日本への引っ越し準備と「親ガチャ」という言葉について
Preparation to move to Japan and uncomfortable Japanese new slang, Oya-Gacha
(The Japanese text follows the English./ 日本語は英文の後にあります)
For the third time in my life, I recently made a big decision. The first one was to break the engagement in my twenties, and the second was to quit my job and move to New York. This time, I decided to move back to Japan after 30 years of New York life. A phone call with my 83-year-old mother, who lives in Japan, unexpectedly triggered a change of direction in my life.
When she has something important to say, she always says it as if it were nothing at the end of the conversation. "Oh, by the way," she started it with that tone. "The other day, after lunch, I was looking for some rice in the kitchen. No, I wasn't trying to cook rice... but I needed it. For some reason, I couldn't find it at all. After a very long time, I finally found it. However, I couldn't remember why I was looking for rice. I lost track of it."
Although she had been experiencing age-appropriate forgetfulness, her memory began to take a different turn. When she went to the doctor's office for a prescription, she bent down to put the room slippers at the entrance, then her mind went blank, and I started to lose track of what she was doing. Or, on the way home from grocery shopping, she couldn't picture the front door of her current house because her old house came to mind repeatedly.
And I started having bad dreams often. My mother was walking on the scaffolding of a skyscraper under construction, and when she jumped to the next narrow bar, she fell and disappeared. In the other one, I was trying to stop her from walking in the wrong directions, but my feet were stuck in the sticky, like oatmeal streets, and I couldn't catch up with her.
There were times when I woke up and couldn't get up for a while and had to catch my breath. I began to think that worrying about your mother from 6,500 miles away was not healthy mentally and physically.
My mother has never asked me to come back to Japan or to do anything for her. Even when my father passed three years ago, she lost her identity as a wife and felt insecure but having experienced the war as a child and lived through the post-war Showa era made her a strong attitude of "I can handle it by myself." She was very strict about discipline, and as a child, I preferred being with my father. My mother was deeply disappointed when I called the engagement off to continue working (at the time, it was the norm for women to give up their careers to have and raise children). So I think she was more than a little relieved when I decided to go to New York. She is from a time when parents of single daughters past the age of 25 were feeling ashamed. She probably thought that if I went abroad, she would be able to make excuses for her relatives and neighbors. I thought she might not think well of my moving to Japan if she still felt that way.
Not long after the incident with my mother's rice search, I casually inquired of her. "The Covid-19 is slowing down my work, and I take this as a good opportunity to start something new. How would you feel if I said moving to Japan and staying near you for a while?" After a pause, my mother said casually, "Well ..." And she continued, "Please... I would love it."
My mother's indefinable tone, mixed with confusion and relief, instantly put the clincher on my decision. It was as if I was connected to Japan by an invisible and powerful rubber band. Though I had been holding tightly onto my New York life I built from scratch, the sound of my mother's feeble voice made my hand loosen. And I was flung back straightaway to her with the force of rubber that had been released. I wondered if this is what family is all about, in a good way or not.
There is a new word in Japan that young people use, and it has become a hot topic. It is a slang term called 'Oya-Gacha,' which is often used in social networks. It means that children cannot choose their parents, and if their lives go well or not depend on the environment created by their parents. They use it like this. If you don't get enough allowance, you want, "Oh, I failed in my 'Oya-Gacha.' I wish I had been born to the richer family."
"Gacha" is a word used to describe the sound of a vending machine that you put coins in and turn the handle to release a capsule that has a small toy in it at random. When I learned this word, I thought it was an awful thing to say. Still, from what I heard, it's also helping today's youth psychologically to speak out about their cruel domestic situations casually, such as being abused by their parents.
Although we didn't have such words before, it is not the first time blaming their parents for their uncontrollable dissatisfaction. I have an old, and a bit painful, memory.
When I was a child, my mother strictly limited the time I could watch TV. One night, I really wanted to watch a popular show that my friends often talked about at school, and when I told her so, she dismissed it out of hand. I raised my voice. "Everyone else is watching this at home!" My mother said, "That's their way. This is our way." At that time, I suddenly wondered why I was not born in "their" home. So I turned to my mother and said, "I didn't ask you to have me into this family, did I?!" My mother was stunned and at a loss for words. That night, I couldn't sleep for fear of what would happen if my parents gave me up to another family.
As I remembered this, a friend in New York told me this story with a laugh. It turned into a mother-daughter fight when she scolded her 12-year-old daughter for loafing around without doing her homework. And her daughter cried and ran into her room, slammed the door, and shouted from behind it, "Put me up for the adoption!" (She, too, ended crying that night in fear of being sent to strangers.)
Even I was long past the age of blaming my parents for my frustrations, learning the term "Oya-Gacha" when I was preparing to move near my mother in Japan made me feel confounded for a moment.
When I tell people about moving to Japan, they often think I had a good mother-daughter relationship. But I am not sure about it. Because I don't think there was a strong connection between my mother and me. Since the birth of my younger sister, who is severely disabled, my parents started devoting their lives to her, and they couldn't find enough time to pay attention to me. I often helped with household chores, but we never had close interaction as parents and a child. My father was a person of few words but gentle for my sister and me. But he was too busy as a craftsman who had several apprentices to play with his daughters. My mother, who is very good at sewing and cooking, sewed cute play clothes with a tiny elephant or some red cherries-shaped patches for my sister and me in her spare time in the middle of the night. And she made us colorful lunchboxes in the morning before we woke up, but we never had time to read picture books or go on family trips. Every summer break of my elementary school, since my mother had her hands full taking care of my sister, she asked her sisters and cousins who lived four hours away by a train ride to take care of me. And she put me on an express train by myself. For the first few years, I got homesick and started crying sometimes. But by the time I reached middle school, I was used to being on my own and had learned how to enjoy it.
Our bond as parents and a child was weak in a good sense. And because of that, I was able to take the action I wanted without hesitation always. I didn't even go back to Japan for the first few years after moving to New York. It would be a terrible act of disobedience to your parents to move to another country since there is the possibility you can't see them alive anymore. However, in retrospect, it worked well for my family. Living way far away from my family gave me more time to think about them deeply. So did my parents, and we began to have more deep conversations.
A powerful rubber band that I thought connected me to my family did not exist at the beginning. It was just a thin piece of string. But it gradually took on a different shape over 30 years.
In Japan, there are a growing number of options for caring for aging parents, including a variety of nursing homes and having service of organizations in the public, not-for-profit, and private sectors using Long Term Care Insurance. But cares and anxieties weigh heavily on children and their families. According to a calculation by the Recruit Works Institute, a Japanese research institute, 80% of caregivers are taking care of their parents and relatives.
https://www.works-i.com/column/teiten/detail021002.html
I can see the similarities in the U.S., where lifestyles are very different from those in Japan. The U.S. Department of Labor found that about 15 percent of women and 13 percent of men 25 and 54 years old care for aging family members or relatives. Among those 55 to 64, the percentage increases to one in five Americans.
https://www.bls.gov/news.release/pdf/elcare.pdf
When the New York Times published an article about the current state of elder care, many readers sent in their personal stories, and the paper later published a feature article.
https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/05/reader-center/taking-care-of-elderly-relatives.html
There is no right answer to dealing with aging parents, so we are always worried and confused. As I realize my mother's memory is beginning to shift from one place to another, something motivates me strongly for the first time in thirty years. Even though others see me as a "looking after an aged parent," for me, it feels like going to pick up the pieces of my own life that I've been missing.
最近、人生で３回目の一大決心をした。１回目は20代のころの婚約解消、２回目はそれまでの仕事を辞めてニューヨークに移住を決めたこと。そして今回、 ３０年にわたるニューヨーク生活を休止して再び日本で暮らすことを決めた。不意に人生の舵を方向転換するきっかけになったのは、日本に住む83歳になる母との電話だった。
何か重要なことを伝えるとき彼女は会話の最後になんでもなさそうに言う癖がある。「そういえば」と、その時も大したことじゃないんだけど、という口調で言った。「お母さんね、この前お昼ご飯を食べ終わったあと、台所でお米を探してたの。ううん、ご飯を炊こうとしていたわけじゃないんだけど...でも必要だったの。でも米袋がなんでか全然見つからなくて。ずいぶん長い時間かけてやっと見つけたら、なぜお米を探していたんだっけ？って訳がわからなくなっちゃった。」
それまでも年齢相応の物忘れはあったがその内容が違う角度を見せ始めた。医者に処方箋をもらいに行って待合室の入り口でスリッパに履き替えようとかがみ込んだら頭が空っぽになり「あれ、いま私は何をしているんだっけ？」とわからなくなったり、夕食の買い物に出かけた帰り道、昔住んでいた家が頭に浮かび、今の家の玄関がなかなか出てこない、という具合だ。そして私は嫌な夢をしょっちゅう見るようになった。母が工事中の高層ビルの鉄筋の足場を歩いていて、ヒョイと隣の足場に飛び移ろうとジャンプしたらストンと下に落ちて姿が消えてしまったり、どんどん違う方向に歩いていってしまう母を止めようとするが私の足元はオートミールのようにねばついてなかなか彼女に追いつけない。目が覚めてもしばらく起き上がれずに上がった息を静めなくてはいけない時もあった。悪夢に悩まされるほど心配しているのに6,500マイルも離れているのは健康的じゃないなと思い始めた。
母は私に日本に帰って来いとか、何かをしてほしいとは一度も言ったことがない。３年前に父が亡くなり、「妻」というアイデンティティを失って不安を感じていた時期があったようだけれど、幼少の時に戦争を体験し敗戦後の昭和の時代を生き抜いてきた彼女はいつも「自分でなんとかする」という強い姿勢がある。しつけにも厳しく子どものころはそんな母が嫌で私はずっと父親っ子だった。私が仕事を続けるために結婚をやめた（当時は子どもを産み育てるには女性がキャリアを諦めるのが主流だった）とき、母は心底がっかりしていた。だから私がニューヨークに行くと決めたとき彼女は少なからずほっとしたと思う。年頃を過ぎても独身の娘を持つ親は肩身が狭い、という時代の人なのだ。外国に行ってくれたら親戚や近所の人に言い訳がきく、とでも考えていただろう。今もそう感じているのなら、私が30年ぶりに日本に引っ越すということをよく思わないかもしれないと思った。
母のお米探しの一件から間もなく、私は何気なく探りを入れた。「新型コロナの影響で仕事はスローだし、この機会にしばらく日本で暮らそうと思うんだけれど、私がまた近くに住むようになったらお母さんはどう思う？」一呼吸あって母が何気なさそうに「あぁ」と言った。「... お願いします。」
当惑と安堵で小さくなったその母の声は一瞬で私の気持ちを日本に引き戻した。まるでこれまで母が住む日本と私の心は目に見えない強力なゴムバンドで繋がっていて、私はギュッと自分で築き上げたニューヨーク生活をつかんでいたが母のその声で手が緩み、とたんに弾かれたゴムの勢いで彼女の元に飛んでいったのだ。いい意味でもそうでなくても家族とはこういうものなのか、と思った。
最近、日本の若者たちの間で使われるようになり話題になっている言葉がある。それは"親ガチャ"というスラングでSNSで主に使われている。意味は子どもは親を選べないことから人生は親がつくり出した家庭環境で左右されるということだ。例えばお小遣いの額に満足しない子どもが「あーあ、自分は"親ガチャ"に失敗した。もっと金持ちの家に生まれたかった」という使い方をする。"ガチャ"というのは小銭を入れてハンドルを回すとカプセルに入ったおもちゃがランダムに出てくる遊具を表した言葉で、カプセルが出てくる時のガチャという音からきている。その言葉を知ったとき、なんてヒドイ言葉だろうと思ったがそこには困難がある自分の家庭環境、親から虐待を受けているなど、を深刻ぶらずカジュアルに声に出したいという現代の若者の心理もあるという。
こうした言葉こそなかったが、子どもがどうにもならない不満をなんとか納得するために親のせいにしてみるのは今に始まったことではない。私にも心がチクリと疼く昔の記憶がある。
私は子どものころテレビを見る時間を母から厳しく制限されていた。ある晩、学校でよく話題に上がる人気番組をどうしても見たくて彼女にそう言うと呆気なく却下された。「よその家ではみんなこれを見ているのに！」と私が声を荒げると「よそはよそ、うちはうち」と言われた。そのときふと、なぜ自分はよその家に生まれなかったのだろうかと思った。そこで母に向かって言った。「私はこの家に産んでくれなんて頼んでいない！」母は少し困ったような顔をして言葉に詰まった。大口をたたいてしまったものの、その夜はもし両親が私をどこかの家にあげてしまったらどうしようかとなかなか眠れなかった。そんなことを思い出していたらつい数日前、ニューヨークの友人が笑いながらこんな話をした。12歳になる娘が学校の宿題をせずに遊んでいるので叱ったら口論となり、娘は泣きながら部屋に駆け込んでバタンとドアを閉めその向こうから「Put me up for the adoption! (私を養子に出して)」と叫んだと言う。(彼女もその夜は自分が見知らぬ他人の元に送られる恐怖で泣くことになった)
自分ではどうすることもできない不満を親のせいにする年齢はとっくに通り過ぎたことを自覚する一方で、母の近くへの引っ越そうと準備を進めているタイミングで知ったこの"親ガチャ"という言葉は、私をしばらくモヤモヤした気持ちにさせた。
私が日本行きを周囲に知らせ始めると、いい親子関係なのですね、としばしば人から言われるが私と母の関係は強いものだったとは思えない。両親は重度の障害がある私の妹が生まれてから彼女を中心にした生活となり、私は両親にかまってもらうことがなかったように思う。父は真面目で優しい人だったが口数は少なく、職人として何人もの弟子を抱えていつも忙しく仕事をしていた。裁縫と料理が得意な母は私たち姉妹が寝静まった夜中の手が空いた時間で可愛らしいアップリケが付いた遊び着を縫ったり、朝にはカラフルなお弁当を作ってくれていたが、絵本を読み聞かせたり、家族旅行に出かけるというような触れ合いの時間を持つことはなかった。私の妹の世話で手一杯の母は毎年小学校が夏休みになると私を1人で上野発の長距離列車に乗せ、４時間離れた地方に住む親戚の家族に私の世話を頼んでいた。最初の数年は男ばかりの従兄弟たちに囲まれてホームシックで泣いたりしていた私だったが中学に上がるまでに1人で行動するのが板に付き、それを楽しむ方法を学んでいた。
いい意味で親子の絆が弱かったから私は迷うことなく海外に飛び出せたのだと思う。親の死に目に会えない覚悟で海を渡るなんて考えてみればひどく親不孝なことだ。ニューヨークに移住して最初の数年は日本に行くこともしなかった。いま振り返ってみればその結果、自分の中に家族を慮る気持ちの余裕ができたように思う。たまに日本に行けば時間が限られているせいか親身な話もするようになった。私と日本の家族をつなげている強力なゴムバンドは最初からあったわけではなく、細い紐だったのが30年をかけて徐々に形を変えていったように思う。
親の介護に関して日本では施設入所や第三者が介入する介護保険サービスの利用など選択肢は少しづつ増えてはいても子や家族にとっては悩ましいことばかりだ。日本の研究機関リクルートワークス研究所の算出では被介護者の８割が親と親族の介護をしている。
https://www.works-i.com/column/teiten/detail021002.html
ライフスタイルが日本とは大きく異なるアメリカを見てみると、合衆国労働省の調べでは、25歳から54歳までの女性の15パーセント、男性の13パーセントが高齢の家族や親戚の介護をしていて、55歳から64歳を見るとその割合は増え、5人に1人が介護に関わっているという。
https://www.bls.gov/news.release/pdf/elcare.pdf
ニューヨークタイムズ紙が高齢者介護の現状についての記事を掲載すると多くの読者から個人の体験談が寄せられ、紙は後日に特集記事を載せた。
https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/05/reader-center/taking-care-of-elderly-relatives.html
年老いていく親との関わりかたはこれが正解、という答えがないだけに私たちは悩んだり迷ったりする。
記憶があっちに行ったりこっちに来たりし始めた母に刺激されて、私は30年ぶりに何かに突き動かされている。それがゆくゆくは周囲から"介護"と呼ばれるものであっても、私にとってはこぼれ落ちている自分の人生のいくつかの断片を拾いに行くような気がしている。