Here in Japan, we hear the word diversity a lot these days.
Does it mean being a man, a woman, neither, or simply not wanting to say? Having a physical disability, struggling with mental health, being white, being Black… Is that what we mean by diversity?
Is diversity something we can see at a glance—something that immediately tells us, “Oh, this person is different”?
But then there are differences we only begin to notice after spending some time with someone.
“He gets irritated pretty easily.”
“She’s incredibly thoughtful.”
Surely, those little traits are part of human diversity, too.
TV shows and websites seem eager to teach us about diversity by giving us example after example. But sometimes I wonder if what we are actually learning is simply a list of differences, along with an unspoken rule: Don’t judge them as better or worse.
Perhaps “diversity literacy” is something a little different.
Maybe it is the ability to notice for ourselves just how wonderfully varied human beings really are.
And perhaps that is something we learn naturally by meeting all sorts of people from an early age—not only our parents and siblings, but grandparents and relatives, people at school and around the neighborhood, our parents’ friends and coworkers, people we meet through lessons and activities, friends we make in different places, their brothers and sisters…
Meeting people, spending time with them, talking with them.
Maybe it is through all those genuinely diverse situations, encounters, and little events that we gradually develop a feel for what human diversity actually is.
“Throw away your books, rally in the streets” is a famous line by the Japanese writer Shūji Terayama.
So what should we throw away?
And where should we go?
