“For queer people, just embracing the state of being is enough to be seen”: Minsoo Bae ’20

Minsoo Bae (she/they) is an Anthropology major from Yale-NUS College’s Class of 2020. Outside of her corporate day job, she curates spaces that sit at the intersection of queerness, art and the essence of being.

Photo by Karolina Jackowska

Thank you for taking the time! Can you describe the work you do outside of your day job?

There are four main things I dabble in. The first is a queer life drawing circle, which I have been running with Farheen (they/them) for maybe 7 months. The second is making zines and selling them together at zine fairs. Third is Bussy Temple, which is a series of queer nightlife spaces run by queer creatives. And last is a personal project, where I draw on queer people and photograph them.

Zines

The queer life drawing sessions sound so interesting. Can you share more about that?

It's a bimonthly session with queer models and queer drawers. For a lot of the models, it’s their first time doing life modeling. Farheen and I would set up a practice session to get people comfortable, discuss their boundaries, and let them know what to expect. We ask them to come up with a theme and playlist if they want, so they can communicate their essence and share how they want to be seen. Some examples of themes in the past have included "soil", where we saw drawers respond by depicting the body in nature-y forms.

My favourite part is at the end when we ask people to place their favourite drawing in the middle of the room. We give people pieces of paper to write notes about what they enjoy about other's drawings. It’s such a cute time, seeing people ferociously write compliments and make connections with others over how they resonated to their art. It's also really lovely to see people meet in this space and become friends… or more…

I’ve developed so much as an artist by growing with this community and learning from other people’s styles.

Queer life drawing circle

What was the inspiration behind these initiatives, and how do you see them interacting with each other?

Bussy Temple came from a desire to give queer folks a safe space to party and present themselves however they want, especially gender-wise. I knew this was important, because personally, when I’m with my queer friends in nightlife spaces with a lot of straight men, we feel our bodies tense up. There's a fear of safety, of being respected for who we are.

Bussy Temple

For queer life drawing, we wanted to create a space where people can just be in the presence of others without necessarily talking, especially since some participants told us later that the space also filled their desire to meet queer folks in quieter, sober settings.

We want to encourage people to stretch how we see ourselves and each other, and try in different ways to capture an essence. For the queer models, we want to create a space where they can be embodied and seen for who they are, without being a spectacle. And for the drawers, a place to breathe and experiment, and to see queer kins deeply.

Farheen put it beautifully when they said: "There's a sense that we are queering life drawing - bending the boundaries of what it means to depict a body. Seeing beyond seeing. There is something really special when queer eyes see and depict queer people - I think we are all inclined to see in really beautiful ways, and this has felt like a space to celebrating queer seeing."

It feels like you’re saying there’s a way for people to be seen, that’s distinct from them expressing themselves with words. Does that not go against the thinking today that precisely because someone has been dehumanized, they should be given the chance to define themselves?

I think the desire to define ourselves comes from a place of not being understood by others. Gender does not exist in a vacuum - it’s a shared language that we use to interpret the world. That’s why queer people seek out words and definitions to explain themselves to non-queer people.

Farheen and I run some of these initiatives under an art duo called singmoolsung, which means ‘the quality of being a plant’ in Korean. The philosophy behind the duo is this - plants are not interested in self-definition, only constant self-transformation. For us, it’s a comfort with the state of being, a state that we recognize is constantly growing and in flux, that’s not dependent on language or rigid definitions.

Definition is for non-queer people. We define ourselves to non-queer people so they can understand us. Among other queers, I feel like there's no need to explain. Embracing the state of being, and all the fluidity that comes with that, is enough to be seen.

Would you describe yourself as an activist?

I can see why someone may say that because we're creating alternative spaces for queer folks. But no lah, I wouldn’t. I don’t know if these initiatives deserve that title - I’m not making systemic change, you know. I’m just letting people chill. I still feel like I know so little about how to create change at scale, especially in Singapore.

As an Anthropology major, my education gave me the tools to critique existing systems. But that showed me how easy it is be prescriptive, and not realize how an initiative could play out given the nuances of each person's lived experiences. That made me afraid of starting any large-scale programs that might lead to unintended consequences. I think about how Audrey Tang, Taiwan's Minister of Digital Affairs, talks about Taoist philosophy and how she wants to use her position to be a conduit for people. It's something I want to work up to, but I have a lot to learn.

So how would you describe the Theory of Change behind your work?

I wrote my capstone on the psychedelic trance music scene in Singapore, using the theory of politics of everyday resistance. The theory is about the political potential of a contained temporary space governed by utopian rules, outside of neoliberal logic. It's not a politics of change, but of survival.

I have my doubts because I know it sounds grandiose and even complacent. But it's something. And I hope that people take a piece of that experience with them outside of that space. I hope it gives them more comfort to inhabit new ways of being in their everyday life, something that's set up to be hostile to the core of who they are.

That’s why I decided to focus these initiatives on my everyday interpersonal relationships. My hope is that living out my values would become second nature and one day, allow me to feel comfortable moving towards systemic change.

It may not cause wholesale systemic change; it just gives us a way of surviving the cold metropolis.

And so what’s next for you all - is there a desire to scale these initiatives?

Bussy Temple will host our first international line up rave in March to celebrate our one-year anniversary. It will feature DJing and other creative forms from a few international artists.

For queer life drawing, my nightmare would be if it evolved into a 100-people event. The key is that it’s intimate, and change is slow and fluid and led mainly by the community. I have no desire to impose my version of what change looks like on others. And maybe that’s a control thing - when it’s small, I feel like we're better placed to work on any unintended harms.

But yes, Farheen and I have talked about it, and at some point, we would love to create more programmes to lower any barriers to entry for self-exploration with art. One other dream is to have a permanent queer space, maybe a cafe or bar with community initiatives.

Personally, I would love to learn more about community organizing and how I can live in a way that’s more aligned with my values. I'm curious about anarchist squats, organizing food drives and supporting mutual aid.

Before we end, are there any resources you’d like to recommend?

@genieheenie's zines - they did one on disability, among others, which you could check out at their artist page. And transformative justice zines of @faraway.olives too.

Excerpts from genieheenie’s Disability Zine

If you’d like to join or find out more about these initiatives, feel free to reach out to Minsoo on Instagram @mintskaa.

All images are provided by Minsoo.

"A migrant domestic worker, just like anyone else, should be able to get justice": Ijechi Nazirah

Ijechi Nazirah (Naz) is a former student of the Double Degree Programme in Law and Liberal Arts (DDP) at Yale-NUS College. She has a degree in Law from National University of Singapore and currently works at Justice Without Borders (JWB) as their Singapore Legal Officer.

Sylvia: Hi Naz! Can you share the work you currently lead?

Naz: JWB’s main vision is to improve cross-border access to justice for migrant domestic workers (MDWs) across the region. Currently, we're focused on MDWs from Indonesia and the Philippines, and we focus specifically also on Singapore and Hong Kong as host countries.

I'm a legal officer, and serve as a bridge between the client (migrant domestic worker) in Indonesia or the Philippines, and the lawyers. In my day to day, I do casework, which involves screening and reviewing the cases that we can refer to lawyers.

We mostly get referrals from our frontline partners, which are NGOs in Singapore and Indonesia. In Singpore, these include the Foreign Domestic Worker Association for Social Support and Training (FAST) and Humanitarian Organisation for Migration Economics (HOME). FAST runs shelters for MDWs, which are quite important because they provide shelter to MDWs who are abused by their employer. There are a substantial number of MDWs in that situation. There are other situations when an MDW is not able to stay with their employer or the employment agency, and they end up being housed in one of these shelters.

Sylvia: What kind of cases does Justice Without Borders take on?

Naz: We focus specifically on civil compensation.

To give context, local NGOs like HOME and FAST work with MDWs who are still based here, in Singapore. Once a migrant domestic worker goes home, it becomes difficult for her to access any legal recourse that she might be entitled to in Singapore. For example, if you want to file a magistrate's complaint, you have to be here in Singapore. But regardless of all sorts of complicated cross-border issues, you know, a migrant domestic worker like other people should be able to get justice wherever they are.

That’s where we come in, to work on cases to win some sort of compensation as a legal remedy, but for some of them, it's also a sense that their story is heard, that people heard what they went through.

That’s where we come in, to work on cases to win some sort of compensation as a legal remedy, but for some of them, it's also a sense that their story is heard, that people heard what they went through.

By the time we enter the situation, the migrant domestic worker has gone home. It is quite unfortunate that once the MDWs go home, legal access is not readily available. For example, a lot of them live in rural places where lawyers and any form of legal option is simply not very accessible, and often their internet signal is not very good.There are a lot of practical challenges and also, they may not have much money. Our main objective is to help them seek the justice that they're entitled to.

Sylvia: You mentioned that as the legal officer, you are the bridge between your clients, which are the domestic workers, and lawyers. Does that mean you're not directly practicing law?

Naz: That’s right, I’m not, and that's an important distinction. So when we work on a case, JWB pairs them up with a lawyer that is based in Singapore and is licensed to practice in Singapore. So I'm not the lawyer that actually represents them.

Sylvia: Given that you have a law degree and are licensed to practice law – what made you decide to serve the community in this aspect, rather than as a pro bono lawyer for JWB?

Naz: It was mostly a personal decision. Towards the end of my first year in practice, I took a step back and reassessed my legal career. It also happened that JWB and a couple of other NGOs were hiring then. Having interned at JWB as a Legal Fellow in my second year of law school, JWB made sense for me because I was familiar with the organisation and the work that they do. Also, within the NGO space, I think a lot of legal roles tend to be more policy and advocacy-focused, meaning that the scope of work is more focused on trying to change the law, and the stakeholders they interact with are mostly government and other lawyers, which is not necessarily my cup of tea.

I like that my role in JWB allows me to deal with different stakeholders and still interact with the law. My work now is more about how we can work with the laws as they currently exist to advocate for better outcomes for our clients.

The firm that I was previously practicing [as a lawyer] at prides itself on being a community law firm. Most of the clients we worked with, especially in the litigation space that I was in, were from a working-class background and were not familiar with the law. The clients at JWB aren't that different. So there also wasn’t much of a transition in terms of the type of clients I was working with as a practicing lawyer and as a legal officer.

Sylvia: What do you think are some of the transferable skills from being a practicing lawyer to working as a legal officer in the non-profit space?

Naz: An example that comes to mind from working in litigation is being able to communicate with people of different backgrounds – for example, at my job I am supposed to be able to break down otherwise complex legal concepts into easily understandable terms. This applies both to my clients at JWB and the law firm I previously worked at.

I like that the role at JWB gives me a bit of that balance in dealing with people of different backgrounds: on one hand, there are the clients that I deal with are not as well-versed when it comes to the law, and on the other, there are the lawyers.

Sylvia: Did you always know that you wanted to do something related to law and social impact?

Naz: That's a good question. I never thought about it. Growing up, I never wanted to study law, I just wanted to study psychology. At the core of it, what I'm interested in is people, and understanding why people do the things they do, or why they think the way they do. The opportunity at JWB has given me a way to practice law but also incorporate that people element. So doing some sort of public interest-type litigation work makes sense to me.

I’ve always wanted to try out different things, so I did internships with big firms and small firms, and decided to try non-profits as well. Over time, I found that I like this sort of work. I actually quite enjoy practicing law as well, but for this period of time, it’s a matter of trying something a bit different and something that I know I enjoy.

Sylvia: How do you see law being used as a tool to address social impact goals?

Naz: In relation to the work that we do at JWB, I think the law can be a very helpful tool in changing perspectives. I think there’s quite a lot that can be done to change the way Singaporeans in general view MDWs.

It's unfortunate, but it's still common for employers to treat workers like children – they keep their passport, don’t give them ATM cards to their own bank accounts, etc.

Among agencies, it's still common practice to overcharge MDWs for placement fees. There are very pervasive recurring issues in this space. If we're able to build up enough legal cases so that more and more migrant workers get compensated for the wrongdoing done to them, then I think that would discourage or deter these harmful practices among employers and agencies.

If we're able to build up enough legal cases so that more and more migrant workers get compensated for the wrongdoing done to them, then I think that would discourage or deter these harmful practices among employers and agencies.

Sylvia: When I hear you talk about there being pervasive recurring issues - I was just wondering, how does it feel to listen to stories like this everyday in your work?

Naz: I am quite conscious of how easily you can get desensitised when you hear so many of these stories. For every new case that we get referred to, most of the time it's not the exact same case, but there are similar issues and threads that connect many of these cases together.

I try to take a step back, almost like pretending that this is the first time I'm doing a case, and go through that bafflement and shock and disbelief – it does help drive me.

I also remind myself of the importance of perspective. For example, sometimes a client will come to us and say that they’ve spent their own money on something that their agency was supposed to have paid for. I then look over the costs and it's $50. From an objective perspective, this amount is smaller than what a pro bono lawyer would end up spending in fees. But I have to remind myself that while $50 is a small amount to me, to a migrant domestic worker, it's a lot, and could be one week’s worth of food.

Sylvia: You mentioned that there are similar threads that tie the cases together. Could you say more about what a typical case looks like?

Naz: So some of the more common issues in relation to MDWs are ill treatment, abuse, and unpaid salary. But I am also conscious that we're taking a select sample of cases, which are the worst of the cases and it’s not to say that these are common problems that domestic workers in Singapore face.

There are also two pools of cases – one where the employer is the errant one, and the other is where the agencies are the errant one.

On the employer side, a common issue is illegal deployment of workers, such as making workers clean their office, a friend's house, stuff like that. And on the employment agency side - overcharging MDWs for services, which is actually a more complicated problem because there are gaps in the law that allow these agencies to keep doing what they do, and it's really hard to hold them accountable.

Sylvia: What does your day-to-day look like?

Naz: It really depends on organisational needs, but by and large it’s casework. Usually, we get a referral from our partner NGOs and I’ll take a look at the interview notes, important documentation, and other provided details. From there, I will provide a preliminary assessment of the case and the potential courses of available action.

At the end of that process, I'll liaise with my NGO counterparts, who will reach out to a client and get us the information that we need. Then we have internal discussions about which are the cases that are strong enough to proceed with. I'll then reach out to partners and lawyers in Singapore about representing that case.

Another big part of my work is strategic legal research. As I mentioned, there are common issues across the cases, and some of these common problems are common because there are gaps in the law. So as much as we can, we get the help of our partners, pro bono lawyers and ourselves to conduct research on the existing laws, and brainstorm ways to resolve some of the gaps that are currently in the law.

Sylvia: What do you think is the importance of organisations like JWB, in connecting migrant domestic workers to avenues for justice and civil compensation?

Naz: The hope is that at some point, cross border access to justice won't be such a issue and complex thing to navigate, and that we will be able to share all the learnings and expertise from over the years with other local NGOs who are looking to do what we do, but without dedicating so much resources into dealing with cross border issues.

For example, at the moment, we have a caseload of about 30 active cases across our 4 offices. So if we can do 30 a year, but another NGO can do 30, and there are hundreds of NGOs that can do 30 cases each year, then that will really improve access to justice for MDWs. That scale is really the goal.

Sylvia: What do you think about the practice of hiring a domestic worker for a household?

Naz: I think it can be difficult for employers sometimes in that the lines between employee and family member are blurred, and I think surely that affects your relationships and your interactions with your employee. It's so bizarre when I think about how a person can hit your own employee - like the idea is insane to me, say, I don't do a piece of work properly and my boss hits me. It's mind blowing. But when you think about it more deeply, I think maybe for MDWs, they're not really always easily seen as just an employee. They're often seen as just another family member, in the way you would “hit” your brother from time to time.

Sylvia: Okay, last question. How do you think your experience attending Yale-NUS has shaped your career path?

Naz: I took a gap year to go to Yale-NUS, otherwise I would have started law school in 2012. Most of my friends from my cohort in high school have been in practice for at least three years. If I had gone down that route I would have probably just – because if most of my friends have been with me – I think it would have been easier for me to go down the typical route. Like doing four years of law school, completing training and becoming a senior associate in a law firm somewhere. It's hard to tell – it's just a “what if” – but I might have been less inclined to try something new if not for the fact that I made the choice to go to Yale-NUS.

"Providing housing is about community": Melody Madhavan '17

Melody Madhavan is a History major from the Class of 2017. Since graduating, she has worked with L'Oreal, the Rémy Cointreau Group and Burger King in Tokyo, Japan. While in Tokyo, she volunteered with Tokyo Spring, which runs patrols for homeless communities across the city. She is now pursuing double Master's programmes in Business Administration at Kyoto University and Hospitality Management at Cornell University. This interview was conducted in August 2022, before she relocated to Ithaca, New York.

Hi Melody! When you were in Yale-NUS, were there any social impact activities that you were part of?

When I was in Yale-NUS, I helped out with some free Model United Nations (UN) classes for less privileged students. I also volunteered with Habitat for Humanity a few times: we cleaned houses which was really interesting because it was my first time seeing the rental apartments in Singapore. One of the two houses belonged to an old lady who was a hoarder, so we helped her sort through and throw away many of the items she had accumulated.

At the end of senior year, I worked with Beyond Social Services, a charity in Singapore which focuses on youth from less privileged families. They go beyond offering social services, to provide education, community leadership, and so on. One of the initiatives they run is a camp to keep youth active, draw them away from other "less productive" activities, and to give them a safe space and community. I supported the organisation by interviewing youth and creating a video that showcased their stories. That was screened at the Annual General Meeting. That was very minor, and I wish I could have done more.

You're doing a lot more in Japan now, which I'll ask you about later. But before that, what have you been up to since graduating?

I have been living in Tokyo since graduation. I love Japan, and had studied there for my exchange semester. When I was there, I thought, "Tokyo is a place I want to try living in." So I moved here immediately after graduation and started an internship with L’Oreal Japan. The internship got me a visa, which helped me find a full-time job after that. I worked at Rémy Cointreau for three and a half years as a brand manager, and moved to Burger King, where I was also a brand manager and focused on data analysis. At that point, I had worked in marketing for almost five years. Then I left my job for graduate school, and I’m now doing a dual degree: an MBA at Kyoto University and a Master’s in Hospitality at Cornell University. I’ll be moving to Ithaca, New York in a few weeks.

Besides work, what else have you been doing in Japan?

I've always wanted to do something more non profit-oriented. I had some experience doing marketing internships, but it is not my passion.

I’ve been volunteering with a group called Tokyo Spring, led by an anarchist artist who has been doing this for about 10 years. He's a foreigner who lives in Japan and noticed the homeless problem. He started giving out food to the homeless in Japan, but didn’t have a lot of money, so he told his friends about what he was doing, and friends started chipping in and following him on what we call “patrols.”

What we have now is a very organic initiative, where a bunch of foreigners in Japan and a few Japanese come together to go on these patrols. Tokyo Spring does 3 patrols each week in Ueno, Shinjuku and recently, Yokohama. Ueno is a famous homeless encampment in Tokyo. It’s a big park, and the homeless have a small base there. Another base is Shinjuku, which is a “super-city” area – the homeless find places in the train station or under the many bridges to hide in.

Recently, a friend of the artist started a new patrol in the nearby port city of Yokohama. I didn’t think there were homeless people in Yokohama, because it’s further away from Tokyo, where I’d assumed most of the homeless are based. But we actually see more homeless on our Yokohama patrols than in Shinjuku.

How did you get involved with Tokyo Spring?

Whenever the team does a patrol, they post on Facebook, and share who participated, how many items were given out, and a lot of photos. Before I joined, I saw those photos, and thought, this is the easiest way for me to volunteer. But at the time, I lived quite far from the patrol locations, and sent monthly donations instead. I still felt like I wanted to do something more.

An example of a Facebook update shared on Tokyo Spring's Facebook page

When I moved to a more central location in Tokyo, I went on my first patrol, and thought, “This is meaningful, it’s really fun, and it’s direct action.” Keeping people fed is such a direct, fundamental way of fighting poverty.

Keeping people fed is such a direct, fundamental way of fighting poverty.

Thankfully, because I speak Japanese, I’ve also been able to talk to the homeless people and get to know them more. That's been really, really meaningful for me. On weekdays, I make money for big companies, but on Sunday when I do the patrols, I get to do something more meaningful.

Earlier you said that you didn't think that there were many homeless people in Yokohama. I think it’s quite common that Singaporeans and other foreigners who travel or move to Japan don’t think about the social issues they face. To let other people know more about what you’ve learned, can you tell us a bit more about the homeless problem in Japan or Tokyo?

I wouldn’t say the homeless problem is as huge as cities like Los Angeles and New York City, but it still exists. You do see homeless people sleeping on the streets in Shibuya and Shinjuku.

With the Tokyo Olympics in 2021, the government gentrified a lot of areas, and razed down areas in Shibuya, where the homeless camped out, for more upscale developments. This pushed the homeless out to different areas, such as Shinjuku, Ueno and even Yokohama.

Official estimates put the number of homeless across Japan at 3,000-4,000. I don’t think it’s actually that low. In Yokohama alone, we have about 200 people show up to our patrols. So it’s definitely more than that. I think under-reporting happens – and it’s the same in Singapore – because of a ‘face’ issue, people don't want to talk about the problem.

Some homeless will also pretend not to be homeless because they don't want to be seen in a bad light. And of course, they only come out at night, because a lot of them do have jobs. 60-70% of them do some work during the day. That's why all our patrols are at night, because that's when they head to the station or elsewhere to sleep.

In Tokyo, I really can't give you a number. But at least for Shinjuku, on bad days, we’ve seen 120-140 people sleeping in the station. Shinjuku station allows homeless people to sleep in the concourse area, but only from 11pm. They can come in at 10pm, and start laying out their stuff around 10.30-11pm. And then they can stay there until 4-5am, when they get kicked out. At least there's shelter, especially during the hot summer months.

In Japan, older single men are the majority of the homeless population. And this is a symptom of a vicious cycle: If you're an old man, in your 60s or 70s, it's very hard to rent a house. Landlords are afraid that they will run away, or that they will die in the house alone. These older men face a lot of discrimination, especially if they don’t have an official job. People have to pick up jobs that undercut them and pay in cash, as if they are homeless, they don’t have an address which is required to open a bank account. This allows employers to exploit them. The yakuza, or Japanese mafia, try to recruit them. In fact, there is a recruiter that hangs around the train station and hires homeless people to do dodgy stuff.

Here, you need identification and official records to prove who you are – the homeless aren’t able to do that. That creates a lot of real challenges and problems. It’s kind of like being undocumented in the US, except that these people are Japanese citizens. That's why homelessness is a very complicated problem.

Earlier, I mentioned one of the men who volunteers with us. He’s been homeless for 25 years, and it’s hard for him to even think about living in a house. Recently, an opportunity came up to move into a room. But he’s kind of terrified, and isn’t ready to move into a room and live with other people. Naturally, concerns about safety will come up. He’s still considering it, but we haven’t pushed him. When he’s lived in an area and relied on this community of people for over 20 years, and then to move to a place where you don’t know anyone else can be really scary. Providing housing is about community. It's also about mental health. It's about making these people who have been marginalised all their lives feel safe. There's a big psychological aspect to solving homelessness that I feel is not really addressed.

Providing housing is about community. It's also about mental health. It's about making these people who have been marginalised all their lives feel safe. There's a big psychological aspect to solving homelessness that I feel is not really addressed.

How are these patrols organised?

We have a Facebook group for volunteers. Each month, slots on a timesheet open, and volunteers put their name for certain slots. Volunteers can commit to making food – anything from yakisoba to sandwiches, to onigiri – that is easy for the homeless to eat. We also have an Amazon wish list of items such as canned food, batteries, and in the summer, t-shirts for the hot weather. People send us donations or directly buy and send us those items.

We work together with two really interesting locals – one is an ex-homeless guy who has been housed. Another is an old man who is currently homeless; we give him some money to help on our patrols.

One more thing that we've been working on, which draws on my marketing skills, is a series of interviews with the homeless. Kind of like ‘Homeless of Tokyo’ profiles. We've interviewed three people so far, of course, only speaking to those that want to speak to us. We took some great photos, listened to their stories, and will share these profiles on social media to raise awareness of the homeless problem among the Japanese. We’re hoping this will also get us more donations.

What is the level of awareness of homelessness in Tokyo?

I think Japanese people have a pre-conceived notion of homeless people: they're either lazy or crazy. My hope is that when people read the interviews, they will learn that many of the homeless people are in fact very hardworking. We interviewed one guy who works pretty much everyday. He doesn't take any days off. This disadvantages him, as being homeless, people who employ him can get away with paying him very little because of his precarious position.

Another person we talked to had run away from an abusive household. He said he couldn’t seek help from the government as they might ask for documentation of his family and contact them. We talked to another man who became homeless a month ago. His was just a sad situation of losing his job, running out of money, and ending up on the streets. Simple and clear cut. He has gone to the government for help, but hasn’t been able to get a house yet.

It sounds like you've learned a lot about Japan and the social issues that you don't really see on the surface. Do you think it’s changed how you relate to being in Japan as a foreigner?

I've learned a lot more about Japan through this patrolling with Tokyo Spring. Japan has really been very kind to me, for the most part. This is my way to give back.

As a foreigner, I didn't come in with the typical Japanese perspective. As a Japanese person, when you grow up, you're taught certain things, like everyone has a house and that's "normal", and anyone who doesn't have a house isn’t normal, and that the Japanese government is very good and strong, and you get lots of support, but that is not the reality. This happens with people everywhere I think, you take for granted the issues in your own backyard.

I think I've been really lucky to find this group and be able to help out, because there are lots of smaller Japanese organisations to volunteer at, which can be a little bit intimidating as a foreigner because of the language and cultural barriers.

Happy faces after a successful patrol where volunteers fed 80~ people that night!

Tokyo Spring is a bunch of foreigners that created a space that’s open and fluid. Of course, we have Japanese people who speak English, and are key members of the group. I like the fact that it's a very colourful community and a loose collective of people, which means we can adjust and adapt very easily. Whereas I feel like if it's a “more Japanese” organisation, it would be a lot more structured, with government reporting requirements and all.

Of course, the downside of being a collective is that we can’t get official government help. We have to rely a lot on private donors, which is why we come up with soft marketing solutions, to share stories and create publicity for what we do. Hopefully this helps us get more people on board, not just to donate, but also to help with the patrols.

There are also some really incredible people in the patrols: people who donate like crazy, organise the patrols, cook amazing restaurant-quality bentos for the homeless people.

Is the Japanese government trying to do anything to address poverty more structurally?

The thing about the government in Japan is that it's both efficient but extremely bureaucratic and rigid. When it comes to help from the state, a lot of things disqualify people from getting help. I mentioned the conundrum with the bank accounts earlier: people need an address to get a bank account, and people without an address can’t get a bank account, which they need to get money from the government

So in 2020, the government was giving out COVID-19 payouts of about $1,000 to everyone, and some of the homeless could not get the money because they didn’t have a bank account and/or an address!

For example, if you don’t have a good relationship with your family, or anyone that can vouch for you, then you might not be able to get aid, because the government requires you to have a guarantor. I feel that in Japan, there need to be more exceptions made, along with a bigger awareness that the homeless have a completely different reality from the “normal” middle-class.

I do think that the Japanese government is doing some things … During the Olympics, the homeless situation got really bad as the government gentrified certain neighbourhoods and razed down areas that the homeless were encamped in, but it was also good because it made them at least take a look at the homeless, and create ways for them to get some financial support. The good thing is that people get pensions in Japan. Some of the homeless do too, it’s just not enough. And sometimes if you receive the pension, you can’t qualify for other aid. The government is a big bureaucratic machine, and you have to fight it when you want something. And the homeless people don’t have the energy to fight sometimes. I also think that mental health support is lacking, and is a big reason why there are homeless people.

The government is a big bureaucratic machine, and you have to fight it when you want something. And the homeless people don’t have the energy to fight sometimes. I also think that mental health support is lacking, and is a big reason why there are homeless people.

In some countries, when an NGO is addressing an issue that the government doesn’t want to recognise, or admit how serious it is, there are clamp downs, or the government makes it hard to operate. Does the same thing happen in Tokyo, or do you have quite a lot of freedom to work with the homeless? Are there restrictions on the work you do?

Civil liberties are very strong in Japan. We’ve never been stopped by the government, at least not with Tokyo Spring. There have been calls for us to register as an organisation, but we don’t want to do that, first of all, because our leader is an anarchist. It’s hard to receive corporate donations, but we’re lucky to have a few places recognise we are doing great work, and have donated though we can’t give them official receipts. But other companies need to have donations channelled to an organisation, and have the proper paperwork to claim tax benefits. That’s the only thing that hinders us.

For us, in our current situation, the flexibility makes sense for us. Most of us are also foreigners, and rely on the government for our visas, which is why we focus on apolitical issues, like giving food.

How can readers support Tokyo Spring?

The group is always looking for food donations, that you can make via our Amazon wishlist! This is our wishlist for Ueno and Shinjuku. And follow us on Facebook where the group shares patrol updates!

Thanks Melody. Do you have any thing else to share with our readers?

In many ways, my last message would be, wherever you are, look out in your local communities to see where you can help. Unfortunately, in Singapore, all I can do is donate and share, but even that is useful. Do whatever you can.