< Remarkable Japanese Women

This page is a collection of stories, quotes, anecdotes, impressions, and opinions, as they relate to Japanese women. The aim of this page is to gain further insight into their strength and dignity, and to more fully appreciate the realities of their lives.

Pat Montandon, my good friend, former boss and spiritual inspiration, is Founder and President of Children As The Peacemakers, a non-profit organization based in San Francisco, whose extraordinary works include taking children on over 25 International Peace Trips around the world, from the early-80s to the early-90s. Here Pat Montandon recounts a trip to Hiroshima and her first encounter with Koko Kondo, an A-bomb survivor. (This passage is a direct quote from Montandon's "The Mystical Journey", a soon-to-be released book about the inspiration behind Children As The Peacemakers, and the remarkable journeys they made.)

During the long flight to Japan, I slept and read about the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, glad Shelly Bennett and Donna Velasquez were caring for the children. Our first stop would be Hiroshima, and I wanted to be prepared.

Our so-called businessman's hotel in Hiroshima was so small the adults had to sleep one to a room. But the kids had a wonderful time punching Japanese characters on the room refrigerator in an attempt to get soft drinks. When I said good night I found unopened bottles of liquor lined up on the floor,causing me to give a swift order not to touch those vending machines.

"Pat, look at my paper crane," Star held up her work to be admired. The kids were proud of their origami handiwork. Barbara was the teacher, patiently showing the kids how to fold the paper, en route to Peace Park in Hiroshima.

Arrangements had been made by a friend for us to meet Reverend Kioshi Tanimoto and his daughter Koko in Peace Park a memorial built on ground zero, the exactspot where the first atom bomb had fallen. A well-known humanitarian, Mr.Tanimoto had founded eight hundred orphanages for children who lost their parents when the atom bomb was dropped. He also brought the so-called Hiroshima maidens to the United States for reconstructive plastic surgery in 1948, and was featured in John Hershey's book, Hiroshima. Rev. Tanimoto would talk to the children about that day on August 6th, 1945, when the atom bomb changed history and their lives.

A leaden sky hovered over the site where so many had died, adding to the apprehension we felt. The usual skipping, jumping and giggles were missing as the kids filed into the park museum before meeting Koko and her fath er. A film which played over and over showed Japanese people, dazed, burned, fingernails melting, babies screaming, as the city evaporated. I wondered if it was too much for the children to assimilate. But it was better for them to seethe result of using such weapons than to experience them.

Arriving at the statue of Sadako, the children solemnly placed their paper crane offerings atthe base of the memorial. Above an elevated footing, the outstretched arms of Sadako hovered over mounds of colorful paper cranes, placed there by visitors from all over the world. Sadako had made three hundred fifty paper cranes,failing to reach her goal of one thousand, the number ensuring long life according to Japanese legend, before she died as a result of radiation from the atom bomb at thirteen. At her funeral, children from all over Japan brought origami cranes and piled them on her casket in a profusion of color. Afterward they collected donations and erected this monument to Sadako.

Reverend Tanimoto, a tall bent man, white hair showing in wisps from under a wool cap, greeted us in halting English. Inviting the kids to sit near Sadako's statue, he began telling them the story of that horrific day. Fascinated, moved to tears,the children will surely never forget Reverend Tanimoto, and the lesson his daughter taught us about forgiveness.

"We must forgive our enemies. We must love one another." Reverend Tanimoto said. "My daughter Koko, has also had many experiences, maybe she'll tell some of them to you little children." Koko, who had been standing in the background huddled up in a royal blue coat too large for her delicate frame, looked about thirty-five.

"Were you there, the day the bomb fell?" Rachel asked.
"Yes, but, you see, well, I was only nine months old," She was hesitant, but typically polite.
"You were too young to remember anything," Sean spoke softly, showing respect.

Later I learned that Koko had never before spoken about the atom bomb and how it affected her life.

"Too young that day, yes, but not for the future," the tiny woman mopped her eyes with a white handkerchief. "I've had plenty of bad experiences. See that little girl, over there?" She pointed toward a child about seven who was sitting on a nearby bench.

"That's my adopted daughter, Aki. You see," she floundered, "well, you see, I'm sterile I can't have children of my own because of radiation from the bomb."

Even though adoption isn't acceptable in the Land of the Rising Sun, and lineage is everything in Japanese culture, Koko had adopted two girls, Aki and Ari.

"I was about your age--ten or so," Koko said. The children sat wide eyed, listening. "When my father was honored in the United States on Ralph Edward's TV show, 'This is Your Life.' I sat on the stage with him but wanted to run when a surprise guest, Captain Lewis, the pilot of the Enola Gay, was announced." Koko gazed across the river toward the bombed out hulk of a building kept standing as it was after that fatal August day in 1945.

"Ever since that bomb, I hated the man who did it. I always said that if I ever meet the man who dropped that bomb I'm going to give him a punch, you know, a real punch. My body just quiver and quiver." Pausing in her narration Koko wiped her eyes.

"He comes out and I look at him. He looks like any man, not like aperson who could kill people." She told us how Captain Lewis recalled that after dropping the bomb they circled back over Hiroshima City. Seeing the horrificfirestorm enveloping the city, he said, "My God, my God, what have we done?"

"And then," Koko said, "his tears just run down and run down. Right on the television. I was so ashamed of hating this man, you understand? It wasn't the man I should hate but the war itself. Isn't that right?" The kids nodded in agreement. "Well, I walked over to Captain Lewis, and took his hand."

They stood, hand in hand, she told us, oblivious to the national audience, crying together.The children were standing now, huddled against me, weeping. "When Captain Lewis died," Koko concluded, "his doctor brought a sculpture to Hiroshima in memory of Captain Lewis. The top was a mushroom cloud, the bottom a tear."

The only sound in Peace Park that day, as we cried silent tears, was a gong struck over and over, in memory of the dead. After a moment, Koko brightened. "I want to work with you so no other boy or girl will have to go through what I went through. If we believe, we can create miracles."

Later,Koko and her daughters began traveling with me, and we became close friends. She told me it was considered an insurmountable mark against you to have been present in Hiroshima on that fateful day. If known, it damaged a girl's chances of making a good marriage or getting a job. She told me that radiation unleashed by the bomb aboard the Enola Gay left her not only sterile, but as a young girl, a reluctant specimen for doctor's study. She described how she felt, wearing only a diaper as she stood on a stage while her medical condition was discussed.

"I wanted to die," she said. "I was humiliated and could never talk about it with anyone, until now, with you." Koko and I became instant friends. I invited her to become part of our organization and to travel with us. "You want a short Japanese woman like me?" she laughed. "I might bow so much you couldn't get anything done."

"I'll take that chance, Koko, and I want you and your father to come to San Francisco for our Peace Prize Ceremony. I'll send you tickets."

"This is a miracle, I'll work for your cause and spread the word in Japan," she said." And I'll pray for you during the rest of your trip. China can be difficult."

"Maybe not , Koko, maybe a miracle will happen there too." I gave her a hug. We were sisters.


"Jun" is a 31 year-old Japanese woman in one of my English conversation classes. She has worked for the postal service for over ten years but has become discouraged by her working situation, and is now planning to study in the United States. I have always admired her outspoken-ness with regard to the realities of Japanese women.

I'd like to tell you what I think about Japanese women, including me.

Japanese women in a male dominant society

What are your images of Japanese women? What are the American stereotypes of them? Docile to men? Staying home as housewife after getting married? Raising kids, handling daily life--male dominant society has wanted women to be good wives and wise mothers.

Working Women

The environment surrounding women has been changing, and women, themselves have been changing rapidly. You can see working women in various areas of the business world, judicial circles, the medical world, construction sites, operating cranes, entrepreneurs, world-wide,well-known fashion designers...there are many Japanese women working outside Japan. Even the princess, Masako used to be a diplomat.

The number of working women with careers is certainly increasing and economic benefits are appearing. Now we are much more active compared to a few decades ago.

However we can't say our working environment is good one. Many private companies still have a tacit understanding that women have to retire from their jobs when they get married, or they get pregnant. In my job as a public servant, we are secure to take maternity leave, 6 weeks before the day the baby is expected and 8 weeks after birth. We also have child-care leave for a maximum of one year. However taking child-care leave is not as easy as taking maternity leave. The reason is not the leave system itself, but the Postmasters' attitudes towards workers.

One worker who was taking child-care leave bumped into a Postmaster, who was not her boss but they knew each other. She greeted him politely but his reply was terrible, "Oh, you're the one taking so much child-care leave." She was deeply hurt, of course.

We( postal workers) have been always told to respect other peoples' rights for many years, and Postmasters too. Despite this, older bosses still hold very traditional attitudes towards working women. This is basically what a lot of Japanese men think of women workers. Their way of thinking has hardly changed with the times.

Child-care is an important task for parents but supporting child-care is also an important task for society. The government made some laws, like child-care leave, but not all women have benefited from it, and rights regarding such leave are not completely fought for.

In this environment, women don't want to have many children. Now the total fertility rate has been dramatically decreasing, the birthrate is 1.2-1.3. Sociologists argue that the decline of the child population will lead to a crisis in Japan, but I'd like to say to them, "Think of the crisis you've caused us!"

Born and raised as women in Japan

I read your writing about your girl student who wants to get married at 22. That reminded me what I used to think of age. Yeah, when I was her age, I thought 22 was not young and 30 would be very "OBASAN". You would be surprised at this age-dominant way of thinking, but it exists in this country. However it's getting easier now. Now here I am 31, in my teenage years I'd never have imagined how I live now. Being single and seeking to study abroad.

I'm not sure why I thought 22 was not young. It's because of the Christmas cake story???? Now I can laugh at the idea but at that time I believed it.

Miki Fujiwara is a 28 year-old Japanese woman born in Hiroshima and raised in Tokyo and the San Francisco Bay Area. She wrote this article with pan-Asian ethnicity in mind, that if you live in the US and you are of Asian heritage, regardless of ethnicity and nationality, you are pretty much looked at in a same stereotypical way. This article uses the term Asian/Asian American to specify Asians living in the United States.

Miki dropped out of high school but received an AA in Ethnic Studies, her BS in Criminology, and an MS in Criminal Justice Administration. She is currently a Research Analyst at the Children's Services Department at the Santa Clara County Office of Education, doing sociological and evaluational research on children and staff.

Her comments and criticisms of portrayals of Japanese women on my homepage prompted the creation of this section.

Asian American Women:
A few thoughts on feminism, power and frustration in the United States.


Asian American women are stereotyped as being submissive, unassertive,and domestic in the United States. These stereotypes, no matter how much we try to fight it, deny it, or counter it, affect our daily lives greatly. Asian American women today are still, for the most part,invisible in the political arena. Whether itis at the local, state or federal level, Asian American women are seen as polite, apolitical, and docile people.

Asian American women become invisible to many Americans because many Asian American women believe that they are not oppressed in the United States. They have not admitted to themselves that they are oppressed by the "white" majority in the United States. One major reason for this misinformation comes from their belief that average Americans perceive them as being different from Asian women from Asia, that their stereotypes are different from the so called "Asian, Asian" women (submissive, subservient, domestic, and eager to please). Naturally, these women feel no need to be heard. It also comes from their own stereotypes of Asian people from Asia, that in Asia, women are treated much worse (although this is not always true).

In the feminist movement, Asian American women are often disappointed to find out that people do not want to hear their true stories. What they want to hear is Asian American women's stereotypical sob story of how "our men are soooo awful and soooo much worse than Caucasian men." They expect Asian American women to say that Caucasian American women have made great strides compared to Asian and Asian American women and would like to follow in their foot steps with their help. If one refuses to say what they want, or one chooses to speak her own mind, she is no longer a valued member of the feminist movement in the United States.

Many Asian American women, including myself, have tried to make ourselves more visible, by speaking out on the condition of our race, ethnicity, gender, and other important issues that concern us, through different media. However, we are often seen as tokens or a minority member fulfilling the affirmative action slot of politics. Our ideas and concerns are "for show" and not for actual policy implementation. Many outspoken Asian Women are used as show pieces to say to our greater Asian community in the United States, "Hey look, we have Asian women on our team, we really care and we know what you need". Whether they are going to do anything with their brilliant ideas is another story. Many of our artistic talents are also wasted to amuse those with enough money to buy, to hear, or to see something "different" and "exotic" in the United States.

Sadly, many outspoken Asian women choose to stay in the movement regardless of their lack of "value". They often justify to themselves that any political exposure is better than none, that if they can somehow sneak in what they really mean here and there, it is better than not having a political platform at all. Whether that is truly advantageous to Asian American women, I do not know. However, I would be lying if I said I did not understand their frustration. Of course there are some Asian American women that really believe Caucasian women know best when it comes to feminism.

Mitsuye Yamada, a well-known Japanese American feminist and social scientist, claims that "political views held by women of color are often misconstrued as being personal rather than ideological. Our views are often seen as expressions of personal angers against the dominant society." This, partially, is the reason why our ideas and concerns are used not for policy-making, but "for show." We are often used to warm up the crowd or to make them feel sorry for us. To make the crowd think, "How could any one treat our little innocent, submissive, and weak Asian women like that?" Or: "See that's why they don't get ahead, they are so emotional, they take everything personally!" or "Your men are so awful, I will help you." This attitude works to ensure the free rein of Caucasian women in the feminist movement.

I have learned through living in the US and Japan, that being in the United States does not make my life as a woman any easier than it is in Japan. I am discriminated against in Japan and in the United States by a majority. The stereotyped image of the US as free and open is sometimes dangerous. I have noticed the treatment of gays is very negative in the United States compared to how they are treated in Japan, but not many people know this fact. Many will always assume that the US is more open than any other country in the world. If a gay person, believing there is freedom and openness in the United States, decides to leave Japan for the US, hoping for better treatment of homosexuals, he or she will have another thing coming.

Our stereotypes often keep us from speaking up. Not because we feel awkward about speaking up, but the people around us would feel awkward if we spoke up. What is expected of African American and Caucasian American women (being outspoken) is not expected of Asian American women.

Naturally, African American women have far more political power than Asian American women in the United States. Although in some situations the stereotype of African American women being outspoken does harm them in negative ways; in the Civil Rights and the Feminist Movement, it has worked to their advantage.

Although quiet, we are by no means weak and irrational people. We have inner strength that no other women in the world possess. It's different from the in-your-face and very apparent strength of African American women. The Chinese women that immigrated to the United States in the mid-1800s came here with nothing but hopes of making it in the United States, and they survived. In the internment camps during WWII, it was the strength of Japanese American women that kept families together under harsh conditions of the camps. Many women from Vietnam escaped their oppressors and left their country on tiny little row boats, and prayed to God that a larger boat would pick them up. Today, many wives of Korean merchants learn how to operate significantly sized stores by themselves while their husbands take care of the other stores that they own. Many, successfully, take on the role of an accountant, sales clerk, janitor, and manager all by themselves without speaking fluent English.

So what makes us so invisible although we are obviously competent, competitive, and strong women? We are invisible because not enough of us speak up. Not just against injustice, racism, or sexism directed toward us, but to speak up about what we do everyday and what we have been doing for centuries. Many of our women have been working their butts off in sweat shops for over 150 years, all over the United States, but Americans still hold the stereotype of Asian American women as docile housewives. Although Asian American women have survived Anti-Asian sentiment, the Exclusion Act, internment, and so forth in the United States, we are still seen as weak, vulnerable women. To any one that challenges me on this issue, just look at our children. The strengths of our women are felt in our children. Their achievement in education clearly displays the strength and influence of mothers in Asian American homes.

However successful, our silence is often misunderstood by our Western counterparts as a sign of weakness. In many Asian cultures, silence is a sign of strength. To us silence means that we have patience, strength, and the intelligence to make it through any situation on our own without anyone's help and without complaints. We must understand that as long as we choose to live in the US, we need to have our collective voices heard in order for us to gain political prominence. Knowing this difference alonge between our cultures is not enough knowledge to break down the barriers that Asian American women face. We must take action, because actions speak louder than words in the United States.

By letting others know of what we do on an everyday basis, non-Asians will eventually realize that independent, strong, and successful Asian American women are not the rarity, but the norm. By speaking up and taking action, we will eventually convince not only our Caucasian sisters in the feminist movement, but the general American public that we are and we have been strong women since the beginning of time.

This page is still under construction. Your entry submitted to the following email address is welcome!

kclifelogues@oocities.com