Don't Lock Me Into Being an "Obasan"

"I want to disappear before I turn 30."

While drinking with three other women at a dimly lit izakaya in Shinsen, a young girl I was meeting for the first time said this while tucking her hair behind her ear and laughing with a beer in her hand.

"I mean, it's just too scary to be in my late 20s. I wish I could stay 24 forever."

Hearing her say that, beyond all sorts of feelings and surprise, I thought, "Wow, things like this still happen." Five years ago, when I was the same age as her—24—the women around me also used to say similar things quite carelessly. Of course, I was no exception.

Around the time I was 25, I felt like the age of 30 was a deadline. For some reason, I was hurt by the fact that I would eventually turn 30. I was often scared, thinking that I was inching closer and closer to the end of this incredibly cute and spoiled life of mine.

I no longer know when I became so afraid of getting older. But I remember that while I was being bombarded with words like "If you don't get married by 30, you won't get any matches on dating apps," "It takes courage to date a woman in her late 20s," "She's become an old hag and deteriorated," "Age-appropriate," or "Obasan" (middle-aged woman)—even if they weren't directed at me—I realized before I knew it that I couldn't imagine myself shining brightly after 30.

At the very least, I had to get my hands on the "happiness" that everyone else thinks of. I had to create facts that would serve as an excuse that "I am a happy person." I had to get married, have children, and become a full-fledged adult. I once wrote a note just to vent my anxiety while clutching my head over that kind of impatience.

Thinking about it now, I think I was just terrified of being exposed to the world's gaze of what a "30-year-old '(that we approve of) normal' adult" should be.

I started to say to the 25-year-old, "I get it, I had a time like that too," but then I remembered that when I was 25, the thing I hated most was being told that by someone older. Words are almost never truly conveyed. I pushed the words I was about to say back down my throat with a highball.

I turned 30 this year.

Being an adult is fun

My last lunch with a friend as a 29-year-old was planned as eating steak from noon in Ebisu with a female friend I hadn't seen in seven years. It was a famous restaurant that made headlines for landing in Japan. As soon as we met, she gave me a gift from the product line she manages. It's a brand I love. As the two of us stuffed our faces with meat, we talked about how "being an adult is great."

In my case, I have no plans for marriage and no children, and the TBD (the life path that hasn't been decided yet) that I wrote about in my previous note hasn't been decided either, but now that I'm 29, this age is comfortable in its own way.

Looking back, the 20s I described earlier felt like I was unconditionally holding an hourglass-shaped asset that was excessively promoted as "limited time only," called "youth." I was so afraid of all the sand running out that I made mistakes a few times. Because this hourglass was so beautiful, the people around me would be sad that it was coming to an end. Since there were people who would look only at the hourglass and say, "You have value," I would sometimes get anxious, wondering, "What will happen to me when this hourglass is gone?"

But that day, we talked about how "it's a relief that we're no longer expected to behave like 'young girls'." Life continues even after the hourglass runs out. Only when it's about to end do you realize that the rush was painful. You realize that you are still you even without the hourglass.

Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, the changing values of the times, or perhaps because I became a freelancer and mostly only meet people I feel comfortable with, the opportunities to be "interfered with by others" have decreased significantly. Then, before I knew it, getting older wasn't as scary as it used to be.

The fact that I've been able to discover my weaknesses, strengths, and things I like while aging is likely one of the reasons why the fear of being expected to be a "normal adult" has faded. Having gone through uncomfortable nights, gloomy holidays, and days of regretting failures, I think I've gradually come to understand what a comfortable daily life is for me, and I've become able to have a will of my own that isn't defeated by the gaze of others. Now, no matter what people around me say, I can think, "Well, I like my daily life, so this is fine."

Come to think of it, the other day, for the first time in a while, someone said to my face, "Women have to have children by their 20s." While thinking, "You know how old I am, right?" I was able to calmly look at her and think, "Is she trying to hurt me? What a difficult person," and I think that's not because I'm used to such words, but because I've grown enough as someone who understands myself to clearly realize that "me" and "you" are different people.

One of my favorite movies is "Advanced Style." It's a wonderful project that includes a photo book and an Instagram account, and it introduces snapshots of people over 60 in NY who enjoy their own unique "style" of fashion.

In the photo book, the words of one of the models, Linda, are introduced.

The reason we move our bodies for someone else when we are young is likely because we don't know ourselves very well, nor can we trust ourselves.

I, too, have read many books, talked to many people, explored things I found interesting, and sometimes failed, and I feel like I have finally begun to understand what it means to live "for myself." I feel like I am finally starting to trust myself—to understand what I like, to choose what I need, and to know that even if I can't choose, I'll manage somehow. I often think lately that I have finally become a beginner in my own life. That might be embarrassing, but it's fun, so it's fine.

Lately, I have been obsessed with exploring these "things for myself." Because I am a follower of trends, I have only ever looked at the flow of the times, but there are many things in this world waiting to look beautiful in my eyes.

"Adult women" trapped by the word "Obasan"

That said, I also think it is a bit sad that young girls are "so scared of getting older that they want to disappear."

I think the reason for this is the idea that once your life as a "young woman" ends, you are trapped in the category of "Obasan" (middle-aged woman). Singer Maki Nomiya spoke for this sentiment.

I was in Canada until last month, and when I was talking to a woman in her 50s about love, she said, "I was having dinner with a friend the other day, and she asked, 'Are you still seeing that boyfriend of yours? You're trying to steal my guy, aren't you?'" I was so surprised I couldn't say anything. Without realizing it, I had assumed that romance was only for the young. And I felt a little envious. I'm not a fan of romantic drama or games, but a life with someone you "love" is fun, and a world where there is no age limit on "romance" is a rich one.

Another time, in a restroom, there was an elderly woman wearing bright red lipstick. As I stared at her, she winked and said, "Cute, right?" Her fingertips had matching red polish, and she wore colorful rings on her fingers. As I watched her walk away with a flourish, I simply thought, "It probably wouldn't suit my smooth fingers yet." I want to become a woman who can pull off that kind of jewelry soon, once my fingers get a bit thinner. There are actually many things around us that are not "at their most beautiful right now."

During my trip, a bus driver (probably around 40) was giving his greeting on the bus before departure. A guy around 20 was standing right next to him, looking like an instructor, checking something. The driver was incredibly charming as he gave his greeting with enthusiasm and humor, sweating as he took on new challenges. I suddenly thought, "Why was I so afraid of being a 'newbie' when I became an adult?"

Sayaka Kobayashi, the real-life "Biri Gal" who is in NY, also talks about this on Voicy: overseas, age doesn't matter. Nobody cares about age. They don't even ask your age in job interviews.

I had thought somewhere along the line that once you become an adult, once you become an "Obasan," you can't live like you do now, and you can no longer become what you want to be, but in reality, even as you get older, you can live more freely.

At any age, you can try to become anything, and you can live however you want.

A society where being an 'Obasan' is fun is a bright one

On my favorite podcast, "News Connect," they discussed: "Instead of investing in startups, if we made children's education free, wouldn't adults be able to live more freely, such as by starting businesses or changing jobs, thereby stimulating the economy?"

It's not just about the system; wouldn't the world be more vibrant if Japanese adults were freer mentally as well? Wouldn't it be better for society not to trap women into being "Obasan"? Surely, a society where "Obasan" can enjoy life is a bright one. (I say "Obasan" because I am a woman, but of course, this applies to "Ojisan" as well.)

When I see adults taking on new challenges after the age of 30, I think, "My life has been extended." This is surely because, somewhere in my heart, I killed off the "child" version of myself around the age of 30—the one who could freely choose their life.

A life where you can always make new decisions and steer in a new direction is a fun one.

That is why I want to become an "adult woman" who looks like she is having fun, even if just a little. You cannot aim for something you have never seen. I may not be able to do anything grand, but I can do it joyfully. So that young women like my younger sisters can think, "I'm looking forward to turning 30." And above all, so that I myself can think, "I'm glad I'm in my 30s."

I have finally started to understand what I like, and every day has begun to be fun. I have finally started to broaden my interests, and my life has begun to grow richer. I have finally started to have some financial leeway, and I feel like I have my life in my own hands.

Is life TBD (to be determined)? Isn't that true for your whole life? That is what makes it fun. It just means there is still room to decide things. It is okay; no matter what happens, I am sure I will be able to enjoy it.

I will no longer box myself in with the word "obasan" (middle-aged woman). From now on, I want to remain someone who can always start life anew.