New women in Japan: taking care of themselves.

On a July afternoon, just after arriving in Tokyo, I was following Yoko's spiked high heels and tailored dark suit through the lush, sticky-warm landscape of a hotel garden. Although we were in the trendy Roppongi district in the middle of downtown Tokyo, the garden--with its trees and shrubs, little hills and ponds--seemed a world unto itself. Yoko told me in crisp English that since returning from the United States in 1988, this was one of the rare times she had taken a day off to "look at nature," as the Japanese say. Meeting Yoko Takeuchi for the first time, I learned that she earned an MBA at the University of Montana in Missoula where my husband and I have been professors for 17 years. I asked Yoko how she ever got to Montana from Tokyo. She told me the story about how she sought help with her efforts to go abroad from Mike Mansfield--Missoula graduate, Montana senator and, at that time, U.S. ambassador to Japan. She had entered his Japan office nervously for an interview, and he had asked her if she would like tea or coffee. "Coffee, thank you," she said--and watched in amazement as he walked to several pots along the wall and served her himself. (She had assumed he would buzz the secretary.) His friendly, informal style so impressed her that she decided to apply to graduate school at Mansfield's alma mater--the University of Montana. But, more important, Mansfield had given her a different perspective on how men and women might interact. Yoko and her career represent an exception to the usual position of women in Japanese society. Japan's explosion in technology, education, public administration, and job opportunities is fine for men, but opportunities and lifestyles are still limited for women. I was surprised to learn how many women there still stay home to care for their husbands, children, and other relatives. Although families seem to do well following this old tradition, new options available to women in other industrialized countries are discussed frequently in Japan, even if implementation is slow. "Fewer than 1% of governmental management positions are held by women;(1) only 2% of the female work force hold supervisory positions,"(2) and "Women's wages are actually 50% lower than men's".(3) Japanese husbands generally don't help in the home, and most women you see in offices serve tea. Many Japanese women are becoming aware of their limited role as they absorb more Western influences through television, films, and travel abroad. I was lucky to be able to explore such issues by joining a local international society in Asaka, a Tokyo suburb where we lived for one year. Some of us from that group met frequently for tea and lunch. Through the group, I made contact with two women who are fighting against conventional attitudes in Japan and who aspire to make significant changes: Yoko Takeuchi and Sumiko Shimizu. Two Who Prevailed This is the story of two women who, by virtue of character or circumstance, have overcome the usual limitations on careers for women in Japan. Not only are they models for the younger generation of women; they are trying, also, to persuade other young women to be bold in professional careers not yet sanctioned by Japanese society. Sumiko Shimizu is a member of the House of Councillors in the Diet--the legislative branch of the Japanese government. She represents the Japan Socialist Party for Saitama Prefecture, just west of Tokyo. Her first term began in 1990, but she has been involved in politics--particularly women's issues--most of her life. At 62, she has undiminished energy and spirit and a daily schedule that would be impossible for most people to fulfill. She is especially productive now because, she says, she is able to swing her weight "because of the new power of the Japan Socialist Party which is led by a woman (Takako Doi); the country's frustration with the Liberal Democratic Party (the ruling party); and the potential of more women campaigning in future elections." She remembers far back before World War II when "women weren't treated as human beings ... under the emperor's system, women had no rights and followed men in everything. They were miserable." Her grandfather was a town leader, and her family was not poor, so she was better off than most of the women, but sympathized with their plight. Careers open to women then included teaching, nursing, or laboring on farms or in the silk industry. While she was a student at Maruoka Woman's Junior High School, she decided to study to become a doctor. Unfortunately, just after she entered Takatuki Public Woman's Medical School in Osaka in 1944, the school was bombed. Japan's defeat sent her back home to start over on a career. She found that democratic ideas were being implemented there. Her family's land was taken away and distributed to poor farmers, an action Sumiko commends. To apply for a full-time labor union job, she wrote a paper on the subject, "Why Women Aren't Free." The "Fukui Prefecture Labor Union" liked what she wrote and hired her. She worked for the organization from 1944 until 1957 and set up a working women's group. Even though the 1947 Japanese constitution emphasized individual rights--particularly the right of women to vote--and restricted arms (Article 9), after 1960, Sumiko says, "the government began to look back to the past and revive old, nationalistic ideas." Students and labor powers began to protest these tendencies, and she became an activist on behalf of the general council of trade unions in Japan. As head of the women's section of the union, "I was surprised that so many female coworkers were indifferent to the labor movement, so I began to concentrate power by building one large women's group for Fukui Prefecture. I established classes to help women formulate ideas about their independence from men. I even taught them to change their lifestyle, to cook faster." Eventually, 5,000 women joined the group, and Sumiko became president. Collective activism and her own door-to-door surveys achieved a landmark concession from the Fukui government: 100 nursery schools for working mothers. The newspapers carried the story all over Japan, and the governor of Fukui Prefecture took Sumiko's ideas and ran his campaign based on them. "I had no political ambitions then," Sumiko says, "no notion of how to run a campaign. I was only an activist." Playing a Greater Role As she gathered women's opinions, Sumiko became more and more convinced that women should play a greater role in Japanese politics. "Women have a broad view of things because they generally are not as specialized in training and, therefore, in ideas, as men. They can see the total picture and can imagine a lifestyle different from their own. The more women become involved in politics, the better for Japan." Sumiko encourages women and shows them that they can run for office. She also teaches male politicians how their approaches to many legislative bills are gender biased. Historically, only male legislators have dealt with environmental or household and community issues--like clean water--that require a working knowledge of consumption in everyday home life, something she says Japanese men know little or nothing about. Sumiko admits, with good humor, that, "My male colleagues are always apologizing to me nowadays for the mistakes in perception they have made in writing bills." Their discussions about pollution have tended to place the blame on households, but she comments that household pollution is nothing compared with the chemical wastes that are prevalent in industry. Until recently, all of the house council members were male. The addition of women has made governmental operations more efficient. This change has occurred, Sumiko remarks, "because women are more direct, ask more questions, and generally are less concerned about formalities, i.e., are less conservative." Now, female members are advising the men, insisting that the budget be used wisely: less money for military spending and more for schools and welfare. Sumiko asserts that many conditions must be changed--such as the widespread use of abortion for birth control, continuing discrimination in business, and the lack of resource conservation. However, her main concern now is that Japanese nationalism is becoming dangerously strong again. She wants to break down nationalistic aims by increasing Japan's free exchange with other countries. She hopes the Socialist party will play a key role in Japanese politics and that more women will run for election. Recently, a woman socialist was elected to office in Fukuoka Prefecture, a former stronghold for the Liberal Democratic Party--the ruling party. As an extremely active house council member, Sumiko spends only seven hours a day at home and commutes to her office by bus and train three hours each day. Fortunately, her children are grown, and she doesn't have to be a housekeeper any more. Her office is a friendly place and is always open to her constituents. The sign just to the right of her door says, "Don't call me sensei." This is a term of great respect accorded to teachers, elders, and sometimes politicians, especially male politicians at the top of a local pyramid. Sumiko wants people to know that she only represents her constituents; she doesn't tower over them. Her friend Mr. Tanabe, the city councilman from Asaka, says, "She is very natural, familiar, like a neighbor, and not intimidating like most politicians." On all counts, however, she is a sensei--a teacher whose purpose has been to demonstrate that it is possible for women to create their own roles based not on stereotype, tradition, or hierarchical practices, but on roles better suited to a new Japan. Yoko Takeuchi, the woman who walked with me in the Tokyo garden, became very independent--like a first son--because her father died when she was eleven years old. When she was 19, her mother was hospitalized with an illness that handicapped her for several years. In most Japanese families, when there is no male head of household, a thorough search is made for a good husband for the daughter--an "adopted son"--to maintain the integrity of the family name. This quest became a preoccupation for Yoko's relatives. Between the ages of 23 and 26, she was involved in more than ten "Omiai"--arranged marriage possibilities in which a go-between tries to find an acceptable spouse. Eventually, a compatible fiance was found, but he was involved in a car accident. His injuries initially caused the postponement, and later the cancellation, of the wedding. Later, when she was supporting her family by working at a large company and caring for her invalid mother, photos and resumes of eligible young men were left on her doorstep by neighbors. But Yoko believes that things have changed for the better in the last 20 years. "Omiai are more casual, the young have more choice, and the family doesn't force the issue," she says. She began working at age 19 with Maruishi Industries, first as a personnel clerk and later personnel supervisor. At 28, after her mother died, she quit to begin college. "My boss asked if I was crazy, but I didn't want to be an office flower," a term that describes a female clerk who answers phones and serves tea to everyone. After earning a degree in English language and literature, Yoko worked for two large companies. She has changed jobs four times--one more than the usual limit. "In Japan, companies usually prize loyalty, but if you have a good reason, it's okay," she says. "Only the manufacturing industry and banks don't accept job hopping; the service businesses do. In those businesses, experience and qualifications are more important considerations." (They were also the first to open their doors to women.) One good excuse Yoko used for quitting a job was to pursue an MBA in the U.S. Her thesis topic was Japanese women in business, and she was surprised to learn more about her own country in a Missoula, Montana library than she had while living in Japan. New "Equal" Opportunity Law Her ideas have changed since the time she wrote her thesis, however, because of a dramatic change that occurred in Japan in 1985: implementation of a new equal opportunity law that changed working conditions for women. She says this law produced good and bad results that created the "Different Track Selection System." Female employees can choose the management track, but those who do must be willing to transfer where a company directs them or give up the opportunity for advancement. Or they may choose the general office track, which most women select so they can stay with their families. Men have always been able to come and go in Japanese society, often living far from their families and commuting for years. Only women who have graduated from a four-year college or university are eligible for the management track, and they must take an exam to qualify for the management track; men do not. Many women still attend community colleges because of the high costs of four-year institutions (male children take most of a family's money) and because they can log more years of office service before marrying. Returning to Japan after earning her MBA, Yoko decided to shoot for higher stakes, but found it difficult to obtain a management position because of her age and gender. Higher stakes for her inevitably meant foreign companies--Chanel, at first, where she managed 450 employees, and now Louis Vuitton, where she manages 150. She even went through a "head-hunting" firm to look for a Japanese company job. "Head hunters" are American-style firms that offer companies the service of finding specific candidates for specific positions. After proposing her for many openings, the "head hunters" were finally told by companies the real reason why they didn't want to hire Yoko. "A man--even with no MBA--is more marketable than a woman with an MBA." Japanese women can obtain a management position with a foreign company although their salaries will be lower than those of their male counterparts. Working for foreign companies does not solve a woman's problems, however, because they follow the Japanese management style which emphasizes collegiality. To demonstrate collegiality as a woman, she must gain the respect of male subordinates who are unaccustomed to female managers. Virtually all of the employees at Louis Vuitton are Japanese; at both Chanel and Louis Vuitton, only 1 percent of the employees are French. She must work diplomatically with her Japanese colleagues in nontraditional ways. Foreign companies have less competition for career advancement than Japanese companies, though, because Japanese companies hire more employees at the same level than they need. Foreign companies are constrained by operating expenses to run a tight ship and hire only as many personnel as they need. Branching Out The Tokyo business scene isn't all competition. Yoko joined "Keidanren," a research and development organization of business leaders who try to help foreign companies open branches in Japan. Thirty-five representatives of foreign companies have joined this organization, and Yoko is close friends with five of them. She is the only female in this small group, which is planning to form its own consulting firm to solve human resource problems and address the conditions of female employees. She believes that neither the foreign companies nor their Japanese counterparts have accumulated enough experience since the equal opportunity law was enacted in 1985 to know how to use women, although the foreign companies are more open-minded. Now 45 and a successful manager, Yoko is sought after by colleagues who want to gain from her experience. Recently, she lectured to women students who were preparing to study abroad. She also runs a female managers network to help attract more young women into the field. Her two most recent jobs have given her insight into the consumer's wants and needs, a subject often discussed in Japan now. She believes that consumers have become more clever. She calls them "Seikatsusha," "living people," as opposed to "Shohisha," people who consume without consideration. "People don't believe advertising any more; they are more likely to use consumer reports information." Yoko agrees with what some people have said about the Japanese; historically, the samurai--arbiters of good taste but not especially rich--supported artisans to a great extent to create quality products. They never accumulated excessive amounts of goods, but collected only a few highly prized, beautifully crafted objects: a special teapot or a durable, elegant sword. This sensibility has been nurtured in Japan and has taught people to trust a trademark that has a long history of high quality. Yoko's understanding of women employees' needs and her business training have given her a few necessary, basic goals to follow as a manager in a foreign company. One is cost-consciousness: "Foreign companies are not as deeply rooted as Japanese ones," which, she explains, means they cannot carry short-term losses or weather hard times as easily. To be cost-conscious in her position means she must recruit and support a superior sales staff. Recent Japanese college graduates are no longer as interested in becoming "salarymen," white-collar workers--according to Yoko's thesis--who, through regimented "rites of passage" and total conformity, become enslaved to their companies. More graduates demand "Kachofugetsu"--a bright image rather than a dark one (manufacturing is dirty); long holidays (the salaryman forfeits these); an ethical company that cares about its employees (no more uniforms ... they had enough of that in school); a good salary. Maybe a "green" attitude will be forthcoming, says Yoko. In Japan, young women bear much responsibility for their families. They are not as free as their U.S. peers. After caring for an invalid mother for 20 years, Yoko did not want to take care of a husband for the rest of her life. Unfortunately, in Japan a wife's job entails more care-taking than fulfillment of dreams, especially if those dreams include a successful career. She tells a short story to illustrate her point. A friend of hers, who had been married for five years, received her husband's permission to go to the U.S. to pursue teaching English as a second language (TESL) certification. She interrupted her training to come home at midterm to change her husband's summer wardrobe to the winter one--a responsibility demanded of a Japanese wife. She then returned to the U.S., but her plans to take a short tour of the country after she completed her studies were interrupted by a card from her husband saying, "I want to divorce you." She flew home immediately to an apartment that had been emptied of her husband's belongings. His family had convinced him that he should not be married to a woman who goes off on her own. They even found a young woman who was willing to be his new wife. Although this example is extreme, Yoko believes it shows how women in Japan have been "three steps behind" (this term comes from a very old saying admonishing women to walk three steps behind men to show deference). Combating Japanese conventions has been a large part of Yoko's background, but she believes that the necessary changes are beginning to occur. The stories of Sumiko and Yoko affirm that the new Japanese economy has begun to make new lifestyles for women possible. By half-steps, women are gaining ground in Japan's march forward. They might even take the lead, knowing already how to take care. 1 Shimizu, Sumiko, Interview in her office at the Diet., July, 1990. 2 Takeuchi, Yoko, MBA thesis, University of Montana, as revised for publication, 1990. Interview in her office at Louis Vuitton, June, 1990. 3 Watanabe, Kazuko, Report on an address, "Voices from the Attic," given April 24, 1992, University of Wisconsin Women's Studies Center newsletter, May 1992. JULIETTE T. CRUMP is a professor of dance at the University of Montana in Missoula. Her research for this article was accomplished during a year-long residency in Tokyo.