Osaka /oʊˈsɑ.kə/verb

1)    To disappoint others to care for oneself.

2)     To decline an invitation to a gathering in order to better care for one’s mental health.

3)    To say no to cultural pressures that are physically or mentally harmful.

This week Naomi Osaka pulled out of the French Open rather than engage in the press conferences associated with, and required by, the conference. She risked her reputation and her year’s training in order to protect her mental health, a courageous and brave act.

For years I have worked as a therapist and an executive coach helping people who say that they don’t know how to say, “No.” I try to help my clients see that every time you say ‘Yes’ you are actually saying ‘No’ to something else, and usually you are saying ‘No’ to yourself. There is no free ‘Yes.’ By saying ‘Yes,’ you are usually making others happy or comfortable, and typically leaving yourself out of the equation. People know how to say ‘No’—because they say it to themselves all the time. What they don’t know how to do is disappoint others in order to better care for themselves. They don’t know how to Osaka. As in, “I’d love to come over tonight to help you, but I’m afraid I am going to have to Osaka and stay home.”

If we had a word for the trade-off between disappointing others and disappointing the self, people would be able to learn the skill earlier and be better able to grapple with the relational issues that hamper Osaka behavior. The clarity of Osaka would help people shift the problem from a yes-no dilemma, to a dilemma about disappointing others versus self-care. It would require people to acknowledge the self—and the other. It would require people to acknowledge the fullness of relationship—relationship to others and relationship to self.  “It isn’t easy for me to call you to Osaka for this meeting, but I’m trying to take better care of myself so I don’t get burned out again.”

Not only would the word Osaka help us say the ‘no’ we need to say, but it would also help all of us hear that ‘no’ differently. Oh, it’s not just ‘no’ it’s Osaka. As in “She couldn’t make the event this weekend because she had to Osaka. I’m going to miss her, but I am glad she could take care of herself.”

And yes, there are times when we can’t or shouldn’t Osaka. When we need to rise to an occasion, take one for the team, or do the right thing. When someone else’s needs are more important or should come first. There are important times in our lives when we choose or need to be uncomfortable or inconvenienced or even burdened in order to support someone else or an entire group of people. When we choose or need to stay up all night, or go to the meeting, or sacrifice something that is important to us.

But we need to be able to better discern these decisions and know them as choices. Having language, having the word Osaka would help us learn this.

My dear friend Inger taught me so much about the word ‘No.’ She was very clear about her ability to say ‘No’ and I learned from her what a clear no meant: it meant you could trust her ‘Yes’ in a way I had never experienced. When she said ‘Yes’ you trusted it completely because you knew that if she didn’t want to do or couldn’t do it she would say a definitive ‘No.’ You didn’t spend any time second guessing whether you were asking her to do something she didn’t want to do, or whether you had overstepped your bounds. Inger was an innovator in the Osaka realm, before there was the hope of a word for it. When someone can say ‘No’ in relationship, then you hear their ‘Yes’ as true assent and not coercion.

If Osaka was a verb we would finally have language for the boundaries in relationships that we could all understand. Osaka is the ballast for people-pleasing. It is the ballast for the over-rotation we all have to be ‘good’ and ‘helpful.’ Having the language of Osaka would allow all of us to hold the needs of self-and-other in a new and healthy way. It would allow us to say our ‘no’ with a spirit of kindness towards the self, and it would allow us to hear a ‘no’ with a spirit of generosity toward the other. And who couldn’t use more kindness and generosity.

© 2021 Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD