Japan finally decided to make possession of child pornography a crime.
Read that again.
Until a few weeks ago, it was okay to own images of naked children, and/or children forced to take part in sexual acts. I say "forced" because children don't have the capacity to consent.
I've not posted anything here for the past several weeks because I've been angry. Usually this wouldn't keep me quiet, but I found my latest anger difficult to articulate without sounding like I was screaming. Not one who is shy about expressing my opinion, my decision to remain silent has been an emotional drain. Which is why when a man took a photo of my breasts yesterday I almost punched him.
How women are treated here in Japan has long been a problem for me. I'm largely exempt from the blatant and less obvious forms of discrimination based on sex as: a). I'm American, and b). I'm Caucasian. My personality also plays into part. I don't come across as someone easily intimidated. Nor am I someone seemingly okay with sexism. Men usually think twice before picking a fight or pushing my buttons. As an American I'm given leeway women from other countries, especially those from Asia are not. As a "white woman" I'm seen as strong and opinionated. These attributes and assumptions usually make me less of a target, and thus I'm free to do my thing.
The old man yesterday evidently didn't get the memo. A man in glasses, a hat, and carrying a camera in his hand walked towards me yesterday in Ikebukuro. I saw the fingers press down on the button, and I saw the shutter close quickly several times as he passed me. The lens was pointed at my chest. He took photos of my breasts.
I am not someone who displays cleavage. Nor do I wear skin tight clothing. I don't wear outfits shaped like a potato sack, but I am deliberate in my dress. I am careful. Which is why this man shooting my breasts in broad daylight, on the sidewalk in downtown Tokyo sent me reeling.
It's amazing what information our mind processes. I stopped, turned around, and made the decision not to confront. He would deny it. I couldn't guarantee I wouldn't yank the camera out of his hands or punch him. He would yell. Police would arrive, and it would be his word against mine. Here, I would lose. I'm the one who actually assaulted him. There would be witnesses. I would be arrested. All this went through my brain in seconds.
So, I just stared at his back as he walked away.
And then he turned around. I glared at him and we locked eyes. I forced myself to walk away, knowing my anger was at a dangerous level. I kept walking, trying not to cry and forcing myself to breathe.
What was he thinking? Next thing I know he walks past me. The same man who snuck a photo of my breasts has turned around and is passing me. Dear sweet man. That was a mistake.
I follow him. I'm headed to a university to give a speech and he's going in the same direction I'm walking--my next appointment. That this man who suffers from pent up sexual angst, the one whose camera contains several photos of my breasts is walking in front of me? I can't help that. I'm also early, so I have time to walk. I follow him. I continue to follow him for some distance. He does not turn around. I have no idea if he knows I'm behind him. After many blocks I must turn the corner. He's walking away from my university. I leave. With deep and intense regret, I leave.
At the university I talk about women in Japan. I share with the students the fact Japan ranks 105 out of 136 countries on the gender equality index published by the World Economic Forum. I tell them Japan treats its women more like North Koreans treat their women (North Korea is ranked 111) and tell them the following statistics:
the Philippines is ranked 5th; Nicaragua 10th; Cuba 15th; USA 23rd; Sri Lanka 55th; Thailand 65th; Bangladesh 75th; Botswana 85th; Indonesia 95th; India 101st.
These are countries where there is general consensus women are treated poorly. These are not countries (except for the USA possibly and India, especially after recent gang rapes of women) speak openly and publicly, show anger, and demand justice and equality. Japan ranks behind all.
I look up into the crowd of students and my eyes land on one woman. A lone tear runs down her cheek and somehow that tear is profound. I've clearly upset her. Good. Maybe she'll work towards finding ways women are treated better in Japan for her generation and her children's generation.
My anger over the mistreatment of children in Japan as seen in the fact it's 2014 when the government sees fit to pass a law criminalizing possession of crimes against children, and the general and pervasive antiquated ideas about the role of women has reached its limit. The man yesterday brought it all to the surface. I'm sorry I didn't punch that man. And, I'm also not sorry. Had I allowed my anger to boil over I wouldn't have been able to speak to the students, instead spending the hot afternoon at the police station fighting my accuser and explaining the injustice of my arrest to unsympathetic detectives.
But, oh how good it would have felt to smash that camera.
Showing posts with label child pornography. Show all posts
Showing posts with label child pornography. Show all posts
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
The Downside of Cute Japan: When Mascots Fail
Cute Japan has long ago taken the world by storm. Japanese girls dressed like dolls are kawaii. Cosmetic surgery creates bigger eyes. Hair is poofed up tied with big ribbons (if you're a girl). Hello Kitty is now 30 years old? Do people even know that?
Anime, Japanese manga (cartoons) has can also be seen, bought, and read in many corners of the world. Except for the smut that is child pornography in manga form, I don't have a problem with this side of Japan. You want cute? It's here in many shapes, forms, and sizes.
On my mind of late is the subject of mascots. There's a bit of a boom of these giant creatures. Prefectures have their own mascots as do companies, agencies, government organizations. For the most part these are seriously loved by the Japanese. For the most part, these seriously confuse foreigners.
When I saw Alpha Male (my favorite Japanese man in Japan) awhile back I noticed something hanging from his cell phone.
"What is that?" I say, pointing to a red...dog? Bear? Except for the big bulb of black on its nose the rest of this thing is red. Today on the subway I saw a giant doll of this red thing hanging off a violin case. What is this? Why do people have this thing?
"It's a mascot," Alpha Male says.
"Huh," I say.
"What?" He's annoyed.
"Nothing," I say. Then, "I guess I don't get it."
I used to interpret for cops who would visit Tokyo to visit their Japanese counterparts. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department has a mascot. Again, it can only be described as a thing. I think it might actually be a mouse or a rat crossed with an alien but I'm not at all sure. Pee-Po as the mascot is called, shows up on the business cards of all TMPD officers, detectives, and officials. Pee-Po is on signs and brochures and billboards outside police stations. Pee-Po has a family: mommy rat, baby rat, grandma rat, brother and sister rat. American cops I worked with mocked Pee-Po and Tokyo cops that had a rat for a mascot. "Imagine NYPD officers having a cartoon pigeon on their cards," one cop said to me. "They'd be the laughing stock of cops everywhere." I just smiled. Here again is cute Japan. To each their own. If Japanese cops need a mascot to make themselves more likeable then so be it. Sort of.
I draw the line at Fukuppy. Fukushima tried to offer up Fukuppy as their mascot in October, 2013. Fukuppy has since disappeared having been made fun of online by those who saw the name as mock-worthy. On this, I stand with the mockers. Really? No one checked? Fukuppy?
Not having the answer on why these mascots are as popular as they are I go back to Hello Kitty. These mascots are giant versions of Hello Kitty. If Hello Kitty can survive and make her way around the world for thirty years then perhaps there's some wisdom in having ambiguous creatures represent a prefecture. Or cops. Then again, I think one needs to be Japanese to appreciate this side of cute Japan. Too many foreigners have said to me after looking at these things, "I guess I don't get it." Yours truly included.
Random musings on things.
Anime, Japanese manga (cartoons) has can also be seen, bought, and read in many corners of the world. Except for the smut that is child pornography in manga form, I don't have a problem with this side of Japan. You want cute? It's here in many shapes, forms, and sizes.
On my mind of late is the subject of mascots. There's a bit of a boom of these giant creatures. Prefectures have their own mascots as do companies, agencies, government organizations. For the most part these are seriously loved by the Japanese. For the most part, these seriously confuse foreigners.
When I saw Alpha Male (my favorite Japanese man in Japan) awhile back I noticed something hanging from his cell phone.
"What is that?" I say, pointing to a red...dog? Bear? Except for the big bulb of black on its nose the rest of this thing is red. Today on the subway I saw a giant doll of this red thing hanging off a violin case. What is this? Why do people have this thing?
"It's a mascot," Alpha Male says.
"Huh," I say.
"What?" He's annoyed.
"Nothing," I say. Then, "I guess I don't get it."
I used to interpret for cops who would visit Tokyo to visit their Japanese counterparts. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department has a mascot. Again, it can only be described as a thing. I think it might actually be a mouse or a rat crossed with an alien but I'm not at all sure. Pee-Po as the mascot is called, shows up on the business cards of all TMPD officers, detectives, and officials. Pee-Po is on signs and brochures and billboards outside police stations. Pee-Po has a family: mommy rat, baby rat, grandma rat, brother and sister rat. American cops I worked with mocked Pee-Po and Tokyo cops that had a rat for a mascot. "Imagine NYPD officers having a cartoon pigeon on their cards," one cop said to me. "They'd be the laughing stock of cops everywhere." I just smiled. Here again is cute Japan. To each their own. If Japanese cops need a mascot to make themselves more likeable then so be it. Sort of.
I draw the line at Fukuppy. Fukushima tried to offer up Fukuppy as their mascot in October, 2013. Fukuppy has since disappeared having been made fun of online by those who saw the name as mock-worthy. On this, I stand with the mockers. Really? No one checked? Fukuppy?
Not having the answer on why these mascots are as popular as they are I go back to Hello Kitty. These mascots are giant versions of Hello Kitty. If Hello Kitty can survive and make her way around the world for thirty years then perhaps there's some wisdom in having ambiguous creatures represent a prefecture. Or cops. Then again, I think one needs to be Japanese to appreciate this side of cute Japan. Too many foreigners have said to me after looking at these things, "I guess I don't get it." Yours truly included.
Random musings on things.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Child Pornography in Japan
A funny thing, blogging. I know of a handful of people who read these posts, but the rest of you are completely unknown. I know how many in which country read any one post on any one day. I don't know you individually, and we'll likely never meet. All of this fascinates me.
As do the keywords you type in to search for the blogs you're wanting to read. The most heavily read blog post of mine is the one I wrote about pornography on the train. This entry has shown up when you've googled "porn in Japan" and "porn on trains" and "Japan and porn" and other such combinations. I take it a good number of you all around the world are interested in, fascinated by, and/or mortified by what Japan allows as art. You want to know about pornography in Japan? Let me tell you then. Today I will focus on child pornography, because herein lies Japan's most foul rationale about art versus porn. Today, here again, I simply can't make this shit up.
The laws are clear: In Japan, you can own child pornography. You can't make it, ship it, or sell it, but you can own it. Read that again. You can't make, sell, or distribute child pornography porn but you can own it. This begs the obvious question where does one buy it? It's not supposed to be sold. It can't be made so it can't be shipped so it can't be sold. Except that in one survey, 20% of Japanese state, at one point or another they've owned child pornography. Where do they buy it if it's not available? Really.
Part of the problem lies in Japan's definition of child pornography. Simply put, children participating in a sexual act is considered child pornography. Which means half-naked or naked images are not. Which also means anything that's a cartoon, manga, is not. I find this highly disturbing. It also, unfortunately, answers the question on where one would buy this. Any convenience store will have an "adult" section marked but visible and available to anyone who wants to stand there and read through the selection. It's not illegal to sell these magazines because they don't portray images defined as child pornography. Lolita on the cover? Not porn. It's not real. Presumably this is where a lot of people buy this "art." (I don't have enough sarcasm in me to express my disgust further.)
The "artists" who draw these images take this whole child pornography question to another level. They are adamant if it's in cartoon form, even rape, sodomy, forced oral sex, gang rape, torture, beatings of children--it's all "art." By their definition, this means it's not real so it's not pornography. If you've seen any such cartoon imagery, mark my words it will make you sick to your stomach--that kicked in the gut, bile in the back of your throat, "I'm about to puke" feeling--it lingers.
Say what you will about "two consenting adults" who allow themselves to be filmed. Naked women in magazines (gay sex is still very much a taboo here) do it because they want the money and, hey, they're smiling! Surely, all must be good. I don't and won't know the truth behind the Japanese sex industry. I don't want to. Bring kids into this and I'm out for blood.
Just so you know, last time I checked, you can bring Japanese child pornography into your country if you're Russian, but in most other countries possession of child pornography (even the "art" kind) is illegal. Careful what you buy at the airport and in town. This shit will get you arrested.
Then again, it should.
As do the keywords you type in to search for the blogs you're wanting to read. The most heavily read blog post of mine is the one I wrote about pornography on the train. This entry has shown up when you've googled "porn in Japan" and "porn on trains" and "Japan and porn" and other such combinations. I take it a good number of you all around the world are interested in, fascinated by, and/or mortified by what Japan allows as art. You want to know about pornography in Japan? Let me tell you then. Today I will focus on child pornography, because herein lies Japan's most foul rationale about art versus porn. Today, here again, I simply can't make this shit up.
The laws are clear: In Japan, you can own child pornography. You can't make it, ship it, or sell it, but you can own it. Read that again. You can't make, sell, or distribute child pornography porn but you can own it. This begs the obvious question where does one buy it? It's not supposed to be sold. It can't be made so it can't be shipped so it can't be sold. Except that in one survey, 20% of Japanese state, at one point or another they've owned child pornography. Where do they buy it if it's not available? Really.
Part of the problem lies in Japan's definition of child pornography. Simply put, children participating in a sexual act is considered child pornography. Which means half-naked or naked images are not. Which also means anything that's a cartoon, manga, is not. I find this highly disturbing. It also, unfortunately, answers the question on where one would buy this. Any convenience store will have an "adult" section marked but visible and available to anyone who wants to stand there and read through the selection. It's not illegal to sell these magazines because they don't portray images defined as child pornography. Lolita on the cover? Not porn. It's not real. Presumably this is where a lot of people buy this "art." (I don't have enough sarcasm in me to express my disgust further.)
The "artists" who draw these images take this whole child pornography question to another level. They are adamant if it's in cartoon form, even rape, sodomy, forced oral sex, gang rape, torture, beatings of children--it's all "art." By their definition, this means it's not real so it's not pornography. If you've seen any such cartoon imagery, mark my words it will make you sick to your stomach--that kicked in the gut, bile in the back of your throat, "I'm about to puke" feeling--it lingers.
Say what you will about "two consenting adults" who allow themselves to be filmed. Naked women in magazines (gay sex is still very much a taboo here) do it because they want the money and, hey, they're smiling! Surely, all must be good. I don't and won't know the truth behind the Japanese sex industry. I don't want to. Bring kids into this and I'm out for blood.
Just so you know, last time I checked, you can bring Japanese child pornography into your country if you're Russian, but in most other countries possession of child pornography (even the "art" kind) is illegal. Careful what you buy at the airport and in town. This shit will get you arrested.
Then again, it should.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Porn on the Train
I first heard about the Mayan calendar, the "December 21st is the last day for humankind" story on a camping trip to New Mexico years ago. Let's just say nature called out. I needed to reconnect. True I was burnt out; tired of airports, hotels, and living out of a suitcase. I camped with a group of women in the hills of New Mexico. This is most unlike me. I don't camp. It was one of those things in hindsight I can't explain. Nature has not called me to reconnect since, and I don't expect I'll commune with it even if it does. I'm simply not a nature girl. But, I digress.
It's December 21st in Tokyo, and while there are several hours left yet in the day, the world has not come crashing down around me. In fact, I had a most wonderful lunch and dinner. Coming away from it feeling tall and useful, happy and loved, I was convinced life is truly good and no way would the world come to an end today. On that note, who's December 21st are we to be looking at anyway? Whose clock officially kicks off this day? Are we to calculate this day using GMT, or on Mayan time? If the latter, December 21st starts around Pacific Standard Time in the US? That actually means December 21st is about 36 hours long for us here in Tokyo. This is too much math for me to contemplate.
I'm heading home on the subway after dinner, yawning because I haven't had enough tea today. I'm looking off into space, not really paying attention to my surroundings. Still happy from my meetings, I let myself dwell in this special moment.
I yawn again, and cover my mouth but a bit too late. Looking to see if anyone noticed I see the man sitting across from me staring. What? You've never seen a woman cover her mouth only half-way through a yawn? Sorry. Bad manners on my part. Our eyes have met. Here, he looks down to the magazine he has open in his lap. He looks up at me again. I look down at the magazine. It's porn. It's actually child pornography, but in anime, Japanese cartoons. The front cover facing me has a barely dressed preteen in an erotic pose. Well now. I look back up at him. He nods. Am I being challenged? I sit still. He nods again, this time to the empty seat next to him. Is he serious? He wants me to sit down next to him? I ponder this. Briefly. He nods again, gesturing down at the seat with his head.
I decide there is this vortex of confusion over the earth today, December 21st and all, and that our planet is trying to decide whether or not to stay alive. In this confusion, I'm thrown in front of a man reading child pornography on the train who evidently wants me to read it with him. I get up and sit down next to him. Be prepared, dear man. Bring it. You have no idea what you're getting into.
Sitting side by side, he looks at me and I look back at him. This is a fight. I can feel it. I'm determined not to lose, although I can't quite pinpoint what exactly "losing" would mean. He starts reading the magazine again. I join in. It's not reading as much as it is looking at the pictures.
Of girls being raped. Of girls giving blow jobs. Of girls. There's nothing about these drawings that would make anyone think these characters are anything but six-year olds. This is child pornography. This is smut. Possession of this child pornography in Japan is legal. He's not breaking any laws. Attempts by foreign governments to shame Japan into proposing legislation that would categorize even anime as child pornography have a). not succeeded, and b). been met with furious opposition from the "artists" who draw these scenes of torture and debauchery. "It's art," they say. Bite me.
We're both quiet. He flips pages and I follow along. The "stories" are short. He starts another and I see this one contains a dog. That's it. That's my limit.
I look at him. "You like this?"
He looks back. "Yeah."
I turn my ahead away from him and look straight ahead. People are watching us. I'm silent for a minute and then say, "Huh."
"You don't like it?"
I turn, then pause, and cock my head to the side. I'm giving him my best "you're-kidding-me" look, hoping he gets it. Straightening back up, I say, "No, I don't."
I'm not done. "I don't get why looking at this is fun. I think it's gross. This," and I point to the dog, "Really?"
"Yeah, the dog is a bit much."
"The dog is a bit much? The rest is okay?"
"Yeah. The rest is okay. It's not real."
Aaah. There it is. It's a cartoon so no one's getting hurt.
"You're foreign so you don't get it. This is okay in Japan," he says and I feel my eyes widening and I'm so close to punching him and I have to force myself to exhale.
"Well," and I take a deep breath because I'm now shaking, "in my country this is illegal." I pause for effect. "This is considered counter-culture, stupid, dirty, and the worst kind of perversion out there. You'd be arrested for reading this in my country."
"Good thing I'm in Japan then," he says.
"Yeah, only in Japan. The rest of the world thinks this is wrong. You guys are way behind the times in what's considered decent," I say and this is my cue. I get up. I've had enough.
I did not punch him. For this I'm proud of myself but only sort of. I got off the train three stations before mine. I needed air. I could feel my heart in my chest, beating furiously. I wasn't expecting to change his mind, lead him to an epiphany where he would see how morally and socially corrupt this whole "it's not real so it's okay" argument is. I equally did not see myself coming away feeling this deflated. I feel gross. My hands feel oily. I want to scrub myself clean.
It was a matter of time before this happened. Today it did, and it some how makes sense that it would on this particular day, but I know this argument will hold no water when I face a similar experience again in future and it's not a day the world is to come to an end. Deal with that then? I guess. It's frightening how wrong that answer is, and yet. And, yet.
It's December 21st in Tokyo, and while there are several hours left yet in the day, the world has not come crashing down around me. In fact, I had a most wonderful lunch and dinner. Coming away from it feeling tall and useful, happy and loved, I was convinced life is truly good and no way would the world come to an end today. On that note, who's December 21st are we to be looking at anyway? Whose clock officially kicks off this day? Are we to calculate this day using GMT, or on Mayan time? If the latter, December 21st starts around Pacific Standard Time in the US? That actually means December 21st is about 36 hours long for us here in Tokyo. This is too much math for me to contemplate.
I'm heading home on the subway after dinner, yawning because I haven't had enough tea today. I'm looking off into space, not really paying attention to my surroundings. Still happy from my meetings, I let myself dwell in this special moment.
I yawn again, and cover my mouth but a bit too late. Looking to see if anyone noticed I see the man sitting across from me staring. What? You've never seen a woman cover her mouth only half-way through a yawn? Sorry. Bad manners on my part. Our eyes have met. Here, he looks down to the magazine he has open in his lap. He looks up at me again. I look down at the magazine. It's porn. It's actually child pornography, but in anime, Japanese cartoons. The front cover facing me has a barely dressed preteen in an erotic pose. Well now. I look back up at him. He nods. Am I being challenged? I sit still. He nods again, this time to the empty seat next to him. Is he serious? He wants me to sit down next to him? I ponder this. Briefly. He nods again, gesturing down at the seat with his head.
I decide there is this vortex of confusion over the earth today, December 21st and all, and that our planet is trying to decide whether or not to stay alive. In this confusion, I'm thrown in front of a man reading child pornography on the train who evidently wants me to read it with him. I get up and sit down next to him. Be prepared, dear man. Bring it. You have no idea what you're getting into.
Sitting side by side, he looks at me and I look back at him. This is a fight. I can feel it. I'm determined not to lose, although I can't quite pinpoint what exactly "losing" would mean. He starts reading the magazine again. I join in. It's not reading as much as it is looking at the pictures.
Of girls being raped. Of girls giving blow jobs. Of girls. There's nothing about these drawings that would make anyone think these characters are anything but six-year olds. This is child pornography. This is smut. Possession of this child pornography in Japan is legal. He's not breaking any laws. Attempts by foreign governments to shame Japan into proposing legislation that would categorize even anime as child pornography have a). not succeeded, and b). been met with furious opposition from the "artists" who draw these scenes of torture and debauchery. "It's art," they say. Bite me.
We're both quiet. He flips pages and I follow along. The "stories" are short. He starts another and I see this one contains a dog. That's it. That's my limit.
I look at him. "You like this?"
He looks back. "Yeah."
I turn my ahead away from him and look straight ahead. People are watching us. I'm silent for a minute and then say, "Huh."
"You don't like it?"
I turn, then pause, and cock my head to the side. I'm giving him my best "you're-kidding-me" look, hoping he gets it. Straightening back up, I say, "No, I don't."
I'm not done. "I don't get why looking at this is fun. I think it's gross. This," and I point to the dog, "Really?"
"Yeah, the dog is a bit much."
"The dog is a bit much? The rest is okay?"
"Yeah. The rest is okay. It's not real."
Aaah. There it is. It's a cartoon so no one's getting hurt.
"You're foreign so you don't get it. This is okay in Japan," he says and I feel my eyes widening and I'm so close to punching him and I have to force myself to exhale.
"Well," and I take a deep breath because I'm now shaking, "in my country this is illegal." I pause for effect. "This is considered counter-culture, stupid, dirty, and the worst kind of perversion out there. You'd be arrested for reading this in my country."
"Good thing I'm in Japan then," he says.
"Yeah, only in Japan. The rest of the world thinks this is wrong. You guys are way behind the times in what's considered decent," I say and this is my cue. I get up. I've had enough.
I did not punch him. For this I'm proud of myself but only sort of. I got off the train three stations before mine. I needed air. I could feel my heart in my chest, beating furiously. I wasn't expecting to change his mind, lead him to an epiphany where he would see how morally and socially corrupt this whole "it's not real so it's okay" argument is. I equally did not see myself coming away feeling this deflated. I feel gross. My hands feel oily. I want to scrub myself clean.
It was a matter of time before this happened. Today it did, and it some how makes sense that it would on this particular day, but I know this argument will hold no water when I face a similar experience again in future and it's not a day the world is to come to an end. Deal with that then? I guess. It's frightening how wrong that answer is, and yet. And, yet.
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