Japan’s Transsexuals Emerge From the Dark

To most Japanese, Takafumi Fujio’s cropped hair, thick arms and deep voice mark him as a typical, middle-age wage earner. But until four years ago, when the food company worker started on a range of hormonal treatments, he was a woman – a housewife and mother of two.

Fujio is one of an estimated 7,000 to 10,000 Japanese who believe they were born the wrong sex, a sexual minority that was long largely hidden from view.

But that is quickly changing.

Japan’s first sex-change operation was performed in 1998, and its first transsexual and gay politicians were elected to office in 2003. A groundbreaking legal overhaul allowing some transsexuals to change their officially registered sex took effect the following year.

The changes have given Japan’s sexual minorities rising self-confidence and a greater willingness to come out of the closet despite the country’s long-prized conformity and disdain for displays of individuality.

“These changes have been way overdue,” Fujio said. “I think the law got people thinking, ‘If the country has recognized these people, they must be acceptable after all.’ ”

Greater visibility and legal change are part of a general trend in Japan toward more personal freedom.

Technology and tradition also have played a role. The Internet has spread information about alternative lifestyles, and Japan doesn’t have deeply rooted religious rules on sexual conduct.

The rising visibility is a sharp turnaround for those like Fujio, who grew up in postwar Japan when talk of transsexual lifestyles was rare.

“The transsexual community had a great dilemma. If we spoke out, we risked our jobs, our livelihoods. But by staying silent, nothing would change,” said Aya Kamikawa, Japan’s first and only transsexual politician.

Since 2003, Kamikawa – a woman who used to be a man – has played a key role in lobbying for changes at the national and local levels, including the sex-change law. She also has successfully lobbied to eliminate unnecessary mentions of gender in public documents.

Still, obstacles to full acceptance remain.

Under the 2004 law, only unmarried, childless applicants can change their official gender. Applicants also must have had a sex-change operation and been diagnosed by two doctors as having so-called gender-identity disorder. Fujio isn’t eligible because he has children.

A mere 151 people in Japan officially changed their sex between July 2004, when the law took effect, and March 2005, according to the Justice Ministry.

Despite changing society, the stigma of transsexualism remains high in Japan.

Transsexuals say they are reluctant to seek work or even go to the dentist for fear their original gender will be revealed by documents such as health insurance cards.

Transsexuals experience even more restrictions because some are homosexuals. Same-sex marriages are forbidden in Japan, hospital visits by gay partners can be blocked, and it’s impossible for homosexual couples to jointly purchase a home or for a survivor to inherit the assets of a gay partner.

“We have no legal protection or assurances whatsoever, and that brings many worries,” said Aki Nomiya, who was born male but now lives as a woman with a female partner, though she has not had a full sex-change operation.

Japan needs to copy other nations that have adopted partnership laws that give some legal rights to unmarried couples, Nomiya said.

Officials say Japan isn’t ready.

“This is a very complicated and divisive problem that needs to be treated with caution,” said Kunio Koide, a councilor in the Justice Ministry’s Civil Affairs Bureau. “I don’t see widespread support for reforms at the moment.”

Still, Japan’s sexual minorities have claimed some victories.

Kanako Otsuji, Japan’s first openly gay politician, successfully lobbied for a change in local regulations to allow unmarried couples to apply for public housing – including homosexuals and transsexuals.

“My generation has been the first to speak out about sexual minority rights in any meaningful way,” said Otsuji, 31, who has held an assembly seat in Osaka prefecture since 2003.

Yet, while enjoying their increasing freedom, transsexuals chafe against enduring restrictions.

As a young woman, Fujio said, he suppressed his desire to live as a man and instead married a male co-worker “mainly out of feelings of obligation,” giving birth to two girls.

Nine years later in 2002, he decided to divorce and live as a man.

The move, however, has had painful consequences. The family of Fujio’s former husband has allowed him to see the children only once since the divorce four years ago.

“Of course it’s tough. We have to first get the public to think, ‘It’s OK to live that way of life,’ ” Fujio said. “Then, maybe I’ll get to see my kids – maybe in 10 years.”