Being Zainichi 在 日

The complexity of the patient-analyst dyad increases when the two have different cultural backgrounds. I am an analyst-in-training who has worked and lived in many contexts, in Japan and the UK. In Japan, I have lived as a third-generation Zainichi Korean. Zainichi refers to Korean immigrants or their descendants (in Japanese, 在zai means “present” and 日nichi means “Japan”). Japan adopts jus sanguinis: Nationality and citizenship are determined by one's parental heritage, not the country of birth (jus soli). In addition, one cannot hold dual citizenship. After Japan colonised Korea in 1910, Koreans were forced to become Japanese. Of approximately 2 million Koreans who moved to Japan, roughly 40% were forced migrants. After World War II, 30% remained, and many became temporarily stateless under chaos(1,2). Zainichi Koreans suffered severe discrimination in Japan, having a complicated history, while in Korea, they were considered as traitors called

kyoppo, which has a negative connotation. Zainichi Koreans have no country to belong to, and I have always felt like I live in an in-between place.

Here is an example of how my identity became unsettling from the first day of my psychotherapy training in Japan. My patient was an intelligent, professional woman who was unaware of my background because I had adopted a Japanese name after my marriage. I began to feel terrified as she repeatedly blamed the Zainichi Koreans in a firm tone. “Filthy” and “cheater” were the words she used. I took a leave during her treatment for a personal reason, but looking back, I wondered if this was my acting out to escape from her.

Shortly after that, I had another patient criticising her daughter-in-law, saying she hated the seaweed her daughter-in-law used because it was Korean, not Japanese, and the intense odour of sesame oil disgusted her. Neither of my patients knew my background, but I felt attacked. I did not know how to handle the countertransference I had about the sudden negative