Joryu Bungaku:
Japanese Women Writers Throughout the Ages
Spring 2003
Weighted with thousands of years of history, modern Japanese society is struggling to preserve its traditional rules and roles while adapting to an ever-changing world. The metamorphosis of Japanese attitudes in recent years is especially evident with regards to Japanese women. Even today, “the kimono-clad, bamboo parasol-toting, bowing female walking three paces behind her husband remains the image many Westerners hold of the typical Japanese woman” (Iwao 1993). From all outward appearances, Japanese women are and always have been sweet, submissive, and silent. In the past several hundred years, Japanese women have suffered the absence of many rights maintained by men. Over the past several decades, however, a new woman has evolved, one that is more similar to the woman of ancient Japan. This new woman is self-fulfilling, independent, and very modern. The study of Japanese literature throughout the centuries reveals the true strength, intelligence, and emotion of the Japanese woman – from the passionate ladies of the Heian courts, to the struggling wives and mothers of the Tokugawa and Meiji eras, to the educated, independent women of post World War II. Within this literature lies the ever-present struggle between the heart and mind of the Japanese woman.
Typically, Japan has been viewed as a male-dominated society. The Tokugawa period, beginning circa 1600, brought forth a new era in which women were confined to the home, hearth, and familial obligations while men realized increased recognition. Surprisingly, however, ancient Japan was actually a matrilineal society. Owing partially to ancient Japanese mythology, in which the Sun Goddess Ama-terasu reigned over and protected the earth and all that lived on it (Leeming 1990), women of ancient Japan lived with a much greater degree of personal freedom than in later times (Hane 2001). In the matrilineal society of ancient Japan, children lived with their mother and their mother’s family. Even when husbands and wives began living together in the 12 th century, it was the groom’s responsibility to change residences and move in with his wife’s family (Hane 2001). While women still did not have nearly as much political power as men, they were neither actively nor legally oppressed. Until the 15 th century, women lived contentedly with their quiet power and their ability to pursue their own goals. During the 15 th century, however, feuding between states resulted in the establishment of the samurai class. Society’s attention was now centered even more firmly on men. Men who became samurais and fought bravely for their lords and states were held in high esteem. Women, of course, could not go fight in these wars. As a result, the status of women declined. Eventually, marriage customs shifted; the bride now had to leave her family and move in with the groom’s (Hane 2001). Primogeniture took hold as the preferred method of inheritance, and women’s rights declined drastically.
The Heian period (794-1185 A.D.), also known as the “the era of the court aristocracy” (Hane 2001), saw the emergence of many of Japan’s most laudable literary works. One possible explanation for the surge in literary masterpieces might be that Japan experienced “an unprecedented peace and security … under the powerful rule of the Heian dynasty” (Hooker 1999b). In this relatively peaceful era, “Japanese culture … flourished as it never had before” (Hooker 1999b). Creative minds had time and room to thrive. Not surprisingly, most well known Japanese authors during the Heian period were male. While women were treated more fairly in this time period than in later years, few were educated beyond an elementary level. Still, court ladies were highly trained in the fine arts. Modern scholars acknowledge that Heian literature was “dominated by women and women's culture” (Hooker 1999a). Despite the fact that most women, even noblewomen, were unable to read or write the Chinese characters utilized by male writers, several exceptional women writers emerged in the circle of the Heian court. Their works separated them from the rest of the voiceless female population and offered them a place in history.
One particularly famous female author of the Heian period is known only as the Mother of Michitsuna. The Mother of Michitsuna was an upper class woman unhappily married to a government official named Fujiware Kaneie. As a court lady, she lived a very comfortable, albeit sequestered life. In her luxurious prison, Michitsuna’s Mother endured her husband’s numerous affairs. Such infidelity was extremely common. Noblemen were encouraged to keep several wives and/or mistresses without fear of rebuke or retribution. Wives existed only to produce children who would carry on the family legacy. Since this attitude was the norm, husbands generally made no effort to hide their activities. Fujiware Kaneie certainly did not, and there was nothing Michitsuna’s Mother could do about it. At this time, a woman could not divorce her husband; it would not become a viable option for many centuries. In the mid 970s, the Mother of Michitsuna “began writing a [three volume] journal that was to be the first of a cluster of works by women associated with the culture of the Heian court” (Bundy 1991). This autobiography, entitled Kagero Nikki (which translates into The Gossamer Years), is famous for its surprising directness. While Kagero Nikki was a means through which Michitsuna’s Mother could decry her husband’s actions and the institution of Heian marriage in general, her work also served as a medium through which she could “search for the narrative shape and meaning of her actual life in Heian society” (Bundy 1991). As a woman, she was dissatisfied with her place in life and needed some way to express her “bitter anger” at the futility of it all (Bundy 1991). Her words found sympathetic understanding with her female audience, many of whom were confined in a similar situation.
Other critically acclaimed works from the Heian period include Murasaki Shibiku’s epic novel The Tale of Genji and Sei Shonagon’s The Pillow Book. These novels were the first of their kind and stimulated interest in the diary genre. Both novels were written in a journal entry format that allowed their authors a vast amount of literary freedom. They were able to write about whatever they chose, free to gossip about their next-door neighbors, to admire the beauty of a poem, or to expound on the rigid social forms encircling Japanese men and women. Their novels gave Murasaki Shibiku and Sei Shonagon a forum through which they could express their opinions on whatever they desired in a culture where women were not expected to have opinions.
Many women writers of the Heian period chose to express themselves through poetry. It was the one socially acceptable genre in which they could write without fear of censorship. Confined to their domestic roles, poetry “became the accepted social means of expressing love” for women of the Heian court (Lippit and Selden 1991). Poetry was the one area where men expected and tolerated flowery language and romantic sentiments. As a result, many of the poems produced by women in this era were love poems. Through waka, haiku, and other lyrical poetry, women writers combined vivid natural images with powerful emotion. Compared to the subdued literature of the Tokugawa and Meiji periods, Heian love poetry comes as something of a surprise. Many of these poems possess a degree of honesty, boldness, and emotional intensity that later Tokugawa and Meiji literature seem to lack. Three particular authors – Ono no Komachi, Murasaki Shibiku and Sei Shonagon – wrote fine examples of such vibrant poetry. The following two poems are from Rexroth and Atsumi’s The Burning Heart: Women Poets of Japan, a 1977 collection of translated love poems written by various Japanese female authors.
This life of ours would not cause you sorrow
if you thought of it as like
the mountain cherry blossoms
which bloom and fade in a day.
Murasaki Shibiku
Since our relations
are like the crumbling
of Mount Imo and Mount Se,
they, like the Yoshino River
in that ravine
shall never flow smoothly again.
Sei Shonagon
Written in the 10 th century, these two poems artistically compare human relationships with natural elements, such as cherry blossoms and crumbling mountains. Additionally, both poems convey the sentiment of aware. A term often associated with Japanese poetry, aware implies a certain “sensitivity to the sadness of impermanence” (Hooker 1999c). The cherry blossoms in Murasaki’s poem are a good example of the use of aware. Cherry blossoms are beautiful, delicate, perfect. In bloom, they are nature at its best. The blossoms quickly fade, however, leaving only a pleasant memory of their presence. Likewise, Sei Shonagon’s poem describes the narrator’s relationship with her lover as crumbling and rocky. The Yoshino River once wound a path smoothly through its ravine, but – like the river – the crumbling relationship has forever changed. Once the season fades and the mountains crumble, neither the cherry blossoms nor the river can ever return to their serene state.
While the previous two poems successfully present a delicate image of romance and love lost, the next two poems offer a slightly more concrete view of desire. Written by Ono no Komachi in the 9 th century, these poems were collected and translated by Jane Hirshfield and Mariko Aratani in their 1988 book, The Ink Dark Moon.
No way to see him
on this moonless night –
I lie awake longing, burning,
breasts racing fire,
heart in flames.
***
My longing for you –
too strong to keep within bounds.
At least no one can blame me
when I go to you at night
along the road of dreams.
The typical, and typically expected, love poem was supposed to be lyrical and diffuse, such as the examples by Murasaki Shibiku and Sei Shonagon. Yet, for some women writers, this prescribed formula was not enough. To adequately express their emotions and experiences with love, these women writers altered the formula to their own designs by incorporating tangible yet metaphorical details such as “moonless night,” “breasts racing fire,” and “road of dreams.”
Naturally, many of the poems from the Heian period – indeed, from all eras – are poems about motherhood. Presented are three poems, written centuries apart, that provide an interesting glimpse into the complexities of motherhood. The first poem was originally published in the Man’yoshu, Japan’s earliest known collection of poetry, compiled some time in the 7 th century. It has since been translated in Takashi Kojima’s collection, Written on Water: Five Hundred Poems from the Man’yoshu (1995).
Now that I have placed
my jewel, my daughter dear,
in her husband’s hands,
I will rest my head on the pillow,
whereupon her head once rested.
Lady Otomo-no-Sakanoue
Ono no Komachi’s highly regarded peer, Izumi Shikibu, wrote the next poem in the 11 th century (Rexroth and Atsumi 1977).
In love longing
I listen to the monk’s bell.
I will never forget you
even for an interval
short as those between the bell notes.
Finally, Baba Akiko’s 20 th century poem continues the theme of motherhood (Rexroth and Atsumi 1977).
Since I don’t know my mother,
I won’t be a mother.
Facing the sun
We smile at each other,
Myself and a faceless child.
Baba Akiko’s poem, however, has a markedly different tone than the previous two examples. Traditionally, the Japanese mother was well respected for the simple fact that she was a mother; she took care of her husband, her children, and her home, and if she managed all successfully, then society regarded her with approval. Until recently, the social norm was for every woman to get married and have children – even more importantly, they were expected to want to have children. Baba Akiko’s poem expresses uncertainty regarding motherhood. In the early part of the 20 th century, when this poem was written, the Japanese woman was undergoing much social, political, and individual change. This poem is representative of that shift in perspective.
During the Tokugawa period, women lost much of the freedom they had enjoyed during the Heian period, a trend that continued through the end of the 1800s. By 1600, the samurai class had been firmly established. Women were confined to domestic life, and what political power they once had was lost. It was the Meiji era, however, that produced decisive legal action to restrict the rights of Japanese women. One would think that with the Meiji era being in “constant flux” (Nolte and Hastings 1991), this would be a prime opportunity for the advancement of women. “Far from enfranchising women, however, the Japanese government explicitly denied them the right to participate in politics at any level” (Nolte and Hastings 1991). The government forbade women from attending political meetings or affiliating themselves with political parties for the fear that “women’s political participation would undercut home management and education” (Nolte and Hastings 156). During the Meiji reign in the late 1800s, the slogan Ryosai Kenbo appeared. The Japanese government used the “Good Wife, Wise Mother” attitude to govern its policies regarding women, further restricting available opportunities for women. A woman’s only job was to take care of the family, and any distractions that prevented her from tending to her family were detrimental to the entire Japanese society.
Seventy years after first contact with the United States, and subsequent exposure to other Western ideas and methods, Japan was in the midst of drastic changes. Most noticeably, Japan’s attitudes towards women began to morph. While still politically inferior to men, increasing numbers of women were completing high school and even college educations. It was in this time of social change that the “Modern Girl” appeared (Ericson 1997). The Modern Girl became an icon for an unofficial women’s revolution. This bewildering character did what she wanted when she wanted. She smoked, drank, wore bright, attractive clothes, and cut her hair in a modern fashion. According to Joan Ericson in her text on Hayashi Fumiko and women’s literature, the Modern Girl
appeared to be a free agent without ties of filiation, affect or obligation to lover, father, mother, husband, or children – in striking counterpoint to the state ideology of family documented in the Civil Code … In the context of such shifting gender norms, conservative critics’ call for a return to the “natural” distinctions between men and women, became much more influential (1997).
Women, of course, did not want to return to the old fashioned, male dominated society. Women wanted to find their voice, and they did with joryu bungaku – women’s literature. Professional journals and associations formed in order to discuss and analyze the styles, themes, and value of women’s literature, and this public attention gave many apprehensive female writers the confidence to present their works to the world.
By the end of World War II, a number of women writers had gained popularity. In particular, Hayashi Fumiko, novelist and author of many short stories, earned a lucrative living as a writer. Many writers successfully captured the chaos, despair, and social destruction of post-WWII Japan in their works, but Hayashi Fumiko has managed to do this while also providing compelling characters with intricate thoughts and complex relationships. Hayashi’s talent with the written word is evident in her 1949 short story “Narcissus” (Ericson 1997).
Hayashi centers the plot of “Narcissus” on the relationship between a mother, Tamae, and her grown son, Sakuo. Though only in her early forties, Tamae feels her life is over. Since her husband left her shortly after the birth of their son, Tamae has involved herself in prostitution, illegal drugs, and the black market. She lives in poverty, yet still shows no inclination to attempt honest work. Instead, Tamae hangs her hopes on her married, wealthy boyfriend. The driving force for the story is derived from the conflict between mother and son. Sakuo is unemployed, shiftless, and highly disrespectful of his mother and the world in general. They constantly antagonize each other, and the reader is left in shock to compare these characters with the typical Japanese family unit. Traditionally, the mother-son relationship was revered within the family unit. Mothers doted on their sons, and sons craved the attention. Hayashi’s “Narcissus” appears to be totally bereft of any compassion or affection between the two main characters. Near the end of the story, however, as Sakuo finally leaves home for a job in Hokkaido, there is a bittersweet moment where mother and son say goodbye to one another. It is here that the reader catches a quick glimpse that maybe Tamae does care for her son in some small way. “Narcissus” veers completely away from the established social roles of mother and son. Gone is the doting, loving mother. Gone is the Ryosai Kenbo. Gone is the comfort and security of pre-WWII Japan.
Another Post-WWII short story that illustrates the shift in Japanese women’s attitudes and expectations is Inoue Yasushi’s “A Marriage Interview,” included in the anthology The Mother of Dreams and Other Short Stories: Portrayals of Women in Modern Japanese Fiction. Originally written in 1963, “A Marriage Interview” “reveals changing attitudes toward a traditional Japanese institution known as the miai,” in which a friend or acquaintance would arrange the introduction of a young man and woman from two different families (Ueda 1986). In the story, Keiko is a young woman who is hardly excited about the upcoming miai her mother has arranged for her. She has quite frankly decided to reject any offer of marriage and carries an apathetic attitude towards the whole affair. She only attends to please her mother. Likewise, the young man she meets at the miai does not take the meeting as seriously as do his elders. However, while taking a walk along the river to please their parents, through an amusing and light-hearted string of events, Keiko and the young man eventually come to the conclusion that perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to marry each other. The final few lines of the story indicate Keiko’s change of heart as she contemplates actually marrying this bold, likeable young man. Traditionally, women did not have much choice regarding their involvement in a miai. In recent years, however, the miai has changed into more of an introductory meeting. There is no longer the strict obligation for the two parties to marry – the miai is conducted only with the hopes that the two young people take a liking to each other. If they happen to marry sometime in the future, everybody is happy. The very fact that Keiko has the power to refuse a marriage proposal conducted through a miai indicates the significant changes that have taken place in Japan in just the past century.
From Michitsuna’s Mother’s Kagero Nikki to Inoue Yasushi’s “A Marriage Interview,” one can see the remarkable evolution of the Japanese woman. Perceptions of love, marriage, motherhood, and family have evolved as well, for the Japanese woman and for Japanese society as a whole. The women of the Heian period have proven their abilities with the pen with their groundbreaking diaries, lyrical poetry, and evocative imagery. Despite their limited education, these court ladies revealed to the world their passion for life, love, and beauty, as well as their intellectual views on politics and social issues. Despite the oppression of the Tokugawa and Meiji eras, the Japanese woman is once again free to express herself – only this time, with more confidence and the respect of a wider audience. Gone is the image of the parasol-toting beauty. Here to stay is the Modern Girl.
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