Sofa Issues Spring 2025
Living Between Worlds: A Mother-Daughter Dialogue
Text by Midori Yamanaka with R.Y., her daughter
“Little me thought dark-skinned people were just more tanned. And I assumed it just stays from some point… then, they cannot go back to the original skin color. Just like toast.”
I was born and raised in rural Japan and had never traveled abroad until I was 19. As a child, foreign countries felt like distant places—beyond the sea, beyond the TV screen, and far removed from my everyday reality.
In contrast, my daughter was born in Southern California and has lived her life moving between two countries. For a long time, she didn’t fully understand the concept of nations, perhaps because she had comfortably visited and stayed in multiple countries from a very young age, recognizing only that different lifestyles existed. But by 2024, at the age of 16, she had begun to think about and understand the complexities of nations, laws, race, and social issues.
This is a small glimpse into one of our unique, yet very ordinary, conversations at home.
Midori Yamanaka: Do you remember how you spent time when you were in preschool in California?
R.Y.: Um… kind of… Most of my memories are blurred.
Midori: Do you remember that one time for Mother’s Day, all the students made their moms’ faces with colored paper? All the moms’ faces were lined up on the wall. You had made my face with brown paper. I couldn’t find my face at first.
R: I did? Really? Haha. I don’t remember, but I probably didn’t care about your skin color.
Midori: You didn’t care about skin color?
A portrait of Midori, created by her daughter at age 4.
R: No. When I was little, I didn’t recognize skin color, but only feature differences, deeper or flatter. Haha. You know the difference between Western features and Asian features…?
But everyone has different features anyway. Some Asian people have deeper features than others, and many of my friends are of mixed races. So it also didn’t really matter to me.
For the skin color, I thought those were just suntans. I actually thought that way until quite recently. You know some people can get tan nicely, but some, like you, cannot. You just get red and leave some freckles.
Midori: That’s right. My skin cannot get tanned at all. It just burns so easily, and it’s painful.
R: Yes, and so, you always put sunscreen on to protect your skin, and you did that for me, worrying about getting sunburned when I was little. But some people can get tanned beautifully.
So little me thought dark-skinned people were just more tanned. And I assumed it just stays from some point… then, they cannot go back to the original skin color. Just like toast. Once you toast your bread, you cannot go back to the untoasted one. And because it stays, babies are born with darker skin by its genes. That’s what I thought. Haha.
Midori: When did you start understanding about race?
R: I don’t know. I don’t remember, but for sure I was not aware of the racial differences at least for the first few years in Portland…I came to Portland when I was 10 and turned 11 soon, so maybe until 13 or 14?
Midori: I also remember one incident with your Japanese friend, Karen, at preschool. You two played and talked in Japanese in school, and she was the only one who understood Japanese.
But her mother didn’t like Karen speaking Japanese to you because they spoke Japanese at home and Karen’s English was not so good. So they wanted Karen to practice English at pre-school so that she would be ready for Kindergarten afterward.
One day, her mother made her speak only English in preschool, even to you. And you were so disappointed. Do you remember that?
R: Yes, I do. And I chose playing in Japanese over her. I wanted to speak in Japanese. So I didn’t talk much to her after that.
Midori: How did you feel? What were your thoughts on the process?
RY: What’s the problem with talking in Japanese? I didn’t understand. But she was so determined, saying ‘I can’t play with you unless you speak in English.’ And I was like, ‘Well, I don’t want to speak in English.’ So I decided not to play with anyone.
Midori: Back then, did you hesitate speaking in English, even though you sort of understood?
R: I didn’t hesitate. I just felt more comfortable speaking Japanese since I spoke Japanese at home and everywhere.
I mean, English was not a problem. Little me just wanted to play while speaking Japanese. I thought if she really wanted to play and be friends with me, she would have, but she decided to do as her mother told her to. That upset me.
Midori: Yeah, her mom was very worried that she would not understand any English when she went to school after.
R: I know. But like, she had every right to not do that and speak Japanese with me. She could’ve spoken in English to others, and in Japanese with me. But she didn’t do that and decided to obey her mother. That upset me very much.
Midori: I see… For you, it might have felt a bit like heartbreak, huh?
Anyway, I’m really surprised that at just five years old, you already had this sense of rights—like, ‘Everyone has their own thoughts and feelings, but you have the right to make your own choices.’
R.Y. (she/her) is the teenage daughter and only child of Midori Yamanaka, the author of this book. Born in Southern California, she grew up between Hokkaido, Japan, and Portland, Oregon. She has a keen interest in cultural and linguistic differences, diverse perspectives, and mathematics.
Midori Yamanaka is a Japanese Social Practice Artist and Educator whose work explores what happens in between—between people, cultures, languages, and ways of knowing. Born and raised in a coastal town along the Sea of Okhotsk in northern Japan, she brings a deep sensitivity to layered histories and micro cultures that quietly shape everyday life. She holds a BFA in Graphic Design from Art Center College of Design and is currently completing her MFA in Contemporary Art and Social Practice at Portland State University, with graduation expected in Spring 2025.