Name: Lucas da Mota Bruno Student ID: 2258229

Introduction:
This report introduces three main concepts—microaggressions, Social Capital, and the Labyrinth
—and explores how those are present or appear as barriers in my life as a Brazilian pursuing a
Science and Engineering Major in Japan while challenging leadership roles among Japanese and
international students. I aim to connect these concepts with my experience while recommending
actionable and feasible steps to overcome these challenges and leverage them to my advantage.
Microaggressions:
Microaggressions, subtle acts of bias or discrimination often expressed unintentionally, target
cultures, groups, ethnicities, or genders on a micro level. As a Brazilian, I've ordinarily faced
stereotypes about soccer, dancing, and samba since moving to Japan. Initially, I saw these themes
as conversation starters that worked to my advantage. However, as I became fluent in Japanese
after two years, I began noticing how people would either be overly impressed by my ability to
speak even simple phrases or dismiss my efforts entirely—responding in English or seeking
confirmation from a Japanese or Asian-looking person nearby.
This experience left me feeling inferior and questioning my abilities. I began wondering whether
I should pursue leadership roles, such as in my dance club, where most members are Japanese, or
even apply for part-time jobs, anticipating rejection despite having the necessary skills.
Over time, and with support from seniors and peers who had faced similar challenges, I realized
these doubts weren't a reflection of my worth or abilities but a byproduct of systemic biases.
Their experiences helped me see that microaggressions stem more from structural issues than
personal inadequacies. This shift in perspective strengthened my confidence and allowed me to
reframe those moments as opportunities to assert my worth.
Ultimately, when faced with microaggressions, I remind myself that the comments often stem
from ignorance rather than malice. I consciously respond with humility and self-assurance,
recognizing that these experiences have strengthened me. While I occasionally fall into self-
doubt, I've developed the tools to stop that negative spiral and reaffirm my self-value.
I also acknowledge that microaggressions can have a more significant emotional impact on one
than others. Ultimately, the key to addressing them lies not in controlling the world around us but
in reshaping how we perceive and respond to these interactions. This power to change our own
experiences is a potent tool in the fight against bias and discrimination.
Social Capital
Social capital involves accessing resources, opportunities, or favors through personal
connections. While often described as 'It's not what you know but who you know,' its value lies
in these relationships' depth and mutual benefit. Social capital flourishes when both parties
perceive value in the connection, even indirectly.
When I arrived in Japan in 2020 during COVID-19, I needed a reliable network and struggled to
adapt. However, joining the Brazilian group at Soka University, Waraku Kanki, became a turning
point. They helped me navigate challenges, and through genuine connections, I eventually found
my first part-time job. These relationships naturally led to further opportunities, including
networking with professionals in the Harvard Engineering Department.
As my Japanese improved, I joined Route, a 130-member dance club, to expand my social circle.
Despite language barriers, my efforts to integrate allowed me to become a vice leader—the first
foreigner in this position. This experience honed my skills in leadership, teamwork, and
overcoming bias while also building connections that later provided better part-time job
opportunities. These roles enabled me to save for a month-long backpacking trip in Europe,
something I couldn't have achieved without the relationships I built.
In my third year, I joined Sobits, whose alums work at prestigious companies like JAXA,
Microsoft, and Toyota. Through mentorship from seniors in the lab, I gained guidance and
opportunities, including potential career pathways at Microsoft. Mentorship has been a critical
factor in my growth, offering advice and access to valuable networks.
These experiences taught me that social capital is most effective when built on authenticity and
humility. Genuine connections lead to trust and opportunities. I've seen peers with privileged
networks struggle to use them effectively, while I found success by proactively seeking mentors
in each area I pursued. These role models taught me what to do, avoid, and strategically expand
my network. This emphasis on genuine connections underscores the importance of authenticity
in building social capital.
In essence, social capital is more than leveraging relationships—it's about mutual growth and
contributing to shared success. By cultivating meaningful connections with sincerity, I've
experienced significant personal and professional development in ways I never anticipated.
Impostor Syndrome:
Impostor Syndrome is a psychological pattern where individuals experience persistent self-doubt
and a sense of inadequacy, even when there is clear evidence of their competence or
achievements. First identified by psychologists Pauline Rose Clance and Suzanne Imes in 1978,
it initially focused on the struggles of high-achieving women who felt they were deceiving others
about their abilities. This feeling is often accompanied by anxiety, perfectionism, and a constant
fear of being "found out" as a fraud.
Over time, the concept has evolved to emphasize how broader societal and systemic factors can
amplify these feelings, particularly for marginalized groups. Talisa Lavarry's article sheds light
on how issues like systemic racism, bias, and workplace cultures can worsen impostor syndrome
for women of color, often pushing them to meet unrealistic standards of professionalism.
Impostor Syndrome has been a persistent part of my life, manifesting as self-doubt despite clear
evidence of my competence. Growing up, I always felt like I lacked something and that everyone
around me was more capable or talented. This feeling followed me to Japan, where I initially
doubted that a university would accept me. When I arrived at Soka University, I thought I would
never be able to learn Japanese, and even after succeeding in that, I still felt like I hadn't truly
"earned" it. I believed I was just lucky rather than competent.
As my language skills improved and I felt more at home in Japan, I noticed a shift in my
treatment. Even though I had acquired the necessary skills to communicate fluently in Japanese, I
often felt that people, especially those who looked more like the local population, were treated
differently. It was a difficult realization—despite being just as qualified as others, I was often
seen as the 'nice foreigner,' someone who could speak the language but was still not fully
integrated or trusted in leadership roles. To overcome this feeling, I actively sought out
leadership opportunities and proved my competence through my actions. I took on more
responsibilities in my dance club and part-time job, and over time, I gained the trust and respect
of my peers and colleagues, which helped me overcome the feeling of being an 'impostor' in my
leadership roles.
This feeling came to a head strongly when I became the vice leader of my Route. I realized that,
in this position, I was no longer just a foreigner but someone who might be perceived as a threat
to the established order. My efforts to lead were often undermined by colleagues trying to take on
tasks that fell within my role. They would leverage their advantages, like language skills, and
accuse me of not doing enough. I began to question myself—was I the problem? Was I being too
stubborn or not trying hard enough? But as I reflected on these moments, I realized that my voice
was being diminished, and I had a choice: either remain passive and accept the situation or stand
up for myself.
Standing up was challenging. It wasn't about fighting with others but reaffirming my worth and
recognizing that I had been placed in this position for a reason. I realized that much of the
resistance I faced was due to systemic biases—because I was a foreigner in a leadership role,
others would judge me more harshly despite my qualifications. Conversations with a Brazilian
senior who had faced similar challenges helped me recognize this as a broader systemic issue. He
shared his experience of being dismissed from leadership roles simply because of his
background, and this made me realize that such biases were not about my abilities but about how
systems often favor homogeneity.
Through this realization, I began to transform my self-doubt into self-affirmation. Standing up
for myself didn't always mean confrontation. Sometimes, it was about asserting my value, even
when others attempted to discredit me. It required vulnerability, but I learned that openly
addressing my experiences could challenge others' biases and help them understand my
perspective. I also realized that it was essential to be empathetic—recognizing that others might
not have had the opportunity to confront their biases.
While Impostor Syndrome still occasionally resurfaces, especially in academic environments, my
experience as a vice leader of my dance club taught me how to confront it. The growth I
experienced in that leadership role helped me build confidence and self-belief. Now, when I face
similar challenges in other areas of my life, I can draw on those experiences to remind myself
that I am capable and that my unique background and perspectives only add value to the spaces I
occupy.