I think it’s probably no coincidence that I’m so strongly drawn to the NPD demonization problem, and to the structure by which someone is turned into a “villain.”
I’ve lived with the experience of being treated as the bad guy since around the age of nine.
It started in my family.
Someone would say bad things about me.
And it would stick.
People around us would believe it.
Then the people doing it would gradually get a taste for it.
Once they had the experience of success—of “this works if we make this person the villain”—it would repeat itself.
And then other people would join in too.
They would incite my parents and steer their anger and aggression toward me.
Before long, an atmosphere had been created in the family that said “it’s my fault.”
At the time, I didn’t understand what was happening.
I just kept being seen as the one at fault, somehow.
Somehow, my side of the story never got through.
Somehow, the facts were never checked.
Somehow, lies held more power.
Looking back now, I think it was a deeply cult-like, dysfunctional family structure.
Atmosphere mattered more than facts.
Assumptions mattered more than confirmation.
A story someone had made up mattered more than truth.
It was an environment where those things held power.
If I’d been born into a normal family, I probably wouldn’t have been treated as the villain.
(I say that because among decent people who aren’t ruled by lies, I was actually treated well, or rather, seen correctly.)
As a child, I wasn’t a bad kid from the start.
On the contrary, I studied too.
I was good at math, and ranked near the top of my class.
I did advance preparation and review, and I even studied ahead at the level of older kids.
If I saw someone being bullied, I helped them; if my siblings were being bullied, I went to help them too.
There were times I went to get back things that had been taken from us.
I think, relatively speaking, I was a “good kid” when I was young.
But no matter how sincerely I tried, no matter how hard I worked, no matter how much I achieved, I was spoken of badly.
I was treated like the villain. Insulted. Treated like trash.
My side of the facts wasn’t seen.
My feelings weren’t seen either.
As that kept happening, something inside me began to break.
If I were to put it into words,
it might have felt like,
“If you’re going to say I’m that bad, then I’ll really become bad.”
Looking back now, I think that was a child’s kind of defense.
To escape the suffering of being treated as the villain over and over, I tilted in the direction of actually becoming bad.
For me, delinquency was, in a sense, an “escape.”
I even did things I truly never wanted to do in the first place.
I stole too.
I even thought about running away from home.
I thought maybe my grandpa would understand.
But I didn’t have money.
So there were times I even thought about stealing money to go.
At first, I was trying to do things properly.
I was trying not to do bad things.
And yet I kept being told I was bad, bad, bad.
And eventually, I really did tilt toward the bad side.
Then the people around me, as if relieved,
would look at me and say,
“See? I told you he was bad.”
That was the structure, I think.
As a child, I think Ilostthere.
I lost to the suffering of being treated as the villain.
I couldn’t protect myself fully.
And that, in turn, led me into delinquency.
Bosozoku, juvenile detention.
The usual path, so to speak.
But just because I went to juvenile detention didn’t mean I was the kind of person who would reform right away.
(Kids who joined bosozoku back then didn’t usually get a wake-up call just from juvenile detention.)
If anything, part of me wanted to become even worse.
But there, I met someone who was truly deep in heart as a human being.
Strict, but warm.
Not superficial kindness, but real human depth.
Through that relationship, little by little, something changed inside me.
Even outside the world of wrongdoing, there are people who are genuinely human.
Even in strictness, there can be warmth.
I came to know that kind of thing.
And naturally, my interest in bosozoku and delinquency faded.
After leaving juvenile detention, I said I would quit bosozoku.
The senior member at the time accepted that.
He told me, “Do your best.”
But he also said, “If you quit, don’t show up at the gatherings. If we find you, we’ll beat you senseless.”
(Back then, if you quit, you couldn’t ride the old-school bikes, and if you were found at a gathering after quitting, you could be half-killed. A lot of people ran away from their hometowns.)
That was normal in the bosozoku world at the time.
But at the same time, there was a kind of code there.
Even in a bad world, there were parts that weren’t rotten.
There were human rules of a sort that acknowledged people changing the path of their lives.
But even after that, my family never stopped treating me like the villain.
(In the bosozoku world, I was never treated as the bad guy even once—in fact, I was protected.)
It’s strange.
Within my blood family, I was treated like garbage and cast as the villain.
But in bosozoku, which society tends to view as a bad world, I was never once treated as the villain.
Not even in the family court detention center or juvenile detention.
On the contrary, I was even protected at times.
That carries a very big meaning for me.
Being family doesn’t necessarily mean people will value you.
And a place that looks bad from society’s point of view doesn’t necessarily lack humanity.
In the end, I don’t think what matters is blood relation, titles, or surface-level righteousness.
What matters is whether there’s an eye for facts.
Whether there’s a principle that doesn’t turn people into villains unilaterally.
Whether there’s enough humanity not to abandon comrades too easily.
For me, that part existed more in the bosozoku world than in my family.
That’s precisely why I feel a strong discomfort with judging people by appearances alone.
“It’s right because it’s family.”
“It’s right because it’s a parent.”
“It’s right because it looks socially proper.”
“He’s bad because he’s a delinquent.”
“He’s bad because he’s bosozoku.”
It’s not that simple.
I’ve seen cruelty in places that look righteous.
And I’ve seen the humanity that remains in places that look bad.
Because I’ve had these experiences, I think I feel a strong sense of discomfort toward discourse that easily turns someone into a villain.
Especially within my family, lies, fabrication, and impression management continued for a long time.
An atmosphere was created to make me look bad, and my parents were swallowed by that atmosphere too.
The story created by the other side came to be believed more than my own words.
At the time, I didn’t have the words to explain it.
I didn’t know psychology either.
Projection, scapegoating, impression management, gaslighting, dysfunctional family, cult-like family structure.
I didn’t know those words or concepts.
So I was simply in pain.
Why was I always the one being made into the villain?
Why wouldn’t anyone look at the facts?
Why did lies get through?
Why couldn’t anyone see my heart?
I suffered for a long time without understanding any of it.
But now it’s different.
By tracing the past, deepening my understanding, and repeatedly checking the facts, I’ve finally been able to explain it.
What was happening to me.
Why the treatment as the villain kept repeating.
Why people around me believed it.
Why I ran into delinquency as an escape.
Why my anger and resistance grew so strong.
Why lies had so much power in that environment.
I can explain it quite well now.
Looking back, I think the theme of being treated as the villain was deeply woven throughout my life.
That’s probably why I react so strongly to the demonization of NPD.
Turning someone into a villain.
Not checking the facts.
Making people believe a one-sided story.
Not seeing the other person’s complexity.
Reducing the whole person to a label once it’s been attached.
Then drawing others in and socially cornering that person.
I think I saw this structure many times in my life.
So when I see language demonizing NPD, I can’t look at it as just a matter of knowledge.
I can see thedangerous structurethat’s there.
“Are these people really looking at the facts?”
“Are they seeing the other person as a human being?”
“Aren’t they just using a diagnosis to create a villain?”
“Aren’t they exploiting psychological terms to justify anger and hatred?”
Those questions come up.
It’s probably no accident that I’m so deeply interested in this issue.
From a very early stage in life, I experienced the pain of being treated as the villain.
I saw environments where lies held power.
I saw the structure by which people could be easily turned into villains through impression management.
And I myself nearly broke under it, escaped into delinquency, and then changed again through encounters with people afterward.
That’s why, to a certain extent, I understand.
When people are treated as the villain over and over, they can really tilt toward becoming bad.
When a false story is imposed on them, they can lose sight of themselves.
In an environment where the facts aren’t seen, the heart can break down.
And that suffering is not easy to convey to people watching from the outside.
Now I’m able to put it into words.
That’s why I want to face issues like the demonization of NPD seriously.
This isn’t just about NPD.
It’s a problem in society as a whole, where someone is fixed in place as a “villain.”
It’s a kind of social pathology.
It’s a problem of using diagnoses and psychological terms to judge people one-dimensionally.
It’s a problem of condemning people by atmosphere and impression without checking the facts.
The structure of being treated as the villain has followed me throughout my life.
Now that I’ve finally been able to unravel it and put it into words, I think I can’t ignore this issue.
My engagement with the demonization of NPD isn’t just about knowledge or logic. It’s because I’ve deeply seen the structure of being treated as the villain in my own life that I understand how dangerous it is.
It was painful the whole time.
Why was I always the one treated as the villain?
Why wouldn’t anyone look at the facts?
Why did lies have more power?
At the time, I couldn’t explain what was happening.
But now it’s different.
By tracing the past, deepening my understanding, putting it into words, and reexamining the facts, I’ve finally come to understand what was happening to me.
For a long time, I lived in the suffering of being treated as the villain.
But I’ve already overcome it.
That doesn’t mean I erased the past.
It doesn’t mean the wounds were never there from the beginning.
But I’m no longer trapped inside that story.
I didn’t end as the person who was treated as the villain.
I understood the structure, put it into words, and escaped from it.
That’s why I now feel such a strong discomfort toward language that turns someone into a villain unilaterally.
My engagement with the demonization of NPD isn’t just about knowledge or logic.
It’s because I myself know what it means to suffer from being treated as the villain.
And at the same time, because I know it’s possible to break free from that too.
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