Seeing Myself in 'Madama Butterfly'
A quiet reckoning with identity and art, by singer Luka Kawabata.
A personal essay by Luka Kawabata
Giacomo Puccini’s Madama Butterfly has become intrinsically linked to my relationship with opera. Beyond the cinematic music that can unite the emotions of an audience, there is a history built on misrepresentation. As a Japanese performer, I belong to a minority of singers who do not have the luxury of diverse stories to see ourselves within. However, as the only example of Japanese characters from the classical canon, Madama Butterfly is a snapshot of the world at the time of its premiere and how Asian representation in classical music continues to grow.
I was born in Urawa, Japan, to my Japanese father and Canadian mother. Within my first year, I’d taken the longest plane ride of my life to start a new life in Canada. Growing up in Vancouver (or Richmond, rather), I always knew that my family was full of different kinds of people. It was unavoidable to see that my parents didn’t look like each other, but I never questioned whether this would become significant.
I am hafu, half-Japanese, and proud of this identity. I grew up with Japanese television shows without subtitles, eating mochi, and folding origami. Our answering machine was half in Japanese, which, as a child, I always thought was normal.
I never realized what race was until the world taught me to respond to its untold social rules. As an adult, I’m only now starting to muster up the courage to learn Japanese. Maybe this is a response to years of self-inflicted shame from others assuming that it was my first language and then being confronted with disappointment. As a child, I was acutely aware of being perceived as one thing and not living up to expectations. What I didn’t know was what it meant to be Japanese in the greater context of the world.
Nikkei 日系, the Japanese diaspora, has extended across the world since the Treaty of Kanagawa in 1854, when Japan opened its borders. In 2025, it's estimated that around four million people of Japanese descent currently live outside of Japan, with the highest populations in Brazil, Peru, Canada, and the United States. Japanese concepts have been popularized through art, design, culture, and ways of living. As a teenager in Vancouver, I remember frequently going for sushi with friends, where everyone knew how to use chopsticks.
In a partially Japanese household, I learned about concepts like Gaman 我慢, Japanese stoicism, from my father. I remember a conversation with him where we discussed the outlooks of Japanese people within Japan toward those who emigrated. This moment reshaped my worldview.
I began to understand how my experience as a Japanese person was only one of many. Even as a proud Nikkei, I never considered the possibility that people in Japan wouldn’t feel the same kinship with me as I did with them. That’s probably just my naivety.
What is culture, and how do we fit within it? This question has followed me for my whole life.
Giacomo Puccini was an Italian composer born in Lucca during the 19th century. He composed Madama Butterfly in 1904, based on David Belasco’s play, Madame Butterfly: A Tragedy of Japan, which was based on John Luther Long’s short story, Madame Butterfly—which was based on Pierre Loti’s French novel, Madame Chrysanthème. It was a game of telephone where every new edition added more Western fantasy and less cultural reality. Although, it is also credited as a major influence in shaping Western views of Japan.
After 121 years of performance, the controversies surrounding Madama Butterfly have become an unavoidable topic in its presentation. The globalization of opera beyond Eurocentric audiences has provoked discourse on how to reconcile cultural caricatures and ethnic erasure in contemporary times.
Madama Butterfly is not alone. Operas like Turandot and The Pearl Fishers were created by European artists based on cultural appropriation. Understanding this history can free us to interpret the work with greater sensitivity to authentic representation, without yellowface, and with a better understanding of cultural practices.
Puccini lived his whole life in Europe without the knowledge to adequately portray cultures outside of his own. So, here is your cultural crash course:
Geisha 芸者, translating to “art-person,” are skilled artists and entertainers for high-class clients who understand their cultural value and pay accordingly for their skills. They spend years training in dance, musical instruments, singing, tea ceremony, flower arranging, hospitality, and the art of conversation. At their height, it was estimated that there were 80,000 geisha in Japan. Today, they continue to embody Japanese cultural heritage, performing traditional art and hosting events.
Seppuku 切腹 was a ritualistic form of suicide practiced by samurai, involving the use of a sword to cut the abdomen. It was a key part of Bushidō 武士道, the samurai honour code. Women associated with samurai families had their own form of ritual suicide known as Jigai 自害. More than a simple act of violence, seppuku was a profound statement of conviction in order to restore honour in the face of disgrace.
Organizations like the Asian Opera Alliance and Wear Yellow Proudly are leading a new movement, not only celebrating the successes of the Asian diaspora in classical music but also advocating for authentic representation and holding the industry accountable for systemic biases in casting.
As a phenotypically Asian singer myself, I’ve become accustomed to being the only person of colour in many rooms of collaboration. However, this production is the first time that I will perform with a majority Asian cast and creative team.
As Vancouver Opera prepares to present Madama Butterfly, I think about how this piece illustrates the evolution of Asian representation in classical music. I see myself reflected in Sorrow, Butterfly and Pinkerton’s son, who is hafu as well.
If we imagine the years following the final scenes in Madama Butterfly, we can assume that Sorrow would have been brought back to the United States by his father. In the context of this production, set post-WWII, Japanese immigrants in North America would endure great social prejudice for years to come. The forcible displacement of 120,000 people of Japanese descent in the United States and 12,000 in Canada would only just be concluding, with the final internment camp closing in 1957.
I do not wish to forget the point in Nikkei history that Madama Butterfly encapsulates. My aspiration is to project an understanding of the greater story that this piece fits within. As new works in opera continue to be created, an authentic, nuanced, and complete representation is being conceived that prioritizes more opportunities for future generations.
When it comes to Madama Butterfly, I hope that someone sees themselves reflected—maybe not in this single story, but in the team that has been brought together to share this piece.
Luka Kawabata is a Japanese-Canadian opera singer and writer based in Vancouver. Known for his thoughtful artistry and commitment to inclusive storytelling, he brings lived experience and cultural sensitivity to his work on and off the stage. Luka is a cast member in Vancouver Opera’s 2025 production of Madama Butterfly, where he reflects deeply on questions of identity, heritage, and representation.