In her 1991 book, Prohibited Desires: Mothers, Comics, and Censorship in Japan and article "Japanese Mothers and Obentōs: The Lunch-Box as Ideological State Apparatus," Ann Allison argues that the obentō is an "ideological state apparatus" (pg. 195) that is a channel for motherhood, education, and the state. In other words, the practice of assembling and gifting obentō to students serves as a symbol of the authority the state holds over schools in Japanese society. In doing so, Allison argues that mothers, who are the producers of the obentō, and the children, who are the consumers, are both under heavy scrutiny by the institutions surrounding them. Therefore their roles in society are continuously established through the ideological and gendered meanings embedded within the culture of obentō. Allison contends that food codes as a "cultural and aesthetic apparatus" (pg. 195) in Japan and obento culture (the subject of her analysis) produces and reproduces the constraints of sexism, 'unique' to Japanese society. Although Allison argues that this level of state manipulation is "neither total nor totally coercive" (pg. 195), Allison ultimately finds solace in the idea of diaspora cultural disconnect from the culture of obentō:
"[Referring to her friend] Today she is an exceptionally independent woman who has created a life for herself in America, away from homeland and parents, almost entirely on her own. She loves Japanese food, but the plain obentos her mother made for her as a child, she is newly appreciative of now, as an adult. The obentōs fed her, but did not keep her culturally or ideologically attached. For this, Sawa says today, she is glad" (206).
As a member of a diaspora community myself, not necessarily Japanese, I find Allison's analysis deeply problematic because I understand cultural connection as a pursuit rather than a hindrance. Therefore, through this creative assignment, we aim to problematize her glorification of cultural disconnection and methodology, as well as understand two primary questions: 1) What can the process of obentō-making afford those who make and receive obentō boxes? and 2) In obentō-crafting, where is there room for subverting the pervading societal constraints?
I will work to answer the proposed questions through creating a kyaraben with Kai Magee '21 and conduct an interview on affordance and negotiation in relation to obentō culture. Rather than speaking over Japanese people like Allison, as she only uses those in her vicinity to cherry-pick data and prove her pre-determined conclusions, I hope to highlight my friend's voice and his intimate experiences with obentō, as well as highlight the ways that obentō can, perhaps, also be subversive to the state and capitalism.
Why Kyaraben?
Kyaraben or charaben (キャラ弁) are boxed lunches (obentō) Japanese mothers (guardians broadly) often make for their nursery school children. Kyaraben specifically are meant to include character representations and are often considered more elaborate among obentō types. While conversing with Kai, he mentioned that he primarily received less elaborate boxes from his mother growing up, so creating a character bento that we both would have loved to have for our school lunches for a fictional child became our primary assignment. In addition, kyaraben, among other flashy bento, are the primary subjects of Allison's critique, so to hold this tension, I decided on kyaraben.
The Process
Below, I have include a video of me and Kai, preparing a kyaraben together in the image of Winnie the Pooh and Piglet. We gave ourselves the prompt to cook as if it is a field trip or another kind of special occasion for the child. For us, this prompt meant a lot of side-dishes, and a character theme that we both would have enjoyed receiving as children (i.e., Winnie the Pooh).
Watch the video below to witness the planning process and results:
Transcript of an Interview with a Dear Friend
"It's just a lunchbox!" ― Kai, when I told him about Ann Allison's article,"Japanese Mothers and Obentōs: The Lunch-Box as Ideological State Apparatus," in casual conversation
Below, I have transcribed an interview conducted with my friend, Kai Magee '21, from Tokyo, Japan. Kai is a mixed race student who moved to the United States when he was 18 and went to an international school for high school. In this interview, he will be reflecting on ideas of affordance in relation to obentō culture and his experience growing up in Japan.
Me: Please introduce yourself with your name, class year, and anything else.
Kai: My name is Kai Magee, I’m from the class of 21, my pronouns are he/him, and I was born in the states, but I grew up in Tokyo, Japan.
Me: What was it like for you receiving obentō growing up? What were they like?
Kai: Um, so, let’s see, so my mother was very health conscious, so all of my obentōs were just usually rice-based, had a whole lot of okazu (side dishes). And I received obentō from her through elementary, middle, and most of high school, I think.
I remember in elementary school, so we’ve talked about this already, but like... Yeah, I mean, so my obentō were not always particularly flashy or cute or anything like that. It was really just like healthy good food, which again, I appreciate now, but at the time, you know, I was a bit jealous of the American kids who had like sandwiches for lunch because like that seemed like the cool thing to have, because I went to an international school, that’s important to mention. What else? Also, my mother would definitely under-season her food, just in general, because again, apparently bland food is healthier or something.
Me: Given that we just spent a few hours preparing this decorative bento, what does the act of preparing a bento afford you in the present, as someone who currently lives in the United States?
Kai: The only reason it took so many hours is because *laughs* because we were creating all of our side-dishes from scratch. Um, you know, normally it would be like leftovers from last night, or you know, if I was just cooking for myself, then maybe I’d have two side-dishes instead of like 1, 2, 3, 4 , 5, like 6. And especially not time-consuming ones like ebi fry (fried shrimp) or yeah.
So I mean, we made our character bento box in the lunch box that I usually put my lunch in when I go to work, so like I don’t know. It’s fun seeing it so cute.
Me: In her paper, Anne Allison celebrates her friend’s denoted “idealogical and cultural” detachment from Japanese society, what do you think about cultural detachment as a member of the diaspora?
Kai: Remind me, does diaspora mean of the country and culture, or just like racial?
Me: Country and culture.
Kai: Good, just checking. I mean, you ask me as if I read the paper, but I haven’t *laughs*.
Me: No worries. Just any kind of detachment.
Kai: Um, you know, every year that passes, I see more examples of the ways that the way that I grew up and the way my peers grew up in America are incredibly different and that exhibits itself in peoples priorities in their life, how they view themselves in relation to their friends or their career, or stuff like that. And it took me time to figure out where my cultural upbringing might’ve failed me or hurt me for living in American society, but also realize where it gives me strength. And of course, there’s like plenty of interpersonal societal type things that fall under that umbrella, but since we’re talking about food, food is definitely one of my strengths, I think. Japanese food tends to be healthier than a lot of food in the states. There is a reason like life spans are so long in Japan, but also the care that I put into the food that I make for myself and other people may or may not be entirely cultural, but definitely comes from the way that my mother exhibited her love for her family, I think. Japan’s not really like a touchy feely sort of place, so it’s the practical things like making for that is good and healthy that are the ways that we show love. That wasn’t what I necessarily needed as a kid I had a hard time understanding that, but it's [(food is)] one of the ways that I show myself self-care.
Me: Thank you.
Reflections & Ruminations
“Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” ― Audre Lorde (American writer, feminist, womanist, librarian, and civil rights activist)
While listening to Kai talk about his experiences with obentō, particularly when he said, "it's [(food is)] one of the ways that I show myself self-care" and when he said "but also the care that I put into the food that I make for myself and other people may or may not be entirely cultural, but definitely comes from the way that my mother exhibited her love for her family, I think," I considered his statements and association between obentō and care particularly provoking. As illustrated in the above quote, self-care is an act of political warfare because capitalism creates very little room for the care of another, much less care for oneself. Symbiotic care is a radical idea. These notions of care in connection to food pose a particular intervention in Allison's paper as they identify some ways in which food can maybe even be resistant in nature to the constraints of the state, and the idea that food in Japan being is an "extension of the state" (pg. 195) and state apparatus. Further, in the interview, Kai discusses care in cooking as something that is connected to his upbringing in Japan, rather than a hindrance, which is in direct opposition to what Allison claims Sawa is happy about. Kai actively remains nourished culturally and physiologically through his indulgence in Japanese cuisine.
Allison's paper is framed as a borderline Asian-exceptionalist narrative arguing that the Japanese state is particularly all-pervasive, constraining people even through food. However, she did not acknowledge the ways that these constraints are consistent transnationally (lunches in the United States are not isolated from local politic as well), nor does she recognize the ways that food can be equally intimate and subversive.
Lastly, as an aside, although I am not Japanese, nor part of that diaspora, sharing this experience and cooking with a dear friend and consuming with my family afforded me a kind of closeness that is often unachievable through language. The act of nourishing and sustaining another is so intimate and powerful, regardless of the vehicle through which one does it, obentō or otherwise.