Let's Steal from Japan
As I sit at my keyboard, throat tickling, nose running, ears feeling as though stuffed with cotton, I think about one of my favorite countries in the world—Japan.
I've only been to Japan once but my visit left an indelible mark. My 18-year-old self left convinced that the country has most things figured out. From their obsession with green tea to their kindness, transit systems to homelessness, to manufacturing some of my favorite products, they're certainly something.
It wasn't until 2020 that I wondered and hoped that one of their cultural practices would finally stick in the US—the mask.
Though most don't look twice at someone wearing a surgical face mask in the grocery store these days, such an accessory in, say, 2018, would have had you the subject of severe uneasiness among all shoppers in the US. This definitely would not have been the case in 2018 Japan. No, such a sight may even be appreciated. And the country's history with masks goes back over 150 years.
Some of the earliest use of face masks in Japan were the "fukumen," or "lucky masks" worn by Iwami Ginzan silver miners in the 1870s. Mask use continued and then exploded in popularity following massive flu epidemics in 1918 and 1934. Mask-wearing in public for those in close proximity just became a part of Japanese culture.
Cool history, yeah, but that's not really the aspect of Japan's use of the face mask that struck me the first time I experienced it on a crowded Tokyo train. It was explained to me that, rather than wearing masks to protect themselves from sickness, many Japanese people will don a mask when they're feeling sick to protect others.
When this reason for wearing the mask is considered, this flips the entire attitude of mask-wearing from "get away from me, sicko" to "I'm wearing this because, even though we're strangers, I care about you."
But as covid numbers have dropped and most people no longer fear the disease as they did in 2020, mask-wearing has fallen off. And oddly enough, I think that's too bad.
Can we steal from Japan and make wearing a mask something we do if we're feeling sick?
Can we look at someone wearing a mask in the store and instead of thinking, "wow, that guy is paranoid," think "thanks for thinking about me"?
I don't know about you but I still buy and use masks—not all the time, but when I feel a throat tickle or a sniffle is in the cards for the day.
"But the war is over, Buddy. You can take your mask off."
Well, that war may be largely over but the battle for anonymous compassion is neverending.