signified. Words can precede representation and for the mothers in
Snippets 1 and 6, their assumptions overlook the sound, smell, warmth and feel possible in words. Snippets 2 and 3 however, understand that their child responds to words (via tone and song). They can provide their child‘s ‗heart‘ with ease via words, opening up the meaning of skinship through a sensuous experience that is not locatable. The section below, on father-child relationships, explores this space further, identifying other ways in which flesh and mi are relevant to skinship.
108 Father-Child Relationships
Chapter Two showed that there has been an increase in the presence of the Japanese father in the home. Discourses such as ―nurturing fathers‖ (Nakatani 2006), the
―family man‖ (Ishii-Kuntz 2003) and ―companion-like fathers‖ (Hara and Minagawa
1996) all point to the increasing number of fathers who ―help with the care of infants and toddlers‖ (Hara and Minagawa 1996: 25). However, the reality of fathers spending as little as 16 minutes a day with their children (Nakatani 2006), often due to work obligations, still seem to exist, limiting the available forms of skinship and intimacy.
Whereas mother-child relationships seem to draw on more bodily forms of touch, father-child relationships seem to be grounded in less bodily forms. Recent childrearing manuals aimed at new fathers, seem to encourage forms of touch more common to mother-child relationships (Imada and Kaijima 1995). Unlike mothering manuals or general childrearing manuals that show natural displays of mothers holding (dakko) their child, Imada and Kaijima (1995) give fathers a step-by-step description of where to put the left or right hand in carrying the baby and giving their neck support (Appendix Fourteen). These instructions resonated with those in the massage class where particular emphasis was placed on how fathers should hold and massage their child (assuming that they wouldn‘t know how). Overall, however, father-child relationships seemed to interpret or define less bodily forms of touch as indicative of skinship.
109 Establishing Skinship
Snippets 12-21 are examples of how skinship is manifest in father-child relationships.
As many of the classes I attended comprised mostly women, it was more difficult to conduct mini-interviews with men. Although several opportunities arose during postnatal classes, the most common mini-interviews were conducted in the maternity ward, before or after mothers gave birth to their baby. While fathers were waiting
(sometimes with their wife, or often on their own), I conducted these mini-interviews with those who gave consent. In many of these cases, these fathers already had a child, and in the cases where they didn‘t, they would often refer back to their own upbringing and forms of skinship with their own father to respond. There were a larger proportion of in-depth interviews with men (particularly in Western Japan) which gave opportunities for lengthier discussion about skinship with their children.
Consider the following responses:
Snippet 12: 子供の寝顔見てるとね幸せになる After all, watching the children‘s negao
ね、やっぱり。 ‗sleeping faces‘ makes me happy. (Yuji, 54 years old, in-depth interview) Snippet 13: 頭をなでたり、何かいいことした時 Stroking my son‘s head, praising him にはほめてやったりとか。腕にぶら when he has done something good, 下がってると振り回してやったり。 holding him by the arms and swinging him around. (Mr Okamura, 43 years old, in-depth interview) Snippet 14: スキンシップは、公園行って一緒に Skinship is going to the park and playing 遊んだりとか、家でブロックしたり together; at home, playing with blocks, talking, and reading books. (Takahiro, 44 とか。話して、本読んで… years old, in-depth interview)
110 Snippet 15: 私はあまり家にいないけど、いる時 I‘m rarely home but when I am, it‘s
は一緒に遊ぶこと。 when we play together (Taka, 31 years old, mini-interview) Snippet 16: スキンシップは言葉、行動です。私 Skinship is language and actions. When I は子供の時、家族とスキンシップす was a child, for us to feel skinship, we るように、一緒に果物を採った。つ would pick fruit together. In short, doing the same things together with family is まり、家族と同じことをやるのはス skinship. (Mr Yamada, 35 years old, キンシップです。 mini-interview) Snippet 17: スキンシップはとりあえず目を見て Skinship is looking at each other and
話しかけたりすることです。 talking. (Tomo, 37 years old, mini- interview, mini-interview) Snippet 18: 父親と子供のスキンシップはもっと A father and child‘s skinship is more ダイナミックなスキンシップ。男の dynamic skinship. Because he is a boy, 子だから、活発な遊びが好きだか he likes asobi that is active. (Eiji, 28 years old, mini-interview) ら。 Snippet 19: スキンシップとういのは時間を過ご Really skinship is spending time すこと。例えば時々プレイキャッ together. For example, sometimes we‘d チ。日常ではね、お父さんが寝る ‗play catch.‘ Daily things? I (otōsan) would tell them stories at sleep-time. 時、ストーリー、寝る時、それはや Okāsan would still be in the kitchen, ったね。お母さんまだ、台所、キッ washing plates, etc, and then she‘d have チンで、ほらあの、お皿洗ったり、 a bath. But, the kids would say they were あとお風呂入ってる。でも、子供た sleepy, so that I would appear quickly to ちは眠い眠いって言うでしょ、だか tell them a story. Yeah, I (otōsan) was ら早くお父さん出て、物語、それは good at it….Often, we would make したよ。うん。得意だった、お父さ korokke (deep fried potatoes, croquettes).
111 ん。またはよく、コロッケってを、 We would make these together in the キッチンでみんなで作る、とかね。 kitchen. I also didn‘t exactly hate それ私も料理が嫌いじゃない、だか cooking so we would do this together. (Masahito, 62 years old, in-depth ら一緒にやる。 interview) Snippet 20: 声をかけたり、呼び方などはスキン The kind of tone you use, and the
シップです。 yobikata (name-calling) are skinship. (Takeshi, 37 years old, mini-interview) Snippet 21: 目線は大切です。子供と同じ目の高 Eye-contact (mesen) is important. If you さで話したら、もっと親しくなれ speak to your child at the same height/level, you can become much る。 closer. (Takashi, 31 years old, mini- interview)
According to the above responses, skinship in father-child relationships seems to be manifest in different ways than mother-child relationships. There seem to be more subtle ways to be intimate, ways that do not necessarily involve close physical proximity but which still make the father feel close with his child(ren). There seems to be an underlying genderedness to responses: fathers are not there much (Snippet
15) and when they are, skinship is manifest in a different way. Mothers provide children with anshin while fathers ―play‖ or spend time with their children. Whether this is due to the expectation of roles (the ikigai, purpose in life, of a good mother is her children, while a good father‘s ikigai is his work), Mathews (1997, 2003) notes that men‘s ikigai is increasingly becoming the family. This ought to have an effect on the forms of skinship with children as fathers take more of an active role in their child‘s life.
112 Father-child relationships were rarely grounded in bodily examples of touch. Aside from the example of the fathers learning (stiffly) to massage their child, Mr Okamura
(Snippet 13) was really the only male participant who referred to bodily forms of touch as a manifestation of skinship: ―stroking [his] son‘s head‖. The majority of comments suggest that father-child relationships rely less on bodily forms of touch and more on subtle forms. Devotion, the space of play, sight and tone are all ways in which the relationship and space between father and child can be explored in the context of skinship. Although these forms were defined in terms of skinship, similar to mother-child relationships, these forms did not manifest intimacy if father and child‘s bodies were separate entities. However, touch seems to connect father and child in different ways to mother-child relationships depending on the space between them.
For example, the comparatively more subtle presence of flesh in father-child relationships might make fathers appear more distant or separate from their children, but the degree of intimacy depends on how the space, between them, is inhabited. In father-child relationships, the flesh ontology becomes one which is not individual or subjective but that incorporates the experience of others. That is, their ―being is contagious‖ (Cataldi 1993: 71). The space father and child inhabits still incorporates a fleshy relation in which touch becomes a site of intimacy. However, the space of that touch is different.
Devotion
There were various ways in which fathers devoted time to their children. From the above examples (Snippets 14, 16 and 19), there were activities such as making fried
113 potatoes together, going to the park, picking fruit together, reading books or talking. It did not seem to be the type of activity which was associated with skinship but the devotion and shared space between father and child in this activity. For example, Mr
Yamada (Snippet 16) stated that skinship happens through doing the ―same thing as the family‖. There are two important points to make here. Firstly, this makes cultural sense given the general discourses associated with father absence (i.e. chichioya fuzen) from everyday spaces in many families. This relative absence would highlight his devotion of time to his children when he is home. Secondly, there seems to be a presence here of a non-locatable body: the body of father and the body of child is not important. It is the space between them and experiencing that space together (often through the abovementioned activities) that opens up possibilities for devotion between father and child.
There is a meeting in which shared interaction and experience connects father and child. Devoting time together, in various forms, allows a space in which intimacy can just happen. There is a different engagement with and sense of time here. Enjoying the same activity, being immersed in that moment with the child enables a sort of renunciation of self. There is no ‗father‘ or ‗child‘ in devotion, but a different logic to
‗spending time together‘. ‗Spending‘ limits time to a sort-of currency whereby the experience is defined in Euclidean terms: minutes, hours and dimensions of time.
Consciously conceived and contained, time spent with the child is constricted with calculations of what is going on at that moment and what will happen next. The concept of devoting time, however, enables intimacy to happen ‗in‘ a moment that is uncalculated and unconscious. There is a type of slowing down and becoming attuned with the child. And in such an undefined moment, possibilities for skinship take shape.
114
In the non-locatable body in devotion, there are no aims, self-consciousness or purposes in the relationship. Potential for intimacy exists in the living relationship. A
―personal living relationship‖ (Winnicott 1990) is about being ―present‖ to someone.
In the context of father and child relationships, this presence and devotion occurs through giving up ‗their‘ self and identity. This relationship is not loaded with who father or child are; it is not about them as separate entities. ―Beyond conscious thought and deliberate intention‖ (Winnicott 1981), the living relationship between father and child from the above responses seems to be simply about ‗being devoted‘, where the space of devotion involves a reversibility similar to mother-child relationships. The father is not with his child for his own purpose or for the purpose of the child. There is no purpose or intention. Being in-relation, they are devoted to one another and the infinite possibilities that unfold.
In this space of devotion, skinship continues to move us from the definition of touch within a finite, physically contained sense, to that which happens between the living relationship in meeting (a non-locatable encounter). But that non-locatable space is itself culturally contextualised. In its appropriate context, we see that Japanese fathers might not necessarily have the time to begin to engage with their child as does the mother, specifically in those more bodily ways. That makes experiences such as the postnatal massage class and their nervousness much more profound. Some fathers thus seem to devote themselves to their relationships with their children in other non- bodily ways. Largely based on shared experiences, the flesh of the father‘s world includes the flesh of the child‘s world, connecting them through this space of
115 devotion. Although they will be explored as separate experiences or ‗spaces‘, the following examples still manifest devotion in father-child relationships.
The Space of Play
There were various examples of the ways in which fathers devoted time to play
(asobi) together with his child(ren). Such ‗play‘ is often associated with skinship if it is in the context of devotion. Asobi included bodily forms of touch only insofar as it was a part of the action or play. Aside from Mr Okamura (Snippet 13), whose asobi included bodily touch (―holding him by the arms and swinging him‖), most forms of asobi were in the context of non-bodily touching activities or play where touch was not the primary intention. Although these activities often included the body and close proximity, it was more the space between them that made ‗play‘ considered to be a form of skinship.
The various types of ―playing together‖ that emerged in the material were manifest in a space that included the presence of father and child, and often encompassed objects and a ―dynamic‖ fun. One form of asobi, ―playing with blocks‖ (Snippet 14), involved objects as a part of the space between them. This reflects mi in that there is an all-encompassing space between father and child which also extends to and includes the blocks. The blocks become a medium through which devoting time together and asobi contribute to skinship. Play, via the blocks, tests out possibilities of the relation between father and child, almost a testing of its thickness. That is, there is a trust and learning involved in play that emerges and unfolds through unselfconsciousness.
116 ―Play-catch‖ (Snippet 19), another form of asobi, included fast, dynamic and active interaction. Although the faster paced play-catch included a physical activity associated with feelings of fun, the overall concept of such ―dynamic fun‖ provides father and child with the space to enjoy each other‘s company, become connected, and learn to trust through this play and devotion.
The ―liveliness of his [the father‘s] personality‖ (Winnicott 1981: 115) seems to be a common association with father-child relationships (Snippets 19 and 19). The reference to ―dynamic skinship‖ incorporates this ―liveliness‖ possible in father-child relationships through play. Such discourses of dynamic play emerged in parenting books, and ‗how-to‘ guides for fathers. For example, in the book entitled, A Book for those Becoming Fathers for the First Time (Imada and Kaijima 1995) (rōmaji: hajimete no papa ni naru hon), the concept of dynamic fun was used to describe the fun and games a father has with his child. Imada and Kaijima state: ―children like
(more and more) the dynamic kind of play they can have‖ (1995: 123-124). This dynamic fun is often found in father-child bathing. For example, Hara and Minagawa
(1996: 25) note that ―companion-like fathers…enjoy playing or taking baths with their preschool children‖. This is further reinforced in another childrearing manual entitled, Discipline for Children until Three Years Old (Hatano 1991; rōmaji: san sai made no shitsuke), where the father is playing with bubble bath and is contexted with the ofuro being more enjoyable because it is shared with the father (Appendix
Fifteen). There is a meeting as fathers lose the stiffness of their assigned role and show their vulnerable lively childlike unintegrated heart.
117 The different ways of playing in father-child relationships were also often manifest in physical games (Imada and Kaijima 1995). For example, the child climbing over the father as though he were a mountain (yama nobori ) and the father lifting the child as though they were an airplane (hikōki) were a part of such notions of dynamic fun and play (1995: 130-131) (Appendix Sixteen). This theatrical element of play is ontologically very important, linking it with the notion of flesh and mi. Just as the blocks become a part of the father-child relationship, so too does play extend to the space surrounding and between father and child. Huizinga (1949) insists that play is
―cosmogenic‖, linking the flesh of the father and child‘s world with an all- encompassing space that is inclusive of the cosmos. The ―mountain‖ game thus becomes particularly significant as person and mountain are of the same cosmos or flesh. It is not just that father and child play mountain, but that playing mountain leads father and child back into their deep unintegrated sense of self which is connected, ―cosmogenic‖ and embodied.
The main form of asobi in mother-child relationships existed in examples of massage, where song and play became a part of the massage ritual. Asobi, for fathers and children, seems to involve a similar meeting through which shared experience and connection happens: father and child become a part of the flesh of the world and the space which they inhabit. It is here that Winnicott‘s theory of play becomes an important tool in understanding the space of play in Japanese father-child relationships. Winnicott notes that playing ―involves the body‖ due to the
―manipulation of objects‖ and the certain types of ―intense interest…associated with certain aspects of bodily excitement‖ (1971: 52). However, play is not located in the
118 body. Play exists in the space between parent and child, where devotion and reliability are necessary:
The thing about playing is always the precariousness of the interplay of
personal psychic reality and the experience of control of actual objects. This is
the precariousness of magic itself, magic that arises in intimacy, in a
relationship that is being found to be reliable. To be reliable the relationship is
necessarily motivated by the mother‘s love, or her love-hate, or her object-
relating, not by reaction-formations. (Winnicott 1971: 47)
What is necessary to the space of play (in father and child relationships) is the father being-reliable, responsive and devoted to the child. This becomes the essence of their living relationship. It is not based on the ―reaction-formation‖ of dynamic fun and play, where the father seeks to induce a reaction from the child; rather on the father‘s being ―free to be playful‖ (Winnicott 1971: 44-45) and being reliable to the child.
―Playing implies trust‖ (Winnicott 1971: 51) and this opens up possibilities for play to become a form of skinship, insofar as the child trusts his father‘s love and reliability, and thereby also comes to trust the world. If there is no trust or reliability, there is no sense of connection, merely ―reaction-formations‖ where the father tries to overcome the child.
Talking
Similarly, the felt perceptions in talking can also be tangible in the depth of flesh: ―we can detect and do respond emotionally to that icy or frosty edge in someone‘s voice‖
(Cataldi 1993: 133). For some fathers (Snippets 13 and 17), the content of what is said (i.e. praising the child) is important, while for others, yobikata (the way in which
119 the child is addressed) or the tone used reflects skinship (Snippet 20). If the tone is one of anger, the child might become defensive and there won‘t be space for meeting.
For talking to open up possibilities for skinship, there needs to be dialogue and response passing between the relation. It is not what is being said, but the quality of the sound and the space felt between them during the sound, that impacts on their connection. Similar to mother-child relationships, words are fleshy: the sound, warmth and feel possible in words can be appreciated and shared, contributing to talking, tone and voice becoming manifestations of intimacy.
Sight
Sight was often referred to as a form of skinship. Sight has often been seen as a distancing sense (Howes 2005; Jay 1993), but this distancing vision is not the sight that appears in the snippets. For example, ―watching the child‘s negao‖ (Snippet 12),
―looking at each other‖ (Snippet 17) and ―eyecontact‖ (Snippet 21) all include a soft eye. That is, there is a tenderness and love associated with watching a child‘s
―sleeping face‖, while speaking to ―your child at the same height/level‖ via eyesight helps the child recognise the mutuality of their space and how they are implicated in one another. Just as there can be spatial difference making touch possible, so too is there spatial difference making sight possible. Cataldi notes that ―the two sides of the body are kept together as two sides of the same (unified) body only because they are somewhat spatially segregated or distanced from each other‖ (1993: 69; emphasis added). This distance or spatial segregation can be proximity through distance in sight, or ―touching at a distance‖ (Montagu 1986: 124). It is in this depth that sight can be a form of skinship.
120 Sight is not necessarily a conscious ‗mutual‘ meeting between father and child. In some cases, looking in a child‘s eyes (and reversibly, the child looking back) is a large part of intimacy. Through this sort of vision, father and child‘s eyes meet and become implicated in one another. The reversibility in sight exists through seeing being-seen. Moreover, this need not always be a literal mutual mingling of sight. For
Yuji (Snippet 12), watching his children‘s negao (sleeping faces), made him very happy. Even though he was watching children unaware of his gaze, sight becomes a site of intimacy here, because of the reversible relationship which necessarily comes with a soft eye. His sight did not rely on their active participation, but nonetheless their presence changed him, bringing him to the moment, making him aware of the mutual implication of his life and his children‘s lives, of the fact that his children‘s unfearful sleep presupposed their awareness of his protection. Sight for him, became a manifestation of skinship because they were a part of him (they shared the same flesh).
Summary
Skinship finds meaning differently in parent-child relationships but is only deep and meaningful if it touches (moves, affects or transforms) the relationship and space between parent and child. This relation isn‘t one thing touching another thing, but an ontological recreation of forms. Parent and child are implicated in and through one another, though in different ways. Skinship, in mother-child relationships, is present in participatory bodily forms. In other words, it is not a one-sided touch but a reciprocal, reversible relationship between mother and child making the touch intimate. Touch becomes a site of intimacy due to the mother touching the child, and reversibly, the mother being-touched by the child. Common forms of touch in mother- child relationships ranged from the mother touching the whole body of the child to
121 more subtle forms of touch whereby only the hand was touching the child. However, this was not a connection of ‗bits‘ but an intrinsic connection that gives an all- encompassing warmth, suspending the logic of things. Furthermore, for such forms of touch to be a manifestation of skinship at all, concepts such as reversibility, responsiveness and purposelessness were explored within the context of mother-child relationships.
Skinship such as it exists in father-child relationships helps us to reassess mother- child relationships and the meaning of skinship. In father-child relationships, skinship seems to be manifest in less bodily forms, to be less visible than in mother-child relationships. It is not touch on the surface of father-child relationships or their identified bodies which is required, but an understanding of touch that calls on certain relational states of being to achieve skinship, in particular, the affective sense of moving someone.
The feel of touch in mother-child relationships offers insight onto the response, mutual mingling and reversibility present through flesh and mi. However, father-child relationships help us to further reassess what touch actually is: through the suspension it produces in the finite body, devotion opens a space that connects, holds, and encompasses the relationship, opening up possibilities for skinship. Devotion gives the space (and opportunity, with no intention) for flesh to be present and recognised.
Then through this fleshy space, through devotion, there are different ways of feeling close. For the forms of touch in mother-child relationships to be a form of skinship, devotion is necessary but is often overshadowed by the more visible forms of touch.
122 Devotion incorporates different notions of time and space where parent needs to be present and attuned with their child. Response and reversibility also happen through devotion. But the way in which devotion and skinship exist may vary. The underlying significance is that there is no subject-object, no purpose, and no aim. Of course fathers might aim to pass time together with their children (i.e. providing a ―service‖ to their family, famarī sābisu), to create intimate moments of connectedness, but it is the way in which the space between them is inhabited, that opens or hinders possibilities for skinship.
Skinship is an ―artless art‖ where being-together in a Euclidean sense is not of direct significance. Although skinship finds meaning in and through the body, it is the fleshy, all-encompassing space around and between other non-locatable bodies that enables skinship to take on a clearer, more conceptually specific meaning. Skinship is best described then, not as intimacy through touch, but as a felt or tangible meeting between lived bodies. This felt or tangible meeting cannot be experienced with subject-object or separate bodies but through the space which they inhabit. Skinship is not possible in the surfaced, separate body of the mother, child or father. The space of skinship encompasses the bodies of those in the relationships of mother and child, father and child, or even mother, father and child together but includes much more.
Skinship exists in the felt space between people.
One might ask at this point, how can I assume that all these relationships are intimate and based on the same states of relationality? I am not suggesting this, nor am I saying that such states of being-in-relation exist in all Japanese parent-child relationships. What I am proposing, however, is that there is a relational logic in
123 certain lived parent-child relationships that offers an insight onto the nature of intimacy in Japanese families, and further implications for other relational contexts. I do not assume that all Japanese families bear these relationships or that if this state of being exists one day or in one case, that it necessarily exists everyday, unchangeably, throughout their lives. What is important to understand, and what Part Two is attempting to address, is how the logic of relationality and the logic of identity play out in various ways and how situations move between states. This chapter primarily addressed the logic of relationality, while the Chapter Five opens up more issues of identity and desire, using soine (co-sleeping) as a point of reference.
124 CHAPTER FIVE: WHOSE FUTON IS THIS ANYWAY? EXCLUSION AND
INCLUSION IN THE BEDROOM
Introduction
The previous chapter explored the ways in which skinship exists in parent-child relationships. When parent and child are in relation, touch is not located in the finite body. Instead, certain relational states are called upon for touch to be a form of intimacy. These states include reversibility, responsiveness and devotion, and find significance through the depths of flesh and mi. When the relationship is loaded with purposes, aims and consciousness, however, possibilities for intimacy are constrained.
Touch cannot be a manifestation of intimacy if it is located in a finite, corporeal, surfaced body. The emphasis, in such cases, is on the space around separate bodies.
Touch becomes a non-relational experience that is grounded in an identity logic of subject-object (the body of the subject and the body of the object). There cannot be a meeting of such separate bodies as they cannot touch one another in an intimate, fleshy sense. Instead, forms of touch are used to achieve a certain state for one‘s own benefit: the purposeful nature of this touch removes potentiality for intimacy between whole persons.
Using soine (co-sleeping) as a point of reference, this chapter develops these two states of relationality: an encounter ‗between the family‘ (relational) and a non- encounter between ‗family members‘ (non-relational). The use of language here is deliberate. ‗Between the family‘ incorporates all the family and includes a sort of infinitude where the family is not limited to a ‗unit‘ but comprises the relationships implicated in the family; ‗family members‘, on the other hand, refers to the
125 individuality and subjectivity of each person. There are no possibilities for connection as each member is so full of ‗self‘ and identity. Often clothed under the pretense of skinship, certain forms of touch can exist in non-encounters, separating or alienating a member (or members) of a family or enforcing a unity that excludes the difference upon which relation relies. Alternatively, there are certain ways of being in relational encounters where touch may not be manifest in visible forms, but the tangibility of the space between the family is actually intimate. Chapter Four looked specifically at mother-child and father-child relationships, whereas this chapter explores different states of relationality in the context of the Japanese ‗family‘.
Although soine was mentioned as a form of skinship in Chapter Four, it was intentionally left out of the main analysis. That is because such states of skinship, through soine, generally implicate relationships with other people in the family, not just a mother-child or father-child relationship. This does not of course mean that the other forms of skinship in Chapter Four (in mother-child and father-child relationships) do not implicate the rest of the family. However, in many cases, the questions and responses were referring to the particular dyad of mother-child or father-child. Although some issues that emerge in this chapter might offer further insight onto the previous chapter, there is a vital difference in the approach of the two chapters. Chapter Four attempted to explore the possibilities of skinship through the feel of touch, not so much to determine who was in or not in relation. This chapter is more specific in terms of investigating the states of relationality and what enables or disables intimacy in soine.
126 This chapter aims to explore the nature of the encounter and non-encounter in the family by distinguishing two forms of relation: 1) exclusive relations, whereby soine is used to separate, alienate or assimilate a family member, and 2) inclusive relations, where soine connects the family, accepting the differences involved, and contributes to the space between them being intimate. Of course these are not necessarily stagnant, unchanging states. It is common that the relationship might slip between such modes of exclusion and inclusion. The concepts used for analysis are ‗desire‘ (Hegel 1979) and ‗abjection‘ (Kristeva 1982) in the context of exclusive relations, while inclusive relations draw out implications for flesh and mi, which includes an all-encompassing space in the family possible through soine.31
Co-sleeping in Japan
Sleep, in a Japanese context, is often associated with co-sleeping (soine) and physical proximity. Scholarship on Japanese co-sleeping is usually associated with functional reasons such as house size and lack of space (Caudill and Plath 1986; Lebra 2004), a purposive reduction of sleep disturbances in infancy (Kawasaki, Nugent, Miyashita,
Miyahara and Brazelton 1994; Latz, Wolf and Lozoff 1999), and certain relational states in soine such as close proximity, touch and intimacy, specifically skinship
(Lebra 2004; Ben-Ari 1996, 1997). In many cases of soine, the child is at the centre of, or in between, the parents. This way of sleeping is referred to as kawa no ji style
(sleeping like the Chinese character for river 川) since it imitates the three flowing lines that make up that character. Kawa is therefore used to refer to the child sleeping between the ―protective support of the two parents‖ (Kawasaki et al 1994: 90).
31 Of course soine is not only a practice for families but is also found in company and school outings (Ben-Ari 1996; Kondo 1990).
127
Caudill and Plath‘s (1986: 257) study on Japanese sleeping practices shows that families tend to co-sleep in Japan, and in some cases, up until the child is fifteen years of age. Parent-child soine will often shift to sibling soine as the child gets older
(Caudill and Plath 1986). Although these trends have changed significantly, along with a shift in dwelling type and size (Sand 2003), co-sleeping still plays an important part in Japanese relationships and daily life, particularly the ―prolonged physical proximity‖ upon which mother-child relations are generally based (Rothbaum et al
2002).
More recently, studies have shifted to include co-sleeping in formal organisations such as daycare centres (Ben-Ari 1996, 1997, 2005; Shigaki 1983). Ben-Ari‘s work on naptime in daycare centres (hoikuen) is particularly relevant here. He refers to naptime in hoikuen as a way in which continuities between the home and pre-school
(and then beyond) can be explored. Co-sleeping is marked by cosy warmth and tenderness. Ben-Ari (1997: 36) posits that this is achieved through ―intimate caresses‖ and the ―transfer of body heat between adults and children‖. Drawing on Abu-Lughod and Lutz (1990), Ben-Ari suggests that such experiences of co-sleeping involve the whole person, including the body. Although this will be further explored within the context of a public institution (hoikuen) in Chapter Six, this chapter opens up more fully this notion of co-sleeping as an ―embodied experience‖ in inclusive relations that requires connection and relatedness. Alternatively, the intention and motivation often found in exclusive relations makes soine an un-connected experience.
128 In interviews and participant-observation classes, there was an emphasis on the significance of co-sleeping to maximise the wellbeing of the child until the child reached about ten years old. In conjunction with Caudill and Plath‘s (1966, 1986) findings, participants still preferred for children to co-sleep with parents (and in some three-generational homes, grandparents) even when there was ample space for children to sleep separately or with other siblings. In one case, a participant slept in a double bed with her husband while her child co-slept in the same room with a baby bed. In other cases, children slept next to their mother on the same futon, while the father slept on the other side of the mother (or, in another room). The remainder of interviewed participants upheld the traditional kawa no ji ritual of soine: the child at the centre of, or in between, the parents.32
Kawa no ji was deemed necessary by participants for several reasons, although initially responses were grounded in practical and functional reasons such as there not being enough space. Other ‗practical‘ childrearing conditions mentioned included the danger of earthquakes and the relief and security (anshin) co-sleeping provides for children and parents. Co-sleeping was also said to be an effective and convenient way to eliminate sleep disturbances for mothers, who could more easily comfort a child who is physically proximate than one who is in another room. This was in sync with
Latz et al‘s (1999) findings, where there was little night waking and bed-time protest in Japanese children. They suggest that ―body contact at bedtime and their close proximity during the night might mean that their infants returned to sleep with minimal disruptions of the parents‘ sleep‖ (Latz et al 1999: 344). I explore the ways
32 These sleeping arrangements reflected those found in Latz et al‘s (1999) study on sleep practices and problems in young children, where almost all Japanese participated in co-sleeping with mother, father, child and siblings. They also found that fathers sometimes slept in another room.
129 in which this ―body contact‖ and ―close proximity‖ varies according to exclusive and inclusive relations.
Exclusive Family Relations
It is helpful to establish the terms ‗exclusive‘ and ‗inclusive‘ relations through everyday examples before adapting these to experiences of soine. The term ‗exclusive relation‘ refers to the alienation that can emerge between marital couples where the child is the focus. An emptiness appears in these families when the father is cut off, or excluded, from the relationship so that the mother-child relationship can take primacy.
Other scholars have referred to similar relations whereby a husband is a mere
―lodger‖ (Salamon 1986), ―sodaigomi‖ or ―insignificant co-resident‖ in the family
(Lebra 2004). In such cases, male-based skinship (such as it emerged in Chapter Four
- play, sight, tone and devotion) is all the more significant as this provides father and child with some way in which they can feel connected. However, in many cases, there did not seem to be the space or potential for such forms of skinship. Consider the following snippets, which reflect common responses about child-centeredness
(kodomo chūshin) and an associated de-emphasis of the marital relationship (see also
Caudill and Plath (1986), Tanaka (1984) and Blood (1967)):
Snippet 22: 子供を生んでから、子供中心になる。 After children are born, it [the marriage]
だから、夫婦の関係がなくなる。 becomes child-centred (kodomo chūshin). So, the marital relationship disappears/dies (nakunaru). (Yukari, female, 27 years old, mini-interview) Snippet 23: 子供をうんでから、子供のことで頭がい After children are born, your mind and eyes
130 っぱい・めいっぱい。頭にしかないか become filled with your children. That‘s all ら。旦那と一緒にすごす時間がない。 that is in your head. I don‘t have time to spend with my husband. Rather than saying ないというよりも、あっても、いらない。 I don‘t have time, even if I did, I wouldn‘t
want/need it. (Miyuki, female, 35 years old, mini-interview)
The above comments suggest a distinction between marital and parent-child relationships, with a particular emphasis on mother-child relationships. The child becomes the ‗focus‘ of the family, seen through the term kodomo chūshin. It is not the emphasis on the child which is important here, because, as we will see in inclusive relations, this focus on the child can actually become a manifestation of intimacy where the family participates through the child. That is, kodomo chūshin might sometimes open up possibilities for the child to become the life of the family where all are implicated in one another. However, Yukari‘s (Snippet 22) and Miyuki‘s
(Snippet 23) comments suggest that the distinction and compartmentalisation of marital and parent-child relationships is more of an intentional shift: once children are born, ―the marital relationship disappears/dies‖ (Yukari, Snippet 22). Kodomo chūshin seems to become the overarching focus in the family: the disappearance or death of the marital relationship suggests that the relationship between the husband and wife doesn‘t play a part in the life of the family.
In these cases, the father seems uninvolved with the primary family relationship or interactions. For example, it seems that Miyuki is satisfied with her eyes and head being ―filled‖ with her children, and that there is no real need or space for her husband: ―Even if I did [have the time], I wouldn‘t want/need it‖. I conducted a separate interview with Mikyuki‘s husband to gain an understanding of how he feels:
131
Snippet 24: 子供がいるから、生活は忙しいでし Because [we] have kids, [our] lifestyle is ょう。お母さんはいつも子供。僕は busy right? For mum (okāsan), it is always いつも仕事。日曜日は休みの日だけ the kids; for me, it‘s always work. Sunday is a holiday, but because my wife and the ど、お母さんと子供が何かがあるの kids always have something on (nanika ga で、僕は社員と一緒にどっかに行き aru), I go somewhere (dokka ni ikimasu) ます。 with my fellow employees. (Ken, male, 37 years old, in-depth interview)
As Miyuki‘s and her husband‘s comments suggest, it seems that Ken is not active in the life of the family, and, moreover, that he feels excluded. Firstly, it is clear that Ken fills his own life with work and other non-family activities on Sundays. His reference to nanika ga aru [―have something on‖] suggests that he does not really know what his wife (whom he refers to as okāsan) and their children do.33 Furthermore, his response about what he does on a Sunday is also non-committal: dokka ni ikimasu
[―go somewhere‖] suggests that he does not really have a set place to go to. On the surface, Ken‘s comment seems to uphold discourses of chichioya fuzen (Nakatani
2006), fathers who are rarely home and always attend after-work functions (Allison
1994), or fathers who prefer to ―decamp‖ on a Sunday (Jolivet 1997). However, it is useful to examine Ken‘s situation more sympathetically. Perhaps Ken is not very present in the home because, when he is there, he does not feel wanted, and is, as
Lebra (2004) terms it, an ―insignificant co-resident‖.
33 The terms spouses call each other are adapted to the perspective of the child (Lebra 2004). For example, it is common after the birth of the first child to no longer address one‘s wife by her first name but by the term her child would use when addressing her, okāsan or mama.
132 A subtle nuance with his language use is deliberately bracketed [we] and [our]. Ken does not explicitly say that it is their kids or lifestyle to which he is referring. That is, it is not entirely clear if Ken is making a general statement about marriage or a specific statement about his own marriage. Although this may be a translation issue, because English requires a subject and Japanese does not always specify a subject, there does seem to be a level of ambiguity: it was unclear whether or not Ken was including himself in the ‗lifestyle‘ of the family or if it was more their ‗exclusive‘ lifestyle. Considering the remainder of his sentence, his reference to not-anyone-in- particular‘s lifestyle seems to further separate him from his family.
Consider the case of Satoko, who also makes a clear distinction between her husband and her son, Zen:
Snippet 25: 誰が一番大切のことじゃなくて、子供は It‘s not a matter of who is most 上、夫は下。子供が亡くなったら、くるち important. My child is above, my ゃう、おかしくなる。でも、だんなが亡くな husband below. If my child were to die, I would go crazy. But if my husband were ったらくるわない・おかしくならない。 to die, I wouldn‘t. (Satoko, Female, 30
years old, in-depth interview)
At the beginning of our conversation, Satoko informed me that her husband often attempted to hold her hand in public but that she would pull away after a second or two. She stated that although she loved holding Zen‘s hand, she did not like her husband trying to touch her. Furthermore, she also said that he tried to hold her hand at night but she would hold Zen‘s hand instead, while they sleep. When I asked why not her husband‘s hand, her distinction was grounded in discourses of ittaikan
133 [feelings of one body]: ―Because a mother and her children are ittai [one body] it‘s only natural.‖ Ittaikan has been paraphrased as feelings of ―oneness‖ (Lebra 1976) and ―merging‖ and ―unity‖ (White 2002). Although Satoko (Snippet 25) did not explicitly state that she was not ittai with her husband, she did express her preference for her child over her husband, as opposed to a general feeling of ‗familyness‘ between the three of them.
It seems that there is a link between Satoko‘s prioritising her child over her husband and her wanting to become ittai with her child. Satoko‘s husband‘s presence appeared to be almost inconsequential vis-à-vis Satoko‘s strong desire to be ittai with her child.
Even if her husband wanted to be more active in the life of the family, there seemed to be little space or opportunity for him to do so.
The same problem is reflected in the following statement by Shin‘ichi:
Snippet 26: 僕たちは子供を生んでから、一緒に時 I thought that once we had children, we 間を過ごそうと思ったけど奥さんは別々 would be able to spend time together, but it に住みたかったみたい。私は早く仕事 seems as though my wife wanted to live separately with the children. When I が終わるとき、すぐに帰っていた。でも、 finished work early I‘d go home 私が帰っても、あまり必要性がなかっ straightaway. But even if I went home, た。また、仕事は忙しくなったとき、奥さ there wasn‘t much of a need for me to be んが別の部屋にふとんをひいた．．．一 there. Also, when work was busy, my wife 緒に寝たくても．． would put a futon in a separate room for me…even if I wanted to sleep together. (Shin‘ichi, male, 52 years old, in-depth interview)
134
Shin‘ichi‘s comment (Snippet 26) suggests that his wife wanted to be ittai with the children and that his presence was felt to be an impediment to this. Although there seems to be a meaningful relationship between mother and child in the two cases just described, I argue that such attempts to become one and merge or unite with a child are not a reflection of intimacy. Instead, as long as the relation is an attempt to exclude a third party, there is an empty, hollow space between the two people that is based on a logic of identification. This crucial point is frequently misunderstood, whenever connection is misdescribed as unity or oneness or merger. The latter terms describe a lack of connection for they have excluded the differences that must co- exist with sameness if connection or relation or meeting is to occur.
To explain this, I will need to introduce Hegel‘s analysis of desire which is particularly useful in unpacking experiences of intimacy. For Hegel, desire relies on the binary opposition of subject and object, a logic only understood through finite and separate bodies or objects. Desire is based on exclusion and is contrary to the intimate possibilities that can develop through a non-finite logic of relations. In fact, discussions on meeting (Buber 1958), flesh (Merleau-Ponty 1964) and mi (Ichikawa
1993) help to dislocate subject-object relations, revealing an ontology that is inclusive.
Hegel‘s analysis of desire helps to develop the discussion of intimacy and inclusion while drawing on examples of exclusion and alienation.
The logic of desire is based on the subjectivity and self-consciousness of ―I‖, where there is ―primarily simple existence for self‖ (Hegel 1977: 231). The subject strives to know itself, particularly in relation to the other. This identity logic should be
135 considered within the context of Hegel‘s Master and Slave, or Lordship and
Bondsman:
It [the master] is a consciousness existing on its own account which is
mediated with itself through an other consciousness, i.e. through an other [i.e.
slave] whose very nature implies that it is bound up with an independent being
or with thinghood in general. The master brings himself into relation to both
these moments, to a thing as such, the object of desire, and to the
consciousness whose essential character is thinghood. (Hegel 1977: 234-235)
Locating the ―known‖ object, the conscious self is ―separate‖ and ―distinct‖ from the object (Hegel 1977: 228). For the subject (i.e. master) to be assured of his own Ego, he comes to his own self-consciousness and ―self-identity by exclusion of every other from itself‖ (Hegel 1977: 231). There is a ―revelation of an emptiness‖ (Kojève 1980:
5) here, as the object (i.e. slave) has been ―negated‖. That is, that which is non-subject
(non-I) is destroyed, transformed, or merged, to reaffirm I‘s subjectivity. The desired object is transformed to be that which the subject seeks. The subject is ―brought back to himself‖ only by desire, and is unable to ―see‖ the object truly.
There are no possibilities for meeting or intimacy in such desirous relations; there is no respect for difference, only an attempt to find sameness through that which is known. In such a ―mirror logic‖, the subject does not see the other person for who they truly are; the desire is to see self reflected back, to find sameness. Thus, the person is negated and remains unseen while the subject is ―brought back to‖ himself/herself.
136 If we return to Satoko‘s and Shin‘ichi‘s wife‘s attempts to merge with their children through ittaikan, we can see that there is a similar identity logic at play: there are two separate subjects or a subject-object relationship between these family members, where the intention and motivation to merge overtakes the actual feelings of intimacy otherwise possible. The quest for oneness actually disables possibilities for relation because issues such as objectification, control and separation are at play. The subject
(i.e. mother) uses her object (i.e. child) to separate herself from her husband. There is no intimacy between them, for the possibilities end in that relationship. This state of oneness is stifled by subjectivity and self-consciousness which ―in general is desire‖
(Hegel 1977: 167).
In this desirous context, Satoko does not see who her child truly is; there is oddly no relation as her relationship with her child and husband are about her self: ―If my child were to die, I would go crazy‖. Here, she uses her child as a means to her own end, clinging to and desiring her child‘s presence. The two are not implicated in each other; there is no meeting here. Instead, ittaikan manifests here as a possessive desire.
There is a master-slave dyad here, whereby Satoko elevates both herself and Zen above her husband, while her identity exists through Zen and an implied subordination to her child. Zen‘s life seems to be that which sustains Satoko. As
Hegel (1977: 234) notes, ―the master is the consciousness that exists for itself‖. In the case of Satoko, her own subjectivity seems to take precedence, though she relies on
Zen‘s consciousness to exist.
Through the mirror logic of desire, Satoko seems to be making Zen into an object
―whose essential character is thinghood‖ (Hegel 1977: 235) and a means to her end.
137 She confirms her own existence (her own subjectivity) through how it is that she sees herself through him. That is, she is anxious and fearful and tries to stabilise and control her identity through the mirror of her child. There is no authentic meeting or space for intimacy here, only control. It seems that she holds Zen‘s hand so as not to hold her husband‘s hand. This unity is based on an exclusion where the child is not- husband. However, this consciousness and calculation results in a further separation between mother and child, as subject controls object through what they see or know.
We see a similar example of control and objectification if we return to Shin‘ichi. He seemed to feel alienated as his wife physically separated him from the ‗family‘ space in the home. Of course there could be several interpretations as to why she wanted
Shin‘ichi to sleep in a different room when work was busy. For example, Latz et al
(1999) found that Japanese fathers who slept separately indicated that they arrive home late, leave early, and expect uninterrupted sleep. Perhaps Shin‘ichi‘s wife wanted to ensure her husband‘s sleep would not be disrupted by a crying baby, particularly when work was busy. However, Shin‘ichi felt that his presence was not necessarily required (―wasn‘t much of a need for me to be there‖) and that his preferences were not taken into account (―even if I wanted to sleep together‖). He felt as though he was not needed.34 It is important to further unpack such exclusive relations in the context of co-sleeping.
34 Although referred to in the context of children fearing abandonment by their mothers, Kondo (1990: 149) states that ―exclusion from the uchi (the home) is the worst possible punishment‖.
138 Exclusive Relations in Soine: On the Other Side of the River
When kawa no ji is used to achieve an exclusive state between members of a family, there is often an alienation and separation of one of the persons involved. The three parallel strokes of the Chinese character take on a different symbolic meaning in soine in such relations. There are three bodies which are separate and contained: father, child and mother. In some cases, one line is left alone (usually ―mother and children versus father‖ (Vogel 1963: 211)); in others, there is no relation between them: the space between all three family members is empty and hollow.
Consider the case of Kiyoshi, who is currently undergoing a divorce:
Snippet 27: 日本で一緒に川の字で寝るのは家族 In Japan, we sleep together in kawa no ji のためです。川の字でお母さんとお父 for the sake of the family. The mother and さんは子供を面倒見ることができます。 father can then watch over their children. But, in my case, my wife didn‘t want to でも、僕の場合には、奥さんは私と一 sleep together. Therefore kawa no ji was 緒に寝たくなかった。だからその川の used, in our situation, not as an expression 字は私たちの状況で愛情の表現では of love, but to separate us as a married なく、夫婦が分かれるためでした。 実 couple. Really, in my case, my family was は、俺の場合、仕事より家族のほうが more important than my work, but it was 大切だったけど、奥さんは俺のこといら like my wife never needed me, so I focused ないみたいので、仕事を中心しました。 on my work. (Kiyoshi, male, 52 years old, in-depth interview)
Kiyoshi refers to kawa no ji as a positive practice ―for the sake of the family‖: it can be the space within which the child is watched over and intimacy can happen.
However, we can see that the ritual of soine was more for Kiyoshi‘s wife‘s sake than for their child‘s. Kiyoshi‘s interpretation of their soine ritual is that his wife used their
139 child as the barrier to separate her from Kiyoshi. Although Kiyoshi‘s case seems to be quite overt, there were more subtle forms of exclusion in interviews with other participants. Consider the case of Yō:
Snippet 28: 子供が産まれる前一つの部屋のこっち Before we had kids, we had one room とこっちにベッドを並べて、奥さんが寝 with a bed here and a bed there lined up て私が寝て。で、ベッドひとつベッドひと and my wife slept on one and I slept on the other and...And, our beds were つ、それぞれ、で、動くとこっちもこう揺 separated, one here, one there, [because れるでしょ、それが駄目だから、だから otherwise] when one of us would move, それぞれ別々のベッドってことで。で、 the other [one‘s side of the bed] would 子供が生まれて子供と生活する。うん、 move, too, and that‘s bad, so we would それで三人が寝れるように。で、そういう sleep in separate beds. And then we had 風に三人が寝れるっていうのは、真ん中 our child and were living our life with 子供を中心に、だからそういう風に一緒 him. And so the three of us would sleep, に寝るのは、私はベストだと思う。一番 and the way the three of us would sleep was concentrating on the child in the いい形。離れてるベッドをくっつけて、 centre. So in that way we slept together で、一緒に寝てたんだけど。でも、子供 and it‘s what I think was best. It was the が大きくなると、奥さんは私の近くにいた best way. We put both beds together and くなかったみたい。だから、もう一回ベッ slept. But when our child became bigger, ドを離して、別々に寝た。 my wife didn‘t seem to want to be close to me, so once again, we separated the beds and slept separately. (Yō, male, 53 years old, in-depth interview)
Although Yō is not explicit in claiming he was excluded from the ‗family‘, there are reasons to suggest his alienation. Yō seemed to critically accept the need to have separate beds so that their sleep wouldn‘t be disrupted. However, such movements and disruptions did not seem to be a problem when they joined beds and co-slept with
140 their child. It seems that Yō can no longer understand their space of separation now that their child sleeps separately and the beds are separated once again. He now feels as though his wife does not want to be near him.
The space between the members of Yō‘s family needs to be considered within a cultural context as well as the subject-object relation in desire. Yō‘s wife not only masters her husband by determining when their beds stay close together or separate, but she also masters her child through using his body to act as a buffer between her and Yō. Whether or not his wife wanted to merge and become ittai with their child is unknown. She might have engaged in kawa no ji to uphold one of the ―functional‖ or
―practical‖ reasons already discussed, such as protection or security. However, the domestic space and the many childrearing practices associated should be considered in the context of gender relations and ideals. If childrearing practices in Japan are said to strengthen mother-child ties (Schooler 1996) and soine is one such domestic example, then it is likely that Yō‘s wife considers soine her domain. Perhaps Yō‘s wife fulfils her purpose (ikigai) by upholding sought-after practices such as kawa no ji.
However, the intention and purposefulness in their experience of soine also needs to be addressed. Yō‘s wife joins the beds only for the sake of co-sleeping with her child.
This removes any possibility for intimacy between the family such as it might include
Yō. Their child (and his lifestyle) becomes the ‗focus‘ however there appears to be an emptiness between family members. This is seen through his wife cutting off Yō through the ritual of soine in two ways: having a gap between their beds, and using the child‘s body as a means to separate them. The way the gap between them is filled
141 becomes relevant: the space between them is empty and can only be partly filled by the child. In this way, the child makes the hollowness in the family felt, particularly when he ceases to co-sleep with his parents.
Yō‘s situation bears some similarities with that of Masahito‘s family, all five members of whom co-slept for a four-year period. When the boys were old enough
(nine and ten), they moved to their own room. However, his wife, Yōko, resisted their daughter Yuki moving into her own room too, but had her continue to sleep between her parents until she was 15 years old. Yōko‘s comments on this some 20 years later suggest that she wanted to ‗fill her space‘ with her daughter (Yuki-chan)35 rather than her husband. As a result, there were various problems that occurred between all three family members as Masahito still slept in the same room but their daughter was used as a buffer. As Yōko recalls:
Snippet 29: お母さんはお父さんあんまり好きじ Okāsan (I) didn‘t really like Otōsan (him). ゃなかったのね。で、お父さんとユ And because I didn‘t like him and Yuki キコが仲良くすんのが嫌だと思った being close, if she and [her] dad touched I would say, ‗Yuki-chan dame!‘ (that‘s から、お父さんと触ったりすると、 wrong!)…So at that time, Otōsan and 「ユキちゃん駄目」と言った。だか Okāsan weren‘t very close. So I didn‘t ら、その時きっとお父さんとお母さ want him (the Otōsan that was not close) んは仲がよくなかった。だから、仲 to be close with Yuki-chan. So, that‘s why が良くないお父さんとユキちゃんが I would certainly say to Yuki, ‗It‘s bad for 親しくすんのはおもしろくないと思 you to sleep with your father‘. (Yōko,
35 Chan is an affectionate noun suffix for a child, or someone close. It replaces san or kun (for a boy). Bachnik (1982) refers to such noun suffixes in terms of politeness and distance whereby –sama, -san, - kun, -chan are ordered.
142 った。だからユキちゃんに、きっと female, 60 years old, in-depth interview) 「お父さんと寝ちゃ駄目」と言った
と思う。
Yōko used soine with her children as a means to separate herself from her husband.
She used her daughter‘s body until the age of 15 to achieve this separation. It seems that all three bodies here were contained in their own identity, each on the ‗other‘ side of the river. As Yōko further described the relationship with her husband:
Snippet 30: セックスは、あの、密着するし、長時 Sex glues you together for a long time. A 間。時間も長い。密着、こう触れ合う時 very long time, being glued together. That 間が長いでしょ。うん。触れ合う時間が kind of touch is long, right? And for women that causes really miserable 長い。で、女の人はそれですごく、惨 feelings. (Yōko, female, 60 years old, in- めな気持ちになる。 depth interview)
Yōko‘s comments about disgust and her tendency to separate herself and Yuki from
Masahito are not unusual. Other authors have also referred to this desire to be separated (Kelsky 1993; Lebra 2004). Kristeva‘s (1982) concept of abjection helps to understand such preferences to be apart. ―Abjection offers the opportunity to theorise an aesthetics of disgust founded upon ambiguity‖ (Meagher 2003: 30). Abjection contributes to excluding anything that is a threat. The ―abject‖ is ―radically excluded‖
(Kristeva 1982: 2). In the case of Masahito‘s family, Yōko seemed to explicitly exclude her husband by admonishing her daughter to not sleep with her father.
Though it is not clear whether Yōko was trying to achieve a state of oneness (ittaikan) with her daughter Yuki, using Yuki‘s body to separate herself from her husband and
143 Yuki from her father suggests issues of abjection were present. Abjection includes the subject pushing away that which is closest. The subject is not disgusted by the abject because it is foreign; because it is so close, the subject wants to make it foreign. It seems that Yōko wants to distance Masahito as far from her as possible. While desire manifests mirror logic, the abject is the shadow, where the subject remains tied to the abject even when wanting to run away from it. There is an ambiguity in abjection as the abject is pushed away even though in some ways the subject is drawn to the abject.
In the present case, this ambiguity became manifest in Yōko‘s comment that she always wanted to get divorced but each day passed and she could not. Masahito, on his part, said that although his wife probably contemplated divorce, she never actually would divorce him because she truly loved him.
Snippets 26-30 have shown that soine is a conscious practice in many families to separate the conjugal pair. We have seen how the husband becomes the object or abject, easily discarded, or removed from one room to another, or made to feel as though he did not belong in the space of the family. Soine in these cases can be interpreted as being used as a strategy by the wife to exclude the husband (Masahito,
Shin‘ichi, Kiyoshi). However, it is also important to note that alienation and exclusion might not be initiated by the wife, but may be a response to the husband‘s tendency to
‗escape‘ the household and the responsibilities associated. For example, there were cases in my study where men used sleep-time as a way to escape. Sleeping separately was sometimes preferred by men so that they could get maximum sleep without being disturbed. In other cases, this escape moved outside the house and the space of the family, reinforcing references of chichioya fuzen (Nakatani 2006) and fathers as mere
―lodger‖ (Salamon 1986).
144
If we return to the case of Masahito, however, it is easy to sympathise with his situation, as his wife appears to have feelings of disdain towards him. However, as the two separate interviews continued, it became clear that her reasons for feeling this way might be based on personal choices made by Masahito over the years. Both
Masahito and Yōko claimed that he ―played‖ too much. He enjoyed going out with friends after work and playing Mah Jong (a Chinese game) until early morning hours.
On many occasions he never came home. Yōko would constantly emphasise her patience in interviews (i.e. ―I persevered‖), while Masahito stated that he regretted the time spent ―playing‖ instead of being at home. Although Masahito recognises now that he was not present enough when his children were younger, it seems that his absence contributed to Yōko‘s feelings of disdain towards him. It is therefore difficult to know whether his response to her alienating him was absence or if his absence contributed to her response to alienate or exclude him.
Nonetheless, the above examples suggest that, for some fathers, there is a desire to be more active in participating in the life of the family, but that certain attitudes from their wives and rituals such as soine make it difficult for them to feel included. On one hand, these attitudes seem to be related to some cases of a possessive desire in ittaikan; on the other hand, rituals such as soine might be conceived by the wife to be part of the domestic order which is her domain. In such cases, she might not intentionally exclude her husband but may focus only on her primary ikigai (her child). Other examples however show that there is a felt separation between family members, particularly between marital relationships. For many, using the child‘s body
145 to separate the conjugal pair can be indicative of this distance felt between them.
There is no connection between such family members.
This being said, the discussion will now continue by exploring inclusive family relations and how soine can connect the family rather than separate its members. This is not through the identity logic of body of the subject and body of the object (and abject) but through a relational logic that includes more than subject and body.
Inclusive Family Relations
Not all families are characterised by exclusive relations. In some, there is a state of
‗togetherness‘, where life happens within the family. The child is the life, not the hollowness, of the family. This life and togetherness does not end in the family but bears an all-encompassing relationship that finds meaning in the world through inclusion. For example, the love parents feel for one another is deepened through the love they feel for their child, and although this love is reciprocated, it extends to and includes other places, people and objects. Consider Hiro‘s comment.
Snippet 31: 子供が生んだら、夫婦の関係がどんど When children are born, the fūfu [married んどんどんこう、深いものになる。深 couple; lit. ‗husband and wife‘] rapidly い、大きいものになる。夫婦の関係が becomes a part of something deeper. Becomes a part of something deeper, なくなって、家族になる。 larger. The fūfu relationship disappears and it becomes kazoku [family]. (Hiro, male, 41 years old, in-depth interview)
For Hiro, it is clear that his understanding and experience of the family does not include a compartmentalisation of the parent-child and the marital relationship. There
146 is no entity lost or excluded when the child is born. In fact, the significance of the family takes on a new meaning. The space it inhabits is inclusive of father, mother and child, not as separate entities but as kazoku [family] which exists through being necessarily connected. The term kazoku is used here not as an institution or unit or unity, but as a meeting that happens between the inclusive family. The meaning of kazoku extends to and connects with other places, people and objects. Inclusion is not finite; it is infinite and not unified.
Discourses of the ―family‖ in Japan usually includes concepts such as the ie and household. Nakane‘s references to the household helps open up the meaning and possibilities for connectedness within the inclusive family. For Nakane, the ie is not the equivalent of ―family‖ but ―household‖ is closer to the conception ―since it includes all co-residents and is not necessarily restricted only to the members of a family‖ (Nakane 1967:1). Similarly, Kondo (1990: 141) views the uchi, the household, as a ―circle of attachment and locus of identity‖ in the Japanese family. Like ie, uchi is not necessarily limited to the family or even the household in a physical sense. Uchi can be extended to different circles of attachment (i.e. company, school, class).
Kondo notes:
While the notion of ie highlights continuity, generation after succeeding
generation, uchi focuses on the household in close-up, as a centre of belonging
and attachment. Uchi defines who you are, through sharing language, the use
of space, and social interaction. (1990:141)
There are not isolated individuals in the uchi but a space between people which opens possibilities for intimacy and connection through attachment. In some ways, uchi
147 might be where you do not have to ―define‖ yourself, but where you are accepted, included and can be unintegrated.
The meeting that happens between the family in the uchi is not polarised or binary
(exclusively inclusive or exclusive) but is an acceptance of difference that happens through participating in the life of the family. Kazoku is not a unity of a family versus the rest of the world nor is it consistently always inclusive. These relations are capable of fluctuating between categories and being read or understood in more than one way. Robertson notes that ―such an excessive semiosis reflects an epistemology of both/and rather than either/or‖ (1998: 40). Though this is in the context of gender, this ―both/and‖ concept can also be applied here. That is, kazoku might include moments of inclusion and exclusion but is further connected and adapted through these changing relations.
This difference is expressed through Levinas: ―I do not have my child, I am in some way my child‖ (Levinas 1985: 71). In comparison to Satoko‘s attempt to merge and unite with her child, whereby her child‘s subjectivity was negated, Levinas‘ comment suggests that a parent does not ―have‖ or control their child. Moreover, ―I am in some way my child‖ initially appears to be a desirous relationship based on an ―existence for self‖ and an attempt to be mirror-like. However, ―in some way‖ presents the crucial point: there is an acceptance of the child‘s difference and uniqueness in kazoku which can include potential moments of exclusion as well as inclusion.
Consider Takafumi‘s comment:
148 Snippet 32: 口出して言うのはねえ、なかなか Putting things into words is quite…difficult ね。。。難しい（笑）。子供にはいいん (laughs). I say it to my children. I don‘t say ですよ。奥さんに言わなくて、子供には it to my wife, but I say it through my children. I say, ―I love your mum‖…I いっていますよ。大好きって。ママ大好 always say that ―I love mama.‖ I don‘t say きっていつもいってますよ。本人には it to the actual person (don‘t say it to her 言えんけど、子供には言ってます。 directly) but say it to/through my children (Takafumi, male, 62 years old, in-depth interview)
Although it may seem as though Takafumi excludes his wife by not directly telling her he loves her, his family is necessarily connected. He communicates with his wife largely through his children. This might be referred to in the context of using a third party for communication (Lebra 1976) or the ―relatively less overt communication‖ in husband-wife relationships due to isshin dōtai (Iwao 1993: 98). However, for
Takafumi, the love for his wife is not located in her, as a separate subjectivity or body, but finds meaning and significance through the state of being in-relation with the family.
There is an all-encompassing space between such kazoku which includes the whole family, not as separate entities trying to achieve oneness and unity, but as relational beings that are connected. People are not just located in their own subjectivity or body.
The boundaries in the relationship cannot be controlled or defined. Instead, the kazoku is implicated in environment, objects, connection, and bears relevance to flesh and mi through the space and depth in lived bodies. Although inclusive of the body, mi and flesh are not restricted to or contained by it. Dislocating the dichotomy of mind-body,
149 mi and flesh include the space around the body and mind, through a ―relational existence‖ (Ozawa-de Silva 2002: 6) and a reversible relationship. This reversible relationship occurs as the kazoku participates in and through one another: no longer mother, father and child‘s body as separate bodies, they become a different body that is mixed and inclusive. Just as they are implicated in one another, mi is also implicated in other mi (Ichikawa 1993: 91). The all-encompassing space in both mi and flesh is a useful conceptual tool in understanding the non-locatable, non-Cartesian, inclusive relations in soine.
Inclusive Relations in Soine: The River that Flows Through the Family
Soine in inclusive relations inhabits a different space than the contained and identified bodies in exclusive relations. The space between them is all-encompassing and inclusive: it is not mother, father, and child as separate entities, but rather, a meeting that includes the space ‗between the family‘ as a whole. The connection between the kazoku shifts so that who is child and who is parent and whose presence comforts whom becomes blurred. Unlike soine in exclusive family relations, soine in inclusive relations is not a ‗marital‘ ritual or a ‗parent-child‘ ritual but rather an inclusive ritual.
The space between them manifests mi as inclusive of child and parents.
Soine and kawa no ji comprise a cosy, intimate experience that includes a meeting of more than just bodies. There is a depth and all-encompassing space between co- sleepers that enables soine to be a relaxed experience. Soine and kawa no ji become manifestations of intimacy where touch is felt in various ways, contributing to the depth of the experience of intimacy. Consider Yūji‘s comment (part of this snippet was used in Chapter Four, Snippet 12).
150
Snippet 33: 子供の寝顔を見るのが大好きです。子 I love looking at our kids‘ sleeping faces. 供が寝る間に子供の頭の上から、ママ While they would sleep, I would hold と手をつないで寝たりとか。それはよか hands with mama from above the children‘s heads and sleep. That was great, った。みんなが一緒にいたからね。 because everyone was together. (Yūji, male, 52 years old, in-depth interview)
The space between Yūji‘s family was not just located in the hands of him and his wife, or the sleeping faces of his children. This space between them included more than just located subjects and body parts. There is a feeling of togetherness with Yūji, his wife and his children, that does not require the children to be awake. If we consider ittaikan [feelings of oneness] in the context of this togetherness, we open up possibilities for a meeting.36 This meeting is not of a subject‘s body and an object‘s body (as in exclusive relations), but rather, a meeting of difference. These bodies do not merge to become one; a space opens between the family to experience the potentiality of ittaikan through togetherness, via a non-locatable body that includes flesh and mi.
Aside from the practical functions of soine, reasons for co-sleeping have also become defined more in terms of skinship. Though the meaning of ―skin‖ tends to locate skinship in the body, when considered in the context of ―secure intimacy‖ (Ben-Ari
1997), skinship seems to be manifest in more encompassing forms. For example, the terms anshin [relief] and anshinkan [feelings of contentment and relief] were often
36 Nakamura (2003) refers to ittaikan as togetherness, instead of the typical reference to one body. This translation of togetherness is more relevant to the application of ittaikan in inclusive family relations.
151 associated with this vital state of secure intimacy that children apparently require before falling asleep. Often, these states require the presence or participation of another. As mentioned in Chapter Four, feelings of anshin incorporate more than just the body in soine. The meaning and application of anshinkan is highly relevant to the application of mi and the all-encompassing space in soine whereby the etymology of the Chinese characters incorporate the feelings of contentment and relief or peace of the heart (not just body) in soine.
Consider the following two statements:
Snippet 34: 添い寝は子供たちが安心することであ Soine is something which provides the る。 child with relief (anshin). (Yumi, female, 52 years old, in-depth interview) Snippet 35: 寝ている間も、子供の面倒を見るた While they [the children] are sleeping, we め。両親にも安心感がある。 can watch over them. It‘s a relief for the parents too. (Takeshi, male, 37 years old, mini-interview)
As described here, it is not just the child‘s heart that it eased through soine, but the parent‘s heart as well. Although the word kokoro or its on-reading (Chinese reading), shin, refers to the ‗heart,‘ it is not limited to its physical, biological function. Rather, the kokoro is the ―seat of feeling and thought‖ (Kondo 1990: 105). Literature on kokoro is often associated with the word ‗spirit‘ or ki. Central concepts in discussions of selfhood involve kokoro and ki together: ―kokoro partakes of the energies of ki‖
(Kondo 1990: 105). Doi (1973: 97) notes that ki refers to ―the movement of the spirit
152 from moment to moment‖. Similarly, Buber defines spirit as that which arises between people who meet on the level of I-You. The meeting of spirit evokes a different sense of time and space: kokoro is not truly here but also not truly there.
There is a feeling of everywhere-ness in kokoro and ki that fit in with Ichikawa‘s mi as the whole existence and spirit of mi as all-encompassing. The spirit or ‗heart‘ of mi becomes implicated by other mi and internalised and positioned accordingly. Spirit becomes present when the child enters in relation with the parent and vice versa.
Soine is one way spirit can be felt. Even while asleep, the presence of the parent (or child) is soothing and contributes to the closeness between families, due to such shared experiences of intimacy.
Recently there has been an increase in literature on other ―things‖ that contribute to the soothing and calming experience sought after at sleep-time (Kaji 2007; Shigeta and Takada 2001). Referred to as ―nemuri komono‖, these ―sleep knickknacks‖ are located in a person or object and are considered the thing that helps another person sleep (Appendix Seventeen).37 Such nemuri komono enable sleep to become a soothing experience by becoming attached to mi (Ichikawa 1993: 81) and are also related to Winnicott‘s transitional objects (see also Chapter Seven, page 193).
Similarly, ki and kokoro enable such feelings of anshinkan to be experienced in other contexts. These feelings of belonging and connection are linked to other ‗places‘ and experiences. Kokoro is felt in these relationships outside of soine in the home, when soine ceases to exist (Chapter Seven), or even in the context of the hoikuen (Chapter
Six). The potentiality of this space includes heart, spirit, body, but it also includes a
37 Knickknacks mentioned most frequently are pillows, cushions, books, magazines, mobile phones and sound (i.e. music). In one case, a mother stated that her nemuri komono was her child (Kaji 2007).
153 hidden dimension38 that connects the family even when they are physically not- together.
The tangibility of flesh and mi cannot be reached; they bear a hidden dimension that cannot be touched physically. Similar to Levinas‘ caress, there is ‗nothing‘ actually being touched. ―In the carnal given to tenderness, the body quits the status of existent‖ (Levinas 1969: 258). This depth is felt between the family, but not just because of body. In this space, something passes through the relation and moves touch from being defined within the container of the physical body to a much more
‗fleshy‘ relation that enables feelings of intimacy to happen. Such a space might be ittai but finds meaning in ―togetherness‖, not oneness. The flesh of these relationships offers different ways of looking at the body and intimacy which encompass more than just physicality. Such underlying feelings of connectedness and togetherness through soine can exist even without all family members sleeping together. In the case of the
Mizuno family, for instance, the parents used to sleep in separate rooms when their children were younger, so that the children could sleep with their mother, Ayako. For
Ayako, even though she and her husband were sleeping in separate rooms, they were still together:
Snippet 36: 家族は 5 人で寝ました。夫婦と子供 3 Our family slept the five of us 人と、皆ベッドに並べて。あの五つ並 together…but because we couldn‘t all five べないから、二つの部屋ていうのか、 fit next to each other, we were in two rooms. But that doesn‘t mean we were
38 Hall (1969) explores the concept of hidden dimensions through understanding human perceptions of space and sensuous experiences, such as they are patterned by culture.
154 分かれてるわけじゃないけども、一つ separated. My husband slept in one room, 大きいベッドのとこへ主人が寝て、あと the kids and I slept in another, that sort of 子供と私が寝て、っていうかんじです。 thing. Even though it was two rooms, we were still together. (Ayako, female, 60 二つの部屋だったけれども、まだ一緒 years old, in-depth interview) だった。
The paradoxical interplays of distance and proximity exist in this case as the family members slept in separate rooms but were not really ―separated‖. In accordance with
Merleau-Ponty‘s concept of depth, there is a ―distanced contact‖ and ―proximity through distance‖ (Cataldi 1993: 11) that enabled Ayako/their children to still feel close to her husband/their father. The spirit of the family still existed in sleep, even though they were not co-sleeping in the same room. This space between them was filled with the life of the family, and the tangibility of flesh and mi implicated parents and children in an inclusive space. Consider Ayako‘s husband‘s comment, where he refers to the connectedness and togetherness experienced in the space of their family.
Soine, he implies, is not necessarily specific to the contained room in which the family lies:
Snippet 37: いつもみんなが集まって、ま、いろんな We used to always gather and talk about 話したり。お風呂に入ったりしたのね。 various things. And also have a bath でも、寝るとき、皆一つの部屋に入れな together. But when it was time for bed, everyone couldn‘t fit in one room. But かった。ま、別の部屋に寝たけど、それ even though we all slept in separate rooms, でもよかった。寝る時間まで、みんな一 that was OK. Because up until sleep-time, 緒に時間過ごしたから、まだ一緒にい we spent time all together. So it felt as if る感じでした。 we were still together. (Takafumi, male, 62 years old, in-depth interview)
155
In Takafumi‘s comments, physical separation exists only insofar as there is a dislocation of the space between members of the family. Even though they slept physically separately, there still existed a depth between them connecting them in an all-encompassing thick space (like mi). In this way, proximity through distance became possible. That is, they were still together even though they were in different rooms. This example suggests that inclusive relations still exist and are felt even when not physically proximate or in ―close proximity‖.
In this space, something shifts: something passes through the relation, between the relation, and moves soine from being defined within the container of subjects and bodies to a much more ‗fleshy‘ relation that enables skinship and soine. The concepts of flesh and mi offer alternative ways of looking at skinship, encompassing much more than just physicality. There is a presence of heart, spirit, and an infinite quality that is connected and not defined. Through this non-locatable space, feelings of intimacy and connection happen.
Summary
This chapter has shown that the ritual of soine is not necessarily a site of intimacy, but depends on the way the family inhabits space. When the child‘s body is used to separate the conjugal pair, the space ‗between family members‘ becomes fragmented and based on exclusion. The relationship is loaded with a purposeful tension and possibilities for intimacy are constrained. Soine cannot be a manifestation of intimacy if it is located in a finite, corporeal, surfaced body. The depths of flesh and mi do not exist here as the emphasis, in identified bodies, is on the empty protective space
156 around the subject‘s body. Soine becomes a non-relational experience that is grounded in an identity logic of subject-object (the body of the subject and the body of the object). There cannot be a meeting of such separate bodies as they cannot really touch one another in an intimate, ‗fleshy‘ sense. Instead, soine is used to achieve a certain state for one‘s own benefit. When such a non-encounter exists, there is an identity logic where desire and abjection are present. There cannot be connection or
‗family‘, merely an exclusive dyad. However, this dyad is empty; for the relation to be full of life, there cannot be intention or purpose.
When the child‘s body is not a finite entity but participates in relation, the space
‗between the family‘ is inclusive and connected. In fact, soine can only be a site of intimacy if it includes more than just physicality contained in a finite body. There is a connection that includes body but also infinite possibilities such as ‗flesh‘ and ‗mind‘ and ‗heart.‘ In relational logic, this depth ‗between the family‘ has consequences for how we look at intimacy in Japan. There are no insides and outsides in relationality: there is a connection between the family that shifts boundaries so that who is who and what is what becomes blurred. Through this connection, kazoku and skinship take on a new relational meaning.
Part Three now moves to explore the child‘s encounters in the world and how they cope as their parent-child relationships change. Chapter Six begins this exploration by examining the space between teacher and child, through soine, as the child starts moving out of the home and into the hoikuen (daycare centre). The potentiality of mi, heart and spirit, help us understand how the child begins to belong in the world.
157 PART THREE: THE CHILD IN THE WORLD
Part Two explored how skinship and the feelings associated with skinship develop in the home, specifically parent-child relationships (Chapter Four) and the family as a whole (Chapter Five). The depth and hidden dimension in the space between the relation moves skinship and touch from being that which is defined within the container of a physical body to an all-encompassing space. Although the relational tools of analysis used thus far have drawn on the underlying concepts in flesh and mi,
Part Three, the child in the world, explores more fully the ways in which flesh and mi serve as transitional phenomena as the child begins to have more encounters in and with a less familiar world. Certain relational states are required which become the key means of understanding how the child moves in and out of the home and the world comfortably. The space between child and other people impacts on possibilities for skinship both in the world and back in the home.
Using hoikuen as a site of reference, Chapter Six explores the space between the child and teacher. Specific attention is paid to the certain states of being in-relation through skinship in the daycare centre. Emphasis is placed on helping the child reach a state of calm in this new world that is not-home, but an extension of, and at times, almost a surrogate for home. Particular reference is made to co-sleeping practices and touch, drawing out the ways in which mi and flesh become present as the teacher finds states of relaxation and purposelessness with the child. The wholeness or infinitude of these states allows them to include the otherwise absent home and parents.
Chapter Seven explores how the child finds ways of belonging in the world now that touch exists in different forms. A key point of this chapter is that touch has not
158 stopped. Rather, touch has moved to encompass other less bodily forms. For the child to move in and out of the home (into the world) with ease, they have adapted a sense of belonging in the world, that is felt even when they are not-home. This chapter draws on different theories of belonging and transitional spheres to explore how the
Japanese child feels secure, and a touching connection, with a familiar world where bodily forms are less present.
Chapter Eight moves back to the home, while the child is simultaneously out in the world, examining rationalisations for the apparent cessation of touch. Paying attention to the so-called defining moments or stages where touch and skinship are no longer
―necessary‖ or ―required‖, this chapter examines how the child adapts to touch-less spaces. Although my interviewees‘ responses about the reason for this cessation are self-conscious and finite, it seems that there is a gap between what is being said and the real lived experiences of participants. For the child to still feel secure and belonging in an apparent touch-less space that defines the child‘s life as he/she grows older, there must have been an organic process, not a finite, conscious weaning, to enable the child to adapt. Participants‘ responses tend to say more about their own identity than their actual lived experiences.
159 CHAPTER SIX: MOVING INTO THE BIG, WIDE WORLD
Introduction
This chapter explores the ways in which the child begins to adapt to the world when they are no longer only in the comfort of the home and family. Using a daycare centre
(hoikuen) as a site of reference, the chapter‘s aims are threefold: 1) to investigate the patterns of skinship in the hoikuen such as it is manifest in teacher-child relationships and soine, 2) to develop what these patterns reveal about the experience and states of mi and flesh for the child (and teacher) as an extension from the home, and 3) to offer preliminary suggestions as to how the child finds ways of belonging in the world as bodily intimacy begins to change. This chapter introduces possibilities for tangible connections between the home and the surrogate home through bodily intimacy.
There has been various research conducted on Japanese children in a pre-school context. In fact, Lanham and Garrick (1996) comment that the emphasis is more on the context of the classroom rather than the family. This chapter opens up the bodily experiences of intimacy in a pre-school context to reveal the significant continuities from the home as the child begins to experience the world via teacher-child relationships. Such experiences help inform experiences in the home, particularly when, through the lens of a hoikuen, a child may often move from home to surrogate home from as young as six weeks old.
Literature on Japanese preschools often distinguishes yōchien (kindergarten) and hoikuen (daycare centre). Yōchien caters for children over three years old and is generally regarded as a place for the early socialisation of children, where they learn
160 how to get along with others (Hendry 1986; Lewis 1989; Fujita 1989; Peak 1991).
Hoikuen, on the other hand, involves longer daily engagements with children, that is, from a younger age and for a longer period of time during the day. The premise of hoikuen is to provide working parents, particularly working mothers, with a place they can leave their children. This is criticised due to the cultural view regarding mothers‘ employment while their children are young (Fujita 1989). Fujita (1989) notes that Japanese mothers are often criticised for sending their children to daycare instead of undertaking their ―primary‖ role in the home first, particularly while the child is under three years of age.
Despite this primary difference between hoikuen and yōchien, there are some similarities in terms of the schooling experience. Children are taught how to fit in with their peers (Peak 1991). Peak notes that ―it is the teacher and one‘s classmates, rather than one‘s mother, who teach children what it means to be a member of
Japanese group society‖ (Peak 1991: 122). Whereas mothers are often said to indulge their children‘s desires (or, amae), children are taught to be considerate of, and adapt to, the needs of others at a pre-school stage (Lewis 1989). As White notes,
What is considered important…is not drastically different from what is valued
at home. But the context is quite different: instead of learning through the
mother‘s persuasive, engaged, and constant attention, the child at school
learns through more impersonal, though still engaged direction. (1987: 103-
105)
The child is taught to become a member of one‘s group, ―to get along well in the group‖ (Lewis 1989: 151). Teaching children to be considerate for the ―sake of their
161 friends‖, teachers ―calm and soothe the children in order to adapt them to group life‖
(Ben-Ari 1996: 154). An important distinction needs to be made when we consider the ways in which Japanese children learn to adapt to group life. If the intention is to achieve uniformity, then the group dynamic is a unity of separate children. Where there is respect for each other‘s difference, however, there is a connection between children.
It is the ―whole person‖ who goes to school in Japan (Lewis 1995) and who learns to be a part of the group. That is, rather than academic issues being primary, the emphasis is on the hearts and minds of children. One way in which this emphasis exists is the ―pedagogical focus in Japanese education‖ (Bachnik 1992a, 1992b; Tobin
1992) in the context of learning kejime. Kejime is referred to by Tobin (1995: 246) as
―correctly reading the context for what it is and acting accordingly‖. Considered central to Japanese selfhood, kejime refers to the ability to shift communication appropriately over a range of situational modes and contexts (Bachnik 1992a; Kondo
1987; Tobin 1992). In accordance with the characteristics of ―shifting‖, ―relational‖ and ―situational‖ selves, kejime consists of ―the decision of how much omote, versus ura, one wishes to convey‖ (Bachnik 1992b: 9). Bachnik further notes that this
―ability to shift successfully from spontaneous to disciplined behaviour…is a crucial social skill for Japanese‖ (Bachnik 1992b: 7). The key to child socialisation in Japan is to learn this ability, that is, ―how to adjust to one‘s expectations, behaviours, and speech according to the moment‘s contextual demands‖ (Tobin 2000: 157). Kejime is interestingly ambiguous where the child‘s decision to convey or behave in certain ways might be related to a desire for unity and uniformity, or a mutual understanding and connection with other children via a respect for difference.
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Daycare provides a ―transitional stage between home and school‖ (Fujita 1989: 84) where certain continuities are experienced as well as some changes. Shwalb (1993:
27) points out that home and preschool ―are experienced in the same mind of the same child, so that these influences cannot be separated except on paper‖. Although hoikuen provides a home away from home for some children, there might be certain contexts or rituals during the day where the absent home and parents are more felt.
The context explored is sleeptime, or soine.39 It has been noted that there is a tendency for Japanese children to sleep in close proximity to one another as well as the teacher (Shigaki 1983; Ben-Ari 1996, 1997, 2005). The teacher often lies down next to the child to pat and soothe them until they fall asleep. Ben-Ari (1996: 142) notes that the atmosphere created for children to fall asleep and then wake up is
―marked by cosy warmth and tenderness‖. This includes ―body-to-body contact and the transfer of body heat‖ between teacher and child (Ben-Ari 1996: 142).
This chapter explores the experience of sleeptime in the hoikuen to unpack three key points: Firstly, the embodied experience of sleep involves a ―quality – [a] special fragility and fracturability‖ (Ben-Ari 1996: 139). I pay attention to this quality in the context of teacher-child relationships and the relational states required for the child to experience the same or similar feelings of intimacy and security that are felt in the home. Secondly, the sleep rituals vary as the child gets older. That is, ―teachers gradually wean the children from practices cultivated at home‖ (Ben-Ari 1996: 146). I trace the ways in which sleep patterns vary or change according to the different
39 This is not specific to sleeptime but is also relevant to other rituals, such as mealtime and playtime, where the child might anticipate certain behaviours or forms that occur in the home with mother or father.
163 classes and age cohorts. Finally, based on the understanding that inclusive forms of soine provide feelings of connectedness and anshinkan (Chapter Five), I begin to explore the ways in which mi and flesh serve as transitional phenomena in sleeptime at the hoikuen, helping the child adapt for future encounters in the world.
The Daycare Context: Kikyō Hoikuen
Kikyō Hoikuen was affiliated with Kikyō Byōin, the hospital I attended to observe post-natal and pre-natal classes and to conduct interviews. The hoikuen catered for the children of nurses, doctors, and other hospital staff. These workers had very long working hours and generally had to have their children minded at a young age because of their work responsibilities. Kikyō Hoikuen was opened from Monday-
Sunday (7am-6pm)40 and comprised 137 children and 20 teachers. Similar to other hoikuen, meals, naptimes and health checks are a part of daily life (Boocock 1989).
These activities make daycare centres, such as Kikyō Hoikuen, a much more similar
‗institution‘ to the home than yōchien (kindergartens).
Children were divided, according to age, into four cohorts. The first class, Hiyoko
Gumi catered for zero year olds (or, babies). The second class, Sumire Gumi, catered for one year olds. The third class, Sakura Gumi, included two and three year olds, while the fourth class Kikyō Gumi, had children who were four, five and six years old.
40 Most hoikuen are opened Monday-Saturday however, in this hoikuen‟s case, it aims to meet the needs of hospital staff and their shift-work.
164 Kikyō Hoikuen: The Family Outside the Home
Kikyō Hoikuen aimed to provide an environment for the children that was similar to that of the family and household. The head teacher, Mamori Sensei (male, 64 years old) stated that Kikyō Hoikuen aimed to provide a ―family-like skinship‖ (kazoku no yō na sukinshippu). The hoikuen itself, Mamori Sensei explained, reflected the
―Japanese family‖ in which both female and male roles were included. However, all teachers at Kikyō Hoikuen were female, with the exception of Mamori Sensei and
Tanaka Sensei (a 28 year old male teacher). According to Okamoto Sensei, these teachers fulfilled different roles:
Snippet 38: 女の先生は子供たちにお母さん的お The women teachers treat children in a 母さん的．．．男の先生より優しく mother-like and kind way compared with する。逆に、男の先生は子供たちに the male teachers. On the other hand, the male teachers treat the children in father- お父さん的．．．きびしい。または like, strict ways. And also, the children 子供たちがお兄ちゃんの気持ちで彼 look to the male teacher with feelings of an を見ている。 older brother. (Okamoto Sensei, female, 38 years old, mini-interview)
For Shinobu Sensei, these gender dynamics in the Hoikuen, reflected a kakukazoku
(nuclear family):
Snippet 39: 家みたいな気持ちで育てたいです。 We want to rear the children in feelings/ways like the home (Shinobu Sensei, female, 42 years old, mini- interview)
165
Although Tobin et al (1989: 62) note that centres are deliberately non-mothering in their approach and relations with children, primarily with children over the age of three, Ben-Ari notes that up until that age,
Nursery teachers are seen by themselves and by others not in a custodial role
but as comprising two other interrelated roles…[T]hey are (in a sense) mother
substitutes, or women acting in place of the children‘s mothers. (2005: 251)
At Kikyō Hoikuen, this included shitsuke no bubun (categories of discipline) and the way of doing certain rituals (kata). For example, ohashi no tsukai kata (using chopsticks), hanashi kata (ways of speaking), oshime (nappies and toilet training), fuku no kata (way of wearing clothes), te no arai kata (way to wash hands) and hami gaki no shi kata (learning the way of brushing teeth). Furthermore, an emphasis in this hoikuen is on tomodachi no komyunikēshon – kenka to buntan (communication with friends – fighting and sharing).
The ―home-like feelings‖ Shinobu Sensei referred to are also associated with the family and anshinkan. Soine is a significant ritual which recreates how the teacher relates and relaxes with the child. Particular sleep-inducing patterns that apparently exist in the home of each child are mimicked or replicated in the hoikuen. In many ways, teachers were not provided with the knowledge of preferred sleep-inducing patterns by the parents themselves; instead, they became aware of what relaxed the child through being attuned with them. This term ‗sleep-inducing‘ is used deliberately, however, as sleep did not just happen. From my observations, teachers seemed conscious and deliberate in their ways of putting the expectant children to sleep. It
166 later becomes clear, however, that these sleep-inducing patterns actually become conducive to skinship and meeting.
This chapter includes daily hoikuen observations, interview content in the form of snippets, and participation descriptions in the form of case studies (where I became active in helping the children sleep). Similar to the previous chapters, skinship and anshin were the vital states associated with experiences of bodily intimacy. Achieving these states required the presence or participation of another. In the case of the hoikuen, the etymology and application of anshinkan is highly relevant to the epistemology of mi and the state between teacher and child. Chapters Four and Five have already established that touch and intimacy do not just happen in the locatable body, or, the body of the subject or object. We can now open up the suggestion that the states of relaxation and bodily intimacy in the hoikuen do not involve just the bodies of the teachers and children; instead, mi and flesh are evident in the following scenarios and observations.
Hiyoko Gumi (Young Chicks Class)
Each day, Hiyoko Gumi had between 12-14 babies and 3-4 teachers. During sleep- time, teachers placed each child on their futon, mat, or in their cot in a specific position depending on the child. Some children were laid face-down, or on their stomachs (utsubuse), while others were laid face-up, or on their backs (aomuke).
Similar to Ben-Ari‘s (1996: 141) findings, the teachers would ―softly pat the children on their backs and stomachs in a series of onomatopoetically termed ton-ton-ton taps‖ or, tataku, and stokes (naderu). In this class, these caresses and strokes would extend to the whole torso.
167
The two positions, utsubuse and aomuke, were seen to provide the babies with anshinkan. For example, teachers informed me that children placed on their stomachs felt feelings of anshin as the ―front‖ of the child‘s body was protected. More specifically, the baby‘s chest, stomach, legs and heart were all connected to the floor or futon while their backs were covered with a sheet or blanket. Similar to Chapter
Four, this is not a touching of locatable bits (i.e. chest, heart) but a relational experience that includes objects (i.e. blanket, futon, mat) in this experience. Similarly, those on their backs were connected with or felt the presence of something else (i.e. the floor, the futon, or the mat). This, combined with the sheet covering their ―front‖, contributed to feelings of comfort for the children. That is, the all-encompassing space seemed to include the sleeping position (utsubuse, aomuke) along with the felt presence of the floor, futon or blanket, and the relationship between these. Together, this helped provide the child with feelings of safety, relief and relaxation, helping them sleep. Sometimes a teacher would also tap or stroke the baby to make their presence more felt.
For other babies, who would not settle in Hiyoko Gumi, a common alternative was to put the child on the teacher‘s back, onbu-style. Onbu usually acts as a practical means through which the child is carried but for Hiyoko Gumi, onbu was articulated as a way in which anshinkan and closeness were achieved. This is similar to the references made by mothers who carried their children onbu-style to provide possibilities for skinship (Chapter Four). The front of the child‘s body touches the teacher‘s back and this is considered, in this class, to be an important means of relaxing the child, as well as helping them sleep.
168
In a recent Asahi Shimbun article (7 July 2007), the lack of popularity regarding onbu-use in Japan is explored, stating that, these days, parents (particularly mothers) use baby cars instead of onbu. However, this article found that teachers (in hoikuen) still use onbu to help calm down unsettled children: ―If a child is carried on one‘s back, they are anshin and calm/settle down (ochi tsuku)‖. It was also noted by one teacher in the article that ―we carry unsettled/grumbling children on our back to soothe/calm them.‖
At Kikyō Hoikuen, Yoko Sensei explained the benefits of onbu:
Snippet 40: 顔を見なくても、肌を触れるか Even if the child cannot see the face,
ら、子供は安心する。 they can feel the skin and become relieved, feel safe. (Yoko Sensei, female, 56 years old, mini-interview)
This hoikuen used the ‗traditional‘ obi-himo, which was similar to that used by participants (i.e. Snippet 4) in the home. This obi was not one of the more modern style obi or sling (like my friend: page 99; Appendix Twelve) but resembled a thin, narrow sash or sheet (Appendix Ten). Because this obi was of such fine material it was as though there was no barrier between teacher and child. Providing skin-to-skin contact and body warmth, the child relaxes because ―they can feel the skin‖ of the teacher (Yoko Sensei, Snippet 40, emphasis added). Although both teacher and child are fully clothed, and the skin of the child isn‘t physically being touched by the skin of the teacher, there is a connectedness between teacher and children (even a warmth)
169 opening up possibilities for them both to relax. This warmth is not located in the skin or body of teacher or child though it includes them.
But what is happening between the teacher and child that enables onbu to become a site of intimacy or warmth, and the child to fall asleep? Such a question needs to be addressed within the context of a state of purposelessness, the depth of flesh and mi, and the type of obi used. Consider the following meeting with Shō-kun, which initially began as a non-relational encounter.
Case Study 1: Shō-kun
Ten-month old Shō-kun had the flu and was overtired; he would not stop
crying. No matter what they did, the teachers were unable to put him to
sleep. They used various other forms of touch (i.e. tataku and naderu) but
Shō-kun would not be calmed or anshin. Yoko Sensei, a softly spoken lady
who had been at the Hoikuen for over 30 years, requested that I put him on
my back, onbu-style, to help him calm down.
Shō-kun was ‗wrapped‘ to me via this traditional-style obi. The sash (obi-
himo) was slung under Shō-kun‘s arms, over my shoulders, crossed at my
chest, wrapped around his bottom and then wrapped around my waist, until
the obi was tied at the front of my waist.
Once Shō-kun was securely wrapped to me, it took a while for me to relax.
For me, it was an unusual way of attaching the child to a person‘s body. I
found it difficult to trust that the sash would hold the baby safely. My body
170 was stiff and unbending; I was walking awkwardly, scared that the slightest
movement might cause him to fall out of the sash. Shō-kun was still crying.
After the teachers reassured me that it is a safe practice, I began to walk
more calmly with him. The moment I began to relax, Shō-kun stopped
crying; minutes later he was happy and gurgling. Soon after, he fell asleep
on my back. As soon as the teachers tried to take him off my back and put
him on his futon, he became restless and started crying again.
The case of Shō-kun resonates with the story of my friend and her feverish child
(page 101). Both boys (my friend‘s son and Shō-kun) happened to be sick, and relaxed once they were carried onbu-style. However, in the case of Shō-kun, there is another consideration that needs to be made, to help open up the feel of the experience between Shō-kun and myself, particularly the shift that occurred once I began to relax. The etymology of the kanji for onbu（負んぶ）provides a useful insight. One reading of the kanji 負 is makeru (負ける) which means to ―yield to‖.
There does not appear to be separate bodies or subjects in onbu. Instead, there is a renunciating experience where the teacher yields her/himself to the child and vice versa. It was not a conscious thought process of ―I must force myself to relax so Shō- kun relaxes as well‖; rather there was a mutual responsiveness which happened through my yielding into the obi and Shō-kun, and reversibly, Shō-kun yielding into me and the obi as well.
For onbu to manifest experiences of intimacy, a teacher needs to be present to the situation and respond to the child in a way that relaxes the child. In other words, there needs to be a renunciation of self, a yielding to the child where there is no purpose or
171 desire on the teacher‘s behalf. Although this may appear to be a deliberate mechanism, where the teacher ‗knows‘ and ‗uses‘ onbu as a means to relax the child, there is no separate subjectivity or body in renunciating self to the child and the moment. The teacher is present and attends to the child‘s needs, opening up possibilities for a meeting to occur between teacher and child.
The flesh of the teacher‘s world seems to include the flesh of the child‘s world. Just as the flesh ontology incorporates the experience of others, the space that holds teacher and child (and obi) becomes inclusive and fleshy through onbu. The space shifts between teacher and child as the teacher begins to walk. This is a movement that moves us and shifts us ontologically. That is, there is a shift from the teacher‘s body to child‘s body to a sense of undefined awareness in flesh. The space that holds teacher and child reflects a hidden dimension in the depth of flesh that will never be wholly perceived or articulated: who is wrapped to whom becomes less clear as both teacher and child become relaxed in the touch and space between them, and the child falls asleep.
Teacher and child are mutually responsive and adjusting. How the teacher responds will have an impact on the child and vice versa. If the teacher is stiff, the baby will also be stiff. To break this pattern, the teacher holds the baby‘s stiffness. For example, the teacher accepts it, gives in to it, suffers her own frustration and inert desire, and thereby breaks the mirror dynamic. As the case of myself and Shō-kun demonstrates, while my body was ―stiff and unbending‖, Shō-kun would not relax. The moment I began to relax in the onbu, he stopped crying. It was as though there was a mutual responsiveness whereby his crying was making me stiff and my stiffness was making
172 him cry. Although I remember that I began to relax and Shō-kun‘s crying stopped, there is a blurring of who relaxed whom. It seems that the situation called for a state of calm and that happened through our being in-relation. This will be further explored in Kikyō Gumi.
It is important here that a note be made regarding the relationship with the object (i.e. obi, or, blanket or futon in utsubuse). The type of obi seemed to help mould the child‘s body to that of the carrier. This meant that, similar to Chapter Four, the space between them is non-finite and felt. This was seen in various circumstances where the child fell asleep in onbu position but would awaken once the teacher attempted to put the child on their futon or in their cot. It seems that the state of calm and relaxation possible in onbu (as well as experiences of utsubuse and aomuke) incorporate the relationships with objects and mi (mi wo tsuketeiru mono) (Ichikawa 1993: 81), that is, the obi. That which is attached to mi is not a separate entity but an ―extension of people‖ (Kondo 2004: 202) which contributes to the overall experience of intimacy and flesh in onbu (as well as utsubuse and aomuke). In order to achieve the level of anshinkan required for the baby, the relationship includes objects as an extension of, or part of, one‘s mi. The baby‘s mi (and their ability to fall asleep) includes the presence of a person and/or object: the baby‘s stomach is covered by a blanket
(aomuke), connected with the futon (utsubuse), or connected to the teacher via the obi-himo. When the touch stops, or the prolonged physical proximity ceases, there is a funny disjointed feel once separated. Therefore, when Shō-kun was taken down from onbu-position, he wakened because the flesh of our world (or, mi) extended to and included myself, Shō-kun and the object (obi) as well.
173 As the child feels the shift, so too does the state of mi shifts; the child often becomes unsettled. That flesh that was ―already there‖ has been removed, which for many, disables the feelings of anshin and skinship that had previously been established. The feel of the teacher and the relation that developed through their meeting had once comforted the child, however for those who become unsettled, flesh and mi were felt through the physical presence of teacher or object. Those who remain asleep, even if the teacher moves away, are comforted by, and feel a depth and space in, mi which extends to the futon, blanket or something else. Those who have found ways of belonging in mi or feel at ease with mi and stay asleep feel the presence of something else (that fleshy space) and remain comforted and anshin even when the comforter has ceased what they were initially doing.
From the experiences of onbu, utsubuse and aomuke, we can see that the space and depth between people (and the states of connection) does not just include the child.
The teacher, the objects and the surrounding environment also participate in the all- encompassing space. Other forms of touch become more present in the older classes which rely on the same logic of anshinkan, but find different ways of manifestation depending on the child and in some cases, their age.
Sumire Gumi (Violets Class)
Sumire Gumi generally comprised of 22 children each day with on average four teachers. Playtime consisted of sing-a-longs, playing games and watching cartoons on
TV. The children in this class had recently begun to learn animal names and sounds, using pictures of animals as visual stimuli. Sachiko Sensei and I would go through the sounds and words in Japanese, providing the children with the English equivalent.
174 Another popular game or greeting that occurred in daily exchanges with the children and teachers was called the ‗touch‘ (tacchi) game and occurred most frequently when children were saying goodbye. The participants‘ names were a part of the game so that when a child wanted to touch me, the teacher referred to it as the daiana tacchi gēmu (Diana touch game), whereas if children were going to touch each other, it was called, bēbi tacchi gēmu (Baby touch game). Children would generally touch hands to say goodbye. According to Shinobu-Sensei, ―when the children say goodbye, they want to touch hands as a form of skinship…they remember it naturally.‖ Thus ‗bai bai tacchi‘ (bye bye touch) became a ritual in the hoikuen, a game that stayed with the children throughout their years at Kikyō Hoikuen.41
The title of the game needs to be considered. There is a curious link between the skinship coinage of two English words, ‗skin‘-‗ship‘, and the ‗touch game‘. Both incorporate English terms to define a practice that evokes feelings of intimacy. Both are imported into katakana as opposed to using the Japanese terms for touch. Chapter
Four explored the etymology of English synonyms for touch such as caress, grip, and hold. However, there has not yet been an exploration of the Japanese words for touch.
The etymology of Japanese touch-words such as sesshoku, sawaru, and fureru all translate as ―touch‖. Although they all allude to tactile or physical forms of contact, they are not necessarily used in the context of intimacy or skinship. For example, fureru refers to an intentional or deliberate form of touch which can sometimes be contextualised with terms such as ―violation‖. Sawaru, unlike fureru, involves a more
41 This became apparent on my final day when the older children came up to do ‗bai bai tacchi‘.
175 subtle experience of touch which is unconscious and incorporates possibilities to
―feel‖ intimacy.
If we return to the bai bai tacchi or bēbi tacchi gēmu, we are presented with an underlying tension in regards to the word choice. Sesshoku and sawaru could have easily been applied to this greeting/game, yet all three words are deliberately derived from English. It is unclear as to whether tacchi is intended to be a manifestation of intimacy or if the foreignness of the words open up an ‗exotic‘ and ‗fun‘ experience.
Perhaps the use of katakana removes the subject or individual from the ‗cultural experience‘, distancing them via exotic language and an associated exotic action
(tacchi). Or perhaps the katakana usage is a conscious attempt at achieving closeness which is otherwise not associated with their Japanese counterparts (sesshoku, sawaru and fureru). In whatever case, bai bai tacchi and the bēbi tacchi gēmu define a context in terms of physicality, whereas other terms associated with bodily intimacy
(such as tataku, naderu) require the context of soine or other practices for them to be associated with intimacy. Otherwise their meaning is multi-layered and certainly not specific to skinship.42
It is possible that this daily ritual of bai bai tacchi or bēbi tacchi gēmu might manifest intimacy, not just the intentional physicality associated. The hands of each child or teacher connect with and ―wind up‖ into one another. That is, two different sides of the body ―overlap‖, ―encroach upon‖, and ―slip or cross over into each other‖ (Cataldi
1993: 69). This opens up a space and connection that is not necessarily located in the
42 For example, tataku is often used in terms of ―to strike‖, ―to bang‖, or, ―to hit‖ (i.e. a bat).
176 hands or bodies of the children, but in its very ritualistic quality, removes who is doing what to whom. It is simply that which is done. The daily ritual of bai bai tacchi or bēbi tacchi gēmu calls for the children to engage in an activity that is familiar. In an unconscious moment, they slip into a mutual space.
After a few days of interactions in bai bai tacchi, English teaching and play, the children in Sumire Gumi became quite familiar with me. I was asked to participate in the sleep-time patterns of the children. Sleep-time with the one year olds in this class was manifest largely in two forms of ‗visible‘ touch: tataku and naderu. Unlike the stroking and caressing at Hiyoko Gumi, these tataku and naderu were not necessarily extended to the whole torso. I observed Shinobu Sensei, a 42 year old female teacher, who sat between three children tapping them all in a melodic way. Her taps flowed constantly, with her hands moving around her body to come in contact with the bottom of two children and the leg of the third. The force she was using appeared to be somewhat rough but the fact that the children fell asleep within minutes suggested that the apparent force relaxed the children.
Shinobu Sensei suggested I tap Emi-chan, the ―easiest child to get to sleep in the class‖. Imitating Shinobu Sensei‘s taps on Emi-chan‘s leg and caresses on her face or hair, I maintained a constant flow of touch. I kept my strokes and taps consistent and evenly separated, in an attempt to help Emi-chan relax. I expected a result similar to
Shinobu Sensei, who by now had put at least seven children to sleep. However, as I saw the teachers moving from one child to another as each fell asleep and Emi-chan was still tossing and turning, becoming more frustrated than relaxed, I realised that tataku was not necessarily a sleep-inducing pattern that I could just mimic. If
177 anything I had wakened Emi-chan from her almost-slumber. It seemed that Shinobu
Sensei‘s sleep-inducing patterns required more than just touch, more than what I could ‗visibly‘ detect.
This is a clear-cut example of how there was no meeting between Emi-chan and myself. My taps were mechanical, stilted and deliberate as I almost competed to put
Emi-chan to sleep. I was concerned with achieving my aim, so attached to my purpose that I could not relax and could not relax Emi-chan. There was no depth or possibility for intimacy; rather, the space between us was riddled with purpose, calculation and consciousness. I was too concerned about whether I was tapping her correctly or whether I would fail to maintain ―a constant flow of touch‖. This non- meeting is largely characterised by my lack of attunement and empathy for Emi-chan.
I, not Emi-chan, was the ―orbit of attention‖ (Josipovici 1996: 138). In such a non- meeting there is an absence of flesh and mi; the body, as an entity, is used to achieve an aim to overcome or conquer another‘s body. The body here is finite, excluding possibilities of depth and space, flesh and mi. There is no meaning or significance as a
‗whole‘ relationship. Instead, I was treating Emi-chan‘s body as a separate entity that consisted of bits – a leg to tataku or a cheek to naderu. Merleau-Ponty refers to shaking hands with someone and being ―conscious not of grasping a hand, flesh and bone, but of meeting someone‖ (Josipovici 1996: 18). The experience between Emi- chan and I, however, was unnatural and loaded with objects and aims. I was conscious of our separate bodies.
Herrigel (1970) opens up ways of understanding such purposeful experiences.
Herrigel‘s exploration of overcoming purpose was introduced in Chapter Four in the
178 context of massage. In this case, the purposeful tension becomes relevant in my attempt to overcome Emi-chan by what I thought was required: technical knowledge.
However, ―technical knowledge…is not enough. One has to transcend technique so that the art becomes an ‗artless art‘ growing out of the unconscious‖ (Herrigel 1970: vi). I was constantly seeking to master the ―art‖ of tataku and naderu. This consciousness and stiffness was probably felt in my every tap and caress, causing
Emi-chan to feel my body as a separate, fragmented thing as my arm tapped or stroked in a ‗seeking‘, conscious way.
For tataku and naderu to be intimate or tender, a dislocation of intention and a transcendence of technique was necessary. A state of unconsciousness was also required so that the art would become ―artless‖. This state is realised when
―completely empty and rid of the self‖ (Herrigel 1970: vi). Herrigel explores this through ―letting go of yourself, leaving yourself and everything yours behind you so decisively that nothing more is left of you but a purposeless tension‖ (1970: 35).
Possibilities for attunement and tenderness open when there is a loss of intent. This intention was also seen in the co-sleeping patterns in Sakura Gumi along with examples of a ―purposeless tension.‖
Sakura Gumi (Cherry Blossoms Class)
Sleep-time on my first day in Sakura Gumi was proving to be a difficult task for all teachers present. There were 29 children and three teachers were allocated to assist the children sleep that day. It was the middle of winter and a nasty flu was going around; those who usually fell asleep quite quickly were taking longer than usual.
One girl, Haru-chan, who had Down syndrome, was notorious for having difficulty
179 falling asleep. The teacher that normally helped Haru-chan sleep was away this particular day, which meant that Suzuki Sensei, with whom the child was not as comfortable, was to help Haru-chan sleep.
As in the previous class, the teachers would tataku and naderu the children according to their preferred style of ‗sleep-inducing‘ pattern. Teachers would generally pat a child‘s leg or stroke their hair. It was only clear on two occasions in this class where visible forms of touch extended to the whole torso. The first case was hada to hada no fureai (skin-to-skin contact). Hada to hada no fureai is usually associated with various forms of skinship, not just in soine, but other ‗meetings‘ such as co-bathing which includes massage and hadaka no tsukiai (naked association) (Clark 1992,
1994). One teacher, Ohara Sensei, stroked a child‘s stomach with both her hands, under the child‘s clothes. She informed me that this child is particularly restless at sleeptime and he best relaxes through hada to hada no fureai. The second case was when another teacher, Yamada Sensei, lay next to a girl, Yuko-chan, and held her close in what was termed dakko (holding, hugging) position. Yamada Sensei appeared to be sleeping also. She later informed me that Yuko-chan always lies on her side, attributing this position to Yuko-chan‘s mother probably co-sleeping with her at home.
Yamada Sensei ‗knows‘ that Yuko-chan relaxes best with someone‘s body pressed up against hers. She thus tries to re-create dakko in this class to help her sleep. This is a clear example how some teachers seemed attuned with what each child needed.
Although a centre is limited in its very capacity to satisfy ―individual needs and habits‖ (Ben-Ari 1996: 154), the embodied experience at sleeptime suggests that to some extent at sleeptime, these children‘s needs are being met: that is, through the teacher, they are reaching a state of anshin and falling asleep.
180
There is an apparent contradiction, however, when I say that teachers are attuned with and ‗know‘ what each child requires. Teachers do not just simply imitate what a parent might say they do. In fact, parents may not tell teachers what they do to help their child fall asleep at night. In any case, a child‘s needs are not finite or predetermined; they need their carers to respond in their own different ways. The carers must not just give the child what the child might (if they could) say she or he wants or needs. They need to be attune with and meet the child on a level that connects them, as Yamada Sensei did with Yuko-chan. Although these teachers were drawing on deliberate sleep-inducing methods to help certain children relax and sleep, they were obviously attuned with, and aware of, the temperament of that particular child. Such a meeting involved an empathy whereby the teacher is able to adapt to the state of the child each day.
Returning to Sakura Gumi on that particular day, as the teachers relaxed the children to sleep, the only noise that could be heard was Suzuki Sensei with Haru-chan. No matter what Suzuki Sensei did (naderu, tataku, hada to hada no fureai, dakko) Haru- chan would not calm down. She was extremely vocal in her restlessness and whenever she would have a sudden outburst, the other teachers would gently tap or stroke any child who wakened. Suzuki Sensei appeared to be growing more flustered as sleeptime continued.
Suzuki Sensei seemed to be experiencing a similar reaction as I did in Sumire Gumi.
Because Haru-chan‘s usual teacher was absent, Suzuki Sensei had already anticipated before sleep-time that Haru-chan would probably not respond to her as
181 well as she does to her usual teacher. Thus, Suzuki Sensei probably entered the relation in a calculating nervous way in which she tried too hard to reach that end
(of getting Haru-chan to sleep). Suzuki Sensei was probably full of self, purpose, and calculations, while Haru-chan was probably aware of this and was unable to relax with Suzuki-Sensei. Even if Suzuki Sensei used the same sleep-inducing patterns as the usual teacher (or, Haru-chan‘s mother, for that matter), their bodies were separate and contained. There was no meeting between them, only frustration as Suzuki Sensei attempted to overcome (master) Haru-chan‘s body.
Any attempt to achieve an aim disables space for meeting. Similar to my experience in Sumire Gumi, where my body was a separate, fixed entity in comparison to Emi- chan, Suzuki Sensei‘s body was separate to Haru-chan. In the cases of Ohara Sensei,
Yamada Sensei and Shinobu Sensei, however, they experienced a different depth and space in relation to the children with whom they were present or, ‗co-sleeping‘. The teachers were attuned with what the children needed: maintaining a relaxed state of being, they were able to meet as whole people, not as separate body parts. There was not an attempt to overcome the child; rather, they were held in relation, implicated in one another.
Such an attunement involves the mutual mingling and reversibility of flesh in teacher- child relationships as touching becomes touched. The state of relation between them and mutual mingling may continue even when the ‗physical touch‘ ends, or rather, becomes felt in different ways. For example, for the child to remain asleep long after the touch stops, or when the teacher moves away, there is a state of belonging or comfortability at play. This could be due to the relationship between mi and an object
182 (like obi, futon, and the floor in Hiyoko Gumi) or the felt presence of others (even when not physically proximate; Chapter Five). In various cases, this feeling or state of belonging and comfortability is manifest in discourses of kokoro (heart) (Chapter
Five).
Of course, this does not mean that kokoro is present only in this context. This feeling of everywhere-ness is linked to other ‗places‘ and relationships. First felt in the home, kokoro seems to extend to relationships outside the home where possibilities for skinship and anshinkan still exist (i.e. hoikuen). This presence of kokoro still seems to be felt even when there is a gradual change in the rituals associated with soine, and even when soine ceases to exist altogether. Consider the case of Kikyō Gumi.
Kikyō Gumi (Chinese Bellflower Class)
The activities in this class mainly separated the three age cohorts, the four, five and six year olds. However, certain class rituals were still practiced together. For example, there was a segment devoted to the whole class that involved teaching English nursery rhymes as well as translating animal-words and food-words into English.
Sleeptime and mealtime were two other rituals they participated in together. Consider the case study of Haruka-chan and the way in which mi and flesh became more felt:
Case Study 2: Haruka-chan
During meal-time one day, I sat with Haruka-chan, Yo-chan, Sacchan and
Saori-chan, where Haruka-chan proceeded to ask me why I was sitting like
her father (nande otōsan no yō ni suwatteiru no?). After lunch, we went
back into the classroom where it was ‗play-time‘ for the next 30 minutes
183 before nap-time. As the boys nearby terrorised Haruka and Saori with toy dinosaurs, I sat with the girls, building a raceway track with lego.
Eventually, everyone was instructed to brush their teeth, in preparation for nap-time.
The children‘s mats were laid according to cohort pattern. The older children were gathered together on one side of the room, and rather than receiving the tactile reassurance offered to younger cohorts, they were listening as a male teacher, Tanaka Sensei, sat reading to them. Some of the younger members of the class who were having difficulty settling down were being comforted by another teacher (through tataku or naderu). After brushing her teeth, Haruka, approached me asking, issho ni neyōka? (Shall we sleep together?). I was reluctant to do so as my previous experience in a childcare centre in Australia made it clear that there are boundaries, in terms of proximity to a child. My initial instinct was not to lie next to
Haruka. However, Tanaka Sensei, the male sensei, who was beginning to read the book to the older children, detected my reluctance. He encouraged both Haruka and myself by saying,
たぶん、ダイアナ先生は恥ずか ―Diana Sensei is probably just しがっているんだよ。もう一回聞 embarrassed. Why don‘t you ask いたら、ぜったいにはるかちゃん her again because I am sure she will sleep with you Haruka.‖ と寝るよ。
184 It was clear that there was no reason to feel uncomfortable with lying with
Haruka, and that I was entering the relation loaded with who she and I were
as separate entities. However, such consciousness and calculations would
hinder any possibility of meeting with Haruka or becoming attuned with
her.
Haruka‘s futon was right next to Saori, where they lay head-to-toe.
Adjusting their futons slightly so that I could lie between them, I settled
down to face Haruka. At first my body was stiff and unmoving. I was
uncomfortable, but eventually she curled up next to me and our bodies were
touching. I began to tap her leg while I lay next to her. I looked around and
other teachers were doing the same, but at that very moment I couldn‘t tell
who the teachers were and who the children were: they were all connected.
And yet, somehow that included me too. It was as if all our bodies were
connected in touch, and my body relaxed. Haruka looked up and smiled.
Whether she felt my relaxation or it was a reflection of my own relaxation,
in that moment she too relaxed and closed her eyes. I could not believe that
in that moment, when I had finally relaxed, Haruka had fallen asleep. Saori-
chan sat up behind me and tapped me on the arm, with a smile on her face.
I turned around and found myself relaxing as I began to stroke her hair. It
did not take long for her to fall asleep too.
This meeting with Haruka-chan (and Saori-chan) helps reaffirm the idea that in other non-meetings, anshinkan is not achieved through touch. The teacher cannot physically make the child relax and sleep. It is not something ―one‖ does to ―another‖.
185 Attunement emerges in the state of being in-relation, unconscious and purposeless.
There is no separate person, but a mixed and different being. In meeting, our bodies connected in a depth and all-encompassing space that included flesh and mi. This was a matter of worlds changing – of being, space and time changing. There was a trust involved between us where we could relax. This curious link between relaxing and renouncing (yielding) involved a reversibility of relaxing-being relaxed. The fact that
Haruka was relaxed helped me relax and vice versa. The space encompasses both teacher and child who can feel any shift in movement. This shift is not just in their body but also includes mi.
For Haruka, it did not seem to matter who was doing the tapping. Although she had invited me and had already linked me to her father (and our similar sitting position) she did not ‗know‘ me. This suggests that it is the tap itself and not the person doing the tapping which is significant. Although this might appear to be impersonal, there is actually a very intimate quality at play. That is, it is the relation, not the identity of student and teacher, which is important here. This quality is inclusive of the child and teacher and the world surrounding them, happening in a non-defined space and time.
Neither is locatable but finds meaning through their relationship and the ritual. It also extended to include Saori-chan as well.
This spatial encounter with Haruka began as a non-relational encounter heavily loaded with identity logic on my part. I did not ‗know‘ her therefore I felt I could not be in such close or near proximity to her. I consciously entered the relation when she asked me issho ni neyōka? (Shall we sleep together?) There was a sharp distinction between who she was and I was. For Haruka, however, there was a purposeless
186 tension. She did not approach me as an individual or as an object. The context was sleeptime, for her, and this sensei who had eaten and played with her was obviously appropriate to tataku her as well. Whether or not she felt close to me because of our interactions that particular day might be inconsequential for it seemed, more than anything, a natural progression on her part. Haruka‘s spatiality was not yet defined by
―learned situational personalities‖ (Hall 1969) or rather, what she had learnt was that being in close proximity with someone in the context of sleeptime would include feelings of warmth and cosiness before falling asleep. Haruka knew what the right or good thing was, she knew the tap and sleeping with someone was required to help her relax and fall asleep. She needed the felt presence of someone there.
The spatial experience (proxemics) of both near and far was also seen in the encounters in sleeptime with the older children. As Ben-Ari notes, teachers ―seek ways of directing these bonds toward a wider group‖ (1996: 147). This class showed that as the children grow older, there is less of a presence of bodily forms of touch and more of a presence of ‗being-together‘. For example, Tanaka Sensei read a book to the older group (five and six year olds). Here, reading seemed to replace the tataku and naderu from younger classes. It is important to note here that it was not because
Tanaka Sensei is a man that he didn‘t touch the children to help them sleep, but he read to the five year olds because they were in the process of being weaned from touch. This will be developed in the next two chapters, however it is significant that many older children still fell asleep or relaxed during the reading of the book. This suggests that these children shift into a relaxed state in different ways to the younger children who still require bodily forms of touch. It seemed that these older children
187 found other ways of belonging and emplacement in the world (through their classroom and peers) even when touch seems to stop.
These spatial worlds involve both nearness and separation but they do not rely on
Euclidean nearness as the primary spatial experience. Or, reflexively, their spatial world still includes nearness insofar as the child may still feel close to the teacher and peers even though they are not physically near. This just occurs in different ways. For example, reading a book or lying together drew on other senses or relational states of being that contributed to the meetings between teacher and child and peers. What becomes significant, then, are not the forms of touch but instead, how the child feels close to their peers or teacher. It is the connection and spatial experience between them which is the real meeting, leading us to reinterpret the meaning of touch. There seems to be a particular quality to this space which achieves a level of warmth and intimacy that is now felt in different ways. Chapter Seven further explores this quality and experience.
Summary
The above examples show that there are various contributing factors to the meeting of
‗bodies‘ between teachers and children in the hoikuen. Once purpose, calculation, motivation and consciousness are removed from co-sleeping, soine can be a site in which intimacy can happen. Bodily forms of touch are a way in which this can happen, particularly at a young age or when a child is unsettled. However, there is a depth and space in the relational experience of sleep that incorporates more than just touch in terms of the physical, finite body. This spatial encounter, presence of heart, spirit, and togetherness, becomes more apparent in classes, particularly with older
188 children where touch is not as visible. This space does not require physical forms of touch. Rather, there are other ways of being in relation and near that contribute to the fleshy, all-encompassing space between co-sleepers.
Mi is certainly not just grounded in physical proximity and closeness. In fact, in many cases, touch, in a physical sense, is not really evident (‗visible‘) at all. Rather, it is the fleshy space between people that touches them, implicating others in this spatial
―nearness.‖ This space between them incorporates the multi-layers of mi and flesh, extending the space and depth experienced in soine to include infinite possibilities.
Such meetings in soine do not end in the body. Rather, soine becomes a way in which the child connects mi with the larger world: a child develops mi in the home, often through their rituals of soine with their parents, but is then able to adapt mi to that which extends to objects, their whole existence, and other people. This is seen in a child‘s ability to adapt to teachers in the hoikuen through attunement, forms of touch, and anshinkan.
Furthermore, mi becomes even more present when the teacher moves away from the child and the child still feels a state of belonging and relaxation through the presence or connection with certain objects (i.e. futon) or certain relational states (i.e. lying next to other children, or hearing a book being read). These meetings are characterised by connection and relation; if separate, fragmented or loaded with the teacher or child‘s identity, then possibilities for intimacy are removed as there is no space or time for connection. All action becomes calculated and contrived and results in a non-meeting (or, I-It relation). But if the meeting is ―real living‖ and a spatial encounter, then there is no contained body or Euclidean notion of time or space.
189 There is a different, relational logic at play here that is inclusive of heart, spirit, togetherness, flesh and mi. Skinship and anshinkan are not felt by the body but in an all-encompassing way.
Soine seems to be a moving phenomena: on the surface, soine is a site of intimacy and relaxation. Whether this exists between the teacher and child through body forms of touch, or through the proximity and presence of teacher and classmates, soine is a meeting in which intimacy can happen. On another level, soine might actually exist in the child becoming attuned with their own existence and learning how to relate with mi (inclusive of others and themselves).
Soine can also be a space in which belonging and connection can happen, and extends to relational experiences. Firstly explored and experienced in the home, soine (as a ritual) is carried through to the hoikuen where the child learns to adapt to different spaces and relationships. Ramifications for mi and flesh become even more profound and applicable to meetings beyond those in sleep as proximity through separation becomes manifest in other relationships and contexts.
The next chapter (Chapter Seven) explores the development of proximity through separation in the home while the child begins to simultaneously exist in the world.
Chapter Six has evoked the different approaches to child rearing during sleep-time in the hoikuen. These approaches appear to change as the child gets older, manifesting different forms of touch depending on cohort. Tataku, naderu, onbu, and hada to hada no fureai become less visible as other inclusive forms become more present (i.e. book being read by the teacher). A larger ‗surface area‘ of the body seems to be
190 touched in younger classes but the experience or feeling of anshinkan is the same in older children who can still fall asleep comfortably. Chapter Seven develops our understanding of these relational, inclusive states and how feelings of anshin and
‗belonging‘ might still exist even though such a shift has taken place.
191 CHAPTER SEVEN: ARRIVING TO A CONCEPTUAL UNDERSTANDING OF
BELONGING THROUGH THE FELT MEANINGS OF TOUCH
Introduction
This chapter explores how the Japanese child moves to encompass a secure space that was once felt by certain forms of touch but now includes other relational states. This chapter posits that touch is best understood in a Japanese context through a state of connectedness with the world and the home that does not require bodily forms of touch to feel ‗close‘. Instead, feelings of security, or, anshinkan, become felt in different ways. Drawing on Ichikawa‘s concept of mi and certain theories of belonging (Ichikawa 1993; Capra, Steindl-Rast and Matus 1992), this chapter explores the felt meanings (Smith 1986) of touch in the context of transitional spheres
(Winnicott 1958). Furthermore, this chapter considers different ways of being- connected, now that touch is no longer visible. The main aims of this chapter are: 1) to understand how this sense of connectedness with the world develops, enabling the
Japanese child (and parent) to find ways of being familiar (or close) when touch shifts to other less bodily forms, and 2) to consider different spatial understandings of the world, particularly proximity through separation, or presence through absence.
Drawing on participants‘ responses, this chapter explores the more subtle forms of touching in Japanese family relationships, throughout the period leading up to the age of five and thereafter.
Transitional Touch
Chapter Six showed that as the child gets older, touch begins to take less visible bodily forms. In the younger classes at the hoikuen, attunement through bodily forms
192 of touch seemed to be a key way of connecting the teacher to the child (i.e. onbu, hada to hada no fureai) as well as the children with one another (i.e. bai bai tacchi).
As the child enters the older classes, however, these more visible forms of touch seem to disappear and instead, actions and group activity (i.e. book reading) seem to become more common. Nonetheless, the child still has the ability to fall asleep and relax. Anshinkan still exists in these relational contexts, even though appearing in less bodily-connecting ways. Yet it is unclear how the child is able to make the transition from one age or stage to another, and to the associated states of touch.
Winnicott (1958, 1971, 1981, 1990) helps to develop our understanding of Japanese experiences of touch and intimacy in parent-child and teacher-child relationships. For
Winnicott, relationships do not necessarily unfold in Euclidean space and time, and, moreover, parent-child relationships are not defined by finite stages at which certain behaviours or situations are expected to occur. Instead, Winnicott focuses more on the relationship between child and parent and the spaces between them. This is particularly significant to Japanese experiences of touch and intimacy, when the child is at a young age. There are no finite, separate stages or rules for touch; rather, there is a live quality to the experience which relies on the relationship and space between people.
Winnicott‘s transitional phenomenon is a useful tool in understanding transitional touch. Transitional phenomena, as experienced by children, usually involve a transitional object: that which is not part of the infant‘s body but which is also ―not fully recognised as belonging to external reality‖ (Winnicott 1958: 230). Similar to the experience of nemuri komono (sleep knickknacks) (page 153), transitional objects
193 also provide feelings of comfort and connectedness. For Winnicott, a child may have an object such as a blanket, napkin, or teddy bear, which joins the child to an external or shared reality: a part both of the child and of the ―mother‖ (Winnicott 1990: 38).
This object ―dates right back to infantile dependence, and to early infancy,‖ to the time when the child was only beginning to ―recognise you [the mother] and the world as separate from the self‖ (Winnicott 1990: 39). Winnicott refers to this as a ―not-me possession.‖
During the weaning period, the fate of the transitional object is to be gradually allowed to be ―decathected‖. Winnicott notes:
…in the course of years it becomes not so much forgotten as relegated to
limbo…[T]he transitional object does not ―go inside‖ nor does the feeling
about it necessarily undergo repression. It is not forgotten and it is not
mourned. It loses meaning, and this is because the transitional phenomena
have become diffused, have become spread out over the whole intermediate
territory between ―inner psychic reality‖ and ―the external world as perceived
by two persons in common‖, that is to say, over the whole cultural field.
(1958: 233)
It is this diffusion which helps the child adapt to different ways of being in the world.
The transitional object is no longer located or fixed, but becomes everywhere
(―spread out‖, ―diffused‖). Before this period, the child carries the object (i.e. teddy bear) so that the object can belong to the world too, and the child belongs through the object. However, if the child has already started to belong in the world, then that kind of mobility might be carried in a different way. In other words, the child no longer
194 needs the bear to feel secure; now belonging to the world, the security initially felt through the object is spread out and felt everywhere. There is a sense of belonging where the child‘s significance is now felt ‗in‘ the world.
This feeling of belonging is related to what Capra et al (1992: 14) call ―I am home‖ and what Ichikawa (1993: 161) calls ―atto hōmu‖ (at home). There is a sense of rightness to this experience where there is no locatable object or person providing the child with feelings of contentment and belonging. Instead, there is a state of connectedness with the ―cosmos as a whole‖ and a relational existence with people and objects (Capra et al 1992: 14). This relational existence is relevant to mi in the context of the universe. Ichikawa explores this sense of being ‗in‘ the world through locating mi in terms of a relational equation of mi-house-village-city-universe.
According to Ichikawa, each make up the same structure and ―correspond mutually‖ into a kind of ―nested structure‖ (Ichikawa 1993: 161). He notes that:
We live in the body (shintai), we live in the mother‘s womb (botai), we live in
the home, we live in the city, we live in the world (sekai), we live in the uchū
(universe, space, cosmos). (Ichikawa 1993: 167)
In this relational equation, mi is inherent in the universe and the universe is connected through mi. So long as the spatial existence, kūkanteki sonzai (Ichikawa 1993: 139), is characterised by the same structure, mi feels atto hōmu or kutsurogu (at home; relaxed).43 In this ―spatial existence‖ and ―nested structure‖, the atto hōmu feeling can
43 This spatial structure manifests certain associations with positions of front, behind, right, left, below, and above, in the mi-house-village-city-universe. For example, in front (mae) incorporates bright, awareness, wide, future, infinity; behind (ushiro) incorporates unawareness, darkness, negativity, the past and is finite. Right refers to correctness, light, normality and man, while Left refers to weakness,
195 be experienced in other places and with other people. For example, anshinkan is still felt in the hoikuen. Through certain rituals or forms, the child might still have feelings of being atto hōmu, helping them feel comfortable and connected in a space that is not-home but where there are reverberations of similar experiences and feelings of security.44
In this chapter, Winnicott‘s transitional sphere is adapted to the Japanese family to explore how touch becomes manifest in other ways. There seems to be a transitional meeting where feelings of anshin, that were once possible through bodily touching, are now ―spread out‖ and felt in other ways. Through such transitional encounters, the child is able to find ways of belonging and being familiar with the family other than through ―infantile dependence‖ and ―early infancy‖ that is characterised largely by bodily (visible) forms of touch.
The age of five seems to be a poignant stage where transitions occur (see Chapter
Eight). Winnicott notes that this shift, in terms of transitional objects, changes at the age of five as well: ―at five the need for this thing may not have ceased, but many other things can take its place‖ (1990: 38). For example, in the case of the patterns of touch in the hoikuen, the older children may no longer require tataku or naderu,
negativity and woman. Above refers to sacredness, God and Heaven, while Below refers to hell, Satan and Hades. The positionality of the house and its contents are an example of how that which is sacred is positioned accordingly (i.e. positioning of altar in house). According to Ichikawa, this structure fits with mi, the village, the city and then the universe (1993: 161). There is a similar function where one belongs to something larger (the person that belongs to the house belongs to the village that belongs to the city that belongs to the universe). Even though Ichikawa argues that kindai nihon (contemporary Japan) is no longer built for mi, and that people have separated from the home and village and universe, the essence of the relational equation is that, if mi lives in the world (and in its structure), then a person feels ―at home‖, as though they belong in the universe. 44 Bachelard (1994), who also talks of nests, explores reverberations in the context of imaginative space and will be looked at in more detail.
196 because they are able to feel close and secure in other ways. Examples include settling down with other class-mates to hear a book being read or the developing emphasis on peer relations (Peak 1991; Ben-Ari 1996). The child‘s ―essential relationship‖
(Josipovici 1996: 19) to others does not necessarily change, rather, their meeting begins to include much more.
The ―felt meanings‖ of these meetings are particularly relevant to transitional forms of touch. There is a ―sensuously felt reality‖ (Smith 1986: 41) that needs to be considered in the context of the world as a whole. There is no need to discover the
―rational meaning of the world-whole‖ (Smith 1986: 1) or determine a ―cause-effect‖.
In the context of transitional spheres, and this shift in touch, the aim need not be to find why this shift happens. Rather, it is more significant to understand the feelings associated with touch and the ―ways in which things are important‖ (Smith 1986: 18).
In other words, causality is not sought after; rather, there is an appreciation and awareness of the ―sensuous feelings that flow through the world‖ (Smith 1986: 50).
Such felt meanings provide an openness with others and connectedness with the world, which includes a ―sensuously felt reality of flowing in a certain direction and manner‖ (Smith 1986: 41).
The felt meanings of touch are relevant to these transitional spheres in two specific ways. Firstly, feeling is not just related to ‗touch‘. Instead, other sensuously felt realities are also relevant to states of belonging and connection. Similarly, transitional spheres suggest an inclusive state of being that no longer includes (just) the object but extends to and includes much more in the world. This state of inclusion draws on other sensuous experiences and feelings of being-connected/belonging. Secondly, the
197 ―flowing in a certain direction and manner‖ suggests a moving, gradual process of a sensuous experience. The felt meanings of touch are not separately experienced
‗stages‘ but blend together into an all-encompassing, connected process of touch.
Similarly, the transitional sphere has not gone from touch to no-touch, but seems to include an openness to certain experiences that might become relevant later on but have always been there. For example, tone, sight and presence were always important
(Chapter Four) and the flow of the sensuous experience moved in that direction. In this process, other sensuously felt realities are drawn on more than before.
Securing the Space of Intimacy in the Japanese Family: Touching at Depth
Transitional spheres are useful to address touch as a state of relationality that enables the continuation of feelings of anshin in Japanese relations. Touching becomes existent in different forms and is not located in the body of the child, parent, or teacher, but finds meaning through touching at depth where there are different surfaces and a reversible notion of belonging. The child lives in the house just as it lives in and through the child. In the same logic, the child lives in the family and they live in and through the child. This feeling of belonging used to be felt in certain ways
(i.e. tataku, naderu, onbu, hada to hada no fureai; Chapters Four, Five and Six) and was used to provide the child with certain feelings of security ―vitally important to the infant…at the time of going to sleep, and is a defence against anxiety‖ (Winnicott
1971: 4). Although Winnicott here is referring to a transitional object such as a blanket, this is also highly relevant to touch. Touch achieves much the same state of security and anshinkan as the transitional objects. Focussed on an all-encompassing sense of belonging, the following sections address the ways in which the transition is made so that the felt meanings of touch exist even if in less visible, bodily forms.
198
Bodily forms of touch become less present as there is a diffusion of touching at depth.
That is, the depths of touch cannot be known as the felt meaning includes much more.
Touching begins to have a different quality and feel as ‗heart‘, ‗presence‘, ‗sight‘,
‗conversation‘ and ‗air‘ become the frequent modes through which intimacy in the
Japanese family is now experienced. It is important to note that many of these ways of being intimate are not just specific to parent-child relationships. Although many quotes refer to parent-child relations, the quality of these forms of intimacy also becomes present in other relational contexts, such as marital relationships, friendships and so on. Their presence begins to be diffused and felt in different ways.
Feeling through sight
Chapter Four introduced us to eyesight as an important part of skinship for male participants in their father-child relationships, particularly where the child is under five years old. Mesen (eye contact; Chapter Four) and watching a child‘s negao
(sleeping face; Chapter Five) were specific examples of how sight played a role in father-child relationships. After the child is five years old, it is said that there is a greater understanding between parent and child, so that now, even for female participants, a glance or an exchanged look carries a lot more meaning than body forms of touch. Consider the following responses regarding the quality of sight in the family:
Snippet 41: 家族の中では、タッチと言葉はあまり In the family, touch and language are not 必要ではありません。なぜなら、目を necessary. This is because we look at each other‘s eyes and begin to ‗speak‘ that way 見て話しかけるからです。
199 (Michiko, female, 34 years old, mini- interview). Snippet 42: 子供はもう１０歳だから、目で会話す My child is already ten years old, so we can
ることができます。 talk via our eyes (Mariko, female, 34 years old, mini-interview) Snippet 43: 子供との関係では、触れなくて会話 In the relationship with my child, we can する。目を見たり、何か一つの言葉を speak without touching. Looking at each 言ったり、何も言わなくでも、わかるで other‘s eyes, saying one word, or even if we say nothing, we understand. Why you すよね。なぜかと言うと、触れる必要 would say this is, because the need for 性がなくなってしまったから、愛の形 touch (fureru) has completely disappeared, も変わるよ。 the shape of love has also changed (Yuji, male, 54 years old, in-depth interview)
These references suggest a sensuous experience that includes a touching at depth in vision. This depth includes sight and touch, not as separate senses, but as intertwined and dependent. ―Looking at each other‘s eyes‖ includes a touching between people without any separation or alienation of who is looking at whom. There is not just a look exchanged between people involving one subject looking at an object. Rather, there is a mutual mingling whereby the seeing being-seen45 reversibility makes it unclear who is watching whom. The look that is shared finds meaning in its very connection, where a ―blending of some sort takes place‖ (Merleau-Ponty 1964b: 164).
From the above examples, the depth in vision draws on other senses, where
―speaking‖ and ―talking‖ happen without words or deliberate physical forms of touch
(fureru). ―The shape of love‖ includes an encompassing space of felt sensuous
45 This reversibility of percipient-percipience is not just specific to touch. For Merleau-Ponty, the ―percipient ‗other side‘ of bodily fleshy (seeing, touching, tasting) is deeply embedded in or meshed with the density of its perceptibility (visibility, tangibility, tastability)‖ (Cataldi 1993: 64).
200 experiences. There is a mutual understanding and filled space between them where feelings of security are diffused through a ―dialogic way of looking‖ (Metcalfe and
Game 2004: 358).
The sensuous experience of vision relies on the sense of touch (Merleau-Ponty 1964b;
Montagu 1986, Irigaray 1992, Vasseleu 1998). For Montagu, eye contact can be ―a form of touching at a distance‖ (Montagu 1986: 24). For Merleau-Ponty, visible
‗belongs‘ to tactile qualities:
We must habituate ourselves to think that every visible is cut out in the
tangible, every tactile being in some manner promised to visibility, and that
there is encroachment, infringement, not only between the touched and the
touching, but also between the tangible and the visible, which is encrusted in it.
(Merleau-Ponty 1968: 134)
Irigiray‘s theory of ‗texture of light‘ emphasises the touch of light on the eye whereby
―we are touched by and touching everything around us even as we see the distance between ourselves and the world or other people in the world‖ (Oliver 2001: 106).
There are not two separate entities looking from one surfaced level to another; instead, a meeting happens through the reversibility of sight and the touch of light as ―sight passes to the sense of touch‖ (Vasseleu 1998: 12) so one is touching what one sees.
As the parent looks at the child, their vision blends with touch as they ―talk‖ and
―speak‖ with one another via their eyes. There seems to be a mutual understanding in the Japanese family where words and touch are not required and, instead, they are touching at a non-locatable surface. Which sense is enabling intimacy is actually
201 unclear in such a depth. There is a more profound feeling of the filled space between them that diffuses feelings of security through vision and touch.
The Home is Where the Heart Is
The ‗heart‘ was often associated with the way in which intimacy is felt. The words hāto or kokoro do not refer to the heart in a physiological sense. As mentioned in
Chapters Five and Six, heart and spirit are implicated. This spirit is not just an individual‘s spirit but that which is implicated and enriched through others. Spirit is the live quality between people. The communication of hearts in ishin denshin implies that there is a connection through hearts, and this includes a live, all-encompassing quality that is not just located ‗in‘ the heart. Consider the following Japanese expression:
心の琴線に触れる To touch one‘s heartstrings
Touch here seems to be at such a depth that there is a connection felt between the heart which tugs at the heartstrings. There seems to be a movement between people, implying a felt pull towards the other person but not as a separate subject. The pull happens because they are in relation and mixed. It is as though the heart, or spirit, is an ―intimate space‖ which bears a ―mutual deepening‖ (Bachelard 1994) and belongingness between the Japanese family.46
Bachelard explores this mutual deepening and intimate space in the context of imaginative powers and simple images associated with felicitous space (i.e. the
46 A specific intimate space, the Japanese bath, is often considered to be the ―heart‘s home‖ (Clark 1994: 146).
202 house). The house as ―intimate space‖ helps to open up ways of understanding transitional touch, belonging, and their felt meanings associated in Japanese relations.
Bachelard notes that ―all really inhabited space bears the essence of the notion of home‖ (1994: 5). For the experience of atto hōmu to exist, feelings of ―heartwarming‖ and ―comforting‖ are required in the ―inhabited space‖. In such a space, there is a
―synthesis of immemorial and recollected‖ (Bachelard 1994: 5), experienced even outside the home. Bachelard notes that ―these dwelling-places of the past remain in us for all time‖ (Bachelard 1994: 6). There is a feeling of harmony and peace which call to mind images of the house and nest (Ehrmann 1966: 577).
Space defined through the imagination is an important way in which the apparent transition from touch to no-touch in the family can be explored. There is a harmony and connection between people where, even if apparently distant, there can still resonate an intimate space between hearts. That is, harmonious hearts, and the felt meanings associated, are still heartwarmed and comforted, even if the mode for communicating is different. This heartwarming feel is manifest in discourses of ishin denshin (heart-to-heart communication), isshin dōtai (feelings of one body and mind) and kokoro odayaka ni (making the heart peaceful), which all allude to the feelings of security and warmth in such relational existences. In addition to these discourses deliberately drawing on the ‗heart‘, there is also a felt sensuous reality that includes much more than just heart. Consider the following comment:
Snippet 44: 言葉やタッチをいらないです。心で語り We don‘t need words or touch. We can 合いますから。 speak via our heart. (Naoko, female, 33
203 years old, in-depth interview)
The word heart suggests a locatability in the body, but heart (as related to spirit) really signifies a presence of touching at depth that is not locatable at all. Instead, the sensuous experience in ―speak(ing) via our heart‖ incorporates, again, a felt and embraced connection in a meeting. To touch one‘s heartstrings or to ―speak‖ via the heart incorporates a depth that is not surfaced or layered in conceivable terms. There is a feeling that passes which is shared, mutual and inclusive. Implicated and
―animate‖, the feeling between hearts might incorporate a tug or a warmth that is indescribable, but a meeting so clear it is almost spoken. The etymology of the word katariau (katari language/speak + au meeting) reflects this idea that the meeting happens through the heart and involves communication and language that is felt via non-locatable senses.
The heart-to-heart quality of this experience ―awaken[s] new depths‖ (Bachelard
1994: xix). There is a link to wholeness: a ―sonority of being‖ where the tones and feelings reverberate through the relationship, connecting the child and parent who
―experience resonances, sentimental repercussions, reminders of [our] past‖ (1994: xix). These reminders act as a way to maintain togetherness and ―an enveloping warmth‖ (Bachelard 1994: 7) that almost protects or cocoons them out ―there‖. When the child is out in the world, or the forms of touch in the home have changed (and are experienced in more subtle ways), the ―original warmth‖ still resonates for the child, enabling the atto hōmu feeling to exist. Their hearts are still connected.
204 Being-together
For many participants it seemed that being together was the most important part of intimacy. Below are examples of various ways in which this might be experienced:
Snippet 45: ウチの父親が、船を持ってたの。 My father had a boat/ship and we would で、その船を使って花火大会の時と all use it and when it was the fireworks かに、父親はイカ釣り、イカを釣っ (festival, meeting), my father would fish and we would watch the fireworks and たりするんだけど、私たちは、もう eat mum‘s obento (boxed lunch). We did 花火見て、で、母親のお弁当食べ lots of that. We did lots of that together. て、とかって。そういうこといろい (Saori, female, 28 years old, in-depth ろやってたのはやってた。一緒にや interview) ってた。
There are various qualities in Saori‘s comment that makes their boating/fishing experience significant. For example, ―doing‖ things together incorporates devoting time together as a family. Being in the presence of the family (i.e. eating together, watching the fireworks together) seemed, for Saori, an indicator of intimacy. But the qualities of these experiences are not just in being-present and sharing the same experience.
―My father would fish…We would…eat mum‘s obento‖ refer to the subtle ways in which Saori‘s parents did ―lots‖ for their children. Even more significant is the gratitude and appreciation Saori felt towards her parents for these times together.
Although it may seem as though her father is doing something separate to the rest of the family (fishing while they watched the fireworks and ate their mother‘s obento),
205 he is still included in the experience. It seems that the intimate space, for them, does not necessarily need to be the house. Their experiences on the boat seem to resonate the original warmth that might have developed from the home.
Obento also manifests a form of devotion which Saori seemed to appreciate. Prepared by ―mothers at home‖ (Allison 2000: 81), a boxed lunch does not just comprise food.
Obento is a symbol of the love and devotion a mother extends to her child, as well as forcing mothers to adhere to certain social pressures (particularly when the child is in younger school years) where others (namely teachers) ―dictate, surveil, and manage her work‖ (Allison 2000: 96) through the visible symbol of the obento. The connection, however, between the obento, the mother and the home is interesting here.
When the child enters the world (i.e. through nursery school), they sometimes take with them a part of their mother (through the obento). During the day, the child is given reminders, or there resonate feelings of connectedness with the mother who is present through the obento, though ‗physically‘ absent. This profound felt presence exists later on even when the obento is no longer made. In the case of the fishing trip, obento is manifest as a form of devotion. Saori seems grateful that her mother prepared the obento before the fishing trip, and she accepts and appreciates her mother‘s efforts and consideration.
For Mr Okamura, being with his family is experienced in a different way:
Snippet 46: バラエティ番組を見て、一緒に笑 We watch a variety show and laugh う。ま、これは子供も一緒ですけ together. Together with our child. Yes.
206 ど。はい（間）。テレビの内容につ (pause). We can talk about various things いて、いろいろ話をする。（間） from the content of the show. (Mr Okamura, male, 43 years old, in-depth て、ことですね。 interview)
For Mr Okamura and his family, sitting together and watching a variety show provides them with mutual entertainment and topics about which to converse.
Humour seems to be a way in which they feel connected, with their laughter contributing to the felt meanings of intimacy. In fact, the sonorous quality of laughter might be more heartwarming than the actual show being watched. Sitting together and watching this specific program brings about a certain form of intimacy between parent and child insofar as it is manifest as a ‗family‘ ritual in an intimate space. But even more significant, the mutual laughter and the state of being sonorous, resonates with the family long after the TV is switched off.
For Miho, intimacy occurs in her family in various ways which she explicitly states are not manifest in touching or conversing rituals, but in the presence of, and a mutual understanding for, the family. Below is an excerpt from an interview conducted with
Miho. I have included my questions and statements in this caption to maintain the flow of conversation. Miho is 22 years old and studies speech therapy. She works part time at a confectionary store but also works when needed in her parent‘s shop. This interview took place in her parent‘s home:
Snippet 47: Ｄ：どういう風にご両親と触れ合い D: In what ways do you touch your
ますか。 parents?
207
M：あまりしないです。もう、両親 M: I don‘t really. Actually, I don‘t have a と触れ合う記憶がないです。でも、 memory of touching my parents (or them それは一番大切なことではないで touching me). But, that‘s not the most important thing. That‘s because I know す。お母さんとお父さんの気持ちを what/how they feel. Even if they don‘t わかっているからです。何も言わな say anything I know/understand. くてわかる。抱き合ったり、キスし Hugging, kissing, those kinds of たり、そういう表現はいらない。 expressions, we don‘t need them (those expressions).
Ｄ：言葉は？ D: What about words?
M：ううん、言葉と愛情表現も使わ M: No. We don‘t use words and ない。愛しているというのを言わな expressions of love. I won‘t say I love い。恥ずかしいよ。あまり深い意味 you. That‘s embarrassing! It doesn‘t include/have any sort of deep meaning. を含まれてない。また、お父さんと Also, dad and mum don‘t say that to me お母さんから言ってくれない。で either. But we understand each other‘s も、お互いの気持ちをよくわかる feelings. We feel them. よ。感じる。
Ｄ：どのように感じますか？ D: In what ways do you feel them?
M：例えば、私は遅くまで友達と出 M: For example, in the case I am out late かけたり、仕事したりする場合、お with friends or am working late, my mother waits up for me at home. Then, 母さんがうちで待っている。そし when I come home and say tadaima (I‘m て、帰るとき、「ただいま」と言う home!) my mother can respond okaeri と、お母さんが「お帰り」と返事す (Welcome home!). Although I do not る。待っていることを期待しなくて expect her to wait for me, she does wait も待っている。家族だから、当たり for me. It is only natural as we are a 前でしょう。とてもありがたいで family. So I am very grateful for that.
208 す。
Ｄ：じゃ、そういうありがたさをど D: Ok, so how do you show that のように表しますか。 gratefulness?
M：そうですね。お店があるでしょ M: Oh, well, you know how we have a う？忙しいときにお母さんとお父さ shop? Well, when it is busy, I go and help んが何も言わなくて、手伝ってあげ out, without mum and dad asking me. ます。日曜日の朝でも。家族だか Even on Sunday mornings. Because we are a kazoku, we understand feelings ら、気持ちを言わなくてもわかる。 without saying anything. It‘s probably a 一緒に時間を過ごすのが大事です。 strange expression but it‘s most important 木曜日はお店の休みだから、お姉さ to spend time together. Because んとできるだけ、お母さんとお父さ Thursdays are the shop‘s ‗day-off‘, to the んとどっか行ったりするんだった best of our ability (my older sister and I) ら、うれしい。一緒にいるのが大切 go somewhere with our mum and dad. だよ。 They are happy. Being together is most important.
Miho makes it clear that physical and verbal expressions of intimacy are unnecessary for intimacy in her family and that other more important forms take their place.
Empathy and consideration seem particularly relevant here. Lebra (1976) refers to the importance of omoiyari (empathy) in Japanese relations. She notes that:
Omoiyari refers to the ability and willingness to feel what others are feeling,
to vicariously experience the pleasure or pain that they are undergoing, and to
help them satisfy their wishes. Kindness and benevolence becomes omoiyari
only if it is derived from such sensitivity to the recipient‘s feelings. (Lebra
1976: 38)
209
Omoiyari seems to be manifest in Miho‘s family in various ways. For example, her mother waiting up for Miho, Miho working in the shop whenever it‘s busy, and Miho and her sister trying to spend as many Thursdays together as possible with their parents. She places an emphasis on subtle forms of interaction and being together. It seems that the felt forms of parent-child intimacy in the case of Miho‘s family exist in the not-having-to but wanting-to quality of omoiyari.
Miho refers to verbal expressions of love (i.e. I love you), as embarrassing and not carrying ―any sort of deep meaning‖. Even though her family doesn‘t use such expressions, this does not necessarily mean that she feels unloved. There seems to be a highly developed empathy or connection that renders words unnecessary. Certainly, continual reference to the word ―iranai‖ (not needed) assert this obviation. Lebra
(1976: 115) refers to this within the context of ishin denshin stating that ―words are paltry against the significance of reading subtle signs and signals and the intuitive grasp of each other's feelings‖. It seems that there is a mutual sensitivity and attention paid towards more subtle forms of communication and signs. However, what is more important is the conscious suggestion by participants that to say how one feels obviates real intimacy. The term usoppoi (like a lie) was used by some participants
(usually women) to suggest that one would avoid verbal expressions as it would seem like a lie. To say how one feels seems to imply that the spoken word takes away from the real feeling, something that might be difficult to describe or transmit verbally.
Doi‘s observation that ―one‘s facial expressions are more honest than words‖ (1986:
31) also suggests that the spoken feeling is not necessarily reflective of real or honest intimacy.
210 This then opens up other sensuous experiences significant to the relationship. For example, the felt presence of the parent (Miho‘s mother waiting up for her), the quality of the sonorous experience (her mother saying ―Welcome home‖), and the mutual deepening, experienced through accepting and appreciating certain actions, are more significant than the spoken word. The empathetic consideration that exists involves no thought of reciprocity or expectation of ‗getting back in return‘. It is not a forced gift exchange where they are expected or have to engage in a certain action.
Instead, they do it for the mutual enjoyment of the family. That is, there is a sense of not-my world (not- Miho‘s world) but our world (her family‘s world) where Miho‘s family belongs through one another in the same flesh. This is not, however, a unitary sense of family, for if it were, there would be a set of uniform procedures, not a continual need to adjust to the difference of others in the family. These subtle actions are felt through states of being-connected which are housed in intimate spaces felt but not necessarily verbalised.
It seems that being in the presence of the family and devoting time together are considered important for parent-child intimacy. In Saori‘s case, this was experienced through going out on her father‘s boat and watching fireworks together (while eating the obento her mother made); for Miho, it was going out with her family or being in the shop to help out, and in Mr Okamura‘s case, watching the same TV program where they can all laugh together and share an enjoyable experience pertained to intimacy.
211 Tone and Presence through Absence
Another category that emerged in the data was in terms of the quality of sound and presence through absence. Similar to Miho‘s example, of her mother waiting up to say okaeri, Mr Yoshida remarked on the importance of greetings in familial intimacy.
In this case, a departing greeting:
Snippet 48: 岡村さん：奥さんと子供とは、うー Don‘t expect that I don‘t touch my wife ん、触らないわけじゃないんだけ or child at all. (pause/silence) When I ど。。。（間）。朝出る時には肩を leave in the morning I pat their shoulder and say, ―I‘m going‖. This is our daily たたいたりとか、「行ってくるよ」 thing. (Mr Yoshida, male, 49 years old, とか言う。それは日常的なもん。 in-depth interview)
For Mr Yoshida, his farewell is a significant form of intimacy in his family and the quality of their everyday experiences. Firstly, Mr Yoshida‘s relationship and the family‘s ―emotional attachment is symbolised in linguistic expressions common in everyday speech, which serve to draw the boundaries between soto and uchi‖ (Kondo
1990: 142). Ittekimasu (or the informal, ittekuru) signifies that the person leaves the uchi to ―take part in the soto world, but it is also where one returns‖ (Kondo 1990:
142). This returning quality is important.
Secondly, there seems to be a response or emotional ―warmth‖ that contributes to his daily departure.
We can detect and do respond emotionally to that icy or frosty edge in
someone‘s voice or that cold shoulder that puts us off, just as we can detect
212 and do respond emotionally to the warmth of an affectionate smile or the
inhospitable glare of a glance – in eye contact. These felt perceptions are all
skin deep. And distinguishable. And have affective tones to them. (Cataldi
1993: 133)
Just as we can ―detect…that icy or frosty edge in someone‘s voice‖, the sonorous quality of Mr Yoshida‘s ―I‘m going‖ (ittekuru) has an affective tone which possibly leaves feelings of warmth even after he has physically departed. Furthermore, the combination of the touch on his wife‘s shoulder is also significant. This daily ritual possibly provides his wife and child (as well as himself) with a felt presence of being there even though he is leaving the house. That simple action upon his departure fills that intimate space so that it includes him even when he has left. Bachelard notes that intimacy is possible in a limit-less room:
The intimacy of the room becomes our intimacy. And correlatively, intimate
space has become so quiet, so simple, that all the quietude of the room, it is in
us. We no longer see it. It no longer limits us, because we are in the very
ultimate depth of its repose, in the repose that it has conferred upon us. And
all our former rooms come and fit into this one. How simple everything is!
(1994: 226)
The ultimate depth of Mr Yoshida‘s repose includes the felt presence of his wife, child and himself, together and connected. His simple ritualistic departure is significant as the room from which he has departed seems to extend to and include him even when he is absent. In fact, he is not absent at all. He is present through this apparent absence. And the ―former rooms‖ include the reminders and repercussions felt from each previous day, which have combined to give this ritual a deeper
213 significance. There are similarities between Mr Yoshida and Takafumi (Chapter Five), where Takafumi still felt close with his children and wife even though they slept in separate rooms. The intimate spaces, for Takafumi, were those experiences where they were together (e.g. in the bath, watching TV and so on). The rooms where these experiences took place and the felt reminders of intimacy filled him even at night when they were not physically together. In both cases, these men are still connected to their family in a fleshy space that extends to and connects them with feelings of being atto hōmu.47
Filled Space: Ma and Air
A common reference to the nature of parent-child relationships, as the child grew older, was the Japanese saying: kūki mitai na sonzai (an existence like air). This saying refers to the claim that the relationship, ―like air‖, is necessary for survival
(Iwao 1993; cf Lebra 1994), in other words, just being there is necessary.48 Parent- child relationships gradually seem to rely on non-visible, less bodily forms of touch.
Understood within its appropriate context, this ―air‖ becomes relevant to our understanding of how intimacy is still felt in Japanese parent-child relationships.
Although this ―air‖ might at first be perceived to be empty, there is an important understanding of the Japanese conception of space, ma, where meaning is given to space. Ma is referred to as an interval (Lebra 1976; Hall 1969) and ―is a basic building block in all Japanese spatial experience‖ (Hall 1969: 153). This space is not
47 This feeling of atto hōmu bears similarities to Bourdieu‘s concept of habitus. Habitus is an embodied sense of place. A ―sense of one‘s (and other‘s) place and role in the world of one‘s lived environment‖ (Hillier and Rooksby, 2002: 5). 48 This Japanese saying is often used in the context of married couples as well.
214 empty but is filled. Just being in the presence of others involves a different relational state, because the filled space between people enables a connection to be felt.
Physical or verbal forms of touch do not connect the family in ma. As Hall notes:
[I]n the perception of space the Japanese employ vision and all the other
senses as well. Olfaction, shifts in temperature, humidity, light, shade, and
colour are worked together in such a way as to enhance the use of the whole
body as a sensing organ. (1969: 153-154)
Space, therefore, is a sensuous experience where intimacy is felt in parent-child relationships. As long as the space is inhabited and filled, parent and child are still touching.
Summary
This chapter has explored the different felt meanings of touch as the child gets older, developing a conceptual understanding of belonging through these felt meanings.
This conceptual understanding helps us understand how the child feels close and intimate with parents even once touch ―ceases‖. As the Japanese child exists simultaneously in the home and world, the felt meanings of skinship shift to include less bodily forms. But that does not mean they are not still touching. Touch does not stop; it moves to include other fleshy forms. There is a touching at depth that occurs between the family which manifests in other felt forms. In particular, tone, sight, presence through absence, being-together, air, space, as well as the harmony of hearts, are the modes through which parent-child intimacy becomes felt. The next chapter explores participants‘ responses to this shift in touch, and whether this process happens as tidily as this chapter implies.
215 CHAPTER EIGHT: HOW TOUCH FEELS AFTER FIVE
Introduction
This chapter explores participants‘ rationalisations for the shift in touch in parent- child relationships as the child gets older. Specifically, this chapter examines participants‘ reactions to their own relationship with their children as well as a reflection on their own childhood and how they came to deal with this shift in touch.
Taking into consideration the different felt forms of touch that develop as the child gets older (Chapter Seven), the aims of this chapter are: 1) to explore the way in which this shift is rationalised, and 2) to analyse whether these rationalisations really fit the parents‘ and children‘s lived and felt experiences. The so-called defining moments or stages that participants associate with the cessation of touch help to open up why touch changes. However, rarely do they explain how the child (and parent) adapt to and cope with this shift. This chapter considers the conscious and subjective presentation of a weaning pattern, contrasted with the possibilities of a more natural and organic process that might actually be occurring in these relationships.
It is necessary to make a methodological point here. As this chapter is based on the retrospective opinions of my participants, it is important to note that participants do not exactly know why body forms of touch, or, skinship, stop. All they can do is share their consciously derived reasons as to why they stop certain engagements with their children. Mine are, in part, secondary rationalisations, about which I make two important points. Firstly, there are patterns in the explanations and justifications for this apparent cessation; secondly, participants might be reinstating a subjectivity and rationale in retrospection that was not necessarily present in their everyday
216 experiences. Although consciousness and subjectivity might define the actions or decisions of some parents (and children), in most cases, participants responded to the questions I asked. These questions assumed that participants were in control and conscious. But this does not necessarily reflect real experiences or the felt process through which this movement occurred. An understanding of the felt meanings of touch, along with an understanding of how the child makes his or her transition to belong in the world (seen in Chapter Seven), help us consider the relation between the interviewees‘ rationalisations and their real lived experiences. These responses are divided into several sub-categories under two main categories: the ―stages of development‖ and the ―public discourses‖ associated with the so-called cessation of touch.
Stages of Development
There were three stages of development to which participants often referred. These were: age, school, and the birth of a new sibling. Adolescent stages were also mentioned, such as, puberty and rebellion periods. These were marked by discourses of separation and resentment (particularly with one‘s father), but are beyond the scope of the transitional encounters significant to parent-child relationships at a young age.
Age
Body forms of touch are highly prevalent in parent-child, particularly mother-child, relationships when the child is at a young age. It is not surprising that the majority of responses referring to the cessation of touch are by women. This makes sense in the context of Chapter Four, as most forms of skinship in father-child relationships were manifest in more subtle, less bodily forms of touch while mother-child relationships included more bodily forms of intimacy (i.e. onbu, massage, skin-to-skin contact).
217 Chapter Six showed that children in the Hoikuen (under the age of three) reach a state of relaxation through certain forms of touch, such as tataku, naderu and hada to hada no fureai. As the child gets older, touch begins to manifest different forms. For the younger children, touch existed in more body-to-body contact which often involved
‗whole‘ body contact. For example, the whole front of the child is wrapped to the teacher‘s back in onbu (i.e. Hiyoko Gumi). Similarly, Yamada Sensei (who lay in dakko position in Sakura Gumi) showed an enveloping of the child. At these younger ages, anshinkan seems to be felt in more bodily-connecting ways, where mi is arguably more felt through this wholeness: an all-encompassing, bodily-connecting, felt manner. Tataku and naderu remain, as the child goes from class to class, but anshinkan begins to be felt through smaller body area contact. The parent or teacher‘s hand touching a smaller area of the older child‘s body still seems to soothe the child.
Mi and anshinkan seem to be felt in less bodily ways which became most significantly profound in Kikyō Gumi. Soine, and the felt meanings of anshinkan, for the older children in Kikyō Gumi, involved a book read by Tanaka Sensei while the younger children in the class were still being touched by teachers in some body forms.
For many participants, body forms of touch as a manifestation of skinship are considered ―unnecessary‖ and ―not needed‖, particularly as the child reaches a certain age, stage, or level of development or maturation. At a certain age or point in time, touch seems to be removed or displaced altogether. Participants often associated this age limit in terms of iranai (no need). Consider the following comments.
Snippet 49: みんなは年長になるとタッチをいらない When everyone reaches nenchō (eldest
218 よ。 class in pre-school), they don‘t need (the thing of) touch (Akiko, female, 30 years old, mini-interview) Snippet 50: お母さんたちは子供をタッチする理由 The reason mothers touch their children is は、安心させるためです。だから、５歳に to make them anshin. Therefore, before なる前に必要です。でも、５歳になると、 turning five years old, it is necessary. But, when they become 5, they don‘t need it いらないです。 anymore. (Masako, female, 35 years old, mini-interview) Snippet 51: 赤ちゃんのとき、スキンシップは必要だ。 When you are a baby, skinship is でも、年をとったら、いらない。 necessary. But when you become older, you don‘t need it. (Sachiko, female, 34 years old, mini-interview) Snippet 52: 子供の時、気にしないし、子供のころ、 When they are children, we don‘t care 喜び、体で表現（喋れないから）；甘えた about it and when they are children, we い気持ちあるから。でも、５才になった are happy and glad, and express through our body (because they don‘t speak). This ら、子供にも両親にも恥ずかしいから。 is because we have feelings of wanting to indulge and pamper (amaetai kimochi) our children. But, when they become five years old, it becomes embarrassing for the child and parents. (Yukari, female, 38 years old, mini-interview)
From the above comments, it is clear that touch is associated with certain states of being content (anshin) and pampered/indulged (amae). As the child gets older, children are said to no longer require body forms of touch as a manifestation of anshin or amae. Touch becomes ―unnecessary‖ or ―not needed‖ as the child gets older
219 (Snippets 49 and 51), explicitly at the age of ―five‖ (Snippets 50 and 52). Although
Yukari (Snippet 52) attributes this to being ―embarrassing for the child and parents‖, none of their comments seem to imply a process through which touch changes or the child adapts. Instead, five years old is the age at which the child becomes older and touch consciously stops.
This displacement of touch can be interpreted in two ways: conscious and unconscious displacements of touch. Unconscious displacements of touch will be referred to as ―awareness‖. Consciousness and awareness suggest two very different states of relationality and offer a further insight onto the meaning of intimacy in
Japanese parent-child relationships. From the above comments (Snippets 49-52), we can ascertain that touch seems to consciously become unnecessary in parent-child relationships after the age of five. However, if the displacement of touch after the age of five is a conscious and rational decision, then there are no possibilities for attunement or intimacy in this subjective process. Touch ceases to be a state of relationality and is instead an object used by the bodies of subjects to achieve an aim
(i.e. to overcome the body of an object). When such subject-object relations exist, touch ceases to be a relational form of intimacy as weaning begins to take place.
In this conscious state of ceasing touch, iranai assumes a level of subjectivity and desire, where the parent (as a separate entity) takes over the role of withdrawing touch from the child (as a separate entity) because it is right for the child and what ‗should‘ happen. The child is not met as a whole or active being but as a disconnected and disembodied thing which the parent has decided (or been influenced to decide, therefore rationalised) that touch is no longer needed. Consider the case of Haruka, a
220 29 year old woman who, at the time of our interview, had just had her baby and was planning on returning to work almost immediately:
Snippet 53: 私は後１・２ヶ月ぐらいで、 仕事に Because I will return to my work after 戻るから、赤ちゃんを抱っこしない about 1-2 months, I shouldn‘t hug my ほうがいいです。他の人に預けます baby. This is because I will leave them in the care of others so I avoid it. It is also から、迷わず．．．あまやかしては not good to pamper (amayakashite wa だめ。お母さんたちは子供に抱っこ dame). If a mother only hugs her child, I ばかりしていたら、抱き癖がつくと have heard that it will result in daki guse 聞きました。それはだめだと思う (a baby which is unhappy unless held). I よ。昔、いつもお母さんたち、おば think this [daki guse] is wrong. In the あちゃんたちは田圃で働きながら子 past, mothers and grandmothers always 供を負んぶした。または、いろいろ carried their child onbu-style whilst な人々に預けて、昔、こどもが他人 working. Furthermore, they passed the child to others (left them in other people‘s になれていた。それは、大切だと思 care) and, in the past, children became います。今は生まれたばかりの赤ち used to other people. This, I think, is ゃんでもスキンシップを受けれない important. Now, even a newborn baby ほうがいい。 shouldn‘t be given skinship. (Haruka, female, 29 years old, mini-
interview)
For Haruka, touch and dependency (amae) seem to be mutually exclusive states. To ensure her child will easily go to others in the upcoming months after birth, Haruka avoids body forms of touch altogether (especially those as a means for skinship or intimacy). Although she did not rationalise her decision in the context of a specific age limit (i.e. five years old), it is clear that she is a conscious and rational subject
221 withdrawing touch from her child. The consciousness associated with such an active withdrawal of touch does not involve a real meeting between parent and child, or any progressive, adaptive shift.
However, if we view iranai in a retrospective context, the consciousness in this apparent withdrawal might exist only insofar as the participants‘ subjective and rational explanations. Perhaps their descriptions do not necessarily reflect their real experiences, but might be the way to retrospectively respond to my question of ―In what way does skinship change with your child?‖ If that is the case, we need to consider this term iranai with a different state of consciousness that exists in the retrospective response. In this case, the actual experience of touch stopping may not have occurred at such a finite point in time (i.e. five years old). Instead, these parents may have had an awareness or subtle understanding that the child no longer
‗required‘ touch. This awareness is complexly different to that state of consciousness with which Haruka approached touch.
Awareness is an openness to receive feedback, to notice and respond accordingly.
While the desirous nature of consciousness blocks many types of feedback, being aware of something involves a sensitivity towards that which is required. There is not necessarily a deliberate withdrawal of touch but a more natural or organic process which involves an awareness that touch isn‘t needed because it is felt in other ways.
States of anshin and amae are able to be experienced and felt in other forms, though not necessarily through the body (as became clear in Chapter Seven). The difference between these states of being conscious and of being aware is an active attempt to achieve something (consciousness) and an unexplainable feeling that emerges without
222 subjectivity and deliberation (awareness). The difference in awareness might involve a more natural process as opposed to a ‗weaning‘ period in consciousness. That is, there is a feeling that contributes to the natural progression to stop or change touch.
Touch becomes felt in different ways and parents and children are aware of this difference and feel that they are still touching.
These states of consciousness and awareness become increasingly important in the context of parent and child. It is unfair to assume that the cessation of touch (or, the use of touch, for that matter) is necessarily an active attempt by the parent to achieve a certain state, and that there is no participation from the child whatsoever. The example of amae offers an interesting dynamic depending on the relational context.
For example, Haruka‘s (Snippet 53) reference to amayakashite wa dame suggests a conscious rationale in avoiding touch, saying it is ―bad‖ to indulge or pamper one‘s child.49 She and her child seem to be separate subjects. Yukari (Snippet 52), on the other hand, referred to amaetai kimochi, feelings of wanting to ―indulge and pamper‖ children when they are young. These feelings of amae seem to extend to and include her as well in this state.
Conceptualisations of amae theorise a need for a sense of oneness with others, a need for dependence on others, and a desire to seek indulgence (Doi 1973, Tezuka 1993,
Miike 2003). Kumagai and Kumagai note that ―the closest, though not necessarily satisfactory, English equivalent for amae may be ‗permissive love‘‖ (1986: 308).
Amae has been defined as the desire to be indulged (Doi 1973). Often seen as a
49 Maruta states that ―if you do amae a bit too much, others think you are imprudent or audacious; if you do not do it enough you are cold, aloof, and even arrogant‖ (1992: 16).
223 manifestation of intimacy in parent-child relationships, amae is most commonly viewed in the context of mother-child relationships (Doi 1973; Rothbaum et al 2000;
Kumagai 1981).50 That is, it is most common for amae to be seen in terms of infants deriving security from the mother‘s indulgence and needs (Doi 1973; Rothbaum
2000). Kumagai (1981) extends Doi‘s interpretation of amae as ‗a need‘ to one of
‗interaction‘. This interaction includes a complementary posture or reversibility that includes the ability to indulge in love (amaeru) or to defer in love (amayakasu). This interaction or reversibility of amaeru-amayakasu (indulged-indulging) is considered a
―critical ingredient in the successful nurturing of a child‖ (Kumagai 1981: 258).
It is this interaction which is of interest here, particularly in the context of Yukari‘s comment (Snippet 52) and touch as a form of amae in parent-child relationships.
Rather than the parent making the child dependent, it seems that parent and child, and this state of amae, are contingent upon another, or ―mutually dependent‖ (Tanaka
1984). That means that a child will amaeru because a parent will amayakasu.
Although this interaction is referred to as a ―consciously felt desire for attention‖
(Kumagai 1981: 254), I argue that this state of amae can be a manifestation of intimacy depending on the level of consciousness or awareness. If amae is conscious and deliberate (i.e. Haruka; Snippet 53) then amae cannot be a manifestation of intimacy. Rather, it would appear to be a desirous relationship where child seeks for indulgence, parent indulges child, and the child revels in such indulgence in a conscious manner that they thus continue to seek indulgence. If that is the case then
50 Salamon (1986) explores amae in terms of marital relationships.
224 the parent‘s identity is shaped by the identity of the child: child is indulged because parent indulges.
However, if we view the interaction of amaeru-amayakasu in terms of a reversibility, we cannot see who is doing the indulging and who is being indulged. There are possibilities of connection, in such a reversible relation, that is relevant to both parent and child. This interaction does not involve parent-as-entity or child-as-entity. Rather, there are possibilities of interchangeability. That is, who is being indulged is unclear; parent feels indulged by indulging the child. This loss of consciousness and calculation contributes to making the experience of amae intimate. In this case, amae is not a form of mastery, based on desire and subject-object relations, but rather, a mutual mingling through love. And such a mutual mingling could manifest in a naturally moving way where the patterns of amae might change in the relationship, but not in a significant cessation. Instead, a profound movement could be happening that is not weaning but a ―sensuously felt reality of flowing in a certain direction and manner‖ (Smith 1986: 41).
These attitudes towards touch stopping at a particular age, and the states associated, are interrelated with another stage of development, beginning school. Within this category, references to maturation and independence/interdependence commonly occur.
Beginning School
For some parents, the defining moment of change in patterns of touch and skinship happens when the child begins primary school and reaches a certain level of
225 ―maturation‖ and ―independence‖. Chapter Six showed that as the children became closer to leaving the Hoikuen and beginning primary school, body forms of touch became more uncommon, even at sleep-time. It seems that there is a type of weaning that begins early on, reinforced even in the Hoikuen, that manifests primary school as a ‗stage‘ or ‗limit‘ where touch will need to stop51. The emphasis shifts from parent- child to teacher-child to peer relations in Hoikuen. This seems to prepare the children for the different interactions they will have upon leaving the Hoikuen and head out in the world, as well as learning new or different ways of being in the home. Consider
Mr Hirota‘s comment.
Snippet 54: 子供には。。。今もう小学校なのであんま Because my child (son) is already in り、こう、だっことかしないんですけど。だ primary school, we don‘t hug. It is hard いぶ大きくなって抱えるのが大変なの to hug when they get bigger. Back then, I stroked his head, praised him when he did で。それでもあの、頭をなでたり、何かい something good. Well, I wonder if this is いことした時にはほめてやったりとか。 fine until primary school. But since he ま、小学生くらいまでは大丈夫かな、と。 actually started primary school, there でも、小学校が始まって、娘ほどスキン hasn‘t been as much skinship as with my シップがなくなったですね。 (younger) daughter. (Mr Hirota, male, 44 years old, in-depth interview)
Mr Hirota seems to be the rational actor or agent in the cessation of touch with his son.
His comment, ―Well, I wonder if it‘s fine until primary school‖, suggests that Mr
Hirota‘s decision to stop skinship is largely grounded in an identification with what his son ‗requires‘ upon starting school. He still engages in skinship with his daughter
51 Reflexively, the children falling asleep when the book was read suggests that touch become present or felt in other ways.
226 because she is still younger (not yet in primary school). This is often related to discourses of ―independence‖, the stages of maturation, and the identity construction associated with starting school (for both parents and children).
Terms such as jibun (self), jiritsu (‗independence‘), and hitoride (by oneself) were used to describe the way in which the child starts to do things on their own. The kanji compounds jibun （自分）literally mean a component or part of oneself; jiritsu（自
立） the stance of oneself (often translated as independence), while hitoride （一人
で）is one person (implying a separate entity). Although the etymology of the kanji compounds in each word suggest a separate, fragmented dissociation with the child, it is important to note that this is the language that follows if subjectivity is presumed. It is therefore necessary to view them in a larger relational context. For example, in response to my questions i.e. How/why did skinship with your child change, participants responded from their own subjective experience. Just because they are responding in a particular way does not necessarily mean they are able to locate or truly reflect on their real life experience. Although the emphasis of jibun, jiritsu, or hitoride associate touch with dependency, and a lack of touch (or a cessation of touch) with maturity and independence, it is important to be careful about the level of consciousness or awareness shaping these responses. Consider the following comments:
Snippet 55: 子供の自信を高めるために、スキンシッ So that my child‘s confidence increases, I プをやめる will stop (yameru) skinship. (Ai, female, 35 years old, mini-interview)
227 Snippet 56: 一人で歩けるから、手をつなぐのをやめ Because my child can walk on her own, I て、自立できる ceased (yamete) holding her hand and she can become independent. (Reiko, female, 41 years old, mini-interview)
Ai (Snippet 55) associated the cessation of touch (skinship wo yameru) with an attempt to increase her child‘s confidence. In Reiko‘s case (Snippet 56), the fact that her daughter can walk on her own means she no longer needs to hold her parent‘s hand, thus becoming ―independent‖. Both women use the verb yameru to show that skinship will stop. However, its very application implies agency where there seems to be a consciousness on the behalf of the parent to stop touch: ―I [the parent] stopped touch‖. The term, yameru suggests a rigid cessation in touch where there is no natural progression, nor does there appear to be any participation by the child. That independent state of being is consciously sought after (by the parent) but does not reflect the likely experiences between parent and child as touch is not actually felt to be lacking in the first place.
The very language use and translation of jiritsu, itself, is problematic. Although it is often mistaken for the English word, independence, jiritsu encompasses a much more significant relational state that opens up the meaning of yameru. The word independence suggests a rational and conscious attempt to be a certain way which does not rely on others. The cessation of touch, for the purpose of independence, suggests that touch is not stopped through others but in spite of others and is done so on one‘s own (hitori de). The term, dokuritsu, better signifies this ―independent‖ experience, which is translated as self-dependence (or, independence) and includes a
228 separation from other people. Dokuritsu, however, was never associated with children in participant responses and suggests that the nuance of jiritsu requires further attention.
Jiritsu, unlike dokuritsu, does not mean that the child or someone else is entirely independent or separate from others. There is still a connectedness with others, helping the child cope with certain experiences in different ways.52 An important point to make is that the child is able to cope with these experiences because of their connectedness with others. That is, they still receive support but they are not
‗dependent‘. As they reach a certain level of maturity, they do not become mutually exclusive or separated but find meaning through the relationship with self and others.
Through others, Japanese children become interdependent. Interdependency is usually the term used to describe Japanese relationships (not just exclusively in the family but at various levels of social relationships i.e. schools, organisations and so on).
Inclusive of the relationship with others and the surrounding environment, interdependency does not incorporate a sense of ‗standing on one‘s own feet‘ as in the
English association with ‗independence‘; instead, there is a feeling of belonging where self is shaped though others in a relational existence. That is, jiritsu is not an individual experience but an inclusive experience. Parent and child are still connected, implicated and reliant on one another, but this does not equate to ‗dependency‘.
Through a certain level of maturity, the child can cope with different ways of being in relation and jiritsu.
52 Lebra (1976) explores maternal discipline in the context of emotional interdependence.
229
Perhaps the process of becoming jiritsu, then, is not a rational or conscious distinction on the behalf of the parent or child, but instead, something that happens together with the child. The expression, jiritsu shin wo yashinau (自立心を養う), can be translated as,
‗to develop one‘s spirit of self-reliance or feeling of independence‘. However, if we consider jiritsushin in the context of others and the fact that this state is only possible through the support of, and reliance on, other people, it is clear that this experience of jiritsushin, for parent-child relationships is not an individual, independent experience.
Rather, it is shaped by ―the surrounding context and…self-in-relation-to-other‖
(Markus and Kitayama 1991: 225).
The ability to be self-through-others is an important quality when considering other experiences in Japanese parent-child touch. Being sensitive to the recipient‘s thoughts, feelings, and views (Nagashima 1973; Lebra 1976) contributes to the ability to ―feel what others are feeling‖ (Lebra 1973: 38) and be ―empathetic and intuitive‖ to others
(Tobin et al 1989: 190). This quality of empathy is important for children, where they are taught, through others, to ―empathise with others and be considerate of their feelings‖ (Steger 2006: 208). This happens often through omoiyari and ―the ability and willingness to feel what others are feeling‖ (Lebra 1976: 38). Lebra associates omoiyari with kokoro and the ability to absorb information without being told verbally. It seems as though in the process of becoming jiritsu, the children are becoming more aware and sensitive, and able to pick up more subtle cues. The child seems to be more able to adjust to different ways of being in the world, through others.
This developing interdependent self helps the transitional experience of touch shift
230 experiences of anshin and amae to non-locatable, non-bodily forms, possible through maturity and more sensuously felt states.
This relational change does not happen at a specific point in time. Through others, the child is able to gradually adapt to changes. For example:
Snippet 57: 自立するためにスキンシップをやめてい So that my child becomes independent, I
く。 will go in the direction of stopping/ceasing (yameteiku) skinship (Saito, female, 32 years old, mini- interview)
The nuance of the verb yameteiku instead of yameru creates a different, more gradual, feel. Although Saito seems to be consciously calculating the end to skinship with her child, her use of the term yameteiku implies that, for her, skinship will not end in a clear-cut defined way as is suggested through the term yameru. Saito gives the impression that it will be a less dramatic stop to touch, that includes a process that
―goes in the direction of ceasing‖ skinship.53 This ―going in the direction of ceasing‖ is important as it appears to be moving as opposed to ending and then being replaced by something else. It seems that touch becomes felt more naturally in different ways.
This gradual progression does not rely on Saito (as a separate, conscious subject) refusing or withdrawing touch from her child (another separate, conscious subject).
53 It is also important to note here that Saito is not providing a retrospective account as the experience (cessation of touch) has not yet happened. Although her comment is anticipatory, it still contributes towards an understanding of what discourses, language, or thoughts shape the experience of the changes in touch.
231 Instead, there is a mutual dependency or contingency upon one another as they will move together through skinship to encompass other less visible or bodily forms.
Takahiro‘s statement (Snippet 58), below, refers to ―degrees of maturation‖ (seichō kado) as relevant to the school stage and jiritsu. Through this maturation process, touch changes. Although the comment is regarding a grandparent-child relationship, it is quite relevant to parent-child relationships due to the dynamics in this particular family. Takahiro‘s daughter had a child at the age of 22 and remained living in her father‘s house. Due to the child‘s father‘s absence, Takahiro took on the role as father-figure. Takahiro informed me that their household isn‘t kodomo chūshin (child- centred) but rather, mago chūshin (grandchild-centred). Takahiro discussed skinship in his relationship with both his daughters and his grandson (with whom he shares this father-child relationship).
Snippet 58: 孫は、よく抱きついたりとかしてくる。やっ I often hug my grandchild. Really, (he is) ぱ、異性が、同性がいないから自分し the opposite sex and because there are no か。男、男は僕だけなんで。どうしても、 others that are the same sex, it is only me. The male, the male is only me, and…for こっちにまとわりついてきて。でも、娘た the life of me, he clings to me/is all over ちと抱き合わないですね。昔は、ちっち me. But, I don‘t hug my daughters. In the ゃい頃はやっぱり。でも、娘が嫌がります past, when they were little, yeah, of ね、抱き合うのは。だから、やめた。変わ course. But, my daughters disliked it, the った理由は、いつか分かんないけど、や thing of hugging. So it ceased (yameta). っぱり子供が恥ずかしがるようになってき The reason for this change is, I don‘t たからかな？でも、それは一つの成長過 know when but, of course children 程、って思ってるから、まあ、ちょっと親 become embarrassed, right? But, I think that this is one ‗degree of maturation‘ and
232 離れしたかなあ、っていう。別に寂しくは it‘s said that they separate from their ないですね。そのスキンシップが変わる parents slightly. I don‘t think it‘s もん。 particularly sad. That thing of skinship changing. (Takahiro, male, 53 years old, in-depth interview)
For Takahiro, the ―degree of maturation‖ develops with age and also depends on gender differences (or sameness). He does not think it is sad that skinship changes.
Takahiro‘s use of kawaru, similar to Saito‘s (Snippet 57) use of yameteiku, suggests a less rigid stop to touch to a more gradual change in behaviour, a more natural, ongoing progression.
This shift needs to also be seen in the context of the body forms of touch that still exist even when others have ceased. For example, in the previous chapters, we have seen that certain forms of skinship (i.e. co-bathing, co-sleeping) do continue until a later age. In some cases, certain forms might continue until fifteen years old (i.e.
Yuki-chan, Chapter Five). This shift seems to include a more gradual progression in certain forms of touch instead of a finite cessation. This shift becomes more complex than the so-called categories of age or school stage, as certain body rituals of touch still exist even after this so-called ‗limit‘. It makes it difficult to know when and why certain rituals of skinship are appropriate, while others are stopped.
Discourses of jiritsu are also useful in understanding the cessation of these rituals. For example,
233 Snippet 59: 大きくなるっていうのが、えーっ When the child gets bigger, around と、子供がね、小学校の時の、え primary school, um, what age are they, about ten years old, around 4th year ー、何歳、10 歳くらいかな小学校 4 Primary school, in Japan, they say that 年だから。日本でいう。で、大きく when kids get bigger, in order to make なって子供を自立させるため、に、 them jiritsu, like I said before, they move さっき言った自分たちの部屋、子供 into their own room, the child‘s room. 部屋。で、子供の部屋に彼を、自分 And when my son had his own room, we の部屋だから一人で寝なさいってこ told him to sleep alone and we separated. とで別れたの。で、子供は子供の部 It becomes the child‘s room. (Mr
屋。 Hashimoto, male, 48 years old, in-depth interview)
Mr Hashimoto‘s son has moved into his own room to ―make him‖ jiritsu. Mr
Hashimoto states that ―we told him to sleep alone‖ which suggests that perhaps their child wanted to continue sleeping with his parents. However, in some cases, it might be the parents who do not want their child to leave their side. For example, certain rituals (i.e. soine) still exist for the sake of the parents as well (i.e. Yōko, Snippet 29).
Therefore, it is necessary that we do not see these rituals as just for the child‘s sake.
Even if certain forms of skinship do end at the age of five or school stage, it is clear that certain rituals do still exist and make this shift easier (less felt). Perhaps these continuations of certain rituals (that are manifest even in later years) help parents adapt to the changes when other forms of touch and skinship have so consciously been ceased.
It is important to reinforce here that although co-bathing and co-sleeping might cease, this does not mean necessarily that the child feels separate from his or her family.
234 There might be a different relational experience at play as the child still feels the parents and the parents feel the child. That is, parent and child might no longer co- bathe or co-sleep but the feeling of togetherness (ittaikan) might still resonate through and between them. This might just no longer be located in the bath, bed or futon. In the case where these activities still occur (e.g. weekend away), feelings of warmth reverberate with reminders of the past. The continuation of these experiences and touching at depth might help contribute to the felt forms of touch as the child grows older. In some cases, the profound shift became more felt when a new sibling was born.
The Birth of a New Sibling
The cessation of touch was also related to the birth of a new sibling. If the forms of touch changed dramatically once a new sibling was born, there is no doubt that the older child would be affected. If the parent and child had already mutually begun to adapt to the changes in touch, the difference might not have been such a profound effect, but a more gradual change.
In some cases, the birth of a new sibling was considered a ―shock‖ for the elder sibling, because they were accustomed to being indulged and pampered, and, if not prepared, were left to feel neglected. Consider Megumi‘s comment:
Snippet 60: 子供にはショックだよね。お母さん It is a shock for the child. In the case はいつも子供に甘えたり、スキンシ where the mother always pampers (amae) ップが多かったり、している場合、 the child, and there‘s a lot of skinship, then the child becomes used to that kind こどもがそういう甘えとスキンシッ
235 プになれているですよね。でも、赤 of amae and skinship. But then, after a ちゃんが生まれてから、赤ちゃん中 baby is born, it becomes ‗baby centred‘. 心になる。その甘えとスキンシップ That type of amae and skinship ceases. In the case where a mother hasn‘t prepared をやめる。お母さんが子供に準備し her child, it will be a big shock for the ていない場合は子供にすごくショッ child. (Megumi, female, 37years old, クだよね。 mini-interview)
Baby-centredness might be a manifestation of intimacy for the family if they all, including the elder child or children, participate inclusively in the family through the life of the baby (just like kodomo chūshin can be an indication of inclusive relations;
Chapter Five). Withdrawing touch from the child and passing this onto the baby might not necessarily be a conscious, rational action, but rather, a process of being attuned with the child and aware that touch can now be felt in other ways. There might be an awareness that previous body forms are not necessarily required for the child anymore. That is, the child is able to feel close with his or her parents in other ways. In the case that touch is withdrawn deliberately and suddenly after the birth of the new sibling, baby-centredness ceases to become an inclusive, ‗family‘ experience, and is instead, an exclusive one.
Consider the case of Kumiko who deliberately avoided touch with her eldest child so as to make him able to do it on his own (hitori de dekiru) and not expect or rely on touch anymore:
Snippet 61: 娘はまだ３歳だから、まだ抱っこさ Because my daughter is three years old, I れている。でも、息子はもう６歳だ still hug her. But because my son is 6
236 から、だっこされない。彼はいつも years old, I don‘t hug him anymore. He 抱っこしてほしいけど、一人ででき always wants a hug but because I think he ると思うから、ぜんぜん抱っこをし should do it on his own (hitori de dekiru) I never do it (hug him). He is sad but if I ない。彼氏はさみしいんだけど、い always hugged him, he would always つも抱いたら、いつも期待するでし expect it, right? (Kumiko, female, 34 ょうね。 years old, in-depth interview)
This seems to be a non-relational situation: Kumiko considers skinship a dependency- related practice which is casually associated with age. She considers physical forms of touch (i.e. hug) appropriate for her three year old daughter, but not her six year old son. The term physical is used deliberately here because Kumiko seems to use touch intentionally. She hugs her younger child because it is ‗appropriate‘ and ‗right‘, not because it is what the child needs. Similarly, there seems to be an absence or lack of connectedness between Kumiko and her son. It is obvious that in her attempts to wean her son, there has not been a successful shifting or moving of one form of touch to another. Precisely because he still wants a hug all the time, it seems that the mother- child bond or connection cannot be felt in other ways between them.
In another case, a 40 year old woman described the impact of being the first born and the differences in the way she, as opposed to her younger sister, was treated. Meet
Yada san:
Snippet 62: たいへん厳しく育てられましたので I was bought up in a really lonely way. I
…あまり、両親に甘えた記憶がない have no memory of my parents んですよ。甘やかしてももらえなか indulging/pampering (amae) me. I never
237 ったです。で、それは、私が長女で received any sort of amae. That was
あることっていうこともあります。 because I was the chōjo (older sister)
妹は、えー両親に甘えることが上手 My younger sister, she was good at being だったと思います。で、両親も妹 pampered by our parents. And, my は、甘、妹に対しては甘かった。甘 parents were also pampered by my sister. やかして育てたと思います。私に対 She was bought up being indulged. In しては厳しかったです。妹のことを comparison to me which was strict. I used うらやましいな、と思いました、は to think I am envious of my younger い、私は。甘えることが上手で、両 sister. She was good at being pampered, 親も、うーん、変な言い方なんです and my parents also…it‘s a strange saying けど、よく日本で言うのは、ま、外 but it‘s said a lot in Japan, um, maybe you have it overseas, I wonder: do you know 国でも言うのかな「バカな子ほど可 the saying baka na ko hodo kawaii? A 愛い」っていう言い方をご存知です parent looks at their baka na kodomo か バカな子供ほど親からとってみ … (their stupid/idiot child) and they think れば、すごく可愛い。賢い子供より she is cute. Rather than finding their は、バカな子供の方が親は可愛い、 intelligent child endearing, they find their という言い方が日本にはあるんです stupid child cute. This saying exists in けど、おそらくそれ、両親にとって Japan, and in that form, I think it was that case for my parents. Yes. みればそうだったと思います。は
い。
親と抱き合うってことはないです My parents and I didn‘t hug. Hugging my ね。。。だから、親と抱き合うてい parents…let‘s say there was an うのは、うーん、それこそほら、地 earthquake and we went missing and 震がきて、一家バラバラに行方不明 became separated and eventually we になっちゃって、ああ見つかったよ found each other and it was such a relief, かった「あーお母さん！」って、そ then I would probably say ―oh Mum!‖, and if there was such a time even I might ういう時だったら私でも抱き合える be hugged but otherwise, never. I
238 かもしれないですけど、そうじゃな especially would never hug my father. かったら絶対。特に父親とは絶対抱
きつきませんね。
There does not seem to be a cessation of touch in Yada san‘s relationships; skinship does not seem to exist at all (through the body or other forms). However, the birth of her sibling and the ways in which her parents treated her sister, as opposed to Yada san, contributes to her feelings of resentment towards her family. We can see from her description of her family that her parents seemed to pamper her younger sister more than her: ―I never received any sort of amae. That was because I was the chōjo (older sister).‖ In fact, Yada san seemed to feel quite alienated from her parents and sister.
This seems to extend to and include the seeming absence of touch between her and her family. She imagines what it might have been like to hug her mother in a dramatic situation (i.e. earthquake) which she supposes could have resulted in a hug. But it was such an unexpected possibility (―even I could be hugged‖) that her response seems to incite feelings of a lack in their relationship.
Yada san‘s family‘s apparent lack of attention and attunement has contributed to her responding and reacting in abject ways. Towards the end of the interview, she stated that she no longer sees her sister and barely speaks to her father. She seems to have wanted to push them away, to make them distant to her because of her sadness and inability to connect with them in her childhood (and subsequently, her adulthood).
This is similar to the ―fort-da‖54 logic, in Freud‘s terms, where one claims to push
54 The fort-da game involves a logic of possession (da = [t]here) and dispossession (fort = gone) where a child is said to repeat ―the unpleasure of the distressful passive experience of his mother‘s departure in order to gain active mastery in representation…of this event in play‖ (Rogers 1987: 581).
239 away what they cannot guarantee will come when it is needed. The person thus receives some sort of bitter reinforcement from their own mastery. As Yada san‘s father and sister were not there for her when she was younger, she now masters her mother (and father) by not seeing them very often.
Yada san‘s experience seems to draw on the non-relational dokuritsu instead of the relational jiritsu. Her parents seem as though they weren‘t attuned with what she really needed; this is a disconnected and disembodied experience that reflects a
Hegelian logic. A mastery is brought about by negating the other obsessively. Yada san, the ―intelligent‖ older sister, was mastered by her parents, and she has treated adulthood as an opportunity to regain mastery for herself. Touch was deliberately withdrawn or never existed for Yada san, while the emphasis was on her ―cute‖ and
―endearing‖ sibling.
A state of attunement, on the other hand, incorporates an experience of connectedness and embodiment where the child and parent belong, and are implicated, through one another. It is not a mastery or attempt to overcome the child through weaning, but a mutual adaptation. It is interesting to consider the extent to which these attitudes are influenced by discourses of what it means to be Japanese. For example, Kumiko‘s reference to hitori de dekiru and Yada san‘s reference to baka na ko ga kawaii, suggest a need to understand some basic underlying reasons as to why these attitudes become manifest in the first place.
240 Public Discourses: Why Touch Stops
In my fieldwork, I encountered various discourses associated with the cessation (or avoidance) of touch, some grounded in public/private dichotomies, some in theories of Japanese uniqueness.
Public/Private Dichotomies
Responses associated with public/private dichotomies often drew on a concern for seken no me (society‘s eyes) and mawari no hito (the surrounding people). This emphasis on others often justified the avoidance of inappropriate ―public‖ behaviour by terms such as hazukashī (embarrassing) or terekusai (shameful).
Consider the following comments:
Snippet 63: 人の前に抱っこされたくないからやめ Because my child doesn‘t like hugging in た。 front of people, I stopped. (Saito, female, 32 years old, mini-interview) Snippet 64: 恥ずかしい。大きくなる前に、ちゅうちゅ It‘s embarrassing. Before my child して、抱き合ったり、おんぶしたり、した became bigger, I kissed, hugged, carried
けど、小学校に入って、公の場で親と子 my child (onbu-style) but when the child enters primary school, both parent and 供は恥ずかしくなる。 child become embarrassed in public places. (Mrs Yoshioka, female, 50 years old, in-depth interview) Snippet 65: 照れくさくて、恥ずかしいから、やめまし Because it is awkward and embarrassing, た。子供じゃないから、自分で学ばなけ I stopped. Because they are no longer ればなりません。 children they have to learn on their own. (Mrs Shimizu, female, 58 years old, in-
241 depth interview) Snippet 66: 世間の目、または周りの人の前では、抱 It is embarrassing to hug and hold hands き合ったり、手をつないだりするのは恥 in front of those around us (mawari no ずかしい。私たちには恥ずかしい。周り hito) and the public eye (seken no me). It‘s embarrassing for us, it‘s also の人にも恥ずかしい。 embarrassing for those around us. (Takeshi, male, 37 years old, mini- interview)
Several issues arise from these comments. There appears to be an underlying sensitivity towards the ―public eye‖ (seken no me) and as a result, a correlative decrease of touch. Some participants justify this change in the context of the child themselves (Snippet 63), stating that the child doesn‘t ―want to be hugged‖ or that they find it ―embarrassing‖ around others. In other instances, the parents make it obvious that it is the parents themselves who consider touch in front of others inappropriate, and thus cease touch in this context: ―because it is shameful and embarrassing, I stopped‖ (Snippet 64). For others, though, there is the suggestion that both parent and child find public body forms of touch embarrassing (Takeshi, Mrs
Yoshioka).55
The emphasis on mawari no hito (those around us) and ōyake no ba (public place) suggests an underlying consciousness towards the discomfort of others. Behaviour is then often shaped around these societal expectations and so-called discourses of behaviour. For example, discourses such as tatemae (social surface; publicly
55 This is not just for parent-child relationships but also other relationships, particularly romantic relationships, as we saw in Chapter One where a couple who shows affection in public is called a bakappuru (idiot couple).
242 approved behaviour), omote (face; the front; formal side) and soto (outside) emphasise appropriate behaviour in certain ‗public‘ contexts. It seems that touch and skinship are inappropriate in certain situational contexts, with that overarching presence of the ―public eye‖ (usually referred to as seken no me, Lebra 1976). What seems to develop from this consciousness towards others is a discourse of propriety
(or, mirror logic) and touch-as-inappropriate that is manifest in an underlying tension: it seems that people will not publicly participate in body forms of touch, even if they want to. That which is publicly approved behaviour seems to impact on ‗private‘ contexts: honne (real feelings), ura (back; behind; the intimate side) and uchi (inside).
The underlying tension is that when the relationship and space between parent and child is loaded with such self-consciousness (i.e. how they appear to others), there is no relational or mutual understanding of what the parent or child as a person needs.
These attitudes will surely begin to sift into the relationship in non-―public‖ contexts.56 This lack of empathy and awareness for the other person helps to perpetuate discourses of propriety and touch-as-inappropriate, as well as attitudes of hazukashī or terekusai, which are brought to the school gate, to the shops and certainly into the home.
However, if we view these discourses of the public in a relational context, we are brought to a different understanding of the space between parent and child, and the experience of no-touch. Public and private are not separate containers or dualistic entities; they are also seen in terms of a relational continuum. As Kondo (1990: 31)
56 It is interesting to consider the concept of public because certain body forms of touch in front of mawari no hito in onsen are not considered embarrassing. It seems that engaging in the same activity with others involves a certain collegiality and community where people are respected and certain body forms of touch (i.e. massage) with naked bodies are expected.
243 notes, ―using these terms invokes a complex series of gradations along a scale of detachment and engagement, distance and intimacy, formality and informality‖. Just because one might appear to be ―detached‖, ―distant‖ or ―formal‖, does not mean they don‘t feel ―engaged‖, ―intimate‖ or ―informal‖. The experience and context, in such relational encounters, is not dictated by self-consciousness. Instead, there is an awareness and quality to the relationship where the context is not primary, but the relationship between parent and child is. That is, there is a mutual understanding between parent and child where they might not show how they feel (in bodily ways) but this does not mean that it isn‘t felt. The space between them is not filled with separate bodies but an awareness of the needs of parent and child.
It’s because we’re Japanese!
Grounded in discourses of uniqueness and superiority, attitudes reflecting
Japaneseness (nihonjinron) also emerged in several responses, usually associated with unique Japanese capabilities, habits and ―customs‖. These attitudes reflected underlying justifications as to why ―the Japanese‖ don‘t have to or need to touch.
Consider the following comments:
Snippet 67: 日本人は愛情を表すのがへたです。昔 The Japanese are bad at showing から他の国に比べると、日本人は表現を affection/love. From long ago, Japanese やってきてないということ。はずかしくなる people do not express themselves (compared to other countries). Because から、ぜんぜんタッチをしない。 they become embarrassed, they never touch. (Yukiko, female, 32 years old, in- depth interview)
244 Snippet 68: 日本の習慣ではありませんから、身体的 It‘s not a Japanese custom so we don‘t な接触をしません。 touch/interact in bodily ways/with our body. (Takahiro, male, 53 years old, in- depth interview) Snippet 69: 日本人は以心同体だからですね。また、 It is because we are isshin dōtai, and we 以心伝心があるから、体と言葉で表さな also have ishin denshin that we don‘t have to express ourselves through the くてもいい。 body or words. (Yuji, male, 54 years old, in-depth interview)
These attitudes towards Japaneseness are, of course, challenged by the real experiences of participants that include body forms of touch. However, their rationalisations are interesting to consider as they assume characteristics of ―Japanese people‖ which extend to a consciousness about Japanese relationships as a national entity. For example, ―the Japanese are bad at showing love‖ and ―it‘s not a Japanese custom‖ (Snippets 67 and 68). This is further reinforced by references to certain so- called Japanese characteristics which become manifest in relationships. These characteristics (i.e. ishin denshin and isshin dōtai) refer to very specific Japanese ways of being that highlight the subtle nuances in communication that obviate the need for physical touch and verbalisation. Silent communication and intimacy are rendered possible by being connected through the heart, body and mind.
This overarching preference for subtle forms of intimacy seems to take place in parent-child relationships after the certain age/stages referred to earlier. In fact, the child seems to automatically assume or adopt these ‗privileged‘ forms of communication. There was never an elaboration in interviews as to how the child
245 actually becomes attuned with such an ability to detect feelings via the heart, mind, or body. It seems that these new ways of being in relation to their parent just happen. On a surface layer, body forms of touch seem to exist as a form of communication between parent and child until the appropriate age or stage at which this ceases. And then these so-called Japanese characteristics become ‗mystically‘ present. That is, references to ishin denshin, isshin dōtai and ittaikan, as contained ideas or rationalisations, become paltry, empty, or ―myth‖-like. Specifically, when considered in a non-relational context, such terms seem to mystify what it is to ―be Japanese‖.
Dale (1986: 137) refers to this mystification in the context of amae. Similarly, terms such as ishin denshin, isshin dōtai, and ittaikan suggest, in a non-relational context, an exclusive state based on subjectivity and desire. This subjectivity is privileged with an almost telepathic or mystical ability to read signs and signals that no one else can.
Their meaning shifts, however, when considered within a relational context and an ongoing process between the home and the world and a state of attunement.
In most cases, the child does not just cease being touched in a finite or rigid way. It is not as though all the children of my participants are starved of touch or that they, themselves, as they were growing up, felt deprived of touch. Of course in some homes (i.e. Yada san, Snippet 62, or possibly Kumiko‘s child, Snippet 61), this might be the case, but in most families, transitional touch involves a gradual, natural progression that manifests in different forms. These forms include an awareness and empathetic understanding that draw on subtle forms of communication. Detecting what is in one‘s heart or mind might be a farfetched notion; but that does not mean
246 that as body forms of touch change, the child is not able to become aware of another‘s feelings through other touching forms (i.e. mutual empathy, eye-contact and tone).57
The continuation of certain rituals (i.e. soine and co-bathing) might contribute to the gradual shift of touch. The significance of these rituals overcome the surface layers of public and private, and the contained notions of what it is to be Japanese, opening up possibilities to detect feelings via the heart, body, or eyes. The felt meanings of intimacy might begin to be experienced in different ways, but the continuation of certain rituals enables a consistency and ongoing repetition where their relationship shifts to encompass another space. This space resonates certain familiar feelings and reverberations, contributing to making the shift easier as their relational existence simultaneously develops an awareness of other ways of touching, while still drawing on other familiar ones. These discourses are not unique qualities but possible through states of being connected.
Summary
This chapter has presented the reasons and rationalisations for the cessation in touch in Japanese parent-child relationships as the child grows older. Participants have attempted to tidy up the world so that it fits in with principles of Japanese identity.
For example, terms such as yameru and iranai tend to imply a sort of rigid, defined
―end‖ to touch where participants consciously cease touch. However, if participants actively sought to cease touch, this suggests that they were not attuned with what their child really needed. Instead, they were separate, conscious and controlling in their
57 The reason participants do not necessarily articulate this progression is because they may not consciously know. They might just be aware that intimate exchanges and meetings still take place even though body forms of touch have disappeared.
247 attempt to overcome their child. However, some of my questions were asking participants to be in control and conscious. Therefore, in most cases, participant responses were retrospective and do not necessarily reflect their real experiences, or the process through which this movement occurs.
On the other hand, the two verbs yametiku and kawaru, as well as the suggestion that anshin and amae still exist, do not imply a harsh cessation of touch but rather a more adaptive change in which touching becomes manifest in different ways. In other words, there seems to be a depth and space still encompassing parent and child (and extending beyond them to include more) that takes the emphasis off touch and one type of surface, allowing touching at depth, where there are no boundaries. This suggests that touch does not necessarily disappear or cease. Rather, there seems to be a gradual movement in intimacy with other forms of touch present, helping the child still feel close with their parents and vice versa (even if not in bodily touching ways).
This suggests that even though there appears to be an identity logic at play, it fits in with a much more complex and relational meaning that is not just conscious and calculated in hindsight or foresight. For the child and parent to adapt, the real lived experience includes much more than a cessation. Even though it might seem as though my participants are not touching, in many cases, they still are. Furthermore, participants might say there is a cessation of touch at a certain point or stage or due to a specific reason, but the real experiences show people still happy and intimate, suggesting it was not a harsh, dramatic change or taken away too soon.
248 In summary, the real lived experience involves a movement from one form of touch
(e.g. body) to another (e.g. tone) that is not necessarily finite or located. Parent and child do not necessarily adjust to no-touch. Instead, through certain states, practices, people and places, the relationship might begin to include other forms. Because they are connected in a fleshy space, parent and child might not necessarily feel an adjustment. There is not a weaning process that stops touch but a more natural and organic relational experience which encompasses the felt meanings of touch.
This relational experience extends from a parent-child relationship, and anshin within that, to relationships that include much more. For example, experiences in daycare centres, with peers, and the continuation of certain rituals, all help anshin become felt in different ways. The parent, in particular, the mother, is not everything to the child now. Although it might seem as though there exists an identity logic or harsh cessation, there is actually a relational reality that relies on school, teacher and peers, to help the child cope with the movement from previous forms of touch to new or different (less bodily and visible) ones.
249 CONCLUSION
Vignette Six: A Touching Return
On my most recent trip to Japan, June 2007, I called my host family from the airport to tell them that Daniel and I had arrived. My host mother, incredibly excited, repeatedly told me that they were waiting for us (―matteiru‖) and to come straight
―home‖. Two hours later, we entered the soba shop from the side entrance, opening up the sliding door to the kitchen with a tadaima (―I‘m home‖). I waved from the door, ready to go in and give them a hug. Okāsan stood by the yude (a big pot where they put the noodles to steam/cook) smiling excitedly while Otōsan prepared a box for a delivery (demae). With one foot in the kitchen and the other outside, I stood in a moment of uncertainty: do I go in and hug my host parents (it had, after all, been almost two years), or, do I bid them a quick hello and take Daniel upstairs and wait for the okyakusan (customers) to leave? Okāsan made the decision for me as she said,
Emiko wa matteiruyo. Ue ni itte, atode hanasuyo. Minna matteitayo. (Referring to my host sister, ―Emiko is waiting. Go upstairs and we will speak later. Everyone has been waiting for you‖). As we walked up the stairs, I recalled feeling how natural it was to say tadaima and walk straight upstairs, as though I had just returned from a day out.
Upon greeting Emiko, she told me how excited Otōsan and Okāsan were and asked how they reacted when they first saw me. I told her that there was a part of me that wanted to hug them but they told me to come up to the ―waiting‖ Emiko. She laughed and said that there is such an atarimae kimochi (natural feeling) whenever I return, and that because I am kazoku (family), there is no need to engage in other hyōgen
(expressions). She didn‘t need to say anything else. That feeling of naturalness and
250 belonging existed in the very ―filled space‖ between us. The phrase kokoro no ginsen wo fureru (to touch one‘s heartstrings) truly depicts that experience: we did not physically need to touch. There was an inhabited, mutual space that connected us, touching us through Okāsan‟s excited smile, my tadaima, the feelings associated with mattieru, and Emiko‘s reference to atarimae and kazoku.
* * * *
This study has explored how touch exists in the Japanese family. Specifically, it sought to investigate how touch is manifest in certain relational contexts, which enable the development of bodily intimacy in the home, and then, later on, out in the world. Touch, as it is conventionally conceived, appears to be lacking in the Japanese family. This study has challenged assumptions that touch is based on the physical, finite body, and has explored feeling in tangible connection.
This thesis posed three central research questions. Firstly, the study sought to explore what patterns of bodily intimacy reveal about Japanese ways of being in families, particularly parent-child relationships. This thesis set out to answer this question by examining three relational contexts. Firstly, parent-child relationships were the main relational context of analysis. The study showed that patterns of bodily intimacy, or skinship, exist differently in mother-child and father-child relationships when the child is under five years old. Mother-child relationships involve participatory bodily forms such as massage, onbu, and breastfeeding, while skinship in father-child relationships manifest less bodily, less visible forms, such as play, tone and sight. As the child grows older, we saw that closeness becomes felt, not through physical or
251 visible ways, but through more subtle forms of intimacy. In fact, mother-child relationships begin to resemble father-child relationships where the emphasis is on the
―filled space‖ between parent and child. What became significant to parent-child relationships were the different ways of feeling close and connected. Touch becomes a sensuous experience that is not located in the body of parent or child. As long as the space between them is filled and inhabited, parent and child are still touching.
This study also explored how marital relationships open up bodily ways of being in the Japanese family. Using soine as a site of intimacy (and, non-intimacy), it was suggested that experiences of bodily intimacy vary in the home, depending on how the conjugal pair exists in relation to one another and their children. When the child‘s body is used to separate the conjugal pair, there are no possibilities for bodily intimacy. However, when the space between the conjugal pair and parent-child relationship is not finite or separate, soine exists as a manifestation of intimacy. The tangible connection experienced in the space of the family suggests that soine is not necessarily specific to the contained room in which the family lay. Instead, there is an encompassing quality that extends to and includes the family even when not physically together.
This then opened up the space to explore the final relational context, teacher-child relationships, and how the child copes with different forms of bodily intimacy now that their life is not just-home. Teacher-child relationships revealed similarities with certain forms of bodily intimacy in the home and the ―extended home‖, the hoikuen.
For example, soine is carried through to the hoikuen where the child learns to adapt to different spaces and different relationships. The experiences of bodily intimacy in
252 teacher-child relationships revealed that when a child‘s needs are met, there is a loss of identity and there is a revelation of the universal qualities that connect people in bodily ways.
This study also set out to answer a second central question, to discover how the
Japanese child finds ways of belonging in the world when bodily intimacy apparently
‗ceases‘ after a certain age, and when the tangible connection is felt differently. This is related to the third research question which sought to explore a non-Cartesian ontology of bodily intimacy. This thesis set out to answer these questions by demonstrating, through alternative theories of embodiment, how touch is manifest as a form of intimacy in a Japanese familial context.
Skinship is conceived as a bodily experience that is not located in the finite bodies of separate subjects. For touch to provide feelings of intimacy, the meaning of touch involves more than just physical matter. I have suggested that there is an all- encompassing space between the Japanese family that opens up different ways of understanding touch and intimacy. This space, along with other relational states experienced in the home, helps the child cope with new and different ways of being in the world when their daily encounters move outside the home. Touch becomes felt differently as the child grows older and feels their significance and connection in the world in more encompassing ways.
Touching at Depth: The Meeting of Mi and Flesh
This study has developed a concept which encompasses the touching experiences in the Japanese family. Not restricted to finite, physical or visible forms of touch, this
253 concept helps to unpack the feel and all-encompassing space between people that contributes to experiences of touch in a Japanese familial context. Referred to as a touching at depth, this concept highlights the relational existence between self and other. Drawing on flesh and mi, we see the ways in which a relational encounter includes people, objects and the surrounding environment. This ―sensuous interrelationship‖ (Howes 2005) helps move touch from a locatable entity (the body) to a tangible connection felt between people. Although previous discussions of skinship have referred to ―bodily endearment‖ (Lebra 1976) and ―prolonged physical proximity‖ (Rothbaum 2002), there has not been a clear understanding of how touch becomes a manifestation of intimacy in the first place. The feelings and experiences that occur between people in skinship help to open up our understanding of intimate spaces in the Japanese family.
Categories such as ishin denshin, isshin dōtai and ittaikan are often used to refer to the empathetic and sensitive quality within the Japanese family. However, these categories seem to fit in with and assume principles of Japanese identity, rather than understanding how these might actually manifest intimacy. Touching at depth helps to open up the felt meanings of intimacy in these relationships. Specifically, the touching and intimate spaces between the family suggest a tangible connection between people that cannot be explained in physical, finite or identified bodies, subjects or selves, but includes feeling and embodiment. With this in mind, we become aware that relationships can have a closeness and intimate quality that might not be articulated or visible, but is nonetheless felt. The phenomenological experiences of touch in the home and world of the Japanese child does not just draw on flesh and mi, but other relational states required for this touching at depth to be a
254 manifestation of intimacy (such as feelings of contentment, security and warmth; anshinkan).
Summary of the Thesis
This thesis has presented a non-Cartesian appraisal of touch as it exists in the
Japanese family. Particular attention is paid to the Japanese child and the ways in which different forms of touch exist in their relationships with their parents (the
―home‖) and their teachers and peers (the ―world‖). Specifically, the study traces how touch becomes a manifestation of intimacy in these relationships, and how this changes as the child grows older and has more encounters with the ―world‖.
Comprising of three sections, the first part locates and situates the study. Chapter One presented an overview of personal experiences and encounters relevant to intimacy and touch, and introduced key concepts and logics that drove the study. I argued that for touch to be a site of intimacy, there were more than separate bodies and subjects; emphasis was on the relational space between people.
Chapter Two critically explored the ways in which Japanese relationships have been examined. Drawing on literature within a Japanese cultural context, it became clear that specific body forms of touch exist in parent-child relationships while the child is at a young age. However, as the child grows older, bodily endearment seems to stop.
It becomes clear that aside from concepts such as kejime, there are no real conceptual possibilities for understanding how the child copes with or adapts to such shifts in bodily endearment. In Chapter Three I provided a description of my research methods and tools. In particular, this chapter presented the ways in which a phenomenological approach to understanding intimacy became necessary.
255
Part Two explored the child in the home where parent-child and marital relationships were primary. All chapters in both Part Two and Part Three blended previous
Japanese Studies literature, specific sociological tools, and the voices and opinions of a range of participants to develop a picture of the context of touch as it currently exists in Japanese familial relationships.
In Chapter Four I provided an interpretation of participant narratives and examples referring to touch and skinship. Conceptual attention was paid to the different ways of feeling close in parent-child experiences. Touch was discussed within its physical form but this chapter began to explore that which includes more than just the finite body. It seems that the all-encompassing space between parents and their children can be experienced in different ways. While mother-child relationships drew largely on bodily forms of touch (i.e. onbu), father-child relationships relied on less bodily forms such as devoting time together, sight. Nonetheless, for these touching experiences to manifest intimacy, there was no purposeful tension; rather, the relationship and what the child required were primary. Understanding the space of devotion in father-child patterns of skinship helped us to reassess mother-child relations and intimacy through touch. It is not the touch (in a finite body) through which intimacy happens, but, through devotion, there is a space that connects, holds, and encompasses the parent- child relationship. Devotion opens the space and opportunity to experience different ways of feeling close.
In Chapter Five I examined the slippages between inclusive and exclusive family relations. Using soine as a point of reference, conceptual attention was paid towards
256 the different states of relationality along with how identity and desire can change the feel of the touching experience altogether. This chapter suggested that the intimacy of soine depended on the way the family inhabited the space between them. There were two main ways in which the space was inhabited. In the case where the child‘s body was used to separate the conjugal pair, the space between the family became fragmented and based on exclusion. In the case where the child‘s body was not a finite entity but based on a relational logic, the space between the family was inclusive and connected. Kazoku (family) took on a new meaning in this chapter as soine became a site of intimacy when it included more than just physicality.
The second part of the thesis presented the child in the world. It explored the ways in which the child begins to adapt to different relational contexts, and how the child is able to belong in the world which is not-home. Particular attention was paid towards states of anshinkan, specifically, how the child can feel anshin (secure) now that they are not in just-home. In Chapter Six, the Hoikuen was used as a case study to explore how a formal institution extends certain rituals of intimacy from the home into the
Hoikuen. Sleeptime was the primary focus here, primarily the (secure) space in which the teacher and child inhabit, particularly before the child falls asleep. The all- encompassing space in mi was explored in a detailed manner. When the teacher enters the relationship in a calculated purposeful way, possibilities for skinship are eliminated. This chapter divided particular participant observations from the four classes with an emphasis on the different forms of touch associated with each class.
Finally, this chapter offered preliminary suggestions as to how the space between teacher and child begins to change as the child grows older.
257 Chapter Seven traced the ways in which touch stops as the child starts to grow older.
This chapter provided a conceptual exploration of how the child finds ways of belonging in the world when touch is supposedly removed. Drawing on Winnicott‘s transitional spheres, as well as different theories of belonging, this chapter suggested a critical component of Japanese parent-child relationships and childrearing: touch and skinship do not disappear as the child gets older. For the child to still encompass a secure space (anshin), touch is still significant, but manifest in different ways. This chapter noted that touch is not stopping; rather, it is moving. There are different ways of inhabiting and becoming familiar with the world. Touch moves from bodily forms of touch to include other sensuous experiences. Drawing together complexities of parent-child intimacy, this chapter opened up ways of understanding how the child finds ways of ‗belonging‘ to and being ‗familiar‘ with the family when touch ‗moves‘ to include other less ‗bodily‘ forms.
Chapter Eight examined the apparent weaning period and cessation of touch in parent-child relationships as the child grows older. This chapter focused on the rationalisations for weaning in the context of skinship. Particular attention was paid to the various factors and influences said to explain why certain forms of skinship stopped at various points in time and the way in which the space between parent and child changes. How these weaning experiences are perceived is the essence of this chapter: participants‘ reactions to their own relationship with their children as well as a reflection on some participants‘ own childhood and how they came to deal with this
‗shift‘. However, their responses suggested more about notions of identity and less about their real experiences and the process through which the movement of touch occurred.
258 Recommendations for Further Research
This study has opened up the space to ask more specific empirical questions about certain relational forms in a Japanese context. That is, the concept of touching at depth can be further explored within the context of other (non-family) relational contexts. For example, puberty and rebellion periods were commonly discussed in interviews but were beyond the scope of this study. This concept of non-locatable touch can be applied to puberty and the learning of adolescent touch and intimacy.
Also, awareness of this depth could help open up non-intimate spaces to reveal exclusive subject-centred bodies and Cartesian ways of thinking. Discourses of
Japaneseness, such as ishin denshin, were rarely associated with the younger generation in contemporary Japanese society. As a result, it would be interesting to consider how the tangible connection is felt (or, not felt) in Japanese adolescents or relationships which rely more on new kinds of communication and networks to establish identity, such as mobile phones.
The findings that have emerged out of this study also help to open up understandings of touch, intimacy and body in other cultural contexts. Just because physical or visible forms of touch may exist in certain cultures (i.e. Greek), does not mean that these forms manifest feelings of closeness and intimacy. Where the action or form of touch is conscious, deliberate and calculated, there are two separate subjects touching; where the hug is not out of protocol but happens because the relationship is primary
(and not intentional or desirous) then these forms of touch manifest intimacy.
Understanding space (ma) and concepts such as ittaikan and ishin denshin help us to view non-Japanese relationships through a non-Cartesian lens. This lens also helps us reassess the role of the body in intimacy, and how subjectivity, consciousness and
259 desire play a part in daily life and can take away from the spontaneity that occurs in meeting and intimacy.
Living Skinship
My bemusement with and questions concerning Japanese intimacy and touch, which arose from my initial experiences with my host family, are reaching the final stage of their clarification. And it is only fitting that I return to my okāsan to re-address the original intention of this thesis, as it emerged in Vignette One (Introduction).
This study sought to understand how intimacy can be felt if not in physical or visible forms. The quality and beauty of the touching at depth experience ―awaken[ed] new depths‖ to a tangible connection, an ―enveloping warmth‖ and togetherness, even though not physically-touching or physically-together. The hug I sought from my okāsan has become replaced by other ways of touching. Vignette Six opened up the space between us through the sonorous tones of tadaima/okaeri (I‘m home/welcome home) and matteiru (I‘m waiting), the feelings that extended to include the ―waiting‖
Emiko, and my otōsan, who didn‘t necessarily look very excited but I felt that he was.
There was, and still is, a sense of belonging, connection and feeling of being atto hōmu even though we may not be spatially near.
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289 APPENDICES
Appendix One: Location of Field Research
Location Research Role Time
Tokyo Researched at relevant Aug-Sept
Institutions (i.e. Family December
Planning Association;
Japanese Association of
Sex Education)
North-East Japan Classes (Appendix Two) Sept-mid Oct
Mini-interviews (38) Last week of Nov
In-depth interviews (15)
Western Japan In-depth interviews (15) Mid Oct-last week of Nov
290 Appendix Two: Class Descriptions
Class-name Purpose/Technique Role Number of Brief description of and location participants Class
Parenting Identify interviewees Interviewer/ 50 (49 Parents would Consultation Observer women, 1 individually speak with A: Nutrition Document the sort of man) nurses about childrearing and Discipline information and advice was taught in issues. Other parents these classes (i.e. waiting for their turn to Hokenjō nutritional, speak with a nurse, discipline). gathered in groups to Mini-interviews exchange their own
stories or concerns.
Some women did not ask
any questions but these
classes provided them
with a space for
companionship,
conversation and
support.
Parents could also weigh
and breastfeed babies.
Parent Identify interviewees Interviewer/ 84 (28 This forum specifically Consultation Observer couples plus catered for ‗parents‘ to B: Massage Document the way their baby) come and learn how to massage (and ways Hokenjō of touching) were massage their child. taught in these Fathers were readily classes. encouraged to be
291 Mini-interviews actively involved in this
form of skinship.
Pre-natal Class Document material Observer 8 women Aimed to help women in A: Mother‘s distributed in class their third trimester to class and the way prepare for childbirth ‗mothering‘ Kikyō Byōin techniques were and childrearing. Women taught. were provided with
material and baby-aid
packs and information
regarding the birth.
Pre-natal Class Document material Observer 16 (8 couples) Expectant parents B: Parents‘ distributed in class attended these classes class and the way fathers together. A primary aim were taught about Kikyō Byōin childbirth and of this class was to childrearing. introduce fathers to
specific practices (i.e.
bathing the baby) and to
encourage their wife.
Post-natal Document the way Observer 10 (5 women The day after giving Class: breastfeeding (and and their birth, these women Breastfeeding touch) were taught in newborn) attended these classes to these classes. Kikyō Byōin receive help in
breastfeeding their
newborn baby.
Daycare Centre Identify interviewees Participant/ 155 (137 These classes were Classrooms: Observer/ children, 20 divided into cohorts Four classes Observed sleep-time Interviewer/ teachers) where there were four according to rituals Teacher cohort groups. I spent one week Participated in in each class which sleeptime rituals
292 Kikyō Hoikuen ranged from 16 to 33 Observed daily children per class. Not interactions and all children attended activities everyday but in most Participated in cases children attended certain activities with four or five times per children and teachers week due to their Taught English parent‘s occupation. This segments in classes hoikuen was affiliated
In-depth and mini- with the hospital and was interviews with originally established to teachers help parents (many of
whom are doctors or
nurses) cope with their
work hours and
parenting demands.
Every class had their
own activities but there
were some similarities in
terms of specific rituals
that took place in each
class.
Home visits Observed Observer/ 2 (one woman These visits were interactions in the Interviewer and her baby) conducted for mothers Miscellaneous* home as well as who would not leave sleeping arrangements their apartments.58 This
particular woman stayed Interview regarding
58 Jolivet (1997: 11) discusses the problem of women who are pregnant or have children and stay in their highrise apartment and do not speak to anyone for days.
293 sleeping in her home all day long, arrangements having no contact with
anyone until her husband
came home from work at
10pm.
Mother Chat Observed Observer/ 20 (10 women These women gathered Times information given to Interviewer plus baby) with two mid-wives who mothers would answer any
Miscellaneous* Mini-interviews with questions or discuss participants issues regarding
childrearing. This was a
more informal group
setting compared to
Parenting Consultation
A.
Sex Education Document content of Observer 40 students These classes aimed at Classes: class and the way introducing students with Middle School students (particularly a deeper awareness of girls) were taught about sex. sex and its outcomes, Miscellaneous* encouraging students to
wait until they were 20
years old ―when their
bodies would be ready‖.
Boys and girls were
separated into different
rooms to discuss various
issues regarding sexual
health and education.
Sex Education Document material Observer Class 1: 80 These classes aimed at Classes: distributed and parents (55
294 Parents of content of class. mothers and preparing parents for Primary school 25 fathers) potential changes that children would occur when their Class 2: 50 mothers child begins high Miscellaneous* school.59 In particular, it
was emphasized the
importance of sex
education coming from
the home as well.
Sex Education Documented the Observer/ 40 (20 These classes were Classes: content of the class Interviewer mothers plus aimed at helping Mother‘s Sex their mothers with strategies Education Conducted mini- baby/toddler) interviews with for when their children women eventually ask ―where Miscellaneous* did I come from?‖
These classes provided
women with some tools
and suggestions to
answer and teach their
child about the body
and gender differences.
In addition, these
classes provided
mothers with advice to
59 There has been specific research conducted on issues surrounding teenagers and sex. For example, White (1997) has explored the reasons for first sexual experience. These have been located in ‗practical‘ and ‗noncommittal‘ responses which regard sex as fun, a beauty treatment, or a skin cleanser (White 1997). Miyadai (1997, 1998) and Ueno (1998) have commented on the impact of the media in regards to the eroticisation of high school girls (kōkōsei) in terms of enjo kōsai (compensated dating) and terekura (phone clubs) which often result in sexual favours. Nakazawa (2007) explored the content and material of sex education in schools which generally focus on the communication of medical knowledge and how classes do not challenge values or ―foster the capability of self-decision making‖ (Nakazawa 2007).
295 teach their children
about sex as they get
older.
Number of participants = 552 (parents, teachers and children) * These miscellaneous classes were mainly facilitated or organised by Yumi.
296
Appendix Three: Interview Demographics
Location Gender Age Pseudonym Type of interview
Kikyo Hoikuen Female 38 Okamoto Sensei Mini-Interview
Kikyo Hoikuen Female 28 Suzuki Sensei Mini-Interview
Kikyo Hoikuen Female 29 Sachiko Sensei Mini-Interview
Kikyo Hoikuen Female 40 Ohara Sensei Mini-Interview
Kikyo Hoikuen Female 39 Shinobu Sensei Mini-Interview
Kikyo Hoikuen Female 56 Yoko Sensei Mini-Interview
Kikyo Hoikuen Female 41 Yamada Sensei Mini-Interview
Kikyo Hoikuen Male 28 Tanaka Sensei Mini-Interview
Kikyo Hoikuen Male 64 Mamori Sensei Mini-Interview
Mother Chat Times Female 28 Yuri In-depth interview
Mother Chat Times Female 29 Nana Mini-Interview
Mother Chat Times Female 30 Akiko Mini-Interview
Mother Chat Times Female 35 Masako In-depth interview
Mother Chat Times Female 34 Sachiko Mini-Interview
Mother Chat Times Female 32 Keiko Mini-Interview
Mother Chat Times Female 34 Mariko Mini-Interview
Mother Chat Times Female 37 Megumi Mini-Interview
Mother Chat Times Female 38 Michiko Mini-Interview
Mother‘s Sex Education Female 27 Yukari Mini-Interview
Mother‘s Sex Education Female 35 Ai Mini-Interview
Mother‘s Sex Education Female 32 Saito Mini-Interview
Mother‘s Sex Education Female 41 Reiko Mini-Interview
297 Mother‘s Sex Education Female 35 Miyuki Mini-Interview
Mother‘s Sex Education Female 32 Reiko Mini-Interview
Mother‘s Sex Education Female 33 Shizue Mini-Interview
Mother‘s Sex Education Female 34 Kumiko In-depth interview
Contact‘s home Female 52 Yumi In-depth interview
Contact‘s home Female 50 Mrs Yoshioka In-depth interview
Contact‘s home Female 55 Ayumi In-depth interview
Contact‘s home Male 37 Ken In-depth interview
Contact‘s home Male 31 Takashi Mini-interview
Parenting Consultation A Female 29 Michie In-depth interview
Parenting Consultation A Female 35 Yu Mini-Interview
Parenting Consultation A Female 29 Ayumi Mini-Interview
Parenting Consultation A Female 31 Kaori Mini-Interview
Parenting Consultation A Male 37 Takeshi Mini-Interview
Parenting Consultation A Female 37 Sayaka Mini-Interview
Parent Consultation B Female 32 Keiko Mini-Interview
Parent Consultation B Male 37 Tomo Mini-Interview
Home visit Female 29 Naomi Mini-interview
Hospital post-natal Female 35 Yukika Mini-Interview
Hospital post-natal Female 35 Hiroko Mini-Interview
Hospital post-natal Male 28 Eiji Mini-Interview
Hospital post-natal Female 29 Ayumi Mini-Interview
Hospital post-natal Female 29 Haruka Mini-Interview
Hospital post-natal Female/Nurse 35 Harumi In-depth interview
Hospital post-natal Female/Nurse 30 Satoko In-depth interview
Hospital post-natal Female 31 Toshie Mini-Interview
Contact‘s home Male 31 Taka In-depth Interview
298 Contact‘s home Female 60 Yōko In-depth Interview
Contact‘s home Female 32 Yukiko In-depth Interview
Contact‘s home Male 62 Masahito In-depth Interview
Contact‘s home Male 54 Yuji In-depth interview
Total: 53 (15 in-
depth, 38 mini
interviews)
Western Japan
Location Gender Age Pseudonym Type of interview
Contact (Western Japan) Female 58 Mrs Shimizu In-depth interview
Contact (Western Japan) Female 60 Ayako In-depth interview
Contact (Western Japan) Male 44 Mr Hirota In-depth interview
Contact (Western Japan) Male 62 Takafumi In-depth interview
Contact (Western Japan) Female 22 Miho In-depth interview
Contact (Western Japan) Female 53 Takahiro In-depth interview
Contact (Western Japan) Female 28 Saori In-depth interview
Contact (Western Japan) Female 40 Yada san In-depth interview
Contact (Western Japan) Male 48 Mr Hashimoto In-depth interview
Contact (Western Japan) Male 43 Mr Okamura In-depth interview
Contact (Western Japan) Male 52 Kiyoshi In-depth interview
Contact (Western Japan) Male 52 Shin‘ichi In-depth interview
Contact (Western Japan) Male 53 Yō In-depth interview
Contact (Western Japan) Male 49 Mr Yoshida In-depth interview
Contact (Western Japan) Male 28 Jun In-depth interview
Total: 15 (all in-
depth)
299
Appendix Four: Number of Interviews
North-East Japan (in-depth) n = 15 Western Japan (in-depth) n = 15
North-East Japan (mini-interview) n = 38
North-East Japan total interviews n = 53
Total Interviews n = 68
300 Appendix Five: Observation Protocol
Class No: Name of Class: Nature of class:
Teacher/Facilitator: Location: Duration:
No. of Participants: Marital Status of
Material used/distributed: Men: Women: Participants:
Aims of class (as previously discussed with facilitator):
What main themes/issues were discussed?
What kind of terms were used to describe intimacy or the expression of intimacy?
What types of practices were referred to?
In what ways were these practices seen to be indicative of or important for intimacy?
What seems to be important in the context of 'familial intimacy'? E.g. The terms used to describe such elements; any reference to communication (i.e. amaeru)
What were the underlying messages to participants? (particular advice given?)
What seemed to be the reactions/responses of participants?
What kind of feedback did participants give/comments made?
301
Appendix Six: Interview Schedule Mini-Interviews
A sample of the questions asked during mini-interviews with soon-to-be parents or parents with young children:
どんな風に子供を育てていくつもりですか。*
(In what way do you intend to rear/bring up your children?)
どういう風にスキンシップをするつもりですか。*
(How do you intend to do skinship?)
自分の意見では、スキンシップとは何でしょうか。
(In your opinion, what is skinship?)
どこ・誰から学びましたか・聞きましたか。
(From where or whom did you learn this (or, hear this))?
* These questions were modified according to the relational context where the tense changed accordingly. For example, when interviews were conducted with parents who had young children, the questions were modified to ‗present‘ tense, and how they engage in skinship now.
302 Other mini-interviews (i.e. with parents whose children were older) asked questions about the changing nature of skinship. For example:
どういう風にスキンシップが変わりましたか。
In what ways did skinship with your child change?
なんでスキンシップが変わりましたか。
Why did skinship change?
303 Appendix Seven: Interview Schedule In-Depth Interviews
A sample of the types of broad questions that were asked in in-depth interviews:
１．a. 今日は、相手と間で、最も近く（または親しく）気持ちを通ずること ができたと感じた特定の事例に関して教えてください。できるだけ 詳しく、 その時の状況や気持ち等についてお聞かせ ください。 （どんなことが起こったのか、それは毎日同じですか、それとも違います
か。） b. 今日は、家族との間で、 最も近く（または親しく）気持ちを通ずることが できた感じた特定の事例に関して教えてください。 できるだけ 詳しく、その 時の状況や気持ち等についてお聞かせ ください。 (どんなことが起こったのか、それは毎日同じですか、それとも違います
か。)
２．a. 今日は、あなたが相手との関係で強い憤りを覚えた こと、また悲しく 感じた特定の事例に関して教えてください。できるだけ 詳しく、その時の状 況や気持ち等についてお聞かせください 。 (どんなことが起こったのか、毎日同じか、それとも違っているかについても お答えください。) b. 今日は、あなたと家族との関係で 強い憤りを覚えた こと、また悲しく感じ た特定の事例に関して教えてください。 できるだけ 詳しく、その時の状況や 気持ち等についてお聞かせください 。 (どんなことが起こったのか、それは毎日同じですか、それとも違います
か。)
304 1. a. Please explain a specific instance today when you felt very happy/closest
(with your partner) in this relationship. Describe the feeling in detail. What happened? Was it different to everyday?
b. Please explain a specific instance today when you felt very happy/closest with a member or members of your family. Describe the feeling in detail. What happened? Was it different to everyday?
2. Please explain a specific instance today when you felt very upset/sad (with your partner) in this relationship. Describe the feeling in detail. What happened? Was it different to everyday?
b. Please explain a specific instance today when you felt very upset/sad with a member or members of your family. Describe the feeling in detail. What happened? Was it different to everyday?
305 Appendix Eight: Description of Research and Letter of Consent
ニューサウスウェールズ大学
調査概要および同意書
日本人家族における親密さを示す表現について
本調査の目的と回答者
人類学の研究調査にご協力をお願いいたします。この調査は、日本の文化と 社会の中で親密さがどのように表現されるかを考察することを目的にしてお ります。あなたをこの研究の被調査者に選ばせていただいた理由は、ご家庭 における親密さを示す表現について調査したいからです。
調査の概要
日本人の方々にインタビュー調査へのご協力をお願いしておりますが、もし もご協力頂ける場合、添付の同意書に署名して頂ければ幸いです。インタビ ューは約 45 分間で、ご家族に関しての親密さを示す表現、行動などについて 調査させて頂きます。
この調査に参加して頂ける方々を他にご存じでしたら是非紹介して頂けない でしょうか。
回答者のプライバシーの保護と回答内容の公開
インタビューにご協力いただいた方々の個人情報は、厳守されます。もし、 個人的な情報の公開が必要になる場合には、改めて事前に回答者の方々の同 意をお伺いします。
本調査に関連する苦情について
このインタビューに関しまして、何か苦情などおありの場合には下記の機関 が責任をもって、調査にあたりますので、ご遠慮なくご連絡ください。
機関名：Ethics Secretariat 住所：The University of New South Wales, Sydney, 2052, Australia 電子メール：（612）9385 4234
回答者の承諾
306
調査にご協力頂くことも、あるいは拒否なさることも完全に皆様の意志が尊 重され、どのような決定をされた場合でもそれによって、回答者のニューサ ウスウェールズ大学との関係に影響が及ぶことはありません。また、調査に ご協力いただく場合も、回答者はいつ、どのよう段階でも調査協力、あるい は回答を拒否することができます。そして、答えたくない質問には答えてい ただく必要はありません。
この調査、あるいはインタビュー内容などに関しまして、ご質問がございま したら、いつでも下記までお願い致します。
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この書面は被調査者で保存してください。
ニューサウスウェールズ大学
調査概要および同意書
日本人家族における親密さを示す表現について
調査概要を読み、内容を理解しました。本調査に協力します。
—————————— ご署名
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—————————— ご署名年月日
—————————— ダイアナエイディス ——————————
307 同意の撤回
調査概要を読み、内容を理解しました。本調査に協力しません。
—————————— ご署名
—————————— ご芳名
—————————— ご署名年月日
—————————— ダイアナエイディス ——————————
308 [Use letterhead paper for page 1]
Approval No (when available)
THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES
PARTICIPANT INFORMATION STATEMENT AND CONSENT FORM
Intimacy in Japanese familial relationships
[Participant selection and purpose of study] You are invited to participate in a study of Japanese intimacy. I hope to learn how intimacy is expressed within a Japanese cultural context and implications for wider social phenomena. You were selected as a possible participant in this study because I hope to interview you about your expressions of intimacy in your familial relationships. If you are interested in participating in this research project, please sign the attached participant consent form.
[Description of study and risks] If you decide to participate, I will interview you when I begin my fieldwork in Japan. The interview will take approximately one hour where I will inquire about expectations, behaviour and expressions of intimacy within a familial context.
I would appreciate any further contacts you may have that may be interested in the study and to whom I can pass on this statement.
[Confidentiality and disclosure of information] Any information that is obtained in connection with this study and that can be identified with you will remain confidential and will be disclosed only with your permission, except as required by law. If I am able to receive your permission by signing this document, I plan to discuss the results in my dissertation which will be handed in to the University of New South Wales. In any publication, information will be provided in such a way that you cannot be identified.
[Complaints] Complaints may be directed to the Ethics Secretariat, The University of New South Wales, SYDNEY 2052 AUSTRALIA (phone 9385 4234, fax 9385 6648, email [email protected]). Any complaint you make will be treated in confidence and investigated, and you will be informed of the outcome.
[Your consent] Your decision whether or not to participate will not prejudice your future relations with The University of New South Wales. If you decide to participate, you are free to withdraw your consent and to discontinue participation at any time without prejudice.
If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. If you have any additional questions later, I, Diana Adis, will be happy to answer them via email or phone number: [email protected] (0414 427 154)
You will be given a copy of this form to keep.
309 THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES
PARTICIPANT INFORMATION STATEMENT AND CONSENT FORM (continued) (Intimacy in Japanese familial relationships)
You are making a decision whether or not to participate. Your signature indicates that, having read the Participant Information Statement, you have decided to take part in the study.
…………………………………………………… Signature of Research Participant
…………………………………………………… (Please PRINT name)
…………………………………………………… Date
…………………………………………………… Signature(s) of Investigator(s)
.……………………………………………………. Please PRINT Name
REVOCATION OF CONSENT (Intimacy in Japanese familial relationships)
I hereby wish to WITHDRAW my consent to participate in the research proposal described above and understand that such withdrawal WILL NOT jeopardise any treatment or my relationship with The University of New South Wales.
…………………………………………………… .……………………………………………………. Signature Date
…………………………………………………… Please PRINT Name
The section for Revocation of Consent by the parent/guardian should be forwarded to Diana Adis (School of Modern Languages, The University of New South Wales, SYDNEY 2052)
310 Appendix Nine: Fieldwork Documentation
1. What people, events or situations were involved? (i.e. how many people)
2. What were the main themes or issues in the contact?
3. Which research questions did the contact bear most centrally on?
4. What new hypotheses, speculations or guesses about the field situations were
suggested by the contact?
5. Where should the fieldworker place most energy during the next contact, and
what sorts of information should be sought?
311 Appendix Ten: A Traditional Obi
This thin sash wraps carrier and child together.
312 Appendix Eleven: A Modern Obi (I)
The child is carried via a hard, containing seat.
These ways of carrying the child are considered ―convenient‖ and ―comfortable for the carrier‖ (Imada and Kaijima 1995: 90).
313 Appendix Twelve: A Modern Obi (II)
This modern obi is an adaptation of a more traditional obi where the child is not restrained by buckles, or ‗seats‘.
314 Appendix Thirteen: Obi and Anshinkan
315 Appendix Fourteen: Dakko in Father-Child Relationships
This book caters for those becoming a father for the first time. Fathers are given a step-by-step description of where to put their left or right hand in carrying their baby and giving their neck support (Imada and Kaijima 1995: 81).
316 Appendix Fifteen: Asobi in Father-Child Relationships (I)
[Ofuro with my dad is fun]. (Hatano 1991: 97).
317 Appendix Sixteen: Asobi in Father-Child Relationships (II)
Yama nobori [mountain climbing where the father is the ―mountain‖].
Denguri kaeshi [father‘s legs are used for the child to do somersaults] Hikōki [the father uses his legs to elevate his child to ―fly‖ like a hikōki].
Suberi Dai [the father acts as a ―launching pad‖ or ―slippery slide‖].
(Imada and Kaijima 1995: 130-131)
318 Appendix Seventeen: Nemuri Komono
This daki makura is a ―hugging pillow‖ which is used as a nemuri komono (or sleep knickknack).
319