Bonsai and Banzai Are Not the Same, My Silly Fellow Americans: The Problem with AI

For a multicultural country like the US, we put the “multi” in multicultural by having multiple ways of butchering how to pronounce foreign words that have become a part of everyday American culture—unlike sofa, an Arabic word we somehow pronounce perfectly.

I’ve experienced this my whole life. Ask Americans what those tiny Japanese trees are called, and they’ll say “banzai trees.” Then ask what Japanese kamikaze pilots yelled before their planes burst into flames on impact with a naval ship in the Pacific during World War II—and they’ll also say “banzai.” So apparently, these pilots were screaming about how much they loved tiny trees before dying. I get it, though. When I’m in a life-or-death situation, I yell out “Chia Pet!”

Am I shocked by this? No. Back in 2016, I wrote a blog post to address the banzai/bonsai confusion. Later, after visiting a Chinese-run ramen restaurant and hearing dozens of “influencers” call tonkotsu ramen “tonkatsu,” I wrote another post. I was trying to do something about it, but we Americans are like, “naw, that’s cool, I’m good, pass.”

Fast forward to late 2025, and I decide to ask the pinnacle of human intellect—Artificial Intelligence—how to pronounce bonsai. It tells me: “bon-sigh, with the emphasis on the first syllable. Bon rhymes with ‘on’ or ‘con,’ and sai rhymes with ‘sigh’ or ‘pie.’”

Then AI explains that these are “loanwords” and emphasizes how Americans pronounce them—implying I should take note and learn a thing or two. It gives the example: sushi is an English word now, just like kindergarten (German) and algebra (Arabic). Yet we don’t call a résumé a “re-zoom” or a tsunami a “tee-sue-nah-mee.” So why bonsai?

I then ask what makes something a loanword. AI responds: “When a word is taken from one language and becomes established in everyday use in another language, with its own dictionaries, pronunciation norms, etc.”

Ah, okay. So mispronunciation is how a word becomes American? AI then argues that’s not the sole definition of a loanword, but I call BS on its strict adherence to justifying loanwords.

By now, I just flat out ask: “Why do you insist on giving the mispronunciation of Japanese words?”

AI responds: “I only mention the common English pronunciation (‘bon-sigh’) because that’s what the vast majority of English speakers actually use, and your original question was ‘how do you pronounce bonsai.’”

Fair enough, regurginator. I did ask that. And the powers that be have spoken: we Americans shouldn’t be bothered to learn how to properly pronounce something—quesadilla, filet mignon, phở, bruschetta—because, bro, “it’s just on loan,” and however the masses choose to say it, that’s what we’re going with.

If the pronunciation of words of any given language is arbitrary, and we use that same attitude and let it spill over into math and biology, I can imagine what it would look like if we approached both those subjects the same way—oh wait, too late.

Now, before you get bent out of shape because you have already enlisted on your side of the culture war, let me try and explain why I think this matters (notice I didn’t flat out say why it matters? It’s because I am not speaking in absolutes). The only thing I can do is say what I think, which is that we’re the land of multiculturalism—the same people doing land acknowledgments before meetings. So maybe, as Americans, we can do better, like not butchering every borrowed word and acknowledging its origins.

Think about it this way: you’re ordering a venti (Italian) and a chai (Hindi/Urdu) with a croissant (French) and a bánh mì (Vietnamese), taking a food pic with perfect bokeh (Japanese), and posting it to Instagram with a bunch of emojis (Japanese). We’re swimming in loanwords. The least we can do is pronounce them right, because what is more American than that?

To me, that is American AF—being able to juggle a multitude of foreign words beyond sofa (Arabic). If you’re Japanese, orange juice is phonetically broken down by character so it’s orenji jūsu, and if you try to say “orange juice,” they won’t comprende el chino.

All too many of us don’t even pretend to care, because we’re still calling a gyro a “jai-roh.” I know you’re still like, “I still don’t give a fock.” I get it. I also don’t care if you mispronounce bonsai in your day-to-day life. I only wrote this entire piece because I came upon a business that is hosting bonsai parties, and if they are going to make a buck, then I give a fuck.

Why? I grew up around bonsai because I come from a family of landscapers, and my uncle was part of the bonsai club in Denver, and if you look at my blog, I am no stranger to bonsai (even dated a Japanese girl whose hobby was ikebana, aka flower arrangement). So, for the record, I love that they’re doing this business because it takes passionate people to do what they’re doing. I just have an issue when it’s treated as a commodity because there is a culture behind these tiny trees.

I am not ducking out of calling out a business that hypes bonsai parties but can’t be bothered to care how to properly say bonsai.

The same also goes for attendees at one of their parties. It is the same muscle you use when you’re saying a person’s name (yeah, your brain is not a muscle, but like a muscle, use it or lose it). It’s basic common courtesy.

If you’ve ever watched someone look at a name tag and decide, in real time, that your name—say, Phuc Bich, a real name that means “Blessing Jade” or “Fortunate Jade”—is too much work, they’re definitely thinking, “yeah, I’m not even going to try that.” That tiny pause is a good thing; however, you know they’re about to toss in a little shoulder shrug before they go, “I’m just gonna call you PB.”

Well, bro, that’s the same shrug that gets applied to banzai/bonsai or tonkotsu/tonkatsu. One is a tiny tree; the other means “may you live 10,000 years.” One is a pork bone stock; the other, a deep-fried pork cutlet.

Yes, you can say it doesn’t matter, while we be telling ourselves that’s not even an American name—then turning around and ordering your “pho dac biet” by saying, “I’ll have the number one.” That’s the part AI happily reinforces, lazy focks, the Ameri’can’ts. It’s not just reflecting language; it’s laundering the shrug. “The vast majority of English speakers say it this way” becomes the easy button of life cuz speak Murican.

Meanwhile, on many main streets in the US of A, plenty of Ameri’cans have handled the complexity. Many can memorize every lyric to a Japanese anime song, like one homie’s son in Appleton, Wisconsin, who impressively rattled one off, in tune. It’s not that our brains can’t wrap themselves around “bon-sai” or “phở” or “bánh mì.” It’s that we’ve decided some things deserve that effort and some things don’t.

So yeah, I’m starting with bonsai biaaaatches. Not because the trees are sacred, but because they’re the low bar for being cultured, especially if you are hosting bonsai parties that charge $85 while touting “making it easy to learn the art of bonsai.” Well, how about starting with pronunciation, bro.

If we can’t be bothered to get the tiny trees (TYE-nee TREEZ) and bruschetta (broo-SKEH-tah) right, what are the odds we’re going to suddenly step it up with nuance when it’s a person, a memory, or an entire culture on the other side of the word? So step it up, my fellow Americans.