Assimilation or Bootlicking? A Field Guide to the Pick Me Gaijin
Why Performing Assimilation Isn’t the Same as Living It
The country is in turmoil.
Strife and suffering plague the once prosperous land, devastating everything in its path. Resources are leeched with a thousand greedy hands, eager to take but never give, plunging the nation into darkness. The air is thick with cries desperate for a hero; one who will bring order to chaos, justice for those trampled over, and peace to all who dwell within. Someone to save them from their perilous, horrific fate.
But who could answer the people’s desperate cries for such a gallant figure?
Lo! The midnight horizon breaks with a single beam of light, shattering the treacherous night. Upon a mighty steed rides a single figure, clad in the most polished iron armor. Their gaze settles on the destruction below, but they do not weep, for they alone wield the mighty blade that shall save us all. His banner blazes with only two words, bold and daring in their promise of salvation.
Pick Me.
The knight in his white banner leaps off his equally pearlescent steed with a flourish. He executes a perfect flip, landing perfectly on his feet. The scabbard of his blade flashes with ancient symbols, all of which have foretold his coming. The message?
“If you can’t afford the tithe with what generous coin your employers have bestowed upon you, you are hereby banished! I shall slay you personally, with my mighty wit!”
The farmers look at each other with confused faces. Blacksmiths scratch their heads. Peasants empty their pockets, finding nothing but lint. Defeated, the workers take their belongings and depart, with loud cheers and jeers ringing across the land.
“You’ve saved us,” a merchant declares to the knight, his swollen coin purse threatening to burst. “Come, let us feast! I know of a place that offers the finest drink and a warm bed in thanks!”
The humble knight accepts the offer. Together, they enter a tavern, puzzled to find no one to greet them.
“A puzzling thing,” the merchant mutters. “Usually there is someone working here.” He looks around the great room, filled with plenty of customers but no one to attend them. “Where are the maidens with ale?”
“I believe they’re gone, sir,” someone answers reluctantly. “They were the ones the knight said should leave if they can’t afford the tithes with their wages.”
“Oh.” The merchant scratches his head. An idea blossoms. “Well, would you like to serve our guest? He respects our ways most perfectly, and has driven out those who would bring us down. Does he not deserve our finest drink?”
“Me? But I’m also a merchant. Why should I serve him?”
The merchant pales. He looks around frantically. “Does no one wish to work in this tavern?”
“No,” the crowd answers unanimously.
“We come here to drink and forget our stresses. Why should we work here?” another chimes in. “We earn better coin elsewhere. This is where we come to spend it.”
“Well, if no one works here, then how can we drink and make merry?”
A loud sneeze cuts in, followed by a cough.
“I think I’m catching a chill,” the knight admits reluctantly. “Perhaps instead of ale I require a tonic.”
The merchant sighs. “Then we ought to take you to a healer.”
“She’s gone, sir,” the other merchant says. “She couldn’t afford her tithes either.”
Panic begins to stir, rippling from one stunned merchant to another. And another. No one to treat their wounds. No one to serve their ale after a hard day’s work. No one to clean their homes, or tend to their children. They had driven them away.
Slowly, they all turn to the knight, bewildered.
The knight shrugs. “It’s their own fault for not obeying the king. It’s the king’s right to raise the taxes however he likes. He’s the king.”
And everyone nodded in agreement, for not a single brain cell was to be found amongst them.
The knight smiled brightly, for he had been chosen. They picked him above all the others. He was ready to pay his tithes, should he wish to stay. Whatever the king wished, he would bend his knee, offering his sword in service. Such a pity about that cough, though. Nasty little thing. Maybe if the healer had stayed, he might have lived to see another day.
Oh well.
Satire. A useful tool in critiquing society. It is one of the oldest forms of wit, challenging the gaping holes in the world around us. From governments to social movements, the art of satire has been used to provoke thought and reflection for centuries. Wrapped in “humor”, satire protects critique from direct punishment, calling for change while providing a way to cope with any frustrations or difficult situations. It allows us to question power from a safe distance.
But what happens when satire hits too close to home?
As absurd as the tale above is, the phenomenon I’m electing to take a deep dive into today is one that is far too real. Today’s white-knight I’m describing is no Sir Lancelot. He’s no Galahad either. Instead, he is a self-anointed champion of cultural obedience, galloping proudly into every conversation armed with nothing but blind loyalty and a deep fear of losing his place at the king’s table.
The Pick Me Gaijin.
(Note: I am aware that the word gaijin can be considered a slur, but given that this is the label often used in English speaking social media platforms such as Tiktok, I am sticking with it for the sake of media consistency.)
I’m sure you’ve heard of the term “Pick Me”, which is a term often used to describe a type of woman who desperately seeks validation and approval from men. They often downplay members of their own group, insisting they are superior and more desirable than others. By belittling other women, they can be chosen by those they appeal to. Marked “safe”, if you will.
In a similar vein rides the Pick Me Gaijin (PMG), naturally dressed in white and flaunting (extremely shiny) armor, polished themselves. The goal is degradation in the name of assimilation, while not acknowledging or even understanding their own hypocrisy. Maybe they live in Japan or maybe they’ve never even set foot here, but they’re certain that they’re superior to other foreigners. The TikTok version of PMGs in satire videos never eat burgers, only sushi and sashimi. Their Japanese is the most jouzu ever. They judge others based on their JLPT level.
But in the context of discussing socioeconomic issues, they almost always have a view of Japan that is right-leaning, idealized according to a utopia that exists only in their minds.
This is a key point about PMGs. The Japan they’re desperate to stand up for needs to exist as a foil to the West. Whatever grief they have against the West is protected in their fantasy version of Japan, and therefore it must remain that way at any cost. Hierarchy is virtue, blind obedience to Japanese society is enlightenment, and any criticism is blasphemy. For them, “respecting Japanese culture” is synonymous with defending every authority figure and dismissing every complaint—regardless of who is harmed.
Including Japanese people themselves.
Anyone who has been an immigrant and is actually paying attention knows that often, whatever problems foreign workers experience also affect citizens. Everyone is on the same obstacle course, it’s just that foreigners run directly into the safety cones before they fall into the spiked pit. Nobody wants to admit the pit also had nationals there too, but because the foreigners stand out more, they’re easier to blame for the pit’s existence. Nobody wants to question why there even is a pit, or even why there are spikes, not when they can point to the foreigners instead. (“It’s your fault for not paying attention to the safety cones!”)
This is very easy for nationals to miss, and the system is designed that way. There is no country immune to this; I will always remember being at immigration in Warsaw with my former husband, who is Polish born and raised. He was in awe at how difficult it was for me, but then began to realize that this was the exact same inconvenient, bureaucratic nonsense he had to deal with. The problem was that because I was an immigrant, I was dealing with it at the core instead of the surface.
Same boss. Different levels.
PMGs are the last to arrive at this station, sadly. I’d like to think that if they truly understood this, they would stop their Pick Me behavior, but human beings are always finding creative new ways to disappoint (and I’m trying to be less naively hopeful, even though I desperately wish to be). Instead, they’d rather remain on the train, scowling as they sneer at those outside.
“It’s their fault, because they refuse to assimilate properly into Japanese culture,” the PMG scoffs.
Little does the PMG know, their definition of assimilation is rarely correct.
Let’s dive further into this, because whenever I see PMGs being defended, this is a common argument. “When in Rome” and all that. However, in order for that argument to even be valid, we need to define what assimilation even is— and what it is not. There is a fine line between actual cultural assimilation and bootlicking, and knowing the difference is vital.
Assimilation, in any context, is the process of learning how a society works so you can function within it respectfully. It means to develop a deeper understanding of cultural values, beliefs, and alignment with the dominant group. Motivations for assimilation include curiosity, appreciation, building community, and integrating within the new society you’re living in.
(Note: Some anthropologists argue that this can result in cultural erasure, and things like forced assimilation absolutely exist. But that is an entirely different article.)
PMGs think they are advocating for deeper understanding and respect of Japanese culture. Instead, their arguments are mainly centered around blatant bootlicking. The PMG is not learning to genuinely participate in Japanese society; he is performing a caricature of “good foreigner” behavior in hopes of being rewarded for obedience. Structural problems, harassment, and discrimination get excused because “that’s just the way it is, so if you don’t like it, go home.”
Assimilation is a practice. Bootlicking, on the contrary, is one-sided submission. Bootlicking improves your image within a hierarchy that does not protect you, and has no interest in doing so. Assimilation requires inward reflection upon the values you grew up with and the culture in which you’re now living. Bootlicking is entirely external. It’s posturizing.
“Well, why should foreigners even be protected?” a PMG would argue, glaring with disdain. “They chose to come here, so it’s on them.”
A statement like this reveals the entire flaw in the PMG worldview: they assume that rights, dignity, and basic protections are rewards for nationalism, not universal human decency all governments should provide regardless of country. Foreigners are clearly seen as lesser than in this context simply by virtue of being foreign.
But this argument collapses under the weight of its own hypocrisy.
If “choosing to come here” disqualifies you from humane treatment, then “choosing to stay here” would disqualify citizens as well. If voluntary residence nullifies the need for fair labor practices, then no worker—foreign or Japanese—would deserve any rights at all. And if crossing a border makes you unworthy of protection, then no traveler, no expatriate, no international student, and no globally mobile citizen anywhere in the world would deserve it either.
PMG logic only works if we pretend foreigners are a separate species, inherently less deserving of care, safety, or dignity. It relies on a hierarchy where some lives are simply more valuable than others—not because of their actions, but because of their passports.
Societies are measured by how they aid the most vulnerable. This has been proven time and time again throughout history and across cultural and philosophical histories. PMGs fail time and time again to recognize that the very systems they defend harm Japanese citizens too. Labor exploitation, power harassment, bureaucratic opacity—these are not “foreigner problems.” They are national problems. Foreigners simply collide with them faster because the system was never built with them in mind.
Let’s take the latest Japan discourse that’s shaken social media and brought far too many PMGs to the comments section. This season’s Prime Minister, Takaichi Sanae, has built a campaign riding on an anti-immigration wave, one that parties like Sanseito were happy to bark loudly about in order to gain seats in the Diet. Despite what Japan watchers overseas might think, there have been pro-foreign demonstrations in places like Osaka.
But the most recent boulder to roll down the hill is a proposal to quadruple the current visa renewal fees for residents in Japan. The Foreign Ministry wants these fees to resemble what the United States and Europe charge, hoping to put the money towards overtourism and other issues Japan faces.
For anyone with a basic understanding of socioeconomics, this comparison set off alarms. Workers in Japan are not making US wages. For the ministry to reference these figures is illogical. This would not only affect foreign workers, but vital industries reliant upon foreign labor. Again, problems facing foreigners also affect locals. The elderly need care. Farms need workers. Hospitals need nurses. Even some universities and vocational schools are reliant on international students.
To elevate these renewal fees beyond the means of their wages is sociofinancial suicide. Japan’s shrinking workforce is not a secret. The birthrate is not recovering. The labor shortage is now a structural reality, not a temporary inconvenience. Raising visa fees is not a solution—it is an act of self-sabotage masquerading as policy.
“But wait, foreigners only make up 3.7% of the Japanese workforce,” someone might try to argue. “That number isn’t very high!”
You’re right. It’s not a high number. But that’s not how statistics works, friend! Imagine a nation without farmers, for example. Most nations also have a low percentage of its population working as farmers, so this should be easy to imagine. Where would you get your produce? You could grow it yourself, I suppose, but most of us won’t do that. Don’t want to cook fresh vegetables? Well, who do you think is making those delicious meals you snatch at the convenience store? Who is stocking the shelves? Who is lining up to punch in their time card at the factory, or cleaning your hotel room when you’re checking in for your vacation?
Foreign workers often occupy positions that citizens do not want, cannot maintain, or have left due to demographic decline. A society does not collapse only when the majority stops working. It collapses when key roles, even small ones, go unfilled. You can ignore their existence, deny their importance, or demand they pay quadrupled visa fees or get out if they want to be “ungrateful.” But when these workers cannot stay, the cracks in the system don’t stay hidden.
When essential workers go, so does everything you take for granted.
None of this matters to PMGs, however. All foreigners should be grateful they’re even allowed to live in glorious Japan to begin with. They love to loudly declare that Japan can do whatever it likes, because it’s their country, so they can do what they want. The kindergarten bullying tone aside, it excuses a fallacy of sovereign immunity. Japan is apparently beyond reproach by anyone who is not Japanese, nevermind the flaw in such logic that claims no one can criticize any nation ever unless they “deserve” it.
However, this is another worldview that collapses the moment it’s applied universally. Europeans and Canadians would no longer be allowed to criticize the United States. Neither would folks from South America, who have every right to feel extremely bitter towards the US. The bar of Who Deserves Criticism would constantly be subjected and moved at the whim of whoever is the loudest. There would be so many holes in the ground that no goalpost could remain upright.
This is the true goal of the PMG. It isn’t logic or a real discussion of ethics and fairness within socioeconomics. The goal is always to silence. Their worldview survives solely because it is selectively enforced. They are allowed to criticize anyone they choose—as long as the target is weaker than they are. It’s not “respect Japan or get out;” it’s gatekeeping disguised as cultural insight. Anything to preserve their fantasy version of Japan at all costs.
Because deep down, the PMG is only comfortable when someone else is beneath them.
(In Part Two of this series, we’ll look at the real-world consequences of PMG thinking—especially in Japan’s current political climate.)