I sound like what in Japanese?

Harold F. Schiffman haroldfs at ccat.sas.upenn.edu
Thu Nov 15 20:14:48 UTC 2007


from the September 17, 2007 edition of the Christian Science Monitor

http://www.csmonitor.com/2007/0917/p19s01-hfes.html

I sound like what in Japanese? In Japan, women and men speak different
versions of the language. How's a guy to learn the difference?

By Matthew Rusling

Wherever you go, men and women tend to speak differently. But in Japan,
those differences are more pronounced than in many places. Among the
multilayered rules of grammar and usage governing spoken Japanese, there
also exist underlying concepts of "men's Japanese" and "women's Japanese."
By the end of my 2-1/2-year stay there, I had unwittingly become
conversant in the latter form.

Like many Western men who spend more than a year in Japan, I learned most
of my intonation, expressions, and slang  the things not taught in the
classroom  by mimicking a Japanese girlfriend.

I thought my Japanese was fine, while in reality the effeminate, almost
childish twang I had been learning made me sound very much like a
20-something, pink miniskirted Japanese woman.

Grammar and syntax aside, Japanese men generally speak in shortened huffs,
while women tend to speak in artificially high octaves, elongating their
word endings in an almost coquettish attempt to flatter the listener.

I didn't realize this at the time, though, because my contact with
Japanese men was fleeting.

So I would make constant mental notes on my girlfriend's pronunciation,
grammar, and usage, as well as insist that she never utter a word of
English in my presence. I even kept a notebook in my pocket so I could
write down any new words I learned on a given day. Then I'd study it in
the evening.

Japanese acquaintances, eager to compliment anyone who can say a few words
in their language, would constantly say "Josu dane!" or "Your Japanese is
really good!"

With this frequent flattery, which the Japanese, especially the women,
have mastered, my ego eventually became airborne. But what I didn't know
was that people around me were actually laughing. Not maliciously, but
sort of as if I were a gaijin peto, or foreign pet.

I wasn't alone. I had friends who sounded like average American guys in
English but whose voices, once they broke into Japanese, took on the girly
tones of the high-heeled Asian fashionistas they were dating.

Most of these guys were in an English-speaking environment all day at
teaching institutes that employed mainly foreigners. After work, they
would go home to their Japanese wives or meet their Japanese girlfriends,
and therefore had little contact with Japanese men.

Because the Japanese tend to avoid any form of confrontation, my
girlfriend would never correct me. That is, until one day in an ice-cream
shop when she couldn't take it anymore. She snapped, "Don't say it that
way  you sound like a girl!" referring to my choice of words to describe
the ice cream we were sharing.

I didn't mind being corrected on my pronunciation. But I was disappointed
to learn that for the past 2-1/2 years, I had not been speaking good
Japanese.

Suddenly, she fired off a list of the mistakes I had apparently made
umpteen times. She said her friends had often snickered when I referred to
myself in the third person, as many Japanese women and girls do, and when
they heard me end sentences with the particle "wa," which is usually used
by women to soften the tone of a sentence. Most of all, she said, I needed
to take the pitch of my voice down several notches from the tone I had
learned.

The solution, of course, was to hang out with more Japanese guys. But for
me, a freelance journalist with a part-time job and daily Japanese classes
to attend, I had little time for new friends.

Besides, Japanese men, unlike their friendly female counterparts, are
often inaccessible. They generally work 12 hours at a stretch and
afterward go out in tight-knit, impenetrable groups. My girlfriend once
tried to recruit a few male coworkers to teach me better Japanese but had
little success. They were either too busy or just too exhausted.

No help came from my teachers  they were all women and were hesitant to
correct me anyway. There were no Japanese men working at my baito, or
part-time job, either. And textbooks do not often clarify the difference
between men's and women's vocabulary. Some teach a few things, but most do
not get into the finer points or advanced terminology used separately by
men and women.

So I started the painstaking task of dissecting my own style of speaking,
asking teachers, my home-stay parents, pretty much everyone, whether
such-and-such was proper for men to say. It got to the point where I
couldn't finish a sentence. I would stop in the middle and ask, "Tadashi
desuka?" ("Is that correct?")

Some people would be honest, but many weren't, telling me my Japanese was
fine. I asked some people point blank if my Japanese was joseiteki, or
girlish. Some giggled knowingly, but no one would come out and say it.

My ego had been artificially inflated over my skill in speaking Japanese
and then  pop!  the bubble burst.

Since then, I've made some adjustments, but an honest Japanese friend
recently told me that my Japanese is still chotto kirei, or "a little
pretty."

Not what I wanted to hear, but shoganai  it can't be helped. That's all
right. I guess at this point I've gotten used to it.
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