Article by Sara Masaki
Ichariba Chodee: “Once we meet, we become brothers and sisters.”
I was born, raised, and educated in Northern Virginia. Yet as a child, I felt disconnected from the area. I struggled to find a sense of community amongst the repetitive McMansion homes, luxury apartments, and eight-lane highways. The sprawling suburban infrastructure is designed to separate us from each other, emphasizing private spaces over public, shared ones. I searched for belonging elsewhere, moving across the country for college. Now that I'm back, I've been searching for a model of belonging that doesn't require me to prove I'm "enough."
Through my work with OKCC, I'm beginning to understand something fundamental: connecting with someone is about sharing. You can connect over a shared meal, a shared conversation, a shared experience like a karate class, or by sharing a space, like at a party. When sharing occurs again and again within a group of people, it builds community – a sense of belonging — over time.
But the Okinawan cultural mindset also offers something even more radical than the idea that belonging can be built. Ichariba Choodee, an Okinawan saying, suggests that belonging isn't something to be earned or worried about at all. The phrase translates to "once we meet, we become brothers and sisters," which means from the moment we meet, we are already family. There is no exclusivity, no insider or outsider, no one who "doesn't belong." The communal warmth is woven into the cultural fabric itself.
I witnessed both of these truths – belonging built through sharing, and belonging granted immediately through radical welcome – at the OKCC Bonenkai celebration.
Bonenkai, which literally translates to "forget the year party" is a social gathering celebrated at the end of the year where people, typically coworkers or community members, come together to let go of the woes (and perhaps the triumphs too) of the passing year. The slate is wiped clean so the new year can be welcomed with fresh eyes and lighter hearts. At OKCC, the Bonenkai was celebrated in the intimate Chantilly venue, where around thirty people gathered to share food, drink, and conversations with each other.
At the event, the usual pre-event hustle unfolded: volunteers scrambling to arrange tables and set out food to create the perfect welcoming space. Children darted between adults playing ball games, their gleeful screams weaving through the room. Adults wore festive Christmas suits, hats, and sweaters, their attire a visual celebration of the season and each other. A table overflowed with potluck dishes; some dishes homemade, some store-bought, all offered freely. People filled their plates and settled into conversations, punctuated by warm hugs and bursts of laughter. Parents attempted to converse while keeping watchful eyes on their children, a familiar, loving juggling act.
The simple act of gathering made visible all the invisible work that sustains this community throughout the year: karate lessons, cultural workshops, planning meetings, and countless small acts of care. This Bonenkai happened last year, and will happen again next year. In this annual rhythm, I glimpsed how belonging is sustained through cycles of gathering and returning.
Just as Bonenkai marks the end of one year and the beginning of another, I too am at a threshold – returning to Northern Virginia not as someone searching for a place to belong, but as someone learning to create belonging through the patient, cyclical work, through the accumulation of shared meals, shared space, shared ritual.
I'm excited to welcome the new year with them too and to continue learning what it means to belong, not by birth or merit, but by the simple, profound act of meeting. From the moment we meet, we are already family.
