What does food insecurity "look" like in Tokyo?

It looks like the threadbare clothing of an exhausted homeless individual - but also the crisp white button-down shirt of a clean-shaven salary worker.

It looks like anxious single parents with their energetic, talkative, and curious children - who act as if they are patrons of any other grocery store in the world - in tow.

It looks like one patron talking about how they're eager to cook up the vegetables they just got, and the next patron telling us, "I don't have running water this month, so you can give my rice to someone who'll be able to eat it."

It looks like people who speak Japanese, people who don't, and people who are fluent in a number of languages.

It is comprised of people who bow at you as they leave with their bags full of food; people who apologize profusely for simply taking what they need to survive; people who avoid eye contact at all costs; people who stay for half an hour just to chat; and people who scream at you in the throes of an untreated mental illness.

It looks like some bodies weighing in at 95 pounds and others weighing in at 300.

It looks like patrons choosing food based on their personal tastes.

It looks like the student looking for a job, and the pensioner who needs just a bit more help to get by.

It looks like refugees, immigrants, and ethnic Japanese people.

It looks like the desperation of someone saying, "why does everything here expire tomorrow?" and the guarded optimism of another asking, "will this keep for a long time if I can find a way to freeze it?"

It looks like patrons bringing their suitcases to fill up with groceries, and others asking for paper bags each time they stop by because they don't have any other way to carry or store their food.

It looks like people amazed by the amount of food we let them take, and people who are disappointed because they can't grab just one more bag of carrots.

It looks like people who have no idea what to do with bread, and people who stockpile it.

Economic desperation is not always visibly distinguishable. We might think we can tell who can afford to fill their stomachs each day and who can't, but food insecurity is not a one-size-fits-all mode of existence. This sounds intuitive, but we all have biases; what kind of person do we usually picture frequenting a food bank? Probably not someone who wears clothes fit for a corporate environment, who is overweight, and/or who speaks multiple languages - but they're out there, and I think that's vital to acknowledge.

Everyone I have run into at 2HJ handles their circumstances a bit differently, and I am reminded of sociologist Dorothy Smith's discussion of the "masquerade of universality" - a criticism of the idea that all individuals (within and across various demographics) carry the same life experiences and perspectives. In this vein, I hope my illustration above somewhat complicates the "universality" of the needy population(s) in Tokyo. For instance, I would venture to say that 2HJ's ethnic/native Japanese patrons are often brought to the pantry under very different circumstances than those from refugee or immigrant backgrounds. Religious observers may need some extra help figuring out which products have animal stock in them, while their nonreligious counterparts aren't as worried about what kind of ready-made rice ends up in their baskets. People without water or electricity at home may feel a certain sense of shame or self-consciousness in opting for ready-made foods at the expense of meat and fresh vegetables. Those with mental disabilities and physical handicaps often need a little extra time gathering their items and finding their way back home.

There is no one "poor experience" in Tokyo, just as there is no one "poor experience" anywhere; there are as many stories as there are people trying to make it through each day without getting debilitatingly hungry. People stick to their convictions and are shaped by their experiences - even in situations you and I may read as desperate and therefore necessitating flexibility. I don't think they should have to compromise these things just because they are struggling financially, and I am glad that Second Harvest works to meet patrons' needs and desires when possible.

I know my own biases and first impressions certainly shaped my expectations of what it would be like to work for a Japanese food bank; hopefully everything above provides some insight into how complicated and diverse the world of poverty is - even in a country known for its perceived homogeneity.

As always, thank you for reading; see you next time / jaamatane!

(For pictures/videos from the past week, please follow this link: https://photos.app.goo.gl/1kWzwYaGcEU1n9sS7 )