Christian Kummer’s Submission

Christian Kummer

GENDER SUBVERSION & QUEER SPACES IN JAPAN

In Gender Trouble, Judith Butler introduces the heterosexual matrix of desire. Addressing the “binary relation between culture and nature” that has historically been utilized to center anatomy as the foundation for which societal formulations can gender human subjects, Butler offers a way of seeing the relationships between sex, gender, and sexuality (Butler 1989: 141). In a Western context, it is evident that there is a direct linkage between the physical body, the gender that one displays on that body, and the expected heterosexuality that is actively performed through an individual of another gender. However, it is the notion that this matrix empirically exists across geographic and national differences that causes Butler’s theory to fall short. In the context of Japan, there is a history of, “the scrambling of gender markers – clothes, gestures, speech patterns, and so on – in a way that … undermines the stability of a sex-gender system premised on a male female dichotomy,” (Robertson 1992: 419). The concept of andorojenii, signifying an entanglement between both sexes and genders in a binary structure, is essential for understanding how Japan defies the heterosexual matrix and the linkages between different formulations of identity (Robertson 1992: 420). Considering that “not all crossdressed or cross-gendered individuals [in Japan] … are understood to be homosexual,” there is an opportunity to explore what boundaries are placed around gender exploration in Japan (McClelland 2000: 44). In this paper, I will explore the history of gender subversion in Japan through the lens of theatre, magazine production, and new-half labor. I will simultaneously question which subjects, practices, and spaces we can define as queer; how can Western conceptions of gender and sexuality be transcended to understand the intent behind subversive practices? Following this investigation, I will compare gender practices to the legal rights that have been imposed on the transgender community in an effort to see how they compliment and contradict one another.

Gender Subversion in Kabuki Theatre

Japan’s rich history of gender fluidity and exploration can be traced back to cross-dressing practices in kabuki theatre. An association drawn between women on stage and prostitution during the Tokugawa era led to women being banned from the world of theatre in 1629 (Isaka 2017: 29). This created an opportunity rooted in necessity for the “use of onnogata actors who specialize in women’s roles and are admired for their beauty and artistry,” (Isaka 2017: 29). Despite the femininity embodied by the onnogata on stage, “cross-dressing is not an alternative manifestation of oneself in order to show that one is sexually and/or romantically interested in one’s own sex,” (Lunsing 2003: 21). Recognition of this nuance aids in understanding how Japan defies Western expectations that a lack of conformance to gender is inherently linked to a queer sexual identity. A critical examination of kabuki provides a nuanced understanding of why it may be considered queer. It is not simply the physical act of cross dressing that marks the theatrical practice as subversive, but rather its history of incorporating “exaggerated acting, flamboyant costumes and makeup … men who can transform themselves into toads or rats, [and] supernatural samuraii,” (Isaki 2017: 28-29). The contradictions between a male-dominant cast and the need to “symbolize… idealize and emphasize [feminine qualities] in a way that no actress can do,” demonstrates how the concepts of gender and performance are thoroughly complicated and subverted in the realm of kabuki (Episale 2012: 94). Similar to the essence of “camp” in the United States, kabuki’s world of play and femininity center its performance in a realm of queerness that fantasizes about a transcendence of the societal structures that are in place beyond the stage. While a Western eye may be inclined to understand kabuki as queer due to its surface level use of men acting as women, a geographically specific understanding of the practice is necessary for a holistic explanation as to why the art form is truly of a subversive nature.

Queer Magazines and Underground Subculture

Despite the fluid environment that exists within the world of kabuki, cross-dressing has not always been widely accepted in more public settings in Japan. Therefore, the world of magazines and widely disseminated published content has created a fascinating realm of queerness that cannot be understood as located within a specific physical region. This geographic liminality is what makes magazines and journals essential for developing queer community within a less accepting environment.

It is important to note the wide-ranging purposes of queer magazines throughout modern Japanese history. Once again reiterating McLelland’s point that not all cross-dressing individuals in Japan identify as sexually attracted to the same sex, the extremely popular Queen (kuin) magazine has allowed men to discuss their experiences with gender bending in an anonymous fashion (McLelland 2000: 44). Simultaneously serving as an advertising hub for events such as “female impersonation contests,” the magazine’s subscribers have historically been brought together through a mutual affinity for women’s fashion and feminine play rather than their sexual orientation (Lunsing 2003: 22). Linking these men to physical spaces, magazines such as Queen allow individuals to go to clubs in areas such as Osaka and Tokyo that help them “receive assistance with and advice about applying make-up, selecting wigs and dressing in women’s clothes,” (Lunsing 2003: 23). The widespread feeling of comradery, community, and mutual understanding that can be fostered through magazines and underground clubs is pivotal when queer subjects face taboo perceptions of their cross dressing desires.

Japanese magazines have also historically played the role of developing community on the basis of sexual orientation through both an erotic and activist lens. Between 1952 and 1962, the Adonis Club produced a newsletter that served “as a mixture of high-brow essays (often concerning homosexuality among historical figures), personal ads and erotic fiction and illustrations,” (McLelland 2011: 7). Serving as a “prototype for the commercial ‘homo’ magazines that developed in the 1970s,” the newsletter was concerned primarily with the “‘study’ of male-male sexuality” and attempted to foster a broader level of awareness and understanding of queer men (McLelland 2011: 7). The focus of the Adonis newsletter demonstrates the privilege and higher level of acceptance that gay men have experienced in comparison to lesbian and transgender individuals in Japan. While the magazine could have placed greater focus on the gei men working within the Adonis Club (“professional bar workers who engaged in transgender and other performances”), it instead zeroed in on the experiences of the homo, gender-normative men that consumed and enjoyed the labor of the working gei community (McLelland 2011: 7). This phenomenon further contextualizes the need for underground cross-dressing communities that specifically tune into an idiosyncratic queer experience rather than a hegemonic gay male lifestyle.

Several articles focused on “female-sex love (joshi doseiai)” were published in the latter half of the 20th century in women’s activist circles (McLelland 2011: 7). The Japanese lesbian organization Regumi, “a group founded in the late 1980s consisting of a loose alliance of lesbians, some from the bar world and others involved in feminist activities,” attempted to disseminate a magazine in 1985 centered around “lesbian literature, various support and discussion groups and a telephone information line,” (McLelland 2011: 9). As a result of the preference placed on the gay male experience, several lesbian-centered magazines that were published post-Regumi, such as Phryne in 1995 and Anise in 1996, failed to sustain themselves due to insufficient funds and a lack of interest from heterosexual feminist women (McLelland 2011: 9). Vibrant lesbian subcultures existed as gay male communities began to thrive, but there are significantly less historical artifacts of how these women functioned and gathered both in-person and through more anonymous forums.

Magazines have provided a fascinating and accessible opportunity for queer Japanese individuals to gather. Simultaneously, what marks these magazines as queer is culturally specific and demonstrates the difference between an affinity for cross dressing and a homosexual identity. Once again complicating the heterosexual matrix, Japanese queer culture is thoroughly complex in its play with gender roles and the level of detachment between gender play and sexual fluidity.

Body Modification in the New-Half Community

Expanding upon the concept of the performative and working class gei community mentioned previously, the manifestation of the new-half community in Japan blurs the lines between drag performance, gender play, and transgender identity. New-half ladies are typically understood as men who dress in female clothing or transgender women who have physically altered their bodies through gender reassignment surgery (Mitsuhashi 2006: 204). What is particulary fascinating about the new-half community is that it is “situated within commercial businesses like entertainment (as hostesses of bars and clubs), show business (as dancers and performers), and sex services (as sex workers),” (Mitsuhashi 2006: 204). The new-half ladies embody a queer experience that aligns with more conventional notions of what it means to be transgender. While the kabuki and cross-dressing communities that were previously discussed did not explicitly incorporate changes to the physical body, “many new-half ladies compete to feminize themselves physically and make themselves more marketable utilizing body-altering high technology,” (Mitsuahashi 2006: 205).

While new-half ladies are defined through an element of performance, their gender expression is more aligned with the goal of “passing” as “real” women rather than mocking the gender binary like drag queens who incorporate “being ugly and ridiculous” into their routines (Lunsing 2003: 24). In this sense, the phenomenon of the new-half reinforces Butler’s heterosexual matrix as it creates a direct linkage between female bodily anatomy and the ability to successfully pass as a woman. Whereas heterosexual men who enjoy cross-dressing are not concerned with the anatomy that is present on their bodies at all times, new-half ladies “attempt to gain ideal bodies through permanent hair removal, “ … enlarging body and breast curves by taking hormones … undergoing facial cosmetic surgery … surgical castration, and vaginoplasty,” (Mitsuahashi 2006: 205).

Certain new-half ladies additionally see themselves as existing in a state of gender fluidity and transcending the male-female binary. Shimada Toshiko, who identifies as new-half, notes that “he is neither male nor female,” (Lunsing 2003: 27). Toshiko’s reasoning for this identity rests upon his simultaneous desires to “engage in what he sees as rough masculine activities, such as riding a motorbike through rough areas, [while also acting] like a delicate woman – travelling by train and eating lady-like box lunches,” (Toshiko, Lunsing 2003: 27). It is through anecdotes such as that of Toshiko where the new-half community strays from cisgender, heterosexual men with an affinity for dressing up as women and instead plays an active role in dismantling modern day notions of needing to identify with one (or any) gender identity. The new-half community itself can be understood as queer through the ways in which individuals modify their bodies to successfully pass as the gender(s) or anatomical sex(es) in which they want to embody. However, the individuals in which the new-half entertain are less conventionally queer than one might assume. In fact, “new-half bars serve principally heterosexual men and women costumers,” rather than fellow new-half individuals, transgender people, cross-dressers, or even gay men and lesbians (Mitsuahashi 2006: 205). This power dynamic between entertainer and consumer demonstrates a level of exotification that is placed on the new-half. Rather than being able to exist within their gender expression peacefully, the new-half are instead forced into a societal role of serving as a spectacle for more-privileged citizens. This notion is not made with the intent of stripping these individuals of their agency, but rather emphasizes the reality that gender-non-conforming individuals are often left with no other choice but to serve as performers and sex workers because they cannot find employment in mainstream society. Additionally, the new-half are marked as queer through their gender nonconformance rather than their sexual orientations. In fact, the sexual identities of the new-half are typically left in the periphery when attempting to define what it means to be a part of the community. Therefore, one can be transgender or non-binary while still being attracted to individuals who are not of the same gender/sex as them. While the new-half population in and of itself is queer through their deviance from their assigned sex and gender at birth, the people in which they entertain are far from the stereotypical definition of a queer community.

The Lack of Alignment Between Japanese Gender Play and Transgender Rights

Through investigating kabuki theatre, queer magazine production, and the new-half community, it is evident that a long-spanning history of vibrant and eccentric gender deviance has historically existed in Japan. Therefore, it is hypocritical that the Japanese government continues to uphold legal mandates that place tremendous mental burdens on transgender individuals in their process of legally changing their gender identity.

In addition to the requirement of being diagnosed with a Gender Identity Disorder, transgender individuals hoping to achieve legal status must be “20-years-old or older and presently unmarried,” and not have “any underage children [and] not have gonads or permanently lack functioning gonads,” (Human Rights Watch 2019: 9-10). Even worse, individuals hoping to achieve legal status must “have a physical form that is endowed with genitalia that closely resemble the physical form of an alternative gender,” (Human Rights Watch 2019: 10). In a country that consistently defies and complicates Butler’s heterosexual matrix, these legal expectations further reinforce the unrealistic and dangerous linkages between anatomical sex and gender identity. Since it appears to be common practice even for cisgendered individuals to play with their gender performance in Japan, regardless of the anatomy in which they have on their bodies, it is nonsensical for transgender individuals to need to have pre-existing similarities to the gender/sex in which they are hoping to transition to.

Directly impacting the new-half community, Japan solely provides legal recognition if one holds “the intention to physically and socially conform to an alternative gender,” (Human Rights Watch 2019: 13). The pressure to immediately and whole-heartedly conform to the opposite gender (since these legal mandates only acknowledge male and female as the two options for gender identity) erases the vibrancy of gender-non-conforming and non-binary communities such as the new-half. Furthermore, it appears to neglect the existence of cisgender individuals who consistently and openly defy hegemonic forms of masculinity and femininity in their daily lives. Using Charlebois’ concept of herbivore masculinity, several cisgender, heterosexual men in Japan are considered gender deviants for their interests in cosmetics and physical appearances that are deemed symptomatic of “narcissistic body-management [and] a primacy of consumption,” (Charlebois 2013: 96). Despite their lack of cooperation with the hegemonic forms of masculinity laid out before them, these men are allowed to peacefully exist within their gender identity and receive the privileges and safety of legal recognition. If cisgender individuals are not required to rigidly follow their own gender expectations, why must transgender individuals be tasked with the labor of solely exhibiting the traits of their internal gender identity?

The dissonance between what is socially accepted for gender play in Japan and the legal rights that transgender people are given, demonstrates an area for concern and room for improvement in the battle for gender equity and transgender safety. Through an in-depth exploration of the many ways in which gender is complicated and distorted in Japan, it is made abundantly clear that Japanese law must better align with its country’s beautiful history of gender fluidity and freedom.

Conclusion

Butler’s Gender Trouble proposes the quandary of locating what is beyond “constructed gender [if that] is all there is,” (Butler 1989: 142). The lines between anatomical sex and gender identity have been historically blurred and entangled in Japan, therefore, making the goal of “locating the mechanism whereby sex is transformed into gender,” a seemingly impossible task (Butler 1989: 142). The Japanese phenomena of queer identity and subcultures provides a fascinating perspective on the linkages between sex, gender, and sexual orientation. The freedom given to the onnogata to dress up as women and play ridiculously feminine characters while remaining confident in their gender identity and sexual orientation demonstrates a centuries-long tradition of gender deviance that strips away one’s gender identity and performance from the physical body in which they inhabit. Further emphasizing this point, the plethora of communities populated by heterosexual men with an interest for crossdressing in the 20th century emphasizes that a separation between gender play and homosexuality can exist. The manifestation of the new-half community highlights the societal pressure of creating a seamless blend between anatomical sex and gender identity while also providing a new way of thinking about how gender can be a realm of multiplicity and non-conformance. These gendered histories, which are still alive today, demonstrate that the question of where sex ends and gender begins in Japan is a deeply nuanced and complicated site of investigation. It appears more realistic to argue that Japanese bodies have historically served as a vessel for which gender play and exploration can exist upon, but not function in tandem. This separation between the physical body and gender performance sets the stage for an ever-evolving society of gender freedom, bodily liberation, and queer experimentation. Therefore, the level of legal restrictions placed on individuals with the desire to align their physical bodies with their gender identities is in direct opposition with the reality of Japan’s history of androgyny and gender subversion. With Japan beautifully defying Butler’s heterosexual matrix in the public sphere, the opportunity for legal rights to align with the lived experiences of its citizens continues to emerge. Queer spaces in Japan have liberated marginalized individuals in addition to privileged civilians with a desire for entertainment and a break from the mainstream; it is time for the law to pay homage and respect to those who occupy these spaces in return.

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