What Sanae Takaichi’s popularity among women says about gender equality in Japan

Sanae Takaichi, Japan's first female prime minister, has become a cultural icon among certain segments of the population, particularly younger voters and women, sparking a trend dubbed "Sanakatsu," or Sana-mania. Since taking office in October, Takaichi has garnered widespread attention, with her image appearing on everything from snacks to fashion items. This surge in popularity has prompted discussions about gender equality in Japan and how it intersects with political representation. Takaichi’s rise to prominence coincides with her conservative stance on key social issues. She opposes changes that would allow married couples to maintain separate surnames and supports the idea that women should be able to inherit the imperial throne. These positions contrast sharply with the goals of many feminist movements. Despite this, her appeal continues, suggesting that political preferences in Japan may not always align with broader societal shifts toward gender equality. Takaichi has positioned herself as a hardworking figure, emphasizing her dedication to governance. In a recent social media post, she described her routine of minimal sleep, reading cabinet documents, ironing handkerchiefs, and sewing buttons. This portrayal of relentless labor resonates with many, especially among younger generations who value efficiency and productivity. Her popularity has shown signs of decline, yet analysts continue to explore the reasons behind her initial appeal. Some suggest that her supporters prioritize economic policies over abstract notions of gender equality. Others argue that her gender itself is a significant factor, after years of male-dominated leadership, many voters may simply desire to see a woman in power. An anthropologist specializing in Japanese women offers a different perspective. Having studied the subject for over a decade, they emphasize that the motivations behind Takaichi’s popularity are complex and multifaceted. The researcher notes that many Japanese women navigate daily life under persistent gendered expectations, balancing full-time employment with traditional domestic responsibilities. Government data reveals a stark disparity in household task distribution. Men spend an average of 3.5 hours per day on domestic duties, whereas women dedicate over seven hours. Many women acknowledge their partners' contributions but often take on additional responsibilities without complaint. When faced with situations that challenge traditional roles, such as managing household waste, some women opt for practical solutions rather than direct confrontation. One participant in a study on household waste shared a personal insight: "I believe in gender equality. I want to work full-time and I do not want to repeat what my mother did and spend all day at home cooking. But I also want to provide nutritious meals to my family. So I rely on ready-made side dishes. They fill the gap between persistent gendered expectation and the reality of being a full-time worker." This sentiment reflects a broader pattern of quiet resistance against entrenched norms. Publicly challenging gender inequality can be perilous in Japan, where traditional divisions of labor remain deeply ingrained. After the Fukushima nuclear disaster, mothers who raised concerns about food safety were often dismissed as spreading harmful rumors, earning labels like "radiation brain moms." Similarly, women who challenged their husbands' views on radiation risks sometimes encountered conflict, including instances of domestic violence. In this context, Takaichi's popularity appears less paradoxical. Her image as a dedicated, hardworking leader may resonate with individuals seeking stability and reliability in a rapidly changing society. The ongoing fascination with her persona highlights the nuanced relationship between political figures and public perception in Japan, offering insights into the evolving dynamics of gender and power.