Land of the rising sun: The dichotomy of Japanese masculinity
As part of her column series, Anna Ellis-Rees explores the intricacies of masculinity in a Japan that is both fashion-conscious and work-orientated
People seem to have a lot to say about what it means to be a woman in Japan. Even in the West, we are bombarded with clichéd images of the ‘typical’ Japanese woman, whether she is a delicate Geisha, or a bright-eyed kawaii pop idol. However, the Western definition of the Japanese man has also been fixed by various figures such as the sensitive Yukio Mishima, a poetic writer and bodybuilder who committed seppuku – ritual suicide based on samurai ethics. But what does it really mean to be a man in modern Japan?
Many young Japanese male students experience social pressure; Doshisha University student Haruka says that he is aware of society’s expectation for him to find a good job and set up a family. Although clothes and mannerisms are clearly something most Japanese women have to consider carefully to fit into society, the demands of the masculine life bring its own problems and can be the primary cause for stress in adulthood.
The visual image of masculinity in Japan differs greatly from reality. In some ways, male life appears very flexible. Just looking around the Doshisha University café, it is possible to see how fashion is taken as seriously by men as it is by women here. As opposed to the usual style of t-shirts and jeans that you often see among men in British universities, many Japanese boys are dressed to impress; with branded shoes and jackets, styled and dyed hair, and a large number carrying what we would call ‘manbags’.
It’s definitely a surprise from the stance of a Western mindset that is told by the media that ‘feminine’ garments are for women and for women only. This certainly sheds some light on the narrowness of the gender fashion spectrum in the UK; if a young boy brought a handbag into their British school, they almost certainly would get mercilessly teased. And yet it seems to be the fashion norm in Japan. Furthermore, the metrosexual male image is frequently seen in popular Japanese culture. J-pop boy bands have a hugely contrasting style from the seamless sameness of Western groups. Boy bands in Japan are glamorous, experimental and even ‘feminine’ in their image, similar to that of huge eye-liner and fur coat-wearing K-pop all-male groups such as Big Bang. Perhaps men in Japan have more freedom to express themselves through fashion and style than in the West where masculinity is perhaps as standardised as femininity is in Japan?
Nonetheless, the pressures of the male working world cannot be ignored. The salaryman – a middle-class white-collar professional – is a major role within the Japanese social scale to the extent that they have arguably become a subculture. Japan is an overtly bureaucratic nation, with social groups being defined by their contribution to the system. The salaryman plays an important role in maintaining Japan’s particular social structure, inside and outside the office.
While not the case for all men of this profession, a typical salaryman spends his free time with his colleagues, whether it is playing sports or drinking at an izakaya (Japanese-style pub). Socialising is perhaps as much a part of their job description as their office hours are. On weekday nights, crowds of salarymen are still seen on the last trains before midnight. Many may not have been drinking with their colleagues, but in fact working overtime, something very common amongst salarymen. It is this kind of lifestyle that is the cause of so many suicides and the infamous phenomenon known as karōshi – working to death. In fact, according to Stanley White, the past four years have seen a 45 per cent increase in the number of suicides relating to stress at work, and karōshi has also risen. Of course, this is not a complete representation of every salaryman’s world; for some this is far from what they have to deal with, but for others it is a harsh reality. What does seem to be clear is the masculine culture that has emerged from this profession; in other words, the pressures and expectations for educated men in Japan and the lifestyle they take on.
The male worlds of fashion and work are in many ways contrasting areas, and yet together they paint a fascinating and complex picture of what it means to be a man in Japan. Discussing the matter with Doshisha student Takehiro, it became clear to me that men in Japan have a sense of freedom that runs alongside fixed social expectations: “I feel like I can wear what I want… It seems that androgynous men are fairly popular… [but] I also feel like I have to behave manly and this way of thinking still stands now”.
Across the world, social freedom and flexibility is rarely a total reality; just because experimental appearances and life choices outside of the mainstream exist, this does not necessarily equate to a guaranteed acceptance by the rest of society. Only when both men and women feel that they can easily step outside of gender norms and still be welcomed into society can equality between the sexes take place effectively.
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