SNA (Yokohama) — You know all those workers, students, and researchers stuck outside of Japan since March 2020? Well, I’m not one of those people.

I’m a tenured, mid-career professor at a Canadian research university and a Japan Foundation recipient who received a visa to enter the country at the end of October on an exceptional circumstance.

By any account, I’m privileged. I’m “lucky.” Here’s the thing: I shouldn’t have to be lucky.

I’ve spent my entire career studying Japanese literature and therefore acting as a cultural ambassador for Japan overseas. I do good, internationally recognized work. I am valuable to Japan and therefore perfectly justified in expecting to spend ten months in Japan to do my research once every seven years when I have my sabbatical.

You know who else is valuable? The keen undergraduate student who is passionate about studying Japanese language. The underfunded graduate student who needs to do fieldwork in Japan to complete their dissertation.

Also: my kids. They love Japan. They’ve been here before, seven years ago, during my last sabbatical. Both of my elder sons enjoyed their last stay so much that they’re both starting to study Japanese. My eight-year-old can’t wait to go to the capybara cafe with me and his brothers and is practicing his hiragana. These three are also valuable to Japan, because they and others of their generation hold the future of Japan’s international reputation in their hands.

So who would want to push them away?

Well, that’s exactly what the Ministry of Foreign Affairs has done.

First, none of us could go to Japan in August. Then, only I was allowed in at the end of October on an exceptional exemption. My children were somehow regarded as extraneous impositions on Japan and apparently didn’t need to be with their mother.

Then, three weeks ago, while I was still in quarantine at the airport hotel in Narita, the Japan Foundation managed to negotiate with the ministry for a December 23 arrival for them. While this was still not what we had hoped for, at least it meant that both my younger sons could finish out the semester at home, and then start a fresh semester at their new school in January.

This week all of that has fallen through. Again. And we’re now being told that they can perhaps come in February. Or not. This constant state of limbo is extremely stressful, unsustainable, and damaging to their well-being and mine.

I am a researcher, but I am also a mother and a human being. My sons are not just valuable to Japan. They are also valuable to me; that is why they should be able to come.

All those students are not just valuable to Japan. Their study and development as human beings is valuable to them; that is why they should be able to come.

The Japanese government tried to ban its own citizens from traveling this week, and the outrage caused a reversal of policy within a matter of hours. The policy even states that (Japanese) children should not be separated from their families; and that there should be exemptions for this purpose.

But the rest of us don’t matter? My children don’t matter? Why not?

They are vaccinated. They will be tested before and after their flight. They will quarantine for fourteen days. What risk do they pose?

These are all rhetorical questions. The Japanese government is separating my children from me for no good reason, and I maintain that this is a violation of our human rights.

My message to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs is this: your policies are politically motivated rather than based on actual public health concerns. Furthermore, they are not designed with actual people in mind and therefore hurt all of us, Japanese and non-Japanese alike.

Give me my children back. Let the students in. Do the right thing, and Japan might stay valuable in the eyes of the world.

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