Japanese women and homosexuality

In such a conformist society as Japan, to have a lesbian identity is a radical thing. Whilst Japanese society does not have any religious qualms about lesbian sex itself, what it does have a problem with are women who will not conform to societal norms. By declaring a lesbian identity, Japanese women are rejecting heterosexual marriage and thus having a ‘family’; and declaring themselves as sexual, something which Japanese women are not meant to be. Thus, it is acceptable in mainstream society to be married and be a lesbian – as long as women fulfil their ‘duty’ to society, and are not overt. This research aims to address the experiences of Japanese lesbians, from a mainly feminist viewpoint.

Not much interest, academic or otherwise, has been evidenced concerning lesbians in Japan, mainly because they are largely invisible. Young homosexual males are idealised as the ‘perfect men’ in teenage girls’ comics, however homosexual women apparently only exist in pornography. Sarah Ellis writes that:

In a land rife with pet theories created by a lying education ministry which censors school texts and denies the existence of any alternatives to the heterosexual nuclear family, it’s never surprising to run into people who will happily tell you that “Japan doesn’t have any [real] homosexuals.” Something in their eyes eerily tells you they believe it. (2 September 2000)

Thus because ‘real lesbians do not exist in Japan’, the only analysis or exposure done has been self-induced, that is, lesbians writing about their lesbian lives. Sharon Chalmers is the only gaijin (foreigner) that I have seen that has fully researched lesbianism in Japan. Summerhawk may have put together an anthology (Queer Japan) of handpicked experiences of Japanese queer individuals, however with the overall impression that Japanese society is incredibly oppressive. Western societies can also be incredibly oppressive to the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgendered (LGBT) community, however there are also remarkable amounts of freedom and an overwhelming sense of community spirit, which often outweighs the homophobia and the violence. Hence my decision to research what it means to have a lesbian identity in Japan, focusing on the ‘here and now’ of the community, not the opinions of women, brought up in a marriage-orientated society, written five years ago. I wanted to ascertain as to whether Japan still is so marriage-orientated, whether women have achieved equality and sexual freedom. Whether Japanese lesbians live in fear of discovery, and what it means to be a rezubian in Japan. However, I was foiled by lack of up-to-date information, and an overwhelming majority of pessimistic, feminist viewpoints. Not that there is anything wrong with feminist viewpoints, however there appears to be a tendency, amongst feminist women, to believe that if women aren’t achieving 100 per cent equality, they are being oppressed.

This research was originally a study about Japanese lesbians in general, however due to the majority of literature available having a strong feminist viewpoint; it evolved into ‘what Japanese lesbian-feminists think of being lesbians in Japan, with a few token gaijin opinions’. I began by analysing what non-fiction literature about homosexuality, and lesbians in particular, was available in print – books, journal articles, and academic papers. I also researched the position of women in today’s Japanese society, and basic queer theory. I then analysed what resources were available on the Internet, and what material was published there, at the same time attempting to establish contact networks with Japanese lesbians via email. Appendix 1 contains excerpts from correspondence with five young Japanese lesbians that I gained contact with via message boards. Whilst I have not included any of their comments in this essay, their responses provided a background framework to my analyses of the published texts. The resulting information was mostly from primary source materials, that is, mainly autobiographical writings about lesbian experiences. Ideally, there would have been an equal balance between optimistic and pessimistic writings. Unfortunately, the range of women whose opinions have been included in this essay is not entirely representative of Japanese lesbians. There is a fair balance age-wise, however the majority of published women were political lesbian-feminists with a rather pessimistic view of the position of lesbians in Japanese society. The majority of young Japanese women I spoke to were apolitical, non-scene and not from Tokyo, with a slightly more optimistic view of things, although most worried that their parents wanted them to marry. (see Appendix 1) However, because of such a limited time-frame and sample, it would have been virtually impossible to gain a representative sample of all Japanese lesbians, from both the city and the country, young and old, lower, middle and upper class, activist and apolitical.

During the course of this research, I have found it necessary to make the following assumptions; the first being that there is a generic ‘feminist ideology’, supported by both Japanese and Western feminists; centred around empowering and achieving equal rights for women. Secondly, that you cannot judge Japanese society by Western standards, and thus what is considered ‘oppression’ in America or Australia may be not be in Japan. Thirdly, that older generations of Japanese still retain their original values (such as ‘women should marry’), and despite the youth of today being more open-minded, it is still the previous generation who run the companies that employ office ladies to be cute, and perpetuate the ‘role of women’. Additionally, rural Japan is not as progressive as larger cities such as Tokyo or Osaka, so things acceptable in Shinjuku may still be taboo in Takayama or Kobe. Finally, that Japanese people do not have a native sense of a homosexual identity, that is, that Japanese women are not usually aware that they can live as a woman-loving-woman unless they have been exposed to feminist literature, because they are brought up believing marriage, and having a family, is natural for women.

Obviously, this study has been limited, in that being conducted in Brisbane, neither Japanese lesbians nor material published by them, for example newsletters or books, were readily available. Queer Japan did include the results of a survey done in ‘Onna o Aisuru Onnatachi no Monogatari’, however there is no way of telling the respondents’ geographic or socio-economic backgrounds. What was originally a general study of all Japanese lesbians gradually became ‘what Japanese feminist-lesbians think of their position in society’. In a way, it is unfortunate that the opinions and experiences of non-feminist lesbians – in particular, women who have never been exposed to Western feminist ideologies – have not been available; because obviously, their viewpoints on how living life as a lesbian is would differ greatly from the authors consulted. However, it is debatable as to whether these women would even recognise their homosexuality, because of a lack of information and support groups, which most often stem from feminist collectives. Secondly, there would not be many opportunities for women outside the lesbian community to voice their opinions, particularly if they do not even subscribe to mail-outs.

Despite a recent flurry of interest into nanshoku (male homosexuality), not much has been written about female homosexuality. Perhaps the first book to be published in English concerning lesbians in Japan was Queer Japan, edited by Summerhawk, McMahill and McDonald. Comprised of sixteen life stories of lesbians, bisexual women, gay men and one transgendered lesbian, the book provides a very interesting insight into Summerhawk et al’s perspective of what queer life in Japan is like. However there was an implicit bias towards women, and the majority of women included were well over thirty, and from a very marriage-focused generation. The stories included depict the heterosexist, marriage-orientated society of Japan’s past, however I feel many things have changed, especially over the past five years. While I do not discount the many hardships faced by older Japanese lesbians and gay men, I was disappointed by the domination of same-generation older lesbians, and lack of young women.

Clare Maree and Marou Izumo published their autobiographical Love upon the Chopping board in 2000, but being an international couple, their lesbian experiences would have been different to most other Japanese couples, because of the privileges awarded to those with gaijin partners. Although they did give information about famous lesbians in Japanese history, and the first pride parade in Tokyo, amongst other things, the book was mostly focused on their relationship and their experiences. Until Sharon Chalmers wrote her thesis on the invisibility of Japanese lesbians, there had been no major critical analyses done, in English, of lesbians and their positions within Japanese society. Sharon focused upon the assumption of heterosexuality and social policy, and how this silences Japanese lesbians. Jennifer Robertson does refer to female homosexuality in her book Takarazuka (1998), however this is in relation to gender politics and how the revue exists in Japanese society. The first book to be published in Japanese about lesbians was ‘Onna o Aisuru Onnatachi no Monogatari’ (The story of women who love women) in 1987, followed by Hiroko Kakefuda’s ‘Rezubian de aru to iu koto’ (On being a Lesbian) in 1992. Onna included personal stories and contact information for various lesbian groups and meeting places, and also a survey. (Summerhawk, 1998) Not surprisingly, queer women themselves have written the majority of relevant literature.[i] I am yet to see a paper written by a heterosexual Japanese academic in regards to homosexuality in Japan, though neither have I seen anything written by homosexual Japanese academics; the majority of authors are women who front organisations such as Regumi Studio.

This essay has been divided into five major sections, which I will summarise below. The first provides a general overview of Japanese women, sexuality and their role in society. It then addresses what I have defined a ‘lesbian’ as, and examines how homosexuality is represented in the Japanese language; and then whether Japanese lesbians have an identity. The second examines how lesbians fit into Japanese society, looking at whether a same-sex orientated society is tolerant of homosexuality, and what the word ‘lesbian’ represents to mainstream society, and how lesbians are treated. The third considers conformity in Japan, looking at the difference between homosexual sex and a homosexual identity, and how this fits into the constraints of tatemae and honne; before addressing whether coming out is necessary in Japan. The fourth examines problems faced by Japanese lesbians, concerning independence, legal recognition of relationships, isolation, the inequality of women in Japanese society and finally discrimination from within the queer community. Finally the fifth section, Chapter 6, addresses the history of lesbian organisations and rights’ movements in Japan, from the very first social group to today’s Dyke Marches.

The past twenty years have supposedly been the ‘age of women’ in Japan, however women are still far from real, substantive equality in nearly every sphere of life. (Fujimura-Fanselow, 1995: xix) Employment opportunities have greatly opened up, but women are apparently still the last hired and the first fired. Pressure for women to marry is less from the younger generation, but archaic cultural values are still entrenched in their parents’ generation; and it is this older generation who employ young women to look pretty, until they marry and have children. It is easier for women to live independently, but compared to Western societies, unmarried women are still incredibly disadvantaged.

Theoretically, women are not meant to be sexual in Japanese society. Although the pressure for women to marry has decreased, and the ideal marriageable age has increased in recent years, the official female role in Japan is still that of ‘good wife, wise mother’. Be a good wife to your husband, bear him healthy children, and raise them well. It is considered ‘unwomanly’ (onnarashikunai) for women to not want children (Chalmers, 2000); and women are not meant to have sex outside of marriage. This is illustrated by the fact that the contraceptive pill was not made readily available by prescription until 1999. (McLelland, 2000b) . The fact that arranged marriages used to be so prevalent in Japanese society (and still happen today) demonstrates the dominant role of reproductive sexuality within society. Women would be divorced if they could not bear children, regardless of the success of the marriage. (Yoshizumi, 1995) . Thus the opposite to modern Western society, where marriage is usually love-based, the institution of marriage in Japan seems to be more controlled by society than by the couple concerned. McLelland hypothesises that :

Only a boy who loves a boy (or a girl who loves a girl) is truly free in Japanese society to love beyond the constraining roles imposed by the marriage and family system. (2000b:22)

Buckley affirms the only sanctioned expression of female sexuality exists within marriage (1993: 30). However, in 1995, almost 85 percent of marriages were love-based (renai) as opposed to arranged, and the average age for marriage for women has risen to 27. (Nipponia, 1999). One could be cynical and suggest that just because these marriages are renai, it does not necessarily mean that they were free from pressure.

Nevertheless, this does not stop women being objectified by men as sexual objects, women are meant to be passive during sex and devote themselves to their men. (Funabashi, 1995). While the only official role of female sexuality is to please one’s husband, and then only passively, in practice things are very different. Young women are sexually aware and sexually active. It is simply kept behind closed doors. Public displays of affection between opposite-sex couples are rare, although in larger, more Westernised cities this is changing. Kazuko Tanaka reports that ‘singlehood for women has become more accepted as an alternative lifestyle among Japanese. Increased employment opportunities allow women to be more independent and to refuse undesirable marriages.’ In other words, the definitions of norms for women’s roles in society are no longer as rigid; there is some room for freedom. (1995:306)

Lesbian describes a relationship in which two women’s strongest emotions and affections are directed toward each other. Sexual contact may be a part of the relationship to a greater or lesser degree, or it may be entirely absent. (Faderman, 1981:18)

A lesbian relationship does not signify a lesbian identity, nor does lesbian sex. The focus of this research is upon Japanese ‘lesbians’, that is, women who identify as women-loving-women. The author recognises that ‘lesbian’ in the sense she knows it refers to a specific Western cultural identity, one that Japanese women would not be expected to have developed. The concept of a ‘lesbian’ came to Japan with the feminist movement in the 1970’s. Up until then, there were dōseiai[ii] and ome relationships, ‘romantic friendships’ and ‘Class S’, but apparently no shared identity, and thus no label. Nanshoku can be translated as ‘male homosexuality’ or ‘sodomy’, both nouns, but there is no word for a homosexual male, apart from the slang okama. The same with women, there is only the slang onabe, reinforcing the idea that the concept of a woman who identifies as loving other women is unthinkable in Japanese society.

Having established this, I shall herein refer to homosexual Japanese women as lesbians in the sense that they are women-loving women. I have not made any definite distinctions between homosexuality and bisexuality within my research. Apart from the fact that it is incredibly difficult to draw a line as to where one ends and the other begins, I feel that bisexual Japanese women would have experienced a lot of what ‘purely’ homosexual women do; and a label does not always imply heterosexual experience. What must also be established is the vast difference between having homosexual sex, and being a homosexual, that is, recognising that one’s primary sexual attraction is a same-sex attraction.

It is also important to recognise that the majority of women who love the otokoyaku (male role players) in Takarazuka or who frequent Shinjuku bars to visit onabe, or ‘Miss Dandies’ as Robertson refers to them (1998), are not lesbian, and are not acting on lesbian desires. In an ironic parallel to the onnagata in Kabuki, where real women were not perfect enough to appear on the stage, these performers represent the (non-existent) ‘ideal’ Japanese man, kind and caring even after the courtship period. After the honeymoon, so many husbands revert to sarariman behaviour, virtually ignoring their wives except for sex, that these romantic pseudo-males who lavish attention on their women for the rest of their lives together provide a dream-world alternative. Fans describe otokoyaku as having none of the usual brutishness or rudeness of ‘real’ men. (Dream Girls, 1994) Onabe, male impersonators in the entertainment industry, are usually transgendered or transvestite biological women. They love women, but do not see themselves as women-loving-women, not even as women. Similarly, their customers see them as ‘men’.

Then how do we explain the popularity of musumeyaku, the female actors in Takarazuka? Whether many Takarazuka performers are lesbian or not may be a hotly-debated issue that management try to downplay, but the majority of fans, despite ‘being in love’ and buying gifts for actors, do not identify as homosexual. Despite the 1930’s hysteria that ‘feverish yearning for otokoyaku’ eventually lead to the deviancy of ome no kankei (male-female relations), the relationships (or rather, the way the fan reacts to the star) may be homoerotic and there may be elements of a homosexual relationship (i.e. the perceived closeness). However, the bottom line is that they are perfectly natural crushes, and have no indication of sexual identity or orientation.

It is, of course, possible that the concept of the ‘ideal male’ is merely a ruse, a cover-up for a subversive lesbian counter-culture. But this is ignoring the popularity of bishōnen, beautiful young gay males, and shōnen ai (boy-boy love), in shōjo manga, another fantasy representation of the ‘ideal male’ ; and it is unfeasible to suggest that every single female fan of Takarazuka and patrons of Miss Dandy bars are all lesbians.

The invisibility of Japanese lesbians is evident in the lack of vocabulary to describe them. There are no native words that mean ‘woman-loving-woman’. The term for homosexuality, dōseiai, comes from the Chinese characters for ‘same-sex love’, love in this sense being agape. Coined by medical specialists, Robertson writes that it ‘refers specifically to a passionate, but supposedly platonic, friendship between females’. The term soon became an umbrella term for homosexuality of both sexes. (1998:68) However, dōseiai and dōseiaisha (homosexual) have now taken on mainly masculine connotations, Summerhawk defines it as ‘same sex love between men’ on the back of Queer Japan (1998). The word nanshoku (literally male charms, defined in the dictionary as ‘sodomy’) does have a female counterpart, joshoku (female charms), but this refers to heterosexual attraction.

Okama, slang for gay male, also represents cross-dressers and transgendered individuals, coming from an allusion to anal sex. (McLelland, 2000a) From okama came onabe, a pun on the pan supposedly being similar to female genitalia. Onabe can also be spelt onnabe, as in the subtitles on the documentary Shinjuku Boys (1996) , perhaps the emphasis on the ‘woman’ is a reclamation of the word. Once again, onabe can be a derogatory term for lesbians, it can be a cross-dressing ‘woman’ (or Miss Dandy) working in a Shinjuku Ni-chome nightclub, it can be a female-to-male transgendered person – regardless of sexuality. The word ‘lesbian’ became rezubian in Japanese, sometimes shortened to rezu, mostly in pornography or as an insult, sometimes shortened to bian[iii], as in the case of the Tokyo lesbians who wanted both a code name for themselves, and to reclaim rezubian. Bisexual is also borrowed as baisekushuaru.

Sexologists at the beginning of the century defined two types of lesbian relationships. The first, dōseiai relationships, were homogendered, and supposedly harmless, being like ‘Class S’ crushes. The second, ome no kankei (male-female) relationships, were heterogender, ‘explicitly sexual and pathological’. These were more like butch/femme relationships, where the two women resembled a heterosexual couple. (Robertson, 1998) The term for butch, (o)tachi, comes from tachiyaku meaning ‘leading actor’ in kabuki. Neko or nenne means femme, and is also used by gay males. (Cherry, 1987) More specifically, there is zuboneko, or a femme who wears trousers; and sukatachi, a butch who wears skirts. (Tsukasa, 1999)

Thus there is no native Japanese word for woman-loving-woman, and the only alternative, rezubian, has such negative connotations that few women want to even self-identify as being one. One of the most important processes in accepting one’s sexuality is to be able to identify as something, and although labels can be terribly restricting, it is essential to be able to say ‘I am a lesbian’ to oneself. Thus without such a word, Japanese lesbians cannot create a proper identity, until they reclaim rezubian and rid it of its connotations, or else create a new word. Many women feel that dōseiai is too clinical or male-orientated. And because there is no such word for lesbian that is taken seriously, and few lesbians are confident to publicly identify as a ‘lesbian’, the myths about sexually obsessed lesbians are perpetuated, because the only representation of lesbians is in the entertainment industry, mainly in pornography.

It is difficult for Japanese women to recognise their own homosexuality, as there is no concept of a woman-loving woman in Japanese vocabulary. Many recall feeling ‘different’ while growing up, but in order to realise something about oneself, one needs a name or label for it. The founder of ILGA/Japan, Teishiro Minami, questions Japanese peoples’ ability to look inside themselves,

They don’t ask the question: Who am I? So it’s hard to develop a sense of identity. And without a sense of identity, a minority group cannot survive. (Miller, 1993: 152)

“It is impossible to get people to yearn for something they have never known, “ wrote Hara (1996: 129), thus without the concept of a homosexual identity, Japanese lesbians remained invisible until the turn of the 20^th century and the coinage of dōseiai, literally ‘same-sex love’. (Robertson, 1998)

Homosexual Japanese women do not usually identify as ‘lesbian’ unless they have been exposed to feminist literature, theory, or gatherings; because of the connotations ‘lesbian’ conveys. Pornography brought to Japan with the American occupation after World War Two brought with it images of lesbians as sexually obsessed perverts.

Many describe knowing the word ‘lesbian’, but not feeling it applied to them. Apart from the Internet, unless one lives in big cities such as Tokyo or Osaka, there are few resources and no visible community. Even then, it is difficult to take the first step. A friend living in Osaka tells how close-knit the scene is, newcomers are usually not spoken to unless introduced; and Shinjuku Ni-chome lesbian bars sometimes have a reputation that ‘no Japanese lesbians go there, only foreigners’. (Miller, 1993: 52) Thus, one could deduce that either Japanese lesbians are afraid to acknowledge their sexuality, or to visit such bars by themselves.

Japanese society is a same-sex orientated society. Kyoko Yoshizumi explains that it is very common for children to play in same-sex groups, and to grow up feeling much more comfortable psychologically with same-sex friends. She believes there is ‘something in the culture which is conducive to the development of strong emotional bonds and feelings of solidarity between those of the same sex.’ (1995: 190) Thus, it is common to see schoolgirls walking hand-in-hand and hugging. These ‘Class S’ friendships between girls, supposedly non-sexual schoolgirl passionate friendships or crushes, are regarded as harmless. The S can stand for ‘sister’, ‘shōjo’ (young woman), ‘sex’ or all three, and also ‘schöne’, a German word meaning ‘beautiful woman’ or ‘escape’, the loanword being popular in the 1920’s. (Robertson, 1998)

There is a very fine line between ‘Class-S’ type friendships, often stereotyped as a junior-senior pair of girls with mutual crushes; and the romantic friendships that Faderman speaks of (1981), and lesbian relationships, which are not necessarily sexual. I believe the difference lies between act and identity, all three relationships may have the same intensity and degree of passion and love shared, but only a lesbian has defined herself as a woman who loves women (and as someone who does not wish to be married). This of course is a mere interpretation of something that cannot be clinically defined.

In answer to the question, does this encouragement of closeness between young girls create an environment tolerant of lesbianism; I would say both yes and no. Society seems to tolerate physical contact between women; ironically, it is heterosexual public displays of affection that are frowned upon. Ayako Hattori suggests that this is because ‘no one recognises their feelings for their women friends as reflective of their sexuality’. It is perfectly permissible for girls or wives to have emotionally intimate relationships with other women, because the marriage system is supposedly infallible. (1999) Up until post-World War 2 American Occupation, romantic crushes between women were quite common. (Izumo, 2000) Thus society’s same-sex orientation allows romantic friendships and lesbian relationships to exist without suspicion; because women are not given a choice regarding their sexuality, the existence of ‘normal’ lesbians is hidden and so it is assumed women will eventually get married and fulfil their duty as ‘good wives, wise mothers’. However, since being a lesbian is rejecting mainstream heterosexuality, and thus normality, it is still looked upon as something one should not be.

The ‘invisibility’ of Japanese lesbians is a complex issue, society views lesbians as such horrible things that no woman wishes to identify as one, the government won’t officially recognise that lesbians exist and so lesbians cannot legally register themselves; and because of this silence, society thinks that ‘real’ lesbians don’t exist anyway. (Chalmers, 2000) Because the only place that lesbians are really visible in society is in pornography, the dominant image of lesbians is sexual. Ayako Hattori describes society’s view of lesbians as ‘abnormal people who are in pornography, or foreigners’. (1999) Lesbian means sex animal, rapist, pervert or potential sexual abuser. (Tsuruga,1994; Machino, 1994) Just as it is popular in men’s manga, girl-girl sex is portrayed in ladies’ comics (rediizu kommikusu). However, these comics are known for their contents of sexual ‘perversions’, such as S&M, violence, and homosexuality (Kazumi, 1998), and do not reflect reality. Just as sado-masochistic tendencies are not considered polite dinner conversation, the publication of woman-woman sex in mainstream comics does not mean it is widely, or seriously, accepted by society.

Maria Miho Hiramatsu argues that ‘the problem with the image of lesbianism in Japan is that it is connected with pornography produced according to male ideas of what women are’, not what women think they are. (Utopia, 2000) Chalmers argues that society ‘refuses to acknowledge the presence of lesbians outside the confines of erotic art, pornography and the entertainment industry.’ (1995:88)

What is even more oppressive is the confusion between transgenderism and homosexuality by the media, not helped by the double meanings of okama and onabe. Both can mean either ‘a homosexual man/woman’ or ‘a cross-dresser’ or ‘a transgendered person’. Thus with no linguistic definition, society regards homosexuals and cross-dressing entertainers as one and the same, and the only native word that is related to lesbians, onabe, is rejected by many because it implies a desire to appear, or be, male.

This confusion by the mass media only helps to perpetuate stereotypes of what lesbians are, either ‘horrible mannish women’ or disturbed individuals, lesbians really want to be men. (Summerhawk, 1998) In the 1920’s-30’s; in the midst of a spate of lesbian double suicides, when ome relationships were fervently discussed in the newspapers, the masculine partner was always the deviant, the aggressor. Females being naturally passive, the feminine partner was rarely at fault. (Robertson, 1998) Hara Minako describes homosexuality as seen as a ‘teenage phenomenon’ (1996), homosexuality in this case being dōseiai relationships, often stemming from Class ‘S’ friendships. These relationships were fine, because eventually the girls would grow out of this ‘tendency’, get married and have babies, fulfilling their duty to Japanese society. However, the masculine lesbians in ome relationships were rejecting the social constraints of femininity, by not getting married and by being fully deviant, and so society had a problem with them. As long as lesbians are feminine, and thus retain their attractiveness to men, there is the chance that they will get married and become normal. There are also many stories of lesbianism being seen as a mental illness; (Hara Minako) and thus a stigma within the lesbian community (Summerhawk, 1998); because what sane woman would not want to marry and have children for their country?

I gain the overall impression that as long as Japanese people conform to social norms by marrying, no one cares what they do in their own time. Baruma (1985:124) cites the proverb ‘The nail that sticks out, must be hammered in’. Homosexuality has an aura of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’, as long as people do not have to think about it, as long as it is kept in private, they do not care. Hence, homosexual sex is fine, as long as it is behind closed doors, preferably in a love hotel. Indeed sex for men is seen as ‘play’. Therefore, nanshoku was glorified and perfectly acceptable, because these warriors were doing their duty for their country. Because there were no women around, naturally senior warriors turned to juniors to release all that pent-up sexual energy. So theoretically, as long as they are married and raising children, Japanese women may have as much lesbian sex as they like. However, again, women are not meant to be sexual. Sex is for procreation, not recreation, thus women are meant to please their husbands, and that is it. (Buckley, 1993) Therefore, for lesbians to not want to marry, and to be sexual, is catastrophic.

In his book, Behind the Mask, Baruma argues that homosexuality ‘has never been treated as a criminal deviation or sickness’. (1985: 127). The act of homosexual sex itself, be it gay or lesbian, has never been seen as a sin, as within Christian religion. Whilst Summerhawk alleges that

Traditionally, Japan has looked at homosexuality as something strange, unnatural, something it would be better not to be. (1998:6)

I personally believe the previous statement would be much more correct if ‘homosexuality’ was changed to ‘homosexuals’. Society has no problems with homosexuality, that is, having same-sex desire, because within the constraints of tatemae and honne[iv], an individuals’ sexuality is not a public concern. “The Japanese are underhanded about desire.” (Izumo, 2000:56) However, homosexuals, because they are different, because they are openly rejecting heterosexual marriage and families, because they bring sexuality, something that Japanese do not wish to think about, into the open, pose a big problem.

To ‘come out of the closet’ means to openly admit your sexuality to those around you, to readily identify as a lesbian or bisexual or gay person. It is not a once-off event, but a continual process, for unless you dress obviously to fit the stereotype of what a lesbian looks like; not every person you meet each day will know your sexuality. It is possible to be completely out, to all family, friends, co-workers, and sporting team mates; or only to your immediate friends and relatives. It is a matter of personal choice, and not even a necessary one at that; but it does help in finding a partner. The main reasons people come out are because they felt they were living a lie, constantly changing gender pronouns when talking about partners, pretending to be something they aren’t. They may also tire of being asked, ‘So when are you getting married?’ The need to ‘come out’ is directly related to whether you wish to lead a ‘lesbian lifestyle’ or merely be a lesbian in your spare time.

Effectively, coming out is identifying as different to the heterosexual norm. Thus, in the context of Japanese society, where everyone strives to appear normal, coming out is not necessarily a good idea. Baruma writes that no one cares what you do in private, as long as you conform in public. Most Japanese are incredibly afraid of appearing odd or strange, instead striving to be ordinary (heibon) (1985). In addition, the word ‘lesbian’ has such negative connotations that it would mean social death to readily identify as such. So for Japanese women to openly declare that they will not conform to societal norms, they will not marry, and they will have their own sexual identity is akin to becoming burakumin.[v]

Japanese society is effectively based on a façade of normality: principles of, amongst others, tatemae and honne. Takeo Doi describes the situation as such :

Tatemae is a certain formal principle which is palatable to everybody concerned so that the harmony of a group is guaranteed, while honne is the feelings or opinions which they privately hold regarding the matter. (1986: 159)

Thus in order for society to function properly, everyone must conform to these natural conventions, and keep their own motives and opinions inside for the good of the general population. Hence individual sexuality falls under honne, illustrated by the popularity of love hotels (rabu hoteru) in Japan. Friends recount being told by Japanese friends that one does not bring people home to stay the night, else they risk being seen as having loose morals by the neighbours. It is perfectly ok to be promiscuous in Japan, fetishes are not seen as deviant behaviour but as play; as long as it is in a love hotel, as long as it is in private, as long as you keep up your reputation, your normal face in public. Hence, it is perfectly ok to have homosexual sex, as long as one does not identify as being homosexual, and thus ‘not normal’.

Summerhawk writes that Japanese lesbians are doubly oppressed, first as women, secondly as lesbians. (1998) Whilst I believe that oppression is a culturally-specific concept; and an American woman cannot judge Japanese society using Western standards; Japanese women are certainly not equal to men, and neither are homosexual Japanese equal to heterosexual Japanese. Women have come a long way in the past thirty years; however, there is still room for much improvement. Because of the assumption that women will get married, take time off to have children and possibly leave full-time work, their positions in companies are greatly affected. (Chalmers, 2000) The majority of companies today are run by middle-aged men, whose generation believes that in the workplace, women are supposed to be young and pretty and obey men. Furthermore, the average Japanese woman’s income is less than half of the average man’s, and almost at the formal poverty line. (Machino, 1994) According to a 1998 survey conducted by the Japanese Ministry of Labour, women (of the same age group) earn only roughly seventy-five percent of the average man’s monthly salary. For example, a 25-29 year old woman working in the finance and insurance sector would earn 230 000 yen a month as a basic salary, whereas a man, of the same age, in the same field, could expect to earn 311 000 yen. In the hospitality industry, women earned on average 216 000 yen a month, compared to 270 000 for men. (Ministry of Labour, 1999) Hence, it is difficult for women to survive financially without the tax concessions and housing allowances awarded to married couples by the husband’s company. Satoru Ito, Sukotan campaigner, affirms that all current social welfare systems are designed with only married heterosexual couples in mind, with no support for single women or homosexual couples. (Planet Out, 2000)

It is also very difficult to find accommodation. Real estate agents are reluctant to rent to single women, because they doubt their ability to pay the rent; or to groups of friends, because they doubt their commitment to the agreement. (Hattori, 1999; Chalmers, 2000) Thus, most Japanese women live with their parents until they marry, unless they have moved to larger cities for work or study purposes. So lesbian couples often have to lie and say they are cousins, or other family, to ensure approval. What’s more, a guarantor is needed to secure the apartment / house, and the initial costs of moving in are often prohibitive, landlords requiring key money, bond, and up to four months’ rent in advance. (Izumo, 2000)

Once the household is set up, there is also the problem of (lack of) privacy. Japanese apartments and buildings are built very close to each other, often with only a paper screen separating one family from another. Even if a lesbian couple do wish to set up a family or household, they cannot legally register it on the koseki, or family register. They can either remain on their biological family’s list or register as individuals within a household. Similarly, the national census has no category for women outside married, divorced, widowed or single; by having no ‘de facto’ option reinforcing the idea that women are not meant to be sexual outside of marriage. Thus, officially, lesbians are denied existence, and legal support. (Chalmers, 2000)

The only way for lesbian partners to create a family, and name each other as next-of-kin, is adoption. The older partner can adopt the younger into a ‘legitimate family’, subverting the tradition of mukoyōshi, where a son-in-law is adopted by his wife’s family in order to continue the family name and/or business. (Chalmers, 2000) However, by doing so, lesbians are also self-enforcing the myth that ‘real lesbians do not exist in Japanese society’. For example, lesbian author Yoshiya Nobuko adopted partner Monma Chiyo, but in her museum, little mention is made of the two women’s relationship. Another option pursued by couple Claire Maree and Marou Izumo was to draw up a joint living agreement, which gave legal recognition and rights to their relationship, including notary deeds in case of death. Without this, if Izumo were to become ill, Maree could not visit or authorise surgery; and if she were to die, her family could keep Maree out of all decision-making processes and bar her from the funeral. (Izumo, 2000)

Another major problem faced by homosexual Japanese is isolation. (Miller, 1993) Unless one lives in a large city or has Internet access, there is little or no information available, let alone support groups or social events. Based on the assumption that small towns are nearly always quite traditional and conservative places where everyone knows each other, and privacy is non-existent, to merely be a lesbian without being socially ostracized, let alone find other lesbians or resources, would be an incredibly difficult task. Few would have the courage to sign up to lesbian newsletters or mail outs, with the possibility that parents or postal workers could see their mail. Regumi Studio founder Machino Miwa describes newsletter subscribers’ fears that others would see ‘Re’ and know it meant ‘lesbian’, so the publication’s return address was changed to ‘RST’. (1994) Because there are no social groups or lesbian venues, there is no way for these women to meet others like them. Hence, the importance of websites such as Ruby in the sky with Citrine, which provide bulletin boards allowing for contact with other lesbians. (For a list of major Japanese lesbian sites, see Appendix 2) The Internet is an invaluable media because content can be viewed in relative privacy, and it provides the opportunity to publish material without the usual restrictions, thus giving every woman a voice.

However, the main problem faced by Japanese lesbians is the inequality of women in society. Founder of ILGA/Japan, Teishiro Minami writes: ‘ For women, before taking the position of a lesbian, they have to take a position as a woman. And, in Japan, the position of women is weak.‘ Women are far more susceptible to family and societal pressures. (Miller, 1993:166) Lesbians are also susceptible to ‘minority bashing’, the Japanese way of making sure everyone conforms by attacking those who do not. Chieko Ariga writes:

The heterosexual system…[is] increasingly looked at as a cultural construct that marginalizes and excludes from effective participation certain groups of people, including single people beyond an acceptable marriageable age (particularly women), homosexual men and lesbians. Those groups of people have often been labelled as deviant, abnormal, dangerous and threatening and have been excluded from society because compulsory heterosexuality must be maintained and enforced.’ (1995: 55)

Recent television shows have had ‘Spot the Gay’ segments, where supposed homosexual men are ridiculed. In 1995, Shinjuku Ni-chome was featured in a television show segment of ‘dangerous places you should not go alone’. Seventy-two year old Yu Nakamura was ridiculed in a partially fabricated tabloid article titled “Lesbian granny!”, full of sexual innuendo. (Summerhawk, 1998)

Nevertheless, Japanese lesbians do not just face problems from outside, but also inside the queer community. Lesbian-feminists speak of how much a marriage-orientated society Japan has and how difficult it is to survive. In a 1987 survey, almost one quarter of the respondents had been or were married. This figure increased to nearly 64% of lesbians in their forties. (Summerhawk, 1998) Yet there is much discrimination against married lesbians, as to whether they are ‘real lesbians’ or not. Tsuruga Minako describes them as having ‘lesbian preference’ but refuses to acknowledge them as lesbians because they are not living a lesbian lifestyle. (1994) Kirara (1998) tells the story of a woman starting a relationship with her, only to discover this woman was engaged to be married in two months. It is unclear as to whether this woman wanted to get married or was being pressured to, however this is a common story.

Many lesbians are afraid of bisexual women, because they fear they will be left for a man. (See Appendix 1) But there is no distinction made between actual bisexual women, and married lesbian women. Thus these women who have been pressured into marriage for survival, are being denied their lesbian identity because they have not ‘chosen a lesbian lifestyle’. Feminists such as Minako and Minami describe their decision to lead a lesbian lifestyle, to be open about their sexuality and participate in lesbian gatherings and rights movements’ activities. I find it incredibly hypocritical for these women to attack society for its homophobia, the very women who complain of the way they are treated by heterosexual Japanese feminists, to not be inclusive of the very women that society silences. There is also much biphobia, especially within the lesbian-feminist community. Magazines such as Labrys contain much bi-bashing, and lesbian circles apparently do not welcome bisexual women. (Summerhawk et al, 1998)

However, this is not a solely Japanese phenomenon, unfortunately it exists worldwide in many gay communities. The status and welfare of women may be higher, but it would be naïve to say that living as a lesbian in Western societies is easy. Many women, especially if they are from small towns, are pressured to marry, wear make-up or forgo comfortable shoes. Many are afraid to come out, at home, university or work. Homophobia still exists, but in a more overt way than in Japan.

Clare Maree wrote that in 1994, Tokyo was ‘arching into a gay and lesbian boom’. (2000: 107) With the annual Tokyo International Lesbian and Gay Film and Video Festival, the first Tokyo Lesbian and Gay Pride Parade on 28^th August, and more bars for women in Shinjuku Ni-chome than ever before, the community was definitely strengthening. Previously, the cost of going out for women had been prohibitive, however with the opening of Kinswomyn, a bar without cover charge and with competitively priced drinks, came a definite increase in the amount of women who frequented Ni-chome. Since then, bars and dances for women have steadily grown in number, see http://geocities.datacellar.net/WestHollywood/3006/info.html (last updated in September 2000) for a list.

In early 1999, the Tokyo governor’s advisory commission asked for input from the gay and lesbian community to develop human rights guidelines for Tokyo. This was a first in that no Japanese government has ever recognised that homosexuals might be a group needing protection. However, when the draft was published on June 19 2000, none of the concerns voiced by the community were included. (Planet Out, 2000) Gerber wrote :

Tokyo officials said including homosexuals is premature because most residents do not recognize gay people. They also say homosexuality is not "inescapable," instead viewing it as a sexual "habit." (2000)

Indeed, despite vigorous campaigning from queer rights groups, homosexuals are still seen as having a solely sexual identity. In February of 1991, gay and lesbian rights group OCCUR filed Japan’s first Homosexual Discrimination Suit against the Tokyo Metropolitan Government. The group had held an overnight study camp at the Fuchu Youth Activity Centre in February 1990, and faced harassment and discrimination because the group leaders were required to introduce their group at an obligatory meeting. Identifying as a homosexual group, they were harassed by other groups using the facilities, and then later denied the use of facilities for another camp in May. The Tokyo Board of Education ruled that since all homosexuals do is have sex, seeing this lewd sexual behaviour would be detrimental and traumatising to all others using the centre. However OCCUR appealed against this decision, and despite another appeal from the Tokyo Metropolitan Government, won. (Satoru Itoh, 1998) One would have hoped that in the nine years since this victory, people would have become less prejudiced. However, the actions of one municipal government certainly do not speak for the majority of society.

The first lesbian social group in Japan, Wakakusa, or ‘Young Grass’, started in 1971, with the beginnings of the feminist movement. Shortly afterwards, a more political women’s lib-inspired ‘Mainichi Dyke’ group was born, with weekly meetings and a monthly party. Once a month, a group called ‘Sappho’ would hold dance parties in Shinjuku, with up to 50 women attending each. Sappho also published a bimonthly newsletter, Sappho Kawaraban, for group members outside of Tokyo; containing international lesbian news, group members’ writings and individual profiles. Sappho continued for nine years, until 1994, when because of the new lesbian bars in Ni-chome, it was felt it was obsolete. (Kido Ran, 1998) In 1978 came ‘Subarashii Onnatachi’ , or ‘Wonderful Women’, born from a discussion group held at the now-abolished Liberation Shinjuku Centre, or Libsen. (Izumo, 2000) In 1985, Tokyo’s Regumi Studio was born out of the JOKI feminist group and their co-op office, and in 1987 started a lesbian space. (Summerhawk, 1998) The group’s monthly newsletter, ‘Regumi Tsushin’, had around 300 subscribers in 1994. (Machino, 1994) Naeko Wakabayashi and others set up the group and organised Japan’s first lesbian conference later that year. (Wakabayashi) This conference was the forerunner of the popular Tokyo Dyke Weekends.

In 1987, ‘The story of women who love women’, or ‘Onna o Aisuru onnatachi no Monogatari’ was published by a mainstream publisher, thus bringing Japanese lesbians into public visibility. (Summerhawk, 1998) Full of personal stories and information about lesbian organisations, social groups and bars; this remained the only lesbian book available until Hiroko Kakefuda released ‘Rezubian de aru to iu koto’ in 1992. (Maree, 2000) In 1986, the Asian Lesbian Network was born, and in 1992, their biannual conference was held in Japan. (Summerhawk, 1998) Thus, the lesbian community was gradually developing and strengthening, but for the exclusion of bisexual women from events such as Dyke weekends. Hence, Womyn’s Weekends were started, allowing all queer women to attend; and in 1994, Japan Womyn’s Binet was started – open to women of all sexual orientations who were supportive of bisexuality. (Summerhawk et al, 1994)

After Tokyo’s first Lesbian and Gay parade, attended by over 1200 people, Kokusai Bian Renmei, or ‘International [Les] Bians United’, staged further events, such as a Christmas Eve Lesbian Kiss performance. IBU succeeded in raising lesbian visibility; and in developing a media watch network; within minutes of a homophobic comment on television, up to twenty protest calls could be made to the station. (Maree, 2000) On October 10, 1997, some three hundred lesbians and drag queens marched through the Shibuya district of Tokyo, in Japan’s first dyke march on ‘Dyke Day’; a pun on Taiku no hi, or National Sports Day. (Utopia: 2000)

Thus, one can see there is a definite lesbian community, intent on raising visibility and pursuing liberation. Whether or not they are still exclusive of bisexuals, whether or not they work as close by with the gay male community as one would like is relevant, because united we stand, divided we fall. I feel that within any rights movement, be it women’s liberation or queer liberation or any other, there is always the same problem in that solidarity is not always present. Many campaigners have individual agendas, or spend so much time arguing over small things, for example, whether married women can be real lesbians, that they lose sight of the big picture, and the concept of a community, the togetherness that binds despite individual differences.

This essay has highlighted the necessity of a major study of all Japanese lesbians and their places in Japanese society. Unfortunately, my research sample was limited in that although I did find some apolitical young women who were not feminist identifying, these five young women are not entirely representative of all the non-feminist women in Japan. There were a lot more sources of information I would have liked to include, for example a content analysis of a lesbian publication such as Regumi Tsushin, or of Kakefuda’s Rezubian de aru to iu koto. What also needs to be done is a study of women’s sexuality in modern Japanese society – addressing whether marriage is still as important today as ten years ago, how sexually liberated are today’s young women? What would also be interesting to look at is the women who frequent onabe bars in Shinjuku Ni-chome, are they all office ladies? Are they mostly all feminine? Are they mostly straight or is there a tendency for bi-curiosity? Finally the portrayal of woman-woman sex in rediizu kommikusu, it would be interesting to analyse whether these women are in fact lesbians, or straight women who have been ‘led astray’, seduced, or imbibed with alcohol. Theoretically, if they were attractive, married women experimenting sexually, they would be more accepted than militant lesbian-feminists who have rejected the necessity to be feminine.

Thus, in conclusion, the main problem faced by Japanese lesbians is conforming to societal norms. Despite the fact that women have come a long way since the Meiji era, women's parents still pressure them to marry, and the men who employ them still believe that women should be young, pretty and married with children by twenty-five. Thus, it is still difficult for women to earn enough money to live independently, and thus lesbians are still socio-economically disadvantaged. There is still the stigma of pornography associated with the word rezubian, and the government refuses to officially recognise that women do have relationships with other women. The homophobia that exists within Japanese society is covert rather than obvious, with relatively less violence than in the West, however this only makes it harder to identify. There is a strong sense of community amongst the lesbians in Tokyo, and Internet communities are overcoming the isolation experienced by non-metropolitan women. One can only hope that, with support from the Japanese feminist community, Japanese lesbians will be able to reach a point of acceptance by mainstream society, and the government will realise the nuclear family is not the sole family unit in Japanese society.

Notes :

[i] Although I cannot comment on Sharon Chalmers’ sexuality, nor do I have any right to, it would seem logical that someone writing an honours thesis about Japanese lesbians would have some personal links to either lesbians in general or Japanese lesbians in particular.

[ii] Please see Chapter 2’s section on language for an explanation of all Japanese terms used in this essay.

[iii] The term is also used in Hokkaido, and apparently there is also a type of sausage called ‘Bian’.

[iv] Please see Chapter 4’s section on tatemae and honne for an explanation.

[v] Burakumin – Japan’s underclass, originally social outcasts because family members worked as butchers and the like, today’s burakumin still have problems finding work and marrying, as social status is of great importance in Japanese society.

© Heidi Birkbeck 2000
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