–The guides at Colonial Williamsburg and Jamestown Settlement
Introduction:
Upon visiting Colonial Williamsburg and Jamestown Settlement (museums that illustrate the history of 17th and 18th century Virginia), I learned about a fascinating profession called historic interpreters. In the post below, I explore the similarities between their work and what language interpreters do.
Historic interpreters on horse carriages at Colonial Williamsburg
Earlier this week, I visited Colonial Williamsburg, an outdoor museum dedicated to the history of the capital of Virginia colony in the 18th century. I also enjoyed visiting Jamestown Settlement, which discusses the history of the first English settlement in the America. I was especially impressed with how the latter carefully sought to highlight stories of diverse people, including indigenous populations, those who were forcibly brought over from Africa, and women.
Everywhere we went, there were costumed guides giving tours, answering questions, giving theater performances, and demonstrating daily life during that time. Some were vocal and friendly, others more reserved and focused on the task at hand–and all seemed dedicated to their role and knowledgeable about the people that they represented.
I was surprised to learn that these guides were called “historic interpreters.” As a language interpreter, I was immediately drawn to this concept. Why are we both called by the same name, and what are the similarities?
An Interpreter lives somewhere between the world of educator and Sherpa and his or her chief aim is to connect our audiences to the many meanings of an object, a story, an event or a place. Not unlike a language interpreter . . . a historic interpreter translates or reveals hidden meanings from our past and makes them relevant to our present.
An interpreter cooking (?) at a kitchen in Williamsburg
Indeed, that sounds very similar to what we do. What seems fascinating to me is that historic interpreters connect the past with the present, forging ties across time. We language interpreters connect those who speak different languages, creating ties across geography.
Historic interpreters at Colonial Williamsburg apparently receive training from the National Association for Interpretation (NAI). NAI’s membership seems to include individuals who work at parks and zoos as well, and not just those who work at historic sites. The former seems very similar to a type of language interpreter called interpreter guides, except it is presumably monolingual. Both types of interpreters are tied to specific geographic areas, welcoming visitors and providing local knowledge. The NAI website occasionally even refers to bilingual interpretation, further blurring the lines.
Etymology and Definitions
I’ve always wondered why language interpretation is called “interpretation.” The word “interpret” apparently came from the Latin word interpretari, which means to “explain.” While we language interpreters should seldom insert explanatory notes into what the original speaker said, this does capture the spirit of what we do, as we always seek to choose vocabulary that is not only accurate but also easy for the listener to understand. “Explain” also seems similar to the goals of historic interpreters and those at NAI. (Incidentally, historic interpreters also seem to fit another definition of “interpreter” that’s listed in the Oxford Learner’s Dictionaries: “a person who performs a piece of music or a role in a play in a way that clearly shows their ideas about its meaning.”)
By contrast, the word “translate” is related to the word “transfer.” Based on the image these words conjure (“explain” versus “transfer”), it seems to me that interpreters can show more of their individuality in their work compared to translators. The former works more directly with people (which requires flexibility to respond to unpredictable actions), while the latter focuses more on words that are fixed on a page (emphasizing accuracy and eloquence rather than quick thinking).
While I enjoy serving as both a language interpreter and a translator, I do feel that I get to be myself a bit more while interpreting. This is especially true while guiding visitors on the International Visitor Leadership Program or interpreting on stage for cultural events. But even conference interpretation, where we are in booths that are a bit removed from the action, seems somewhat personal. The International Association of Conference Interpreters (AIIC) explains that interpretation “makes use of particular linguistic resources, transmitting the original speaker’s ideas with their particular rhythm and intonation, making use of rhetorical devices and yes, even gestures.” Indeed, our ears are our most important asset when interpreting, but we also read lips and expressions. We empathize with the person we are interpreting and mimic their tone, sometimes involuntarily copying their body language. And we reproduce everything that we see and hear with our own voice, which is unique to each one of us.
Some young men were called upon to serve as language interpreters between Native Americans and settlers in 17th century Virginia, according to this panel at the Jamestown Settlement
Between historic interpreters and language interpreters, the difference is that the latter benefits from working with someone who is (in most cases) alive and present in real time, even if they happen to be on Zoom and physically located on the other side of the world. I have so much respect for historic interpreters, who must not only conduct substantial research on people who are long gone, but also fill in the gaps with their imagination and enact what they studied. I look forward to meeting and learning from more of these wonderful interpreters in the future.
–The universal appeal of pictograms, as shown during the 2020 Tokyo Olympics
Introduction:
As a big fan of pictograms (I wrote my master’s thesis on it), I explore in this post the story behind the 2020 Olympic pictograms, as well as the huge success of the performance during the opening ceremony. I also argue that pictograms can play a bigger role in our everyday communications: by embodying common human experiences that go beyond nationality, ethnicity, gender, and more, pictograms may be easier to use than people emoji in this increasingly interconnected world.
I wrote my master’s project (the equivalent of a master’s thesis in journalism school) on pictograms, and have always been interested in these little symbols as a form of language and communication. Based on how much the Olympic pictograms have evolved, as well as the huge success of the performance during the opening ceremony, I feel that we can better incorporate pictograms into our everyday lives. These universal symbols appeal to everyone in an increasingly interconnected world, and allow us to be more mindful of our commonalities regardless of our backgrounds.
The 2020 pictograms were a nod to the original 1964 version, according to a Japanese magazine (Katei Gaho) interview with Masaaki Hiromura, who designed the 50 Olympic pictograms and 23 Paralympic pictograms. While he initially played around with elements such as hiragana, Choju Giga, and Astro Boy, he ultimately decided to use the 1964 pictograms as reference, focusing on the athletes’ physical movements. Studying hundreds of photos and videos for each sport, he aimed to make the pictograms appear as realistic and dynamic as possible. He obtained not only the approval of the International Olympic Committee and International Paralympic Committee, but also the associations of each sport–which resulted in redoing more than half of the designs.
These pictograms were animated for the first time so that they can be used for event broadcasts, digital signage, and social media. An interview with Kota Iguchi, who created the animation, reveals the challenges of working from static images. Instead of forcing the pictograms themselves to move, he animated how they appear onto and disappear from the screen, and suggested that the flow be paused on the pictograms so that audience members could appreciate them for a few seconds. He, too, spoke with athletes to ensure that the movements looked natural, and animated in different speeds to highlight signature moves of each sport. The animation process was very challenging, but he says he “want[s] the baton to be passed” to future Olympic games. “I’d like to make it open source so that parts can be changed and the movements can evolve . . . and am happy to provide any data for that purpose” (translation my own).
Tokyo must have been searching for a way to honor the history of Olympic pictograms, and I believe that animation (the full sequence of all 73 pictograms is featured below) was the perfect update. The moving figures are endearing, and even though they are animated through technology, they even seem more human than the static versions. And if, as Mr. Iguchi offers, the data becomes open source, the pictograms could have a lasting legacy that impacts users worldwide.
The Appeal of the Pictograms Show
Despite all the work that went into the pictograms, they would not have garnered as much attention if not for the performance during the opening ceremony. Many of the comments on NBC’s video clip of the performance call it “the best part of the ceremony.” The Washington Post wrote that it “stole the show,” and The Cut called it a “hot new sport.” I think there are several reasons for its wide appeal:
Cuteness: While the pictogram illustrations have grace and poise, the people in bodysuits seem to scurry around clumsily with their big heads. After a while, the tacky outfits start to grow on us and begin to look adorable.
Imperfection: Their limbs tremble when they strike poses, and their postures are always somewhat less cool than the original pictograms. The blue man drops the badminton racket, and with the taekwondo posture, needs help bringing his leg up. It almost seems doubtful that they would manage to get through all 50 pictograms–making it seem all the more special when they succeed.
Emotion: With no mouths or eyes, they show emotion through body language alone. Their joy when they complete the fast-paced routine is palpable, drawing a sigh of relief from all of us.
The “analog” humor: Hiropon, the comedian who created the segment and starred as the main blue man, later commented on how “analog” the performance was. And it truly is: from the basketball hoop headband to the badminton shuttle signage, everything looks handmade. It is somehow both an elevated version of the digitally animated pictograms and a nod to the physical dynamism that inspired the pictograms to begin with.
Hiropon’s humble Instagram post that briefly reveals that he created the pictograms sequence. He later made an appearance at a press conference in the blue bodysuit.
Analog humor has long been appreciated in Japan. People have commented that the opening ceremony performance reminded them of Kasou Taishou (“Masquerade”), a Japanese show in which amateurs compete by enacting various aspects of life using their bodies and homemade costumes. One example is the below performance by two men emulating an athlete on a pommel horse, which won first prize in 1997. No one is expected to be a superb actor, stage carpenter, or costume maker. Family members often compete together, brilliantly executing silly but hilarious ideas.
Another commonality the pictogram performance had with Kasou Taishou was the supporter wearing white, who would often blend in the background and help with various props. This, in turn, comes from a long tradition of kabuki and bunraku (puppet theater), where stage hands (called kurogo) dressed all in black (or white, if it’s a snowy scene) carry props or puppets. The Olympics opening ceremony did feature a real kabuki performance by renowned actor Ebizo Ichikawa. But the pictograms performance was so much more accessible–no knowledge of history or culture was needed to appreciate it.
Anyone and Everyone
I think the biggest appeal of the pictograms performance comes from this last point: it can be understood by everyone, regardless of language, nationality, or background.
This spirit comes from the pictograms themselves. Mr. Hiromura says in the Katei Gaho interview that “the simpler the pictograms are, the more open to interpretation they become. Unless they are designed in a way that anyone can see themselves in them, they won’t be appreciated by everyone” (translation my own). The set of pictograms is uniform, only distinguished by the poses and items unique to each sport (be they bats, balls, or boards). The gender, age, or any other characteristic of athletes is invisible. Every swimmer and skateboarder who’s not yet at an Olympic level may see themselves in the pictograms, dreaming of someday competing among the best of the best.
I believe the pictogram performance brought this accessibility to another level. As a clumsy person whose worst grades were always P.E., I could never relate to athletes. I only watch games and competitions in awe of stars who possess skills I could never attain. But striking a pose or two with some props? That seems doable. The whole speedy routine must have taken so much practice, talent, and coordination–but with trembling limbs, handmade signs, and finger puppetry, the people in bodysuits make it seem as though any of us could give it a try. And when they manage to finish the routine, they seem like the ultimate underdogs who barely scrape by, huffing and puffing. Even their victory, unlike those of Olympic athletes, is relatable.
People Emoji: Too Detailed, Too Many
Mr. Hiromura, Mr. Iguchi, and Hiropon each had a huge challenge in bringing these pictograms to life. But one thing that I think makes their work somewhat easier is that the designs had a framework: they were limited to sports that were part of the Olympic and/or Paralympic games.
Having a framework and using simple designs work. I think this point is evident when we compare two types of emoji: smileys and people emoji. I’m a big fan of the round yellow smileys that only show facial expressions. Cute and fantastical, they are a simple representation of how I feel. I know they are abstract, and don’t expect any visual resemblances with my face. Like pictograms, they are uniform (yellow circle, a mouth, two eyes) and have a straightforward design.
I love these smileys (courtesy of Apple) because they are a fantastical representation of how I feel
But I have never felt comfortable with any of the more realistic people emoji that show body language, professions, family, and more. Those turn me off because I subconsciously look for (and fail to find) myself in them. I appreciate the recent diversity in skin tone, but five tones is not enough, and I am more than my skin (for starters, maybe I wouldn’t want to wear such a bright purple shirt every single time).
These people emoji (also from Apple) now come in various skin tones, but I still don’t see myself in them
Customized tools like Apple’s Memoji are meant to resolve this issue, but even those seem strangely over the top with exaggerated expressions. No matter what tweaks I make, I can’t identify with the little avatar.
People emoji and Memoji fall into the too-realistic-but-still-unlike-me trap
I–and I suspect many others–can never be satisfied with people emoji because people are endlessly diverse. Yes, it is very exciting that we may soon have emoji for pregnant men. But it also brings up new questions about many others who are not represented. I’m sure it’s a quagmire for developers and other authorities, who are likely contending with one complaint/request after another (here’s the list of emoji requests made to Unicode, not limited to people emoji). The more representation there is, the more problematic it becomes for those who are not represented, because we cannot help but wonder: How long does it take to get to my turn? How is my identity taking a back burner to zombies, mermaids, and twin bunny girls/boys? And from a practical standpoint, if, many years into the future, there happens to be a single emoji that comes close (say, a Japanese American woman interpreter), how many hundreds would I have to sift through on my phone to find it? People emoji seem to be trapped in a difficult situation where they will have to continue to grow in volume, which in turn will decrease their usability.
I think this is all because pictures that are too detailed end up highlighting differences. Indeed, as Mr. Hiromura said above, “the simpler they are, the more open to interpretation they become.” That must be why pictograms have such a strong appeal. Since the opening ceremony, many Japanese people have been designing their own pictograms and tweeting them. Here’s one that’s been particularly popular (dubbed “2020 Mamalympic (Papalympic) Sports”), even prompting media coverage. I think it’s clear to anyone, even without reading the Japanese captions, what “sport” each pictogram represents. These are universal struggles for many parents, regardless of language or culture.
So here’s an idea for those people emoji. How about designing them as pictograms instead? Olympic pictograms were originally created to reach an international audience for a special occasion celebrating top athletes. But now that our world is so interconnected, all of us need to communicate with diverse audiences everyday. Symbols that are more vague, where we do not have to worry about skin tone, facial or physical features, gender, etc., would appeal to more users, ostracize fewer people, and clutter less space on our phones.
And more importantly, with pictograms, we would have an easier time seeking our own identity. Instead of focusing on what we look like, we can perhaps focus on what we do, like playing basketball, raising babies, or writing. People of different backgrounds may use the same pictograms, which in turn helps us find commonalities with and compassion for others. We don’t want a competition where only a few people are represented, and others have to vie to have their likeness preserved. With pictograms, all of us can be champions in our own unique way.
This post discusses a recent article in The Washington Post that explores our identities online, and in which I played a small role. I touch upon the difficulties of translating kaomoji and slang, as well as the challenge of tweeting publicly in front of anonymous readers.
A few days ago, The Washington Post published a wonderful article by Drew Harwell, technology reporter. It centers around Soya no Sohi, a biker who tweets using FaceApp, changing his gender and age. Soya (whose real name is Mr. Nakajima) is a fascinating, vivacious, and upbeat individual, and it’s no wonder that fans love him all the more now that he’s revealed his true self. The article is a great exploration of identity and how we project ourselves on social media, examining the issue from multiple angles, be it gender, age, relationships, or cultural/societal norms. It’s a unique and positive look into social media and AI, standing apart from recent dystopian takes on tech and our future.
I was honored to play a small role in this article, and through Drew’s kindness, even be recognized in the byline. I interpreted the online interview with Mr. Nakajima, and translated additional information and general communications. The hardest part of this process was something I never expected: translating tweets.
Short, Unconventional Messages
Two characteristics set Twitter apart from other social media platforms: anonymity and brevity. And I think these go hand-in-hand.
There are many Twitter users, like journalists, authors, politicians, and other public figures, who use their real names. Because social media is part of their personal brand, they tend to be measured in what they write: purposeful, cautious, and often in complete sentences (there are exceptions, like those who write inflammatory tweets to stay in the public discourse).
But users who remain anonymous have no obligation to write in a formal manner that follows conventional grammar rules. While online writing is already short, I think tweets that are restricted by character count are more prone to slang, abbreviations, and emoji (which are not only fun but also save valuable space). This is where translation becomes a challenge.
Emoji and Kaomoji
Soya’s tweets are filled with cute emoji and kaomoji (Japanese emoticons which, unlike the western equivalent, we can appreciate without tilting our heads!). Here’s a tweet right after the WaPo interview:
When I translated this tweet, I marveled at how emoji have totally become a universal language (in fact, this NPO uses emoji to allow children from different countries to communicate with one another). They needed no explanation.
The kaomoji were a different matter. These little pictures are meant to defy words, but I wasn’t sure if they were visually clear to everyone. For the three kaomoji here (5th line, 6th line, and last line), I wrote notes saying: “shows a sigh of relief,” “shows nervousness (looking left and right, sweating and panicking),” and “shows happiness.”
Then there was this tweet, which Soya had posted right after Mr. Nakajima’s appearance in a Japanese variety show in March. While I felt bad reducing tiny, adorable pictures into blunt, boring words, I explained them like this:
(/ω＼*) Covering face in embarrassment; feeling flattered
(*´▽`人) Blushing and putting hands together in gratitude.
While the other kaomoji might be easier to understand, I was certain the one below (from this tweet, after Mr. Nakajima deliberately revealed his real face in the handlebar mirror) needed an explanation:
(ﾉ≧ڡ≦)☆
I initially started writing “sticking tongue out mischievously; slapping one’s own head after admitting to mistake.” But realizing that a lengthy explanation on the “tehepero” manga trope was probably too much information in this context, I settled with “kaomoji meaning ‘oops.'” (Again, what a boring way to describe this cute face!)
From Slang to Slang
The article incorporated the tweets of other Twitter users too, to gauge their reaction to Soya’s big reveal and what they think about Soya in general. Aside from pictures, the trickiest thing to translate was laughter.
In Japanese, laughter is shown even in somewhat formal contexts (e.g. magazine interviews) with 笑, the kanji for “laugh.” Because that character is read as “warai,” that was abbreviated to “w,” and that’s now become more common among the younger generation when they text each other. A few years ago, that evolved even further among some hardcore netizens, who now use the kanji for “grass,” or 草 (because the letter “w” looks like grass growing on the ground).
Some tweets only had one “w,” which I translated as “LOL.” Other tweets with multiple w’s (like this one, referring to Soya’s handlebar mirror tweet and joking that Soya’s dad was accidentally included in the photo) were translated as “ROFL” to signify a bigger laugh. Thank goodness there wasn’t a wider variety, because those are the only two laughter slangs I know (“LMAO” seemed inappropriate for obvious reasons–and I honestly don’t know if that’s a bigger laugh than ROFL)!
Just for fun, I tested how AI translation services like DeepL and Google Translate might translate these tweets. DeepL ignores all the w’s (probably seeing them as typos), and Google Translate just includes the w’s as is. “Grass” remains “grass.” It is ironic (but a relief for professionals like us!) that humans are still needed to understand internet slang.
Of course, there are other elements that are lost in translation. Soya refers to herself with a feminine pronoun. She also occasionally mixes in the local Ibaraki dialect (as in the tweet below, thanking followers for reading the WaPo article), and that’s probably another factor that makes her so lovable and approachable. It’s unfortunate that there’s no way to convey the spirit behind these tweets aside from clunkily adding a side note to straightforward translations.
Working on this WaPo project made me rethink my relationship with Twitter. I first got an account a decade ago, when I was a graduate student studying journalism. We all learned how to market ourselves on social media, which was especially important because the media landscape was rapidly changing, and jobs at media companies were decreasing.
But I just could not get into Twitter. I had difficulty chiseling what I wanted to say into a perfect haiku of 140 characters (as was the limit until a few years ago). And more importantly, I found the Twitter space scary. Every post was open to the public. People didn’t have to show their faces or their real names. I felt–and still feel–much safer on Facebook, where I’m only connected to people I know and trust.
In the WaPo article, Drew quotes researchers and points out that in the past, many people “with ‘stigmatized social identities’ . . . saw online anonymity as a way to act like themselves without fear of offline consequences.” He continues: “It wasn’t until the rise of giant social networks like Facebook — which used real identities to, among other things, supercharge targeted advertising — that this big game of pretend gained an air of duplicity.”
This made me realize how lucky I am to have an in-person community where I feel at home. It’s a luxury, and I shouldn’t be whining about leaving my comfort zone online. And either way, we all create online identities to an extent. I chose my profile photo out of others that I didn’t think were as good. Even when blogging about my weaknesses or struggles, I try to reach a positive conclusion. It’s possible to find a good balance between being authentic and not revealing every flaw.
I’m very much inspired by Soya and Mr. Nakajima: full of energy, always upbeat, and not afraid to try new things. During the interview, Mr. Nakajima said: “Unless you start, you’ll come to regret it. People will say, ‘I’ll do this once things settle down or once everything is in place.’ But by the time everything is in place, your life will end.”
That really spoke to me. I hope I can be more courageous and post more frequently, be it through this blog or social media, rather than overthinking everything.
At the very least, it’s comforting to know what to do if I make a mistake. I’ll simply post this:
This bilingual post is an announcement about my new company, “Shiori Communications, LLC.” I also look back to the past year, which, despite COVID-19, was an overall success thanks to the wonderful support of friends and mentors.
Plum blossoms in Tokyo–blooming a little early, they seem like symbols of hope for the new year! 少し早く咲いている梅の花は、新しい年に向けた希望を示しているように見えます。
Happy New Year! While the first two weeks of the year have already been crazy and horrible due to the events at the U.S. Capitol, I am hopeful that 2021 will improve going forward. I hope I can play a small role in that by facilitating communications between American and Japanese citizens through my new company.
2020 in Review
A year ago, I was filled with trepidation and excitement. I had just quit my job at the U.S.-Japan Council, ready to try interpreting and translating full-time. I wasn’t sure if I could even cover my rent, but for years, I had wanted to try working on my own. I was determined to give myself at least a year, and see where that would take me.
That year happened to be 2020–one of the most unusual and challenging years for everyone around the world. For me, all interpreting jobs (which traditionally were mostly done in person) came to a screeching halt with COVID-19. For a few weeks, I questioned my decision to go independent as the very industry I was trying to commit to was shaken to the core. With borders closed, I was physically cut off from my parents and boyfriend in Japan, and for the first time in years, felt sad about living alone. Then my former boss passed away, affecting me more deeply than the pandemic because of its permanence. As I ruminated over the words of gratitude, respect, and farewell that I will no longer get to convey to her, the sense of loneliness worsened.
But thanks to the kind support of friends and mentors, things got better. Many friends encouraged me through this blog, emails, or social media. Many gave me translating, editing, or writing opportunities, connecting me to their colleagues and acquaintances, or sometimes even creating jobs. From there, I got to take on entirely new types of jobs in English/Japanese communications, including teaching interpretation, subtitling videos, summarizing conferences, and translating music albums. I was only able to survive because of the wonderful people around me, and am incredibly grateful for the support I have received.
Remote interpretation also became more common, and I had the opportunity to work on a wide range of projects, from a military conference with 20+ countries (and 11 languages!), to a symposium of businesses based in Kansai, to a series of meetings among 20+ Japanese and American universities on student exchange, to an international conference on trademarks. Learning how to navigate various virtual interpretation platforms and other rapid changes in the industry became much easier thanks to regular online meetings with other interpreters. The biggest lessons of COVID-19 for me were: the importance of personal relationships, the value of positivity, and the need to adapt quickly to the changing world.
Although I became very busy towards the latter half of the year and could not write as much, I was also encouraged by the positive response to some of my blog articles, including this one on Black Lives Matter. I look forward to prioritizing writing in the future, and hope to provide more information that’s insightful and interesting.
A New Beginning
As 2021 begins, I am happy to announce that I recently established a company called Shiori Communications, LLC. The reason behind registering an LLC is that I wanted to facilitate better relations with clients, build a web presence (a website is coming soon), and be better about posting updates. It is called “Communications” because I want my work to go beyond differences in language, and truly strengthen mutual understanding by digging deep into cultures, customs, history, and more. I believe that the past four years, culminating in the recent events at the Capitol, show that communications that combat biases and false information is more important than ever. While it’s a tall order, aside from continuing to focus on interpretation and translation, I also hope to write professionally in both languages, discussing current events when appropriate, to bring people closer together.
At first glance, it may seem like I simply tacked on my first name to my company. But I believe it’s an apt name because “Shiori” means “poemweaver” in Japanese–something I’ve always felt very proud of as an aspiring writer. After searching for a memorable and meaningful name for months, I realized that what my parents gave me might be a great way to show my intent to connect the U.S. and Japan through language. By linking various individuals (connecting dots horizontally and vertically), be it through interpreting, translating, or writing, I hope to ultimately weave an even stronger bond between my two home countries. More information to come soon!
With the certificate issued by Virginia, where my company is based. バージニア州で会社を登録しました。
An Etsy commercial featuring a girl named Shiori. This aired on CNN during the presidential elections, and I find it all the more meaningful that people saw the value of diversity during such a difficult time. 珍しい名前を持つ人へのギフトも特注できますよ！と言う宣伝に、Etsyが「しおり」の名前を使ってくれました。CNNで大統領選挙の時期に流れたそうです。どのシーンにも深く共感しますし、日本人・日系人の名前が選ばれたこともすごく嬉しい！
In the wake of the presidential elections that revealed a nation that remains highly divided, this bilingual post explores how we might visualize data in a way that doesn’t mislead audiences or stereotype different types of people.
Earlier this month, we witnessed one of the most dramatic presidential elections in history. These past four years, the U.S. had been unrecognizable to me. As a woman, quasi-immigrant, and minority, I felt that I was unwelcome on all three counts. I was in a state of disbelief as racist remarks and actions were normalized, and many laws that I had been proud to associate with the U.S. were rolled back one by one.
It is a huge relief to have a national leader who seems rational, calm, and mindful of the growing diversity of the U.S. demographic. I am ecstatic that we now have the first woman vice president–who also happens to be Black, Asian, and the daughter of an immigrant. That fact alone allays my concerns about criticism over the president-elect’s treatment of women.
A Divided Country
But as we all know, this was no swift victory. The “blue wave” touted by pundits never came. Instead, we had a handful of swing states that flipped, one by one, from slightly red to barely blue over the course of four days. I kept taking screenshots of the close race (at one point a difference of 1,000 votes, or less than 0.1%!) and sending it to friends. I pored over the news analyzing the developments in each state, from which counties’ votes were being counted first, to why Nevada seemed to take its sweet time, to legendary figures like Stacey Abrams and the late John McCain affecting the outcome in Georgia and Arizona.
The state of the swing states as of the morning of Nov. 6. With 99% of votes reported, Georgia had a difference of 1,000 votes, or less than 0.1%. Screenshot from Google based on results compiled by the Associated Press.
Maps
With all the election results readily available online, it has been really fascinating to be able to zoom into any state and look at the results in each county. Maps like this one (for Virginia) show islands of blue cities in a sea of red.
Election results by county in Virginia. Screenshot from Google based on results compiled by the AP.
But this year, the way maps show election data seemed to undergo an important and fascinating shift. With the slogan “Land doesn’t vote; people do,” several maps came out to show votes in proportional circles based on how people voted in each county, as opposed to coloring in the entire area of each county. Since fewer people live in rural areas, this was a much more accurate representation. Based on how much recognition these newer maps received, I suspect future elections will be represented in this way.
Either way, the fact remains that we are a deeply divided country, mostly reflecting whether we live in urban or rural areas. So how do we heal as a nation? One way, I think, is to avoid stereotyping others as much as we can.
Visualizations that Reinforce Stereotypes
The below illustration is called “What it means to be a typical Democrat or Republican, based on everyday items.” A translation of the words that appear throughout the illustration are in the chart below (all translations are my own).
From this website of The Asahi Shimbun. I added the numbers in purple for the translations provided below.
Democrats
Republicans
Prius; Volvo
❶ Cars
Hummer; Porsche
MSNBC
➋ TV stations
FOX
Comedy; Romance
❸ Movies
War; Action
Jazz; Rap
❹ Music
Country
Tennis; Soccer
❺ Sports
Rodeo; Motor Races
Women: Silky smooth; Men: Long with beards
❻ Hairstyle
Women: Voluminous; Men: Short and neat
Casual
❼ Attire
Business Suits
Sushi; Vegetarian
❽ Food
Fried Chicken; BBQ
Starbucks
❾ Beverages
Coors Beer
This was apparently first published in The Asahi Shimbun about 10 years ago. It came up on its website this past March (with the explanation that “trends have not changed that much since then”) as part of an article that helps young job applicants / recent college graduates understand current events.
When I first saw this, I couldn’t help but laugh. It’s wonderful that Japanese audiences are paying close attention to the U.S. elections. I think visuals are very important, especially to a younger audience. But I also think we need to be careful not to generalize too much–precisely because we are shaping young minds.
To start with the basics, the data comes from mixed sources. This illustration is apparently based on “data from advertising and research firms, as well as the voices of American voters.” That’s at least three sources that probably use different methodologies, samples, dates, and collection methods. While I don’t expect the entire methodology to be part of the picture, I’d at least like to know the names of the companies that collected this data.
The illustration is full of points I want to ask more about. For example (and I am also making big generalizations here), the “Republican” category seems to combine several types of people: the military type (short, neat hair), the wealthy type (Porsches), people living in rural areas (fried chicken; country music), etc. More minor examples show weird combinations too, like Starbucks (likely coffee) with sushi for Democrats. It is very confusing because all these mixed data is illustrated in the same picture.
And while the variety in music tastes and hairstyle is certainly interesting, I don’t see how it makes a big difference. The only thing I thought was truly relevant here is the type of media consumed (FOX vs. MSNBC), which other sources also indicate. I would rather know about the difference in opinion on topics like education, immigration, and religion. And, at least in terms of food, there’s evidence that we can’t associate them with political thought: The New York Times recently published a quiz asking readers to look at photos of fridge contents and guess whether they belong to a Trump supporter or Biden supporter. As of today, readers have made 25 million (!) guesses, and were correct 52% of the time–it’s 50/50, even with that huge sample.
Caricatures
To me, the most egregious point that could be corrected is that all four people depicted here are white. According to data compiled by the Pew Research Center, as of 2019, 40% of registered Democrats were non-white (even back in 2010, when this illustration was made, it probably would have been more than 36% (2008)). The Democratic party clearly states that “diversity is a strength,” and its support for immigrants and minorities is clear. So it seems especially odd to represent 100% of the Democrats here as white people.
But I also see how it’s extremely hard to visualize people “correctly.” Take, for example, the controversial NHK video that attempted to explain the BLM movement in June. If Black people or other minorities were added to the Asahi Shimbun visualization of Democrats and Republicans, would it have made things better? I doubt it, because it’s hard to illustrate someone without resorting to caricatures, especially if you do not know them well.
A screenshot (from here) of the controversial NHK video that illustrated Black people who wore tank tops and Afros, lighting the city on fire, and saying that they were resorting to violence because they were angry about the income gap (with no mention of police brutality)
And the truth of the matter is that there’s an inherent difference in illustrating someone who is already in the majority versus someone who is not. The former has already been drawn in many different ways, and one additional illustration is just that–a collection to add to many different images that readers may have in their head. It won’t skew the audience’s minds in either direction. Someone who is rarely drawn, on the other hand, automatically becomes a representative of their entire group because they are rarely seen. It’s similar to how movie characters used to be caricatures. The token Asian characters in older films were stereotypes (Mr. Yunioshi in Breakfast at Tiffany’s or Long Duk Dong in Sixteen Candles), whereas now we are seeing diverse backgrounds and personalities (from Crazy Rich Asians to The Farewell) because there are more films and more characters.
Visualizing Content in Better Ways
A lot of the data in the Asahi Shimbun illustration is interesting, even if not necessarily relevant. I think this could be improved by 1) listing its sources by name, 2) not showing people in the illustrations, and 3) instead of showing the top one or two in the same big picture, perhaps choosing the top five in each category and turning them into separate charts. Illustrations are so powerful, helping us understand and remember things better–but without the full context, they can also be misleading.
Media have to work with quick deadlines, and it’s easy for me to be an armchair critic. But as people pointed out with the BLM video, I believe there are ways to find consultants. On a deeper level, I believe we all need to have a better understanding of each other, so that we don’t stereotype others, and know when we are about to create caricatures.
These take long conversations, better education, more reading, stronger media representation, and so much more. But to circle back to the original discussion, at least we know that we are politically divided. At least we are beginning to learn, in the past six months, how much pain Black people have been experiencing. I hope that we can strive to understand each other. After this election, the only direction to go is onwards and upwards.
鳩山氏に関する記述は、a pleasant if awkward fellowとあります。A pleasant but awkward fellowではないにもかかわらず、多くのメディアで、if をbut と同じように扱って、「感じはよいが」と始めてからawkwardの訳（後述）を入れています。If とbut が違うと、かなり意味が異なります。既に翻訳者の鴻巣友季子さんが指摘されているように、ifを使ったこの文面は、「ポジティブな表現に着地」しているのです。
ここはカンマが省略されており、本来は、a pleasant, if awkward, fellowと言う文面になると私は考えています。この場合、カンマが両側にあると、括弧と同じ役割を果たし、a pleasant (if awkward) fellowと同じ意味になります。ダッシュを両側に置いて a pleasant–if awkward–fellowとも書くことができます。重要なのは、カンマ、括弧、ダッシュのどれであれ、if awkwardという中身を抜いても、文章がそのまま成り立つということです。つまり、中身の部分は補助的な役割を果たしているのであり、重視されるべきなのはpleasantというところなのです。
おそらく、ここでこの文が終わっていたなら（たとえば、He’s a pleasant, if awkward, fellow. など）、オバマ氏はちゃんと両側のカンマ（または括弧やダッシュ）を入れたであろうと思います。ただ、その後もA pleasant if awkward fellow, Hatoyama was . . . と続き、カンマを何度も入れると読みづらくなるため、省略したのだと思います。
一つ明確に言えるのは、「厄介」ではない、ということです。Awkwardな人は無害ですし、迷惑をかけるタイプではありません。他人がそういう評価を下すと、若干上から目線であるだけでなく、「もう少しうまく立ち回れたら楽に生きられるだろうに．．．」といった、少し憐みの感情が入っています。「惜しい」「残念」といった感じで、全体としては好ましく思っているからこそ出る言葉です。A pleasant if awkward fellowは、「感じのよい人（ちょっと不器用だけどね）」といったニュアンスになると思います。
Awkwardという言葉は、人だけでなく、雰囲気や感情にも使うことができます。たとえば、今付き合っている人と歩いている時に、前の恋人とばったり会って挨拶を交わした場合。後で友人にThat was so awkward! （とっても気まずかった！）とこぼしたりもできるでしょう。または、大企業で新入社員として働き始めて間もない時に、過去にはテレビでしか見ていなかった社長が時折やってきて話しかけてきたら、毎度緊張してしどろもどろになってしまうかもしれません。そういう時も、We’ve spoken three times, but I still feel awkward. （もう三回も話しているけれど、未だに気後れしてしまう）といった言い方ができます。
National Donut Day (全米ドーナツの日)に、無料のドーナツをもらえるということで、友人とKrispy Kremeで列に並びました。ショーケースに日本のポンデリングのようなものを見かけてそれを注文したら、単にドーナツの穴が並んでそう見えただけでした。店員さんが袋に入れるところを見て訂正したかったものの、後ろには長蛇の列で、店員さんも忙しそうなので何も言えませんでした。せっかく無料でも、普通のドーナツの6分の1くらいの大きさの穴しかもらえなかった私。こういったawkwardな間違いも、一緒に笑ってくれる友人がいれば恥ずかしくありません！?
“Exploring Various Fields in Interpretation and Translation, and Knowing What Makes You Happiest”
Below is an article I wrote for The Professional Translator, the web magazine of a translation graduate school called Babel. The assigned theme was about aptitudes needed for interpretation and translation.
There are well-known, general characteristics: those who like in-person exchanges and travel might be happier as interpreters, while those who like to spend time choosing the perfect words are likely better as translators. But there are also vast differences depending on the field. These include conference interpretation, court interpretation, interpreting on stage at an event, subtitling, and technical translations. I didn’t realize how different these were until I had the opportunity to explore them. In addition, with my love for reading and writing, I initially thought I would be happier as a translator–but ended up being more of an interpreter, mostly because I’ve enjoyed traveling and meeting experts from various fields. To anyone who is considering a profession in interpretation or translation, I recommend taking on a variety of jobs–only then will you learn what truly makes you happy.
“Changes in the Interpretation Industry During the Coronavirus Era, and Similarities with Translation”
Below is an article I wrote for The Professional Translator, the web magazine of a translation graduate school called Babel. The assigned theme was about the distinction between interpretation and translation. I discuss how with the coronavirus, the interpretation industry is rapidly changing and becoming similar to translation in several ways.
Namely, 1. with fewer interpretation assignments, more interpreters are also working as translators; 2. interpretation assignments are now mostly remote, just like translation; 3. since geography is less important now (except for time difference constraints), interpreters are relying even more on their quality of work, expertise, and networks in order to compete with the rest of the world; and 4. now that events are held online, ways to provide virtual multilingual support are growing beyond simultaneous interpretation and post-production subtitles, further blurring the line between interpretation and translation.
Although it’s unclear what the future will bring, I hope to remain positive about these fascinating changes, and continue to enjoy my work.
“Thoughts on Wording Surrounding the BLM Movement”
Some of the phrases we have been hearing in relation to the BLM movement are difficult to convey in Japanese, and I wanted to really sit down and look into them. Here’s a Japanese blog post that explores some key phrases–what “Black Lives Matter” means, why we ought not to say “All Lives Matter,” how “defund the police” could be interpreted, and the difference between “Black” and “African American”–based on what I thought and learned from friends and other articles.
抗議の次のステップとして、警察を今後どうしていくかということも話し合われています。スローガンとしてdefund the policeという表現が頻繁に使われていますが、このdefundという言葉は、米国で大きな物議を醸しています。英語でもほとんどの人がこれまであまり馴染みがなかった言葉（このブログを書いているワードプレスでも、スペルチェックに引っ掛かります）であるため、各々が異なる解釈を行っているのです。
CNN、アトランティック誌、ヴァイスなどの多くのメディアが、defund the policeが何を意味するのかという分析を行っています。アトランティック誌の記事の見出しは「『Defund the police』という言葉は、defund the policeという意味ではない。ただし、そういう意味の場合もある」（副題：「文字通り解釈すべきなのか？」）です。この言葉がどれほどの混乱を招いているかをよく示していると思います。
主要メディアに加え、オンラインの辞典であるdictionary.comも本件に関する記事を出しています。それによると、defundと言う言葉の定義は、to withdraw financial support from, especially as an instrument of legislative control（法的統制のツールとして、財政支援を止めること）とあります。また、「多くの活動家や研究者、一部の政治家によれば、defund the policeは、『お金の力を使って、これまでの漸進的な変化では達成できなかった制度的改革を行う』と言う意味」だとも書いています。
Black Lives Matterは、黒人が米国の警察に何度も殺害されていることに対する抗議運動として端を発したため、各地における警察の見直しは、大きな進捗だと言えます。黒人の親が子供に必ず警察への対応の仕方を教えなければならず、特に男性の命が危険に晒される状況には、本当に心が痛みます。他方、制度的差別があまりに根深く、社会のあらゆる側面に浸透しているため、目の前の具体的な問題（警察のことのみならず、南北戦争で南軍を率いた人々の像の撤去など）で進捗があっても、より大きな問題はなくなりません。今後論点がずれていったり、象徴的な進歩で大きな目標が見失われたりしないことを願っています。
BlackとAfrican American
Black Lives Matterの中心にあるBlackという言葉。恥ずかしながら、私は先日までこの言葉がAfrican Americanと同じ意味だと思っていました。正直、Black はもともと肌の色から来た言葉なので、自分がyellowと呼ばれたら嫌なように、その言葉自体、黒人でない私は言ってはならないのかと思っていました。また、子供の頃、正しい表現はAfrican Americanだと習った覚えがあったため、そちらを使うよう努めてきました。でも、これも間違いでした。
African American の方が正しい言葉なのかと思った、と友人に説明したところ、世代間のギャップはあるとの話でした。つまり、公民権運動を経験した彼女のご両親の世代は、黒を意味する差別的な古い言葉「ネグロ」から距離を置くため、African Americanを使っているそうです。若い世代の方がBlackという言葉に共感を覚えるのだそうです。
I really appreciated the opportunity to meet the students online!
Two weeks ago, I had the opportunity to speak with students who are taking Japanese language classes at the Washington Japanese Heritage Center (Keisho Center). Upon the kind invitation of one of the teachers, Ms. Mina Seat, I spoke about my upbringing and my career in interpretation.
Keisho Center and Saturday School
Keisho Center holds classes on Saturday mornings, and many of the students have Japanese family members. I had heard about the school when I worked at the Embassy of Japan, and was excited to meet the students. Because of the pandemic, the class was held online in an intimate setting, with three instructors for about a dozen seventh to ninth grade students.
I found this opportunity especially meaningful because I, too, attended Japanese language school (hoshuko) on Saturdays when I was growing up in Hawaii. The Hawaii Japanese School taught Japanese language and math, but we studied science and social studies separately through correspondence courses. Back then, the internet wasn’t available yet, so we had to send and receive monthly packets of assignments via international mail. But what hasn’t changed today is that studying Japanese is a lot of work for the students, on top of the regular curriculum at local American schools. It is heartening to see students and teachers (and parents) at Keisho Center who are passionate about retaining the language and culture of their heritage.
Discussing my experience attending Japanese school on Saturdays. I visited its website (which didn’t exist back then) for the first time for this presentation, and was filled with nostalgia.
On Interpreting
In terms of interpreting, I discussed the many differences between interpretation and translation; the three types of interpretation (consecutive, simultaneous, and whispering); and how I study for assignments. I also discussed how the coronavirus pandemic has affected me and the field as a whole, and how the future of interpreting might be a combination of in-person and virtual meetings, with growing support from AI.
Ms. Seat suggested that I show the students some of the symbols I use in note taking. With the caveat that everyone has their own symbols, I showed a few that I use, did a brief quiz on what they might mean, and explained a page from one of my recent notes (which I rewrote twice because my original handwriting was too embarrassing to show!). I have not received formal education in interpreting (which often includes note taking classes), and must confess that most of the time, I just furiously scribble abbreviations and shortened words. Still, symbols are a topic I’m very interested in, and I hope to develop a more elegant system in the future.
I asked the students what they thought some of the symbols meant.
Inspired by the Students
Speaking to the younger generation is always so inspiring. One of the students asked why I became an interpreter, and I shared how I wanted to connect my two countries through language. Another asked if I like interpreting more than translating, and I gushed about how fun it is to travel and meet new people. Answering these questions helped me remember why I decided to go into this field–which I’d forgotten a bit in the past few months, when all jobs were canceled, and travel and in-person meetings were gone. It also helped me have a more positive outlook on changes resulting from the coronavirus, such as the growth of virtual interpretation.
Other students asked about the technical aspects of interpreting, such as how to handle mistakes, whether we need to memorize everything, and how I work for myself and manage expenses (their knowledge of business is impressive!). I was especially touched by the comment of one student, who said that this talk inspired him to revisit interpretation and translation as a potential career.
I am really grateful for this opportunity, which I found especially meaningful when the field of interpretation is facing a big challenge. I hope I will have the chance to meet the students a few years from now, and hear how they might be using their Japanese language skills in their careers.
