# What I want to make the norm of the future: "Not deciding on a single norm" — From the life of an Izu-raised woman and her British husband

What I want to make the norm of the future is a "society where you don't have to decide on a single norm."

I have never really liked the word "norm" (atarimae).

In Japan, it is often used in conjunction with phrases like "everyone does it" or "this is just normal."
Every time I hear it, I feel a sense of suffocation, as if I am being placed on an invisible track.

It seems that 2025 will be the "100th year of Showa," counting from the first year of the Showa era.
Over these 100 years, many "norms" have been born in society.The things that have become convenient and the things that have been protected are surely countless.

But before I think about the norms of the future, I want to stop for a moment.

"In the first place, is that really a norm?"

The "pressure of the norm" I learned in the countryside of Izu

I grew up in the countryside of Izu.

The river water is clear, and if you climb the mountain a little, hot springs gush out.
It is a region where clean water comes out of the tap as a matter of course.

At school, everyone wears the same uniform, has similar hairstyles, and aims for similar career paths.
I also often heard phrases like "Because you're a girl" or "This is just what you do."

When it came to bathing, we would fill the tub with plenty of hot water,
and even when washing our bodies or hair, we would leave the shower running.For dishwashing, too, the standard for "clean" was to lather up plenty of detergent and rinse until the dishes squeaked.

Growing up in such an environment,
I adopted the sense that "water is clean and abundant" and "using it freely is normal"as a "norm" without ever questioning it.

On the other hand, I had always harbored a small sense of rebellion against the atmosphere that demanded everyone face the same direction.
Secretly in my heart,

"Really?" "Who decided that?"

I would ask.

What the "water battle" with my British husband taught me

The person I married after turning 40 is my British husband.

When we started living together, the first thing we clashed over
was not a major difference in values, religion, or politics.
It was bathing and dishwashing.

One day, after my husband came out of the bath, I looked into the tub and was surprised.
There was almost no hot water in it.He had finished his shower quickly with a water level that made me think, "Is this... a foot bath?"

It was the same with dishwashing.
After scrubbing them quickly with a sponge, he would turn on the water, and then turn off the tap in an instant.When I looked closely, there was a faint residue of detergent foam on the edges of the dishes.

"Wait a second, there's still soap on that, right?"
"Huh? I rinsed it off properly.""No, look, right here. It's still slimy."
"That much is fine. You're wasting water."

With that one phrase, "water is precious,"
my own "Izu norm" was shaken to its core.

To me, water was something "clean and abundant."
To him, water was a "resource that must be used carefully."Even though the water came from the same faucet, what we saw was completely different.

To be honest, at first I thought he was just "being stingy with water,"
and he, for his part, seemed genuinely puzzled, asking, "Doesn't it feel like a waste to just let it run like that?"

But as we lived together,

• I learned that at his family home, they were very conscious of water and utility bills.

• I learned he had memories of being scolded as a child for leaving the hose running.

• I learned that in the UK, due to sunlight and infrastructure conditions, the way they use heating and hot water is different from Japan.

Such backgrounds gradually came to light.

From that point on, it was no longer a question of "who is right."

"The Izu norm" and "the British norm" just happened to be living in the same house.
From the moment I realized that, our interactions became a little softer.

"I want to rinse the soap off properly, but I also want to be careful with water."
"Then, how about we fill a bowl with water and give it a quick rinse in that at the end?"

We mix our two norms to create a new way of doing things.
Those small experiments began to increase throughout our daily lives.

What you can see when you fall out of the norm

I grew up in the countryside of Izu feeling the "pressure of the norm,"
and as a freelance broadcast writer, I chose a way of working that isn't bound by common sense.

I also married after I turned 40, and my partner is a foreigner.
We have no children.I have strayed quite far from the "standard life course for women" often talked about in Japan.

Even when I'm working on planning,
"Viewers like this kind of thing, right?""Housewives must be living this kind of life."
I sometimes feel a sense of discomfort with these "television norms."

At such times, my starting point is usually the same.

"In the first place, is that really the norm?"

Growing up in Izu.
Gradually straying from the standard track.Living with a British husband.

All of that placed me "outside the norm."
When I look at the world from there,I cannot help but notice the people who quietly fall through the cracks of "the norm for everyone."

For every "norm" that has increased over the last 100 years,
I believe there have also been "people who fell through the cracks."For the next 100 years, rather than increasing the number of norms,
I want to gradually expand a world where "it is easy to live even if you are not the norm."

Just as the water of Izu and the water of England mix in the same kitchen,
even if each of our "normals" remains as it is,I want to make a future where we can live and laugh together my "next norm."

Thank you for reading until the end.