Anon: Yaoi Presentation
A few years ago, I was studying abroad in Japan, and I’m still haunted by my memory of this, uh, rather disturbing weeaboo.
I went to a university in Japan that admitted students both with and without Japanese language experience; all students would study the language in daily language classes, but they would take classes for their respective majors that were conducted in English. So, anyway, background information out of the way— one of the English classes that I decided to take was on Japanese popular culture, since I dug it a lot, and, hey, might as well learn about modern Japan while I’m there, right?
One of the projects we were assigned for the semester was to take some facet of current Japanese culture (anything we wanted, as long as it was pertinent to popular culture) and create a presentation for the class on it, in a group.
So, the class was divided up and we all decided on our topics. Presentation day rolls around, and a group of about three girls and two guys gets up to the front of the classroom, noticeably cringing (already). Their topic was along the lines of different styles of art in Japan today— everyone seemed to do a nice, respectable presentation.
Until.
Miss K stands up for her turn. The rest of the group suddenly huddles together to the side, looking away from the projector, looking, very, very visibly terrified. And Miss K pops open the next slide.
Graphic.
Yaoi.
On the screen.
For the whole class.
Miss K begins to launch into an impassioned tangent about how yaoi is dominating the manga, anime, and furthermore, current art scenes. And she starts to pass out her personal collection for the rest of the class to peruse.
We really, REALLY didn’t want to touch them, but she literally threw them on our desks and urged us to flip through the pages. Once she was satisfied that everyone had begun to look through them, she returned to the front of the class and began to describe, in unnecessary detail and with a disturbingly breathy voice, her favorite yaoi scenes. Again, pictures up on the projector were often included.
After a at least fifteen minutes of sheer torture yaoi exposure, Miss K let out a big sigh, stepped aside, and let the next (reluctant) presenter go.
Once the group finished, my unfortunate friend who was stuck in the group returned to her seat next to me and stared at me in total silence. I suddenly understood why she was dreading the presentation all semester. After class, she told me if I thought that was awkward, the preparation phase was even more tortuous. She said that Miss K would do the same things with them (heavy breathing, overenthusiastic yaoi descriptions, graphic pictures) all while they put together their presentation.
I remember seeing the professor speaking to Miss K at the end of class as the rest of us were leaving. I can only guess about how that conversation went.
Moral of the story: Weeaboos, leave your yaoi at home, please.
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