According to the New York Times, young Japanese women who work for low wages in the secondary labor market while being supported by parents -- though no teenagers -- are now blamed by journalists, economists, sociologists, & politicians for being "parasites."
***** New York Times 1 July 2001
Parasites in Prêt-à-Porter are Threatening Japan's Economy
By PEGGY ORENSTEIN
...More than half of Japanese women are still single by 30 -- compared with about 37 percent of American women -- and nearly all of them live at home with Mom and Dad. Labeled "Parasite Singles" (after "Parasite Eve," a Japanese horror flick in which extraterrestrial hatchlings feed off unsuspecting human hosts before bursting, "Alien"-style, through their bellies), they pay no rent, do no housework and come and go freely. Although they earn, on average, just $27,000 a year, they are Japan's leading consumers, since their entire income is disposable. Despite Japan's continuing recession, they have created a boom in haute couture accessories by Louis Vuitton, Bulgari, Fendi and Prada, as well as in cell phones, minicars and other luxury goods. They travel more widely than their higher-earning male peers, dress more fashionably and are more sophisticated about food and culture.
While their spending sprees keep the Japanese economy afloat, their skittishness about traditional roles may soon threaten to capsize it. Japan's population is aging more rapidly than any on the planet -- by 2015 one in four Japanese will be elderly. The birthrate has sunk to 1.34 per woman, well below replacement levels. (The birthrate in the United States, by contrast, is 2.08.) Last year, Japan dropped from the eighth-largest nation in the world to the ninth. The smallest class in recorded history just entered elementary school. Demographers predict that within two decades the shrinking labor force will make pension taxes and health care costs untenable, not to mention that there will not be enough workers to provide basic services for the elderly. There are whispers that to avoid ruin, Japan may have to do the unthinkable: encourage mass immigration, changing the very notion of what it means to be Japanese.
Politicians, economists and the media blame parasite women for the predicament. (Unmarried men can also be parasitic, but they have received far less scrutiny.) "They are like the ancient aristocrats of feudal times, but their parents play the role of servants," says Masahiro Yamada, a sociologist who coined the derogatory but instantly popular term "Parasite Single." (The clock on his 15 minutes of fame has been ticking ever since.) "Their lives are spoiled. The only thing that's important to them is seeking pleasure."
He may be right: parasite women may indeed be a sign of decadence, a hangover from the intoxicating materialism of the Bubble years of the 80's. But that conclusion, the most common one in the Japanese press, misses something more substantive: an unconscious protest against the rigidity of both traditional family roles and Japan's punishing professional system. "Maybe they appear to be spoiled," says Yoko Kunihiro, a sociologist who studies dissatisfaction among women in their 30's, "but you could also perceive Parasite Singles as the embodiment of a criticism against society. Seen from the perspective of conventional values, even feminist values, they seem like a very negative force, but I see something positive in them."
There was a time when a woman Sumiko Arai's age would have been dismissed as "Christmas cake": like a holiday pastry, her shelf life would have expired at 25. But sell-by dates have changed in Japan, along with male predilections: high-profile sports heroes like the Seattle Mariner Ichiro Suzuki and the sumo grand champion Takanohana are married to women several years their senior. Instead of calling her a stale sweet, Arai's parents, with more affection than disapproval, call her para-chan ("little parasite": "chan" is the diminutive in Japanese). "They tell me to get married and leave the house," she says. "But if they really thought that, they'd try to set me up on omiai" -- matchmaking meetings. "My mom has said to me, 'Make sure you find the right guy.' I think she's speaking from personal experience. Maybe she feels she did find the right guy. But I think sometimes she's telling me because she wishes she'd chosen better herself."
Arai is in her late 20's, the younger of two children -- her older brother is married but childless. Her mother is a housewife, her father a salaryman whom she speaks of fondly. That is somewhat unusual; most of the women I met felt little connection to their dads, whose careers took precedence over family life. "We don't have an emotional bond," one woman explained. "I try to be nice to him now that he's retired, but I hardly saw him growing up."
Arai is the publicist for Girlsgate.com, one of several Web sites for women that have sprung up over the last year in Japan. Girlsgate hopes to lure the discerning parasite with articles on the history of Hermes fashions and tips on customizing designer shoes. The editor in chief, Yoshiko Izumi, 31, is a former Miss Fairlady, the generic term for a woman who stands smilingly next to new-model vehicles at car shows. Although not a parasite herself -- Izumi has been married to her business partner for seven years -- she says she understands the parasite psychology. "They're not dependent on men financially," she explains as we huddle around an i-Mac at Girlsgate headquarters, touring the site. "They're enjoying their lives. They don't want to give up that pleasure for marriage." She turns to Arai. "Isn't that right?"...
...If you were a 30-ish parasite in the spring of 2001, you would mix your Uniqlo T-shirts (Uniqlo being the Japanese version of the Gap) with high-end designer accessories. You would be considering the purchase of a wide belt. You would take lessons in English or French. You would frequent galleries. You would be planning a vacation to Vietnam. You would be tiring of Italian restaurants and returning to Japanese, served in a Western setting. In a nation where the G.D.P. is driven by consumer spending, you would be part of an economic powerhouse. The entertainment, travel and fashion industries would cater to your slightest whim. Consider: Since the current recession began in 1994, the G.D.P. has dropped nearly 20 percent. Japanese sales of Louis Vuitton products, meanwhile, have soared from $36 million to $863 million annually, accounting for a full third of the company's worldwide sales.
"We're heading into a market in which mothers in their 50's and daughters in their 20's and 30's are the main consumers," explains Jun Aburatani, founder of the Tokyo marketing firm Gauss. He calls it the New 50 Pattern Society. "The mothers are beginning to live their lives after long years spent child-rearing. The daughters are liberated from social pressure to get married, so they, too, are beginning to live their lives. You can see it already: even during the recession we're in now, entertainment, designer products and healthy products are strong sellers: red wine, olive oil, vitamins, travel, performing arts, diet products. Young women are very positive about enjoying their lives. They go to hot-springs resorts. They buy clothes, shoes, purses, cosmetics. Men don't. And that reflects a difference in attitude between fathers and mothers. The women are much more vivacious." According to Gauss, men over 50 want to die before their wives -- and their wives want them to as well. Widowhood, the women say, is the best time of their lives.
Switch on Japanese TV, and you'll see this new trend mirrored in advertising. In America, where there has been a second baby boom, children symbolize satisfaction and fulfillment. Soft-focus images of infants or families are used to hawk cars, insurance, coffee, prescription drugs. Japanese ads are comparatively baby-free. "We're becoming a society that excludes children," Aburatani says. "Whether you think it's good or bad, that's the way it is. Many women over 50 found marriage to be a disappointment and motherhood to be a burden. They tell that to their adult daughters, and that makes their daughters want to stay single. They doubt whether husbands and children are worth it."
As I leave Gauss, the woman who served the obligatory tea during my meeting with Aburatani stops me. "Would you like to ask me some questions?" she says. "I fit into your demographic -- I'm 26 years old with no plans to marry." I agree, and we head downstairs to a Subway sandwich shop. Because she has her own apartment, Chiho Kashiwagi is not strictly speaking a Parasite Single, although she would be if her parents didn't live so far from Tokyo. She points out that those who condemn parasites tend to overlook the fact that women in Japan, as in most countries, earn less than men and that Tokyo rents are prohibitively expensive. Not to mention that until 1986, many employers required single women to live with their parents, and some continue to look askance at those who don't.
Kashiwagi can't imagine modeling her life on her mother's, who is a housewife. "I see her dissatisfaction," she says. But would she like to live like her father? Kashiwagi laughs and tucks her hair behind her ears. "How can I answer that?" she says. "I'd like to be like him in the sense that he's independent, but if you mean working like a traditional Japanese man, no. He worked very long hours and devoted his life almost exclusively to his work. He has no hobbies, no outside interests. That conflicts with other things I want to do."...
...Long before Makiko Tanaka there was Mariko Bando, one of Japan's best-known female politicians; she is currently director general of the Gender Equality Bureau Cabinet Office and a regular on the pundit circuit. Her bureau is charged with the amorphous task of "encouraging other ministries to look at gender issues" as well as strategizing on how to better support mothers in the workplace. So far, she has generated lots of paper with few results, which has been frustrating.
Rather than dismissing the parasites as merely spoiled children, overindulged by their parents, Bando says she believes there is also an economic explanation for the phenomenon. "We understand why Japanese women don't want to have children," she says. "Once they're married, they have to do all the housework. Japanese husbands may help some, but they won't share the burden. Also, if women work as hard as men they can be promoted -- not always, but it's possible -- but if they have children and stop working, it's virtually impossible to re-enter the work force. Many well-educated women quit and become housewives whether they want to or not. So instead, women are postponing marriage and/or childbirth."
The typical employment pattern for women in Japan is age-related, following an M curve: it peaks by 24, drops sharply, then spikes again in the early 50's (when former housewives take low-level part-time jobs) before falling off for good at 55. By comparison, American women's employment stays steady from their 20's until around 60. Some Japanese economists believe that boosting women's labor-force participation rate to U.S. levels during their 30's, 40's and 50's would lower inflation and raise the G.D.P. It would offset the labor shortage caused by the declining birthrate and revitalize Japan's economy. But that doesn't appear to be an argument either government or business is heeding; according to the Economic Planning Agency, working conditions for women have actually worsened in Japan since the 1980's. "They agree in principle," Bando says, "but a lot of men in the government are themselves uncomfortable with working mothers as colleagues."
Meanwhile, the psychological impact of the M curve, which Kashiwagi and Arai are preparing for, goes a long way toward explaining the parasite phenomenon. If, because of social pressures and discrimination -- not to mention long, inflexible working hours, grueling commutes, lack of support from her husband and limited child care -- a woman has to quit her job after having children, and never return, what is the motivation for someone who wants kids to push herself professionally? What is the motivation for an ambitious woman to contemplate motherhood? I recalled something that Yumi Matsushita, a 33-year-old interpreter, said to me: "You commute long hours in unfashionable trains and eat bad canteen food and for what? Do these men have good lives? And even if you get promoted, you have more drinking to do, more time at the office, more time away from family. And if you have a child, it will become even more difficult. So you have to wonder, what's the point in pushing harder?
"At the same time, once you become a mother, you're a mother. That's it. You're not a woman anymore. You can't work anymore. And the father's not involved. It's very confining. It limits your activities, your financial freedom. It's really not attractive."
So far, the government's main response to the baby bust has been to hike child allowances to about $2,400 a year per child for six years. Some conservative politicians would like to go further, increasing them tenfold. The idea is to offer an incentive for women to stay home, making larger reforms unnecessary. Bando scoffs at that. "Women don't need a child allowance, they need services," she says, especially more day-care centers open longer hours. (Japanese nannies are virtually nonexistent, and hiring foreigners is illegal.) But creating more places to park the kids would not challenge the system a whole lot more than child subsidies do. Business meetings would still start at 8 p.m. Leaving work to tend to a sick child would still be considered a sign of disloyalty. "It's a workaholic culture," Bando agrees. "We have to change the structure of Japanese companies." And how will that be done? "This is the most difficult challenge," she says, shaking her head....
...If you watch TV, it seems like American women feel a lot of pressure to marry or to be in couples," says Shuko Sadamoto, a single 34-year-old economist. "Do you think they just marry because it's time?"
Mihoka Iida, a 34-year-old magazine editor who lives with her parents, adds: "That obsession with having a boyfriend. . . . We just don't feel that paranoia. I mean, I enjoy 'Ally McBeal"' -- which recently came to Japan as "Ally My Love" -- but she seems so extreme. That dancing baby?" She rolls her eyes. "I think I'm doing Japan a favor by not having children. There are too many people in this country anyway." They both laugh.
Sadamoto and Iida have each traveled widely in Asia, Europe and North America. Sadamoto, who is shy and a little tomboyish, attended graduate school at Columbia University. Iida, tall and elegant in Comme des Garcons, spent her high-school years in Vancouver. They say it's easier to be single in Japan, removed from America's pervasive "couples culture." "In the U.S. you're supposed to be together with your boyfriend or husband all the time," says Iida. "In Japan, women have their ways of having fun and men have their ways. You're not expected to bring a date everywhere, and you don't feel excluded if you're not involved with someone."
We are having drinks after work at Shunju, a restaurant at the top of a new skyscraper with a panoramic view of the city. Pinpoints of light beam down on our plates from artfully placed halogens, refracting onto our faces with a flattering glow. We are drinking wine and joking, but then Iida suddenly turns serious. "In a way, the men have to pay for what they've created in Japan," she says. "They hire all these educated, intelligent, even bilingual women in their companies, but then they don't utilize them the way they could. So that means the men have to work 24 hours a day, but the women don't. I suppose if this were America, women in that position would feel discriminated against, and they'd try to do something about it. We just react by going out and having fun, by not being part of it."
Of course women would like to have broader professional opportunities, they say, but not under the current conditions. "I don't know how men do it," Iida says. "When I first started working, I looked at the guys above me -- and they were all guys -and I thought, I don't aspire to that. Living and working like men in Japan is not something to dream of. But then, I think that's related to the difficulty of having dreams in general."...
...Those who have tried to make parasite singles the whipping girls for Japan's declining birthrate tend to believe that the solution is a return to the traditional family, in which men work and women stay home. In fact, the two factors that are keeping birthrates up in the United States are both distinctly nontraditional. One is single motherhood, which in America accounts for one-third of births. The second, according to World Bank data, is female employment. Women's earning power appears to raise confidence in the future: it gives young couples hope. Economic conditions in the West helped push women into the workplace; perhaps the situation in Japan will need to become significantly more dire before that solution is seriously considered. "In the United States and other countries, the economy went through gut-wrenching pain and got to a point where you couldn't afford one income to support a family," said Kathy Matsui, an analyst for Goldman Sachs in Tokyo. "That forced change."...
...One spring afternoon, I visited Mitsuko Shimomura, a pioneering female journalist who, in her 60's, has taken over for her 90-year-old mother as administrator of her family's health clinic in Tokyo. She is also director of the Gender Equity Center in Fukushima prefecture, about an hour and a half outside Tokyo. "I don't regret the decline in the birthrate," Shimomura told me. "I think it's a good thing. The Parasites have unintentionally created an interesting movement. Politicians now have to beg women to have babies. Unless they create a society where women feel comfortable having children and working, Japan will be destroyed in a matter of 50 or 100 years. And child subsidies aren't going to do it. Only equality is."
Peggy Orenstein is a contributing writer for the magazine and author of "Flux: Women on Sex, Work, Love, Kids and Life in a Half-Changed World." *****
Yoshie