Geisha grrrls

The author of a new book about gender in Japan sets aside Western stereotypes and talks about how ordinary women are fueling a feminist revolution that's transforming the country.

By Corrie Pikul

Read more: Japan, Feminism, Women's Movement, Life

Jan. 17, 2007 | The American media loves Japanese women, especially when they're dressed in kimonos or school uniforms, or covered head to toe in brand names. But according to Veronica Chambers, a journalist, a novelist and the author of "Kickboxing Geishas: How Modern Japanese Women Are Changing Their Nation," those stylish stereotypes distract us from the real story. Chambers claims that there's a major cultural power shift taking place in Japan -- and it's ordinary working women who are shaking things up.

Chambers first sensed the tremors of revolution when she visited Japan on a media fellowship in 2000; her interest piqued, she set out to find enterprising Japanese women who were bucking the corporate system and creating financial and personal success on their own terms. The task turned out to be harder than she expected -- not because the women didn't exist (to the contrary) but because they didn't think their stories were worth sharing with each other -- or with nosy journalists.

Chambers says she started to feel like one of the Western men of the 19th century who were obsessed with the myth of the exotic Japanese female. But instead of following the flash of red lips or the clatter of geta sandals down the alleyways of Gion, Chambers tracked groundbreaking businesswomen and iconoclastic entrepreneurs to their offices and homes. She spent three years discussing ideas of autonomy and ambition with more than 74 women, including young hipsters like a hip-hop DJ and an extreme snowboarder; barrier breakers like a senior executive at Canon and an openly gay Osaka assemblywoman; and dozens of small-business owners, artists and creative types. Through her interviews, Chambers discovered that feminism is alive and even thriving in Japan -- albeit in a way that might seem a little, well, foreign to American women. And as American women continue to strive for true equality in the workplace, the White House and beyond, she hopes it may be helpful to hear how our counterparts across the globe -- who don't have mandatory maternity laws, who have fewer female representatives in government than most other industrialized nations and who earn half of what men do -- are doing.

Salon spoke to Chambers about "empowered" office ladies, fed-up salarymen, and power-suited female execs who shamelessly play geisha on weekends.

When did you first realize "regular" Japanese women were in the middle of a major cultural shift?

The year I was in Japan for my fellowship was the year of the yamamba girl. Those were the girls with the extremely suntanned faces, the platform shoes and the bleached-blond hair. Also, the subways were filled with these signs that said "No Touching," because there was a big problem with girls being groped on the trains. I read in newspapers that part of the reason some of the girls adopted yamamba dress was to make themselves unappealing to Japanese businessmen. I felt like something really interesting was going on. It wasn't exactly "feminism," but I was hearing girls and women talk about wanting things to be different. I was curious about how women in Japan were changing, and I wanted to look beyond the shop-happy girls in Omotesando, the yamamba girls in Roppongi, the street-fashion girls in Harajuku, and find three-dimensional women doing interesting and pioneering things.

How did you go about finding them?

I started going to the newsstand and picking up magazines and newspapers that looked like they had profiles or stories about women. I'd come back to the U.S., pay to get these articles translated, then fax the translations [about] women who seemed interesting to the Japan Society, with requests for them to help me find them. My contacts at the Foreign Press Center in Japan were almost all women. I'd usually bring a translator with me on interviews, and the women from the Foreign Press Center would say to me, "Can I come with you? I've always wanted to meet someone like this."

Now, these are the people who set up press conferences when Hillary Clinton or Sofia Coppola comes to Japan -- they're not easily impressed. But you don't see a lot of People magazine-type stories or Oprah segments in Japan about regular people doing inspiring things. So the women at the center were really excited to interact with these Japanese women, and that made me feel like I was on the right track.

Just about every major Japanese company is filled with "office ladies," who are uniformed secretaries and administrative assistants. Why is it so hard for them to advance up the corporate ladder?

When I'd go to meetings at companies, I'd meet almost all men. There'd be one woman, maybe -- and she'd be pouring tea. Even at the copier giant, Canon, all the women who work at the front desk wear pink blouses, pink skirts, white gloves. It's like Renée Zellweger in that movie "Down With Love."

When I interviewed Canon's Masako Nara, one of the few women in Japan who is a senior executive at a traditional company, she didn't even acknowledge these women. Here in the U.S. it's understood that you've got to get on the good side of the secretaries and the receptionists, because they tell you everything that's going on. But there it felt like a huge divide between Masako and her female subordinates. Masako later told me that once she got on the corporate track, another woman -- her mentor -- warned her to never pour tea. "Once you do," said the woman, "the men in the office associate you with the women in pink who pour tea; they'll think that's all you can do. You'll never gain back their respect."

If the few women who are making strides in corporate Japan aren't lending a hand to those below them, who is?

It's true that Masako Nara wasn't really feeling the sister-woman thing. She was at a point in her career where she was realizing that she had seven or eight years left to make a mark on the company, and then she was just going to be waiting out retirement. For her, making her mark meant bringing about innovation, it meant becoming powerful -- it didn't necessarily mean bringing in more women. But the fact that she is a woman in a high-level position at a big company like Canon means something, and because she's really good at her job, it will make it easier for the next woman who comes along.

There will always be individuals slipping in the door; the question is, how do you open the door wider so that more women can participate? When Carlos Ghosn, the Brazilian head of Nissan, announced in late 2005 that he was going to double the percentage of women in the company's Japanese sales force from 5 to 10 percent, people said it wasn't a big deal. But at car companies like Honda and Nissan, you have to do all the jobs -- including selling cars -- before you can become a V.P. So Ghosn is actually giving a lot of female Nissan employees an opportunity they didn't have before. But it was telling that it took a foreigner to make that decision.

Next page: Out of 75 women, there were five or 10 whose moms were not housewives