Leaning into the Japanese “No”

It is hard to hear no. But in Japanese, at least at first, it is even harder to say it. Yes and no are two of the first words I wanted to learn when I went to Japan. I remember clearly asking my friends how to say these words. They quickly taught me “hai” for yes. That was easy. But when it came to no, they hesitated to give a translation. They wanted to know the context in which I would be saying it. I learned that “no” is too strong a word for most conversations and using it makes people uncomfortable. To avoid using it, speakers do conversational gymnastics, using things like negative questions, special hand gestures, and a wide range of expressions instead.

While living in Japan I became somewhat adept at interpreting a “no.” Fanning your lips like you just ate a hot Cheeto is a polite refusal. A hand behind the head is also a polite refusal but also an indication of embarrassment. Phrases such as “It is difficult” or “I will think about it” are hard no’s. Many times someone will just change the topic or shy away from talking about something. Those are also tactics for refusals.

There are a variety of ways to say “no” depending on the context of the conversation and the relationship. It isn’t that Japanese people don’t say “no” but that they have actually a highly refined and stylized system of codes that everyone understands so that they can communicate hard things clearly while saving face and keeping the peace.

I now live in the United States. We rugged cowboys and loud individuals have no problem saying and hearing “no,” right? Wrong. It is considered rude to say “no” here as well. Only we do not have a system of communication in place to keep harmony. Instead, we just say “yes” and are either overextended or flakey.

We ghost one another to avoid refusals. We lie about how busy we are to decline invitations. When we do say “no,” we feel obligated to apologize or try to make the person feel better. These methods are effective but they often leave a wake of misunderstandings and hurt feelings. Rather than risking those things, we stop putting ourselves out there. We ask fewer questions, make fewer invitations, request less help. It is pretty isolating. I find myself missing Japan and that system of codes that, yes, was so hard to learn, but that made saying “no” so easy.

As a writer, I struggle with rejection. I remember back in the snail mail days I would get a letter from a publication even if the response was that they would not publish me. This turndown was always couched in a thank you for my submission. It was disappointing but there was always comfort in the clear communication of it.

With online submissions, the norm seems to be no response means no publication. This is more unsettling. I like it when an editor states clearly what the process is for knowing if you will be published or not, like how many days you can expect to wait to see your piece. When my writing doesn’t appear, I take it less like ghosting and more like an “I will think about it.” And framing it that way helps keep me calm. And helps me keep putting myself out there.