Professor Slater is an Anthropology Professor at Sophia University in the Faculty of Liberal Arts. The first week of orientation he introduced us to the many wonderful things that accompany taking courses at a new university halfway across the world from wherever we call home. He also keyed us into his own research, and I knew then that even if I did not take his class, I would undoubtedly enjoy speaking to him about all things anthropology. Teaching an Anthropology of Japan course at a Japanese University in English was an option as a future educator I hadn’t thought was possible, so Professor Slater was essentially living my dream. After some emails back and forth, I eventually just ended up sitting in on his class due to having multiple friends enrolled. After the lecture, we made plans for our casual interview which was completed just yesterday.
The more professors I speak to, the more I understand that many people seem to fall into this profession rather than strive for it. As an undergraduate at Vassar, Slater notes how he unceremoniously wandered into an anthropology class and, as he states, became immediately hooked. Post-grad his life consisted of much travel with an eventual end in Tokyo. At Vassar he had taken a Japanese culture class here and there, but the Tokyo before him was nothing like he had ever read about before. At this point in the interview, I was confused about how this journey would end in the collection of multiple degrees and a coveted position at a Japanese university. But even if Slater’s trajectory in undergrad mimicked many who would never imagine becoming a professor, the reason why he returned to higher education was almost textbook. After working as a basketball coach and in a few high schools, he was spending his downtime at his current job at a jazz bar by transcribing some of the various things he noted about life in Japan. As Slater expertly puts it, when things differ from their representation, something must be happening, and he felt the urge to document these somethings. At this time, a friend of his called his writing fieldnotes, and Slater was struck with the realization that anthropology had become an integral part of his life that he couldn’t possibly get away from.
The University of Chicago allowed him to carry out fieldwork in Tokyo, a place he was certain was for him. While working on his dissertation, a position at Sophia was open, and he soon began instructing students on campus. A year before officially retiring, Slater’s anthropological work has mostly been confined to the realm of displaced populations within Japan. When discussing the act of carrying out fieldwork in Japan, Slater made it very clear that two aspects of life were of the utmost importance – language skills and institutional affiliation. Both of these ideas relate to a major part of life in Japan for foreigners, having a set position in society. Most of our conversation hovered around how to find balance while living in Japan. Slater talked much about the privilege given to foreigners in that they have a big space to make their own life within. Foreign people can be labeled as weird and dangerous, but also as good influences with certain instilled abilities that can be used to their advantage. During this convo, we exchanged stories of uncomfortable moments and wonderful experiences due to our foreignness. At the mention of the difference in our social position as a mixed foreign woman and a white foreign male, Slater made sure to emphasize the importance of a niche spot. Many positives can come with being an outsider, and as an inside/outsider to society, finding the balance that fits best for each person will undoubtedly lead to a much happier life in Japan. This in-between space was continually referred to as “liminal” during our talk.
As someone who often considers myself liminal, this outlook was extremely eye opening. I had never thought to apply this anthropological concept to my own way of navigating my way around while in Japan. Slater went on to say that in his experience it is often the people that are the most “liminal” that make the best ethnographers. They are used to seeing things from both sides allowing them to notice everything around them to the highest degree. Of course, this made my own love of anthropology even more concrete. I was grateful for this new way of seeing my positionality in Japan and beyond, and I appreciated Slater’s straightforward way of addressing life in general. Speaking as an anthropology student to an anthropologist, I often felt like there was a common ground between us that did not need to be addressed during our conversation. There was no awkwardness in speaking bluntly about our experiences in Japan, and there was much mutual understanding about what it is like to live with anthropological knowledge bouncing around our heads everyday. Despite the use of textbook vocab and questions on thesising, there was a lightweight feel to everything we spoke about.
From professoring at various universities in America and at Sophia, Slater reiterated the value of liminality. Due to the nature of teaching his courses in English, many of the students he encounters are of diverse racial and ethnic backgrounds. This of course gives him much experience working with students who feel they do not fit in exactly the way that they believe they should. But, the liminality of students is not the only common thread Slater can trace between America and Japan. He greatly emphasizes the engagement of the students, how they often work hard to learn more, and the way everyone at this age is essentially working towards the same goal — understanding who we are.
After our interview I went straight to dinner with a friend, but my mind couldn’t help but stick to the words “liminal” and “niche spot” bounding around my head. Even now as I walk around Tokyo or ride the train back to my homestay I try to imagine the box others place me into. But, most importantly, everyday as I choose what I will wear or how I will style my hair, I try to do it in a way that signifies my own niche spot.