Societies have countless ways of drawing lines between who is an insider and who isn’t. Some are straightforward—citizenship, visas, legal status. Others are more subtle, and in that subtlety, more difficult to name: the job not offered despite strong qualifications, the apartment lease declined after seeing a name. These small, repeated setbacks quietly accumulate, building into a broader sense of exclusion—the quiet label of “outsider.” This is especially evident in societies struggling with how to embrace diversity, like Japan, where the concept of tabunka-kyosei, or multicultural coexistence, is still evolving

This sense of separation is felt most strongly when a society’s preference for sameness begins to resemble something deeper. Japan is a country where this tendency is often observed. “I love Japan, but something in the system is wrong, because it’s very hard to start from zero, especially for a foreigner,” says Babakhodjaeva Orzugul, a politician and bar owner who moved to Japan at 21. After facing barriers that didn’t always have clear and justified reasons, she entered the world of politics—not just to navigate the system, but to help reshape it, advocating for multicultural coexistence.

Climbing a Ladder Without Steps

Born in Uzbekistan, Orzugul’s move to Japan was the climax of aspirations that started at 13, after discovering Hiragana—one of three Japanese alphabets—in what she called “love at first sight.” This led her to enroll in the Japanese language department at Tashkent State University of Oriental Studies, the following year at the impressive age of 14. Two years later, while still a student, Orzugul began working at a hotel, as translator, and then tour guide to help with the income of her fatherless household and to manage the payment of her tuition fees. While such young enrollment, graduation and joining of the labor market is a notable accomplishment—a promising addition to any portfolio, one would think—Orzugul immediately faced roadblocks after moving to Japan and beginning the grueling ordeal that is job hunting.

In the short span of her first years in Japan, she applied to, and saw rejection from, 53 jobs — almost the amount that the average white, or blue-collar worker faces during their entire professional life. “Because I didn’t graduate from a Japanese university, and because I wasn’t Japanese, it was very difficult to find work. I was an outsider and a woman: a double minority.”

Whether from malice or ignorance, historically, Japan’s labor market sees ethnical segmentation. As a 2024 Government paper revealed, even today, when someone comes to Japan and does manage to find work, they can expect a paycheck 28% lighter than that of their Japanese associates. This inequity is common of homogenous societies, which often tend to exist as fertile soil for dispositions of racial bias, in and out of the workplace.

In April of 2022, in the newspaper Mainichi, an anonymous police officer testified to receiving orders to “crack down on foreigners,” to target them for “questioning and checking their residence cards,” and “searching them for drugs or knives.” A 2022 survey by the Tokyo Bar Association supported the officer’s testimony, revealing that nearly 63% of international residents in Japan had experienced repeated police stops and racial profiling.

This underlying suspicion is the backbone of many hurdles outsiders face trying to establish themselves in Japanese society, from small efforts of integration to something as fundamental as renting a property. For example, Orzugul, after securing a job on her 54th application, starting a business importing alcohols, and beginning the process of opening a wine salon, became one of—what the Ministry of Justice calculates to be—40% of international residents who struggled to obtain a guarantor due to their nationality and/ or ethnicity. “It was very difficult to find a location for my bar, I only managed through the introduction of an acquaintance.”

From Bottles to Ballots 

Despite the victory that was opening her wine salon, all the experiences had already left their mark, souring the process of becoming a business owner as something unnecessarily difficult.

Though it may be true that “starting from zero” is a climb regardless of the country whose starting line you find yourself at, for international residents, this climb is of a far greater height and risks a far greater fall in societies apathetic to its immigrant population.

“I wanted to fix it, to change it,” says Orzugul, “to give everyone a chance, I didn’t want them to face the same challenges I did. So I decided to go into politics, to talk about the problem and improve the system.” The remarkability of her choice to join the political fray is second only to the remarkability of her choice to continue ownership of her bar, especially given that politics is not what you would call a side-hustle. “It was very difficult for me. I had no political experience, no connections, no anything […] I didn’t think they would elect me. But even then, I thought it was very important to speak about the issues.”

Orzugul chose Setagaya City as her political base—a strategic decision, she explains: “Setagaya Ward is the biggest ward. So I believed that if I could make changes in Setagaya, it would have a very big impact on all of Tokyo.” She ran for city council and won. “I was very, very surprised when I saw the results,” she says.

To grasp the weight of her becoming a sitting member of city council: Orzugul is only the 10th expatriate to hold political office in Japan. As an Uzbek native, she is the first to serve in government outside her home country. The former provides a healthy dose of optimism. While the system persists in its aloofness, this prejudice is not unanimous. A 2020 NHK survey showed that 70% of Japanese people supported non-Japanese people filling the gaps of Japan’s workforce. Though, only a modest 57% were open to seeing them as neighbor. Things are improving, yes, though the march is still uphill.

Immigrants Welcome, But Not Too Close

From the beginning, Orzugul has focused her political career on advancing multicultural coexistence in Japan. “I look at this issue from different angles. From a cultural angle, from a child support angle, and from the perspective of small business owners,” she explains. One of the most pressing challenges she continues to tackle is the difficulty many people face trying to find work.

As mentioned, Japan’s labor market not only limits itself by ethnicity, but it also exploits those who manage to enter it. A stark example of this, and a driving force behind Orzugul’s political efforts, is the Technical Intern Training Program (T.I.T.P.). This is a government-run initiative that brings foreign workers to Japan under the guise of skill development. Despite its progressive branding, the program has long operated as a system that traps laborers in low-wage jobs. This is through tactics commonly used by exploitative employers—namely, debt bondage and passport confiscation.

The T.I.T.P. was born out of Japan’s demographic crisis. It was a misguided cure for a labor shortage caused by its shrinking population. Many still wonder if Japan can survive without large-scale immigrant recruitment. Those who’ve stopped wondering have already found the answer: No.

If Japan wants to revive its declining economy, it must embrace the philosophy of leaders like Orzugul. It must welcome overseas workers in a way that ensures mutual benefit, as both sides tie themselves together by necessity. As she was keen to point out, multicultural coexistence in Japan is not just an ideal, but a practical solution. “Multicultural coexistence is healthy coexistence.”

Big Problems With Small Solutions

However, just as the challenges immigrants face are not solely at a macro-level, neither is Orzugul’s commitment to them. Everyday struggles—often dismissed as small or routine—can carry just as much weight. “I look to support foreigners from many angles, big things and small things. Which are actually not so small,” she says.

One example is her focus on disaster preparedness. Specifically, making sure foreign residents have access to critical information when emergencies strike. It’s a sobering truth that much of Japan’s life-saving disaster guidance is inaccessible to those who can’t read Kanji. “I spoke to the city council about improving Setagaya’s disaster prevention portal because I couldn’t figure out how to switch it to English,” Orzugul explains. When she asked how non-Japanese readers were expected to navigate the site, the response was: “There’s a button where you can choose English.” The problem? That button was only in Japanese—言語, meaning “language.” “I pushed for the addition of an English-language prompt so at least more people could understand it,” she says.

Even when English translations are available, they’re often out of date. “At one point, the Setagaya City website’s disaster section read, ‘Typhoon 19 is coming,’” Orzugul recalls. “But it had already passed.” When the notice was finally replaced with “no disasters incoming,” it was more than four years too late. Typhoon 19 struck back in 2019. For years, English-speaking residents visiting the site were needlessly anxious, expecting a storm that had long since come and gone.

A Chance to Change Minds

Orzugul’s efforts to foster stronger ties between foreigners and locals extend beyond her political career. Through her businesses in Japan, she has cultivated spaces for multicultural coexistence. One example is JIDAI, a bar in Ginza designed as a gathering spot where locals, foreign travelers and international residents connect. “When customers come in, we introduce them to each other,” she explains. “The idea is to get all three groups talking and sharing perspectives.”

While creating friendship between a nation’s visitors and its locals may appear insignificant, the far-reaching effects of forming a localized multicultural community can, in fact, affect lives.

Take, for example, those lost to the T.I.T.P. system. Cases of suicide and deaths by overwork that the media reported, but were met with a largely indifferent public response. A lack of outrage, coupled with a quiet cover-up by the program itself, dulled the reaction that should have followed. As a result, the program persisted for more than 30 years. Only recently has its cancellation become a topic of serious discussion. This is in thanks in large part to the growing chorus of foreign voices. With the right platforms, they are finally being heard.

Reaching for Multicultural Coexistence in Japan

Crucially, a platform doesn’t need to be a televised address or a newspaper op-ed. It can be something as simple as a bar. Like JIDAI—where international residents and locals feel free to talk, connect and share experiences. When locals and outsiders remain separated, both sides stay blind to each other’s struggles. The need for solutions goes unrecognized, and progress stalls. As Orzugul puts it, it’s “all about communication.”

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