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Right now in Japan, we're in the middle of an "LGBT boom."
I think it's incredibly important to gain visibility, to make it so that we can be seen.
On the other hand, however, there's also the thinking
of not generating any friction with the majority,
as much as possible.
It's not necessarily that being gay or lesbian is the problem,
but it's the family values and format
that traditional Japanese are afraid of breaking.
Why is homosexuality not allowed?
Neither Buddhism nor Shintoism say this is not okay.
The first thing we have to do is get rid of our phobia toward ourselves.
These communal words
and the rules we've obeyed until now have to be changed.
Somewhere deep inside the person in front of me,
there's a piece of them I can touch,
and we're all looking for that.
Probably.
It's probably a part of us that's laughable,
hard to comprehend, a little disgusting.
"Are you mental?" they'll say.
It's easy enough to utter words, but...
sweating, crying, or rolling on the floor in agony,
or injuring myself, letting out a little blood,
desperately trying to appeal to something...
Everybody will think of me as very hentai.
But that's the only thing I can do.
I am a drag queen, and I'm also an artist,
but before all of that, I think of myself as Vivienne Sato.
My sexual orientation, gender, things like that,
for instance, man or woman, gay, or, as we say in Japan, okama;
there are all kinds of words,
but it's not something that can be so neatly tied up in words, in nouns.
I think it's more about each person having their own particular way of living
more than distinctions along gender lines.
I wanted to live in a drag, in that reality.
Basically, I go to the store like this,
I go to restaurants like this,
I go to the bank like this.
When I leave the house, I leave it like this.
Maybe it's just another kind of theater,
but the starting line is much earlier, further back, I guess.
People take me however they take me.
I know that's the reality.
Take a hundred people and you'll get a hundred different reactions.
In the end, this way's more interesting.
It's really more interesting!
After all, if I went into a place dressed up like this,
and no one turned around,
no one complained,
I'd be a bit sad.
Which is why, well, I suppose I want it a little--
for people to complain, to say something.
I want to be the noise, you know?
My name is Nogi Sumiko.
I'm fifty years old.
What do I do?
Well, every day, I think of something
and then I make something.
I'm basically someone who makes things
under the title of artist.
I like women, but, well,
I think it's something more complex than that.
And I don't think it's that I can't decide.
Or that sort of thing. This is how it is, I guess.
When I was little, I think I had gender dysphoria,
you know, Gender Identity Disorder?
But I'm not actually too concerned about all that now.
It's just that when it comes to sexuality,
I do feel more sexual toward women than men.
I think these ambiguous bits are incredibly interesting.
It's basically only human beings that have ambiguity, isn't it?
I mean, we enjoy ambiguity!
Is it okay if I smoke?
I have all kinds of memories of this.
Like actually, before my eyes, a woman who had lost her own breasts to cancer looked at it,
and she sort of wrapped it around her neck like this and teared up a little,
saying it brought back a lot back for her.
And one woman remembered her own childhood,
when she was little with her mother.
The second she saw this, she remembered all kinds of things.
And it wasn't that she was feeling sad, particularly.
She was just overwhelmed with emotion and started crying.
Things like this actually happened, so I definitely feel like I was right to make this scarf.
But I had no intention of making some kind of funny bit of merchandise or something.
That's the way I create work.
I'm Gengoroh Tagame.
I call myself a gay erotic artist and a manga artist.
The reason I prefer to call myself a "gay erotic artist" rather than a "gay artist"
is because feeling the erotic, sexual impulse for the same sex,
that's very important to me.
And being aware of myself as gay is very important.
For instance, when I was younger,
I didn't really like the word "douseiai."
Because love—you can do that with someone of the same sex, or someone of the opposite sex,
or an animal, or whatever.
But what I was seeking from a man was most definitely not a matter of love.
From before I even knew about the concept of "gay,"
I would get excited when I saw naked men.
Or I would get excited when I saw BDSM.
This issue of desire
is an incredibly large part of me describing myself as gay
and defining myself as gay.
And since you could probably take this to be the core of my own existence,
in my gay expression as well,
I've always had my focus on erotic expression in particular.
I went on this tour, all over North America.
For a long time, people had been saying they really wanted an English translation of my work
to come out, but it just never happened.
So I think they felt like, "Finally!"
It was very well received.
And, how can I put it...
The fans were very passionate.
They sort of crashed in. I was very moved.
The first time I went to the States was twenty years ago.
Right after the founding of G-men.
I visited with Hiroshi Hasegawa.
At that time, we visited the Tom of Finland Foundation in Los Angeles.
[Durk Dehner] It's taken you a long time to come back.
I'm very happy to be able to come here again.
Yeah, I was supposed to be away
and I stayed because I wanted to see you.
The thing that surprised me the most was the fact that the president, Durk Dehner,
who I met twenty-one years earlier, actually remembered me.
As an organization, they're carefully preserving gay art, they're promoting it.
And they also run an art contest, so they're finding new people as well.
I can't help but truly admire the fact that they've just kept on doing all this.
Just like I respect Tom of Finland as an artist,
I have such deep respect for what the Tom of Finland Foundation is doing.
Meanwhile, right around that same time,
back in Japan, I had started to draw the manga My Brother's Husband.
That was the first manga for me that's not erotic, that's all ages, but still a gay manga,
a manga taking up gay issues.
When I started drawing My Brother's Husband, since it's so different from the work I've done,
a part of me was actually a little worried about how my fans would react to it.
Thankfully, I feel like both inside and outside Japan,
even though it surprised them,
the fans have been really understanding and welcoming of the series.
For me, My Brother's Husband, which doesn't have a single "adult" element--
writing a heartwarming family manga
and doing hardcore gay porn like Planet Brobdingnag at the same time
was very healthy for me, mentally.
In the past, I was happy just doing hardcore manga.
And recently, I've realized how much fun it is to draw something like My Brother's Husband.
But probably, if I were only working on that,
I think I'd be like, "Oh, I want to draw erotica."
The only thing is that now I'm a bit too busy.
My name is Tomato Hatakeno.
I write all kinds of things, but video game strategy books are the main thing.
And I'm also a transgender activist, that's my lifework.
Today, my friend of about 20 years Hiroshi Hasegawa...
It's been exactly 20 years since I started Transgender Cafe.
I started it two decades ago, in July 1996.
Just a little after Windows 95 went on sale.
At the time, I was working at a club for "newhalf" sex workers.
The club's owner set up a website.
I thought it looked kind of interesting, and I wanted to try making one of my own.
After that, I got the chance to talk to all kinds of young trans people.
And I heard things like how transitioning wasn't going so well for them,
or for instance, problems in their workplaces, they told me all kinds of things.
No matter whether "Gender Identity Disorder" is put into a pathology box,
if it's not going well for you, then it's still not going to go well.
I think the very idea of making someone a mental patient
because of the form their identity takes is actually really weird.
Especially since gender in society now is fairly complex, isn't it?
I just want the thought of this as a disease to go away already.
Basically, Shinjuku is like...
you have the Tokyo government here,
and then you have Kabukicho,
you have places like Golden Gai here.
And you have Japan's largest gay neighborhood in Ni-chome.
Shinjuku, it has just an incredible number of faces.
And you know, they don't mix.
It's a place where they all coexist and meet.
I first came to Ni-chome thirty-five years ago,
When I was fifteen.
Back then, the place was totally dark.
I mean, probably, people didn't want to be seen coming here.
According to one explanation, that's why all the snack bars, the little places, were upstairs.
Because if they were on the first floor it might be possible to see who was in them.
It was all hidden. The area was very quiet.
There were basically no places on the first floor.
My name is Chiga Ogawa.
I run a bar and—well, I call it a project team.
I manage a company,
and for years now, I've put on this party called Gold Finger.
It's a women-only party.
The party started in 1991,
because I felt there was no club of this type...
There was no event like this out there.
So I started one myself.
I didn't think that hard about it.
I wasn't focused just on lesbians.
It was for any woman who was wondering what to do some evening
and thought she'd like to hang out with some other women.
So naturally, there are married women, and I figured it'd be fun if you had a boyfriend.
And it was probably, the '90s saw this worldwide girl power movement--
you know, the Spice Girls and all that.
In Japan, too, it was an era when women wanted to be able to just get together with other women.
There was this focus then.
It was an interesting time. And I was drawn into that.
Well, from a lesbian perspective, it's the girls--
People tend to talk about places with a lot of cute girls.
Like, there's tons of cuties there!
Rumors like that.
You have this many people coming together,
so it's like, knowing there are people like you, that alone really gives you courage.
To have comrades.
Whenever we come, she gives us such a warm welcome, like "Oh hey, you came!"
[Chiga Ogawa] As for me, I'm kind of like everyone's--
not everyone's mother exactly,
but maybe like the old lady at the PTA.
The generational difference plays a big part in that,
but all of them just grow up so fast, and of course, they have their own lives to lead.
I never insist that anyone should come out.
There are some people who want to stay in the closet at work.
That's entirely their decision.
But I do long for a world where being a lesbian or a sexual minority
doesn't count against you in any way.
On the contrary,
it might make you more attractive, weapon.
And love is the source of life.
It's what makes us happy.
So I really, want everyone to be able to just enjoy themselves.
That's basically it.
For me, this is just the way I am, so I don't try to hide it.
And a lot of people just can't say it.
So I guess this is pushing back against that.
Like, I think you should just say it.
So I couldn't refuse this interview.
She's a little shy.
Grammy Tokyo started four years ago.
It started with transgender people, men who were assigned female at birth,
meeting up to have fun together.
Back in my hometown, I really only had one FTM friend.
At that point, I hadn't even been to a club before.
I guess I was reluctant to go to a club where there would be all these cisgender men.
The first time I came here was because a friend invited me, and I had such a great time.
And the people I've met through the event,
I can talk to them about all kinds of problems, about transitioning, too.
I want more people to feel like this,
like you don't have to hide the fact that you're FTM.
This is a place where you can be open about it,
think of it as just another part of who you are, and have fun as a person.
Taking my clothes off means something.
So many FTM guys are shy.
Like, a lot of us have complexes about our bodies.
So I want to show people like, other FTM guys,
if you work out a certain amount,
you can get a body like this.
That's my message.
So that's the intent when I take my clothes off and stand up front.
When I began treatment, there was no community like this.
I think it was really new.
I was involved in lesbian culture, but of course, once I started treatment,
once I started growing facial hair, I started to like a man,
And then all of a sudden, the tone shifted, to you're not allowed in.
So that meant I was left with nowhere to hang out.
That's when I started thinking.
We really need a new place where trans people can hang out.
Three years ago, Grammy joined up with Gold Finger for a joint party,
a club event called "Boyish Friend."
Up to then, Chiga's place was mixed company only once a week.
It was a time when I wasn't even allowed to just stand out front.
Of course, people did complain to Chiga in the beginning.
Everyone was like, "Why are you letting FTM people in?"
There was some of that.
Because I happen to be friends with some FTM people,
people sometimes get the wrong idea.
Some people go beyond being "boyish."
They start taking male hormones—
part of it is that it's easier to get hormones now.
They even grow beards.
They're living as a man.
But at Gold Finger, they'll come, and say, "No, but I used to be a woman."
And I just don't feel quite right about it.
It's like—I'm not trying to discriminate or anything.
If they want to be seen as man in their daily lives,
if they want to live as men, I completely respect that, their way of living.
I appreciate that they want to come, that they're willing to come.
But they say to me, "You let me in last month!"
And I'm like, "You didn't have a beard last month!"
That sort of back and forth.
There was a lot of that about four years ago.
And well, I understand their feelings and all.
There just weren't many places for trans guys to go.
So that was why I felt we needed a new party, which I called Boyish Friend.
It focuses on those boyish people, including FTM people.
So with that event, we had people bridging that gap.
Now it's the era of parades and LGBT,
and we're all trying to be on better terms
and close that gap. I'm doing this event, too.
These events got Chiga on board, they gave her a place to learn.
And it's the fact that we did that together that FTM bars and things can happen.
L and G and B are sexual orientations.
But in the case of T, it's about gender identity,
so it's maybe a little different.
I'm aware of how I relate to things in that way.
But, you know.
I think both for LGBT and straight people,
it'd be better if we didn't feel that sense of separation.
There's really a lot of hate towards each other in the community.
I really don't like that.
I'd love it if we could close that gap.
My name is-- would my drag name be best?
Okay. I'm Margarette.
I'm a man.
And my sexuality-- I'm homosexual.
It wasn't that I deliberately tried to play this character, Margarette.
I just kind of picked the name out of hat.
And eventually, everyone around me kind of came up with this persona.
And as I put on the attitude that people around me were expecting,
I kind of stumbled into this style.
Everyone who comes into Department H for the first time is surprised.
It's like, this world exists just tangent
to the one they usually inhabit--
it's just another fifteen minutes on the Yamanote Line, say.
I think it's valuable if we can give them that shock,
that sense that the world is still full of these places they haven't seen.
Personally, I think that people should have the freedom to do whatever they want,
so long as it doesn't hurt others.
I've been involved with Department H for more than twenty years now.
I don't really have a specific job.
I'm kind of a hostess out on the floor,
just talking with people and such.
But I also kind of MC the whole thing.
Overseas it's called "puppy play."
It's like dog roleplaying.
It's a kind of type of BDSM play.
I saw it online, and I thought it was cool.
I wanted to try it.
Most of us have felt that desire to be coddled and loved the way pets are, right?
You want to be pampered like a pet.
I think it's an expression of that.
When I first came, I was really impressed that a place like this existed.
A place that was just so easy to be like this.
Extraordinary, isn't it?
I think it's a big deal to have a place like this
where we can come play once a month.
Next up!
We have a lady who has already appeared like this at Department H.
Her sense of fashion never fails to amaze us.
Dokumurasaki Kano.
She participates every time, too.
And she is a singular talent.
Whether you like her or not,
there's no denying that she always comes in very powerful outfits.
My gender is male, and...
minority-wise... I'm gay.
I have fun here creating with the rubber material.
The first time I came here, I was basically josou.
I just wore makeup and dressed like a woman.
But, you know, that was a bit boring.
After about a year of coming to this event,
I gradually started making my own costumes.
I wanted to stand out more.
And they kind of got bigger and bigger.
Today?
Well, I was thinking about a fish or mermaid theme.
But somehow I ended up here.
Well, at least it has a big impact.
I'm Kumada Poohsuke.
I'm Male.
I like men.
These are full-body tights: Zentai.
This outfit is silky, you wear it for fun.
I have a lot of fetishes.
Like sport uniforms, socks-- I like clothes that fit the line of the body perfectly.
If I went dancing like this at a regular club,
people would ask me what all this was.
Here, everyone dances together like it's no big deal, so it's fun.
[Margarette] Saeborg's piece is really incredible.
[Saeborg] I figured the instant that enormous pig came out,
everyone would realize it was a birth scene,
so it'd get laughs right away.
And then, surprisingly, it was like no one realized it.
But it was this huge pig, you know,
and its genitals were right there and
so I was sure people would know it was having babies.
But surprisingly, they didn't, so that was good.
Really.
My name is Saeborg. I'm an artist.
Biologically, I was born female.
But I found myself resisting the stereotypical female behavior forced on me.
So I began using rubber as a second skin.
If I could put air between two layers of rubber,
then I could change myself into a shape I liked.
If I undid my body, I could be the person I wanted--
I could transcend humanity.
Neither male or female.
By squaring off like this, I could transcend the human form for a completely new gender.
A completely new creature. A living being.
It started there.
Department H is a hentai party, and it's been going on for more than twenty years.
I can call it a hentai party without worrying about being misunderstood.
I started going fifteen years ago.
At the time, I wore this big wig and really flashy make up.
I basically dressed up like a drag queen to go hang out.
So everyone thought my gender—
Well, they all thought I was an okama.
I mean, they wouldn't think I was a woman.
I remember being delighted at having my gender mistaken like that.
[Margarette] A mother pig gives birth to a piglet.
But the piglet is immediately taken away to be slaughtered for meat.
The point she's trying to make—
well, you would have to ask her to be sure.
But I think she's saying that even in Japan,
there was a time when women were seen merely as tools for making children.
So I personally view the piece as multivalent.
[Saeborg] All the costumes I make are female livestock.
Most people who do these full costumes,
like the gay furry costumes,
and the monsters are like this too—
they aspire to masculinity.
Like they dress as dobermans. A lot of people become something cool.
I wanted to go the other way. The opposite.
Be more metaphorical.
Yes, I made a fire costume.
A piece where I was enveloped in fire.
There was also the idea of Godzilla.
What's amazing is that what you think is your skin, it starts glowing.
Then it glows all the way to your heart.
It's a really incredible transcendent experience.
It says something about what you can make yourself believe.
It's very primitive. You know?
You make that stuff that you think is your skin.
You make it glow, and at the same time, your heart and body all glow.
It was pure ecstasy.
[Margarette] People get in these costumes and sometimes they dance, or they'll stage these little fights.
They're wonderful, Piko Piko's works of art.
Now if you were to ask me if it's a fetish for those people, though...
That's kind of ambiguous.
But it's certainly something you can't see anywhere else.
And we're grateful to have them here.
I'm MaChie.
My sex is male.
My sexuality is... I guess it would probably be bi.
[Margarette] That's MaChie.
Anyway, MaChie is crazy for anal.
She just loves fisting, using an arm, whatever.
What I'm doing here— it's not something I was asked to do, per se.
But I've been coming for a long time,
so I'm helping out by pressing buttons for the entrance elevator.
This, this? Hmm.
It's a bit hard to explain, isn't it?
I guess it's from a film.
The organizer, Gogh, bought it from a film set.
He lets me wear it.
[Margarette] As long as she's got someone's fist in her anus, she doesn't care if it's a man or a woman.
A fetish, right?
Human sexual desires...
For example, for heterosexuals,
a man's heart races when he sees a woman, and vice versa.
But fetish goes beyond gender.
She's quite accepting, in life and in anal.
At Department H, we like to bring together unique people.
They come together, and you see these new variations. I like that.
It's a night of freedom.
Department H...
It's where I express myself.
An amusement park for sensible adults.
Although sometimes we get people who aren't.
But it's like, it's the sensible people who rule.
It's so, so laid back.
I think it's interesting, the feeling of everyone having fun in their own individual ways.
You get to meet all kinds of people.
It's fun because it's like a crossroads.
[Atsushi Matsuda] Japan, these days...
This [film] is one example,
but I feel like foreigners are fascinated by Japan.
And I sense it when I travel.
Japanese manga, or even butoh.
Japanese culture.
The scramble intersection in Shibuya, people think is cool.
Or our idols are cool.
But in the midst of all this attention,
Japanese people are not ready to move on yet,
or haven't opened their hearts up to those things.
What good could come of using our tax dollars
to support these unproductive homosexual people?
LDP Diet member Mio Sugita published an essay supporting
the idea that LGBT couples are "unproductive," among other things.
She has previously made such statements on social media and elsewhere,
so what exactly is behind this thinking of hers?
We don't need a Diet member who ignores human rights!
No discrimination!
Using the word "productivity" to refer to human beings is clearly wrong.
The scene tonight at the National Diet Building after these discriminatory remarks.
A TV debate show called me up
to ask my opinion about teaching LGBT themes in schools.
I said, "It's unnecessary, of course."
And they replied that the suicide rate among homosexual youth is six times greater
than among normal kids.
They asked me if I would still say it's unnecessary in light of that.
Well, I still believe it should be a low priority.
My name is Liz, and I teach English.
My name is Chika Toyoda.
I run an iPhone repair shop.
In junior high, bullying was definitely in the air.
People would talk behind your back, too.
You'd just tell one person, and somehow everyone would find out.
Well, it was really pretty obvious.
There's a lot happening during puberty.
Personally, I went to an all-girls school.
We wrote love letters to our prettiest classmates.
We sent diaries to our favorite seniors.
But, once you got older, you'll develop a normal romantic relationship with a man.
You'll get married, have children.
Somehow, I was able to get through in one piece.
But there are lots of people, including other LGBT kids, who are broken by it.
It puts them back in the closet
or make them hate themselves.
And I think that's awful.
In that sensitive stage of adolescence...
"Women loving women is not abnormal!"
"Men loving men is not abnormal!"
"Don't be embarrassed, everyone!"
"Homosexuals, you should be proud just like the others!"
What would happen if we teach children in this way?
They won't be able to return to normalcy later in life.
I guess it was tough, in a way.
But I think it would've been tougher to stay in the closet.
Instead, I've opened everything up.
I'm open everywhere except, for the moment, at work.
I had to live a life where I was free, where I could be who I was.
And that decision helped get rid of those feelings I'd had up until junior high,
that I was worthless or no good.
Now, I'm really glad I'm gay.
Plus I've got—a cute girlfriend.
I wish I could go back to my junior high self and tell her.
Aya Kamikawa.
I'm an assembly member from Setagaya Ward in Tokyo.
I never specifically said to myself,
"I want to be a politician."
But in April 2003, we had the local assembly elections.
I had decided to run about two months prior to that.
I was just a single citizen grappling with life's difficulties.
At the age of 30,
I had lived as a woman in Tokyo for four years.
Because I was born as a man...
In Japan, your gender plays into all these social systems,
especially the family register, which is at the root of everything else.
And I couldn't change the gender in my register.
It made my life very difficult.
Without changing my gender on paper,
I couldn't use my certificate of residence to sign a rental agreement for a house.
My health insurance card wasn't valid for any doctor.
I couldn't use my pension book to become a salaried employee.
Now I'm a politician,
and I might be even accused of fraud when trying to get on the ballot.
I'd always hidden the fact that I was transgender.
I hadn't come out at all.
We're not talking about Shinjuku here.
Setagaya is a commuter town.
And all of a sudden, I'm out there in front of the train station,
near this high-class residential area,
trying to explain that I was living my life as a woman,
but that my family register said I was a man.
I had worked in an office for four years,
completely hiding this from everybody,
and now I was out there in front of the train station with a microphone in my hand,
proclaiming it through a bullhorn.
People did say some extremely prejudiced thing to me.
There was a lot of whispering, a lot of smirking.
People would even ask, "Where'd you get your parts changed?"
But I got elected.
After that, I was able to meet the Diet members who wouldn't give me the time of day before.
And two and a half months after I was elected,
a law was passed to allow changes of gender.
It's a very strict law, but it passed.
It passed with zero opposing votes.
[Fumino Sugiyama] If you meet certain conditions,
you can change your gender in the family register.
First, you have to be over twenty.
And you can't be married.
You can't have a child under twenty years of age.
Your appearance also has to match the gender you wish to change to,
and you have to have your reproductive organs removed.
Those are the five conditions.
The one about removing your reproductive organs has been noted as
a possible violation of human rights by people overseas.
I actually think so, too.
Since I haven't had mine removed,
I can't legally change my gender.
So what all of that means is that,
despite my appearance, I'm still legally a woman.
My passport says female.
It's a huge blow to the right to gender self-determination.
The reality is, we are where we are
and it's a bit behind the times compared to the rest of the world.
The problem is,
to get a law passed you need to get the agreement of more than half the Diet.
So there's no telling how far you will get,
say with the current LDP administration.
Congratulations!
"Who am I?"
is a question everyone asks themselves at some point.
I searched for a method to communicate that to people somehow.
I sought it for a long time, and as it happens,
being a drag queen was my first answer.
But my drag style...
I wasn't principally interested in wearing makeup, or wearing dresses.
Lip-synching was kind of fun, but I soon got bored with it.
And wearing a wig and constantly fixing my bangs got to be a little tedious.
Ultimately, my drag look was just like, underwear, and makeup only on my eyes.
I smeared red makeup with my fingers like this.
Then a friend said that if my performance resembled anything,
it was actually butoh dance.
And I just thought, "Oh, really?"
I mean, I hadn't seen butoh performed before, so all I could say was, "Oh really?"
Then, my friend happened to know a member of the troupe Dairakudakan
and said he'd bring him to my show.
Then he was just like, "Want to try butoh?"
I said yes, and I guess I just went with the flow.
In my case, once I joined Dairakudan,
I was pulled out from the teeny tiny box of gay identity.
Then I left Ni-chome, which is to say I flew out of there.
I rode the Dairakudakan ship and traveled to other parts of the world, and parts of Japan.
To really deep rural areas in the mountains, for example.
I met all kinds of people and of course,
each place had interesting people.
And those people have a little bit of hen in them.
My name is Lily.
I work part-time at a gay community center.
And I also do sex work.
I'm a graduate student. But I can't say there that I do sex work.
So it's not really something I talk about.
I think there's a lot of stigma attached to it.
But the reality is, it's a job where you offer sexual services.
That's the reality of this job.
But you know, people in the wider world, they don't know about that.
They just have this terrible mental picture,
like we're simply people who have been put in bad situations.
That's the only picture that's really talked about.
It's like that for women,
and it's like that for transgender people.
Sex work isn't seen as a job.
I think that's basically the situation.
As long as we refuse to recognize that sex work is work,
then sex workers can't get basic workers' rights--
assurance of salary,
reasonable hours,
protection from violent customers.
And the exploitation and stigma will just continue.
[Lily Taiga] I'm in a band called HIV.
Originally, we did events geared towards young gay men and HIV prevention.
And doing all that, there was this feeling like there's still no safe space where people
could discuss HIV and sexually transmitted infections.
So we thought music would be more casual, more intimate than formal study,
and maybe that could be a way for people to talk to each other
about the real issue of HIV and sexually transmitted infections.
As far as I'm aware, we're the only group in Japan doing songs specifically about STIs.
I feel like there haven't been any others.
Zero discrimination
A rainbow appears in the rainy sky
Zero discrimination
I look up at the sky.
There's absolutely no effort being made to offer information or do outreach
for the prevention of HIV and other STIs in the transgender community.
Being able to cut through that with a microphone, being able to sing,
I think that makes it a little more appealing.
It broke.
This is tiny!
On the head...
He's always putting condoms on his head at our events.
Please check it out on YouTube.
Doyama is the gay neighborhood.
Let's see, how many places are there?
There's more than a hundred,
110, 120 gay-oriented shops and bars.
So this is a community center for the people who go to those places.
It's a space owned by an NGO dedicated to AIDS prevention.
In Osaka, there were very few people infected at first.
Two or three people suddenly became 20 in 1997.
Those kinds of numbers.
Bam. It just jumped tenfold.
For me, AIDS has to do with gay people in Japan.
It was the first issue we really had to face directly.
Until then, the main thing was coming out to our parents.
Other than that, there weren't really many big issues for the gay community.
Our history is completely different from Christian societies.
During the Edo era in Japan, sexuality was very open.
It was all anything goes.
Gay, lesbian.
What we call "gay" and "lesbian" these days.
And transgender.
They were a natural presence.
People like this were so normal that, well, they didn't have a special name.
Then came the Meiji era and Christian values.
After that, sexual minorities became...
well, they were categorized as minorities.
Then they became subjects for science and medicine.
The HIV virus came along and spread among gay people all of a sudden.
I think it was the first time it all boiled down to a single issue.
My name is Fuyumi Yamamoto.
In sign language, it's signed as "cold."
I was originally a lesbian,
ever since I was little.
But well, after wrestling with a lot of things, I got married.
My spouse is transgender.
But since I'm with him, I'm not a lesbian.
So maybe I'm straight.
Am I a lesbian, am I bi?
I'm trying to figure that out.
I'm working on it.
I'm fine with whatever.
It really doesn't matter. Queer fits.
So now, I say to everyone that I'm queer.
The person I married is Makoto.
Although his friends call him Mame.
We first met 15 years ago.
At that time, he was still presenting as female.
He wanted to live as a man, but he worried a lot about how to go about it.
You have to go to court to change your gender.
So then, an interpreter was absolutely essential.
But, even with an interpreter,
they didn't really understand.
At that time,
words like, "lesbian" and "gay", there was no sign language for them
or sign language expressions.
The jurors and, well, the doctors at the hospital,
they didn't know anything about deafness.
They didn't understand.
Deaf LGBT people do exist.
And they need to be represented in society.
We can't not represent them.
So we established the Center.
When you're hired to interpret for an LGBT person,
you have to make sure you can use the correct sign language.
We need more places like this.
[Atsushi Matsuda] Kyoto, to me, is a real hentai community.
It was really queer.
We only had one club to go to, Metro.
Every month, there was a club night we'd go to, "Diamonds are Forever,"
where Kansai's drag queens like Simone Fukayuki would gather.
Cherry Vanilla appeared at my party several times.
Then she went to Tokyo
and I heard she had unexpectedly joined Dairakudakan, doing dark butoh.
But even now, we run into each other sometimes
and we exchange New Year's cards.
My party is called "Diamonds are Forever."
The first ever "Diamonds are Forever" was held near here in Doyama, though.
At that time, a lot of gay people were coming, of course.
But since it was a mixed party,
so many eccentric men and women came.
So-called gay, men's only parties have been around since the mid-'90s,
But I was always a bit removed from men's only parties.
I think of myself as a hindrance to men's only parties.
[Atsushi] There were heteros, gays and lesbians.
I came up in that world, so when I went to Tokyo,
everyone's first question was, "What are you?
What group? What scene?"
I was really bewildered when people asked me things like this.
In the past, it was "queer" or "gay" and that meant everybody,
but today there's LGBTQA...P?
There are so many and I wonder how far it will go.
Can't we just be okay with "hentai"?
[Gengoroh Tagame] Hasegawa, he is an influential person.
We've gone through such a lot together.
I think of us as kind of like war buddies.
It was so hard when we were making G-men magazine but wasn't it so fun, too?
It really was fun.
We used to be the last ones in the office.
You'd stay until midnight and take the last train home.
I had to work all night until next morning!
But we shared a taxi home a lot!
[Gengoroh Tagame] When I started G-men with Hasegawa,
along with one other person- we called him "Bearded Daddy,"
Badi already existed at the time. But Badi,
it featured smooth, young, handsome guys,
while with G-men, we were trying to do the exact opposite.
Manly, a hard world.
Actually, Hasegawa, you are the first openly
HIV-positive person that I encountered personally.
Oh, really?
I was actually around the 100th or 150th person diagnosed in Japan.
So I was honestly reassured at the fact that someone like him existed
and that people were making magazines with him,
discussing and casting light on the HIV situation.
It was something that
gave me a strong sense of relief.
[Hiroshi Hasegawa] My own gay life probably started
after I learned I was HIV-positive.
And well, of course, I had been going to Shinjuku Ni-chome from the time I was 18 or 19.
But that was just playing around.
I had no sense of what kind of position I was in, what kind of person I was.
I had absolutely no sense of a gay identity.
Finding out that I was HIV-positive
was largely connected with two major jobs for me.
One of these was creating the gay magazines Badi and G-men,
and I tried to make sure that we put HIV issues into those.
In the world of gay magazines, in Japan up to that point,
AIDS was something you absolutely could not bring up.
2002, wasn't it.
That was when we created JaNP+.
There weren't any advocacy groups for HIV-positive people.
Perhaps you don't know it yet,
but there flows in my veins the blood of a faggot.
Cross Border Café is a fundraising event for JaNP+.
Because JaNP+ is a network for people who are HIV-positive,
we didn't want to limit it to only those with a gay sexuality.
So what I wanted was for JaNP+ to create the possibility
for HIV-positive people to come out as such in a wide range of situations.
In Japan, discrimination isn't direct.
In a certain sense, I think that oppression, that pressure comes directly at you in America.
I often say that the pressure in America is a hard shell, you know?
In Japan, it's a soft shell.
The way oppression exists.
I'm Madame Bonjour JohnJ.
I'm an artist,
and the director of Community Center akta.
I have female genitalia, so I'm female.
My sexuality is...
Part of it is that I'm transgender.
But it's more like I don't really know anymore.
My gender and sexuality are "JohnJ".
I'm a living creature.
Having a center like this in the neighborhood makes the AIDS issue more visible.
The Delivery Boys head out into the neighborhood every week.
Okay, let's get started.
Good morning.
So before I hand out the sheets,
we have someone here for the first time today.
Sorry to bother you.
Of course, many of them are working to change something,
to raise awareness.
They have an understanding of the issue.
But many of them sign up initially because they want to have fun, want friends,
they're interested in Ni-chome.
So it's almost like a club, we have fun.
And that energy spreads to the shop owners and other people in the neighborhood.
So what we're handing out today.
The July issue of the akta monthly paper's here,
so that's what we'll be delivering.
My name is Hiroyuki Takenouchi.
I'm a photographer.
My sexual orientation is gay.
Akta does HIV awareness work,
so they offer safe sex education
in these free pamphlets they distribute.
I've been shooting for them for the last two years or so.
I think I've been turning the spotlight on
people who wouldn't normally grace the cover of Badi.
My photography focuses on shining a spotlight on people battling societal norms.
People who are out there trying.
Thank you very much.
Good luck out there today.
So we have two things to deliver today. And the condoms.
Last week-ish, I started talking with bar owners about taking more.
We had to start educating people on why two men would even need to use a condom.
So there weren't too many-- It was this atmosphere like the bars couldn't work with us.
But they kept doing it,
and then customers started to ask why there weren't any [condoms] in the bar.
The bar owners would see them and ask to have them in their own place.
That's how it spread.
"With a smile, let's deliver," is what we say before we head out.
So please, Tomoyuki, I'd ask you to really give it your all.
Seriously?
If you really shout it, everyone else will shout back, "Let's deliver" before we all head out.
With a smile...
Let's deliver!
Okay, let's do this!
There is a racism problem in Japan, so we need to fix it in Japan.
It's a Japanese disease, we need to cure it.
My name is Akira the Hustler,
and I am a contemporary fine artist.
I'm a gay man.
In Tokyo, the station after Shinjuku is Shin-Okubo.
For a long time now, this is where Korean immigrants,
Zainichi [ethnically Korean Japanese citizens] and North Koreans
have made their homes, opened up their shops,
started yakiniku joints.
The newcomers, the more recent immigrants from Korea,
open shops specializing in Korean idols.
The cultures are all mixed together.
But there's this anti-Zainichi extremist group, the Zaitokukai,
who spew hate speech at demonstrations.
It was around January of 2013
when someone suggested we do something.
As a general rule, the police can't stop hate speech.
So we thought, why not create a situation where the police would have to intervene
So we could at least put a stop to the racist protests.
And eventually we had more and more people,
and we couldn't directly intervene,
but we'd march with "No Hate" placards.
We don't need discrimination!
Let's live together!
I made this piece during that time, so it's...
It's really personal for me.
I believe these are all people who participated
in the counter-demonstration against those racist protests.
When you combat so much hate speech,
and fight back against the abuse you take,
you're just mentally exhausted by the time you get home.
I was perhaps simply starving for human friendship and kindness.
And that's when I found how nurturing it was
to experience human friendship and positive feelings.
I think Japanese society needs
more people who seem a little bit obnoxious.
A little loud.
People who are willing to stand up and say that something's not right,
that we should do something.
There are plenty of straight people who have seen the LGBT community fighting racism
and want to come support the gay pride parade.
I see that and I'm so happy.
This!
This makes a funny picture.
If you look at it from my side, it's funny.
I keep thinking that I want to hurry up and get started on making something new already,
but well, as you saw them back there, my house is full of boxes.
I wonder where the Sheep is...
Right now, I'm thinking of making something related to the idea of family.
There's an infinite number of ways of being a family, you know?
And it's strange to me,
the idea a family has to have children.
It's like, everyone has their own ideas,
and I think we should respect that,
the way other people think
while also accepting that there may be unorthodox forms.
If we all behave alike and everyone is "good,"
with everyone facing the same direction, it is considered good.
But in reality, we function when we each have individual meaning.
I was interested in these things and this is how it came out.
It travels and doesn't flock. Although sheep are said to flock.
When I perform as the Sheep,
I walk alone and never seek to flatter, but behave a little badly.
I think there's meaning in going astray.
I mean, I've been doing things and then fleeing the scene forever
for thirteen years or so now.
I was discriminated against in my own house.
My parents didn't really love me that much.
So sure, my parents were around,
but the way things were in my house, I really hated them.
I resented them.
And then, how do I put this?
I mean I'm glad I never went so far as to kill them,
but I hated them enough to want to kill them, when I was younger.
When I started creating art, I finally felt like I was alive.
So rather than attacking something,
the fact that I was able to shift that emotion onto something else
was the biggest change for me, I think.
Up to that point, I-- Well,
I didn't really care if or when I died.
I was just incredibly irresponsible.
Really I was a terrible person.
But then, see, the work would act as a purifier for me.
I don't know if that's how it is for other people.
Every time I made something new, it would be as though I was setting down a heavy burden.
Something I'd been carrying around with me.
So they became a part of the work, my unhappy memories, things like that.
Or, like, my awkward emotions,
they'd all get bundled up into the work and become a proper thing of the past, in a way.
It's like that for me.
That's how I feel.
We're on the second floor of Colorful Station in Jingumae, Shibuya.
The first floor is the restaurant Irodiri
and we run the second floor as a kind of gallery space.
We call the building itself Colorful Station.
We started this because we wanted to create a kind of LGBT center.
I'm Fumino Sugiyama, I'm 34 years old.
I think of myself as transgender, as a trans man.
And—as for my job title, it's a bit difficult.
Basically, I operate a restaurant
and work to increase LGBT awareness at the same time.
That's me in the white, the second daughter of the Sugiyama family.
Aren't I cute?
But this is me with a baseball glove,
me in traditional men's clothes,
me with a model gun.
As you can see, I've never been a girl in my life.
So as soon as I was dressed in a skirt,
I looked like this.
Obviously I am dejected.
I look like the world is ending.
My parents forced me to wear skirts at my kindergarten's entrance
and I cried and tried to run away.
So if you asked how long I've felt this way,
I would have to say, "Since I was born."
There are so many things we're doing these days,
and I think acting with the goal of changing the law is also really important, but...
I think if we all do the things right there in front of us,
one little thing at a time, the world will change as a result.
So rather than forcing ourselves to fight for something,
maybe we could look around at the people in trouble in our everyday lives,
maybe the LGBT people, but not just that focusing on sexuality
but all kinds of people near us having trouble and do what we can do for them.
These kind of small actions, they build up and change the world around us.
As a trans person, I've been able to see that firsthand and up close,
which has allowed me to have some amazing experiences.
Right now, the exhibit is the Out in Japan project.
The project is trying to increase the visibility of LGBT people.
Everyone photographed is a sexual minority, they're all LGBT.
The photographer Leslie Kee takes the photos,
and people apply from all over the country,
they put their names and faces out there like this.
The fact is that LGBTQ people exist in the world
and they're a little disconnected right now.
So we're creating these places where they can be connected.
As one part of that, we came up with the "Out in Japan" project.
The dream is to complete 1,000 people in one year.
Hello, my name is Leslie Kee.
I'm a photographer based in Tokyo.
I'm basically from Singapore. I've been living here almost 23 years.
I would say that I used to be straight,
and that now I'm more into gay...
But I think I'm open for both men and women.
How do I say that?
Do you call yourself bisexual or free gender?
So I think I'm more like...
open to different kinds of people.
I'm into the entire LGBT!
For me, it's very rewarding to have 1,000 people who believe in this project together because
you have to understand that in Japan,
to do come out as LGBT is a very big taboo.
Well, there are all kinds of problems,
but if I were to say the biggest problem, it would be the employment issue.
If you can't find a job, then you really can't live.
My name is Junko Mitsuhashi.
I'm a university instructor.
My specialty is the history of gender and sexuality.
The Japanese transgender people who came before me
always used kimono to express their gender,
the gender they wanted to be.
So I'm aware of that need to not let that fire die out, so to speak.
Out in Japan!
And with an older MTF handing the bouquet to a younger MTF, so to speak,
it's kind of like that younger generation is picking up the torch.
Out in Japan!
My name is Tenma.
I run a gay bar.
The bar is called CBR.
I try to make it a relaxing space.
This place is called Sakurazaka: Cherry Blossom Hill.
So the "CB" is for "Cherry Blossom,"
and the "R" is for "relax."
My name is Nao Shika.
I work as a dentist.
Dancing is my hobby.
I'm a dancer.
I started dancing when I was thirty-three years old.
I hadn't had the chance before that.
Coming out is extremely difficult in Okinawa.
Relationships are very close-knit.
When I came out in my school days,
I definitely was discriminated against.
I was extremely lonely.
For two years, I didn't speak to anyone.
But since I've gotten out into the world, I've met all kinds of people.
Now I feel I'm okay with how things are.
I don't really notice any discrimination.
CB Relax is...
My best bar.
Tenma is a friend of mine, a great friend.
Lots of different people go there, to his bar.
Big guys, slim guys.
All kinds of people, and they all become friends.
That's the best thing about it.
Fun? Every day is fun.
Because I'm just hanging out, too.
Hanging out with the customers.
Pink Dot Okinawa's not so much a parade.
We get together in a plaza. It's pretty relaxed.
I did the parade in Tokyo,
but in Okinawa, if we had a parade,
we'd end up split, with some people taking part in the parade and others not.
In a plaza, you can take part and still have some distance.
From up on the stage, I saw everyone's faces.
I saw them celebrating us, those crying faces, and I was incredibly happy.
I'm so glad we were a part of this.
No one here even dreamed that same-sex partnerships might be recognized here.
Things have really changed a lot in the past five years.
It's very moving.
Junji, my big brother, has his flaws,
and I'm sure he'll cause you nothing but trouble.
But thank you so much for finding him...
and loving him as a partner.
Thank you so much.
Right now, same-sex partnerships are recognized in Naha and several other towns.
The partnership system now is without legal power,
but if it's recognized by places of business and hospitals,
that gives it a certain validity even if there's no legal power to it.
I hope that we can build that sort of society.
Happy Pride!
Every day is "Happy pride!"
[Chika Toyoda] They walked over an hour to get here.
They were just so into it, leaning out, shouting the whole time.
Happy Pride!
It was super fun. People were into it.
We had 70,000 people come to the parade this year.
Rather than the emphasis on civil rights like there used to be,
it feels more like the busy commotion of a festival.
Really, even now, we struggle with being a minority,
we've had hard times.
It's not as if there's no such thing as discrimination or prejudice.
Which is why we have the festival atmosphere kind of fashionable and happy.
Of course, some people will say it's not like that.
Actually, it's like the more we focus on civil rights,
the more of a disconnect there is between LGBT and non-LGBT people.
[Tomato Hatakeno] There was police brutality at Stonewall,
and Pride started in opposition to that.
Probably, as part of the liberation movement.
That's the meaning Pride should have, that original meaning.
If we lose that, we stop understanding the meaning of using "pride" itself.
For HIV, condoms are really important.
With just 0.03 millimeters, you can prove your love and prevent disease.
I want people to see that it's more than just getting your dick out,
it's getting your dick out with a condom on.
Condoms aren't embarrassing, using them's a good thing.
People end up getting sick for no reason, just because they're embarrassed.
I want to prevent that.
I'm Don-chan.
Well, I'm a man.
I like men.
I like being hit.
I like drinking pee.
I like doing it outside.
I like being seen by everyone,
I like drinking cum, rimming.
And I like people making me do things,
I like wearing leather, but I liked being naked!
Hmm, what else?
Basically, I like everything.
Everyone's hentai, so everyone's okay.
You have that one thing you like, you know?
You can like men, you can like women.
Whatever you're into it, it's definitely not weird.
Times change, gender changes, all kinds of things might happen.
Sometimes, it's better to hide what you're into.
But when your partner wants you to, you have to let them know.
Being honest about what you want actually makes you hotter.
This is my fourth time here at Tokyo Rainbow Pride.
I'm proud to be the first US ambassador to speak here
and join you in making Golden Week Rainbow Week.
It's great to see so many American companies here with strong support and great booths.
The whole LGBT activism right now
is totally about money and love and shit like that.
I ain't got no time for love.
Every time I go to the public toilet,
I get in trouble. I don't feel safe.
I ain't got no money for Disney weddings and shit like that.
Can't afford it.
I don't give a shit about love.
Toilet first.
Some people call the cops.
I feel like I'm asshole
invading their toilet.
I don't feel like I'm a human being.
It's not about common sense. It's about dignity.
This is actually my fourth time being in pride events.
Five or six years ago in Tokyo, it was by different organizers.
It was less commercialized five or six years ago.
We didn't have the booth by the Israeli embassy,
we didn't have Israeli performance,
we didn't have Google,
We didn't have Merrill Lynch. Do they have Merrill Lynch today?
It takes a lot of money to hold an event as big as this.
So I don't say, "No sponsors! No sponsors!"
But you have to be accountable.
I'd say I'm genderqueer.
Gender outlaw.
I don't know, it's kind of hard to describe.
Totally I'm a...
[Hiroshi Hasegawa] I've been hanging around Shinjuku Ni-chome
ever since the 1960s or '70s, I guess.
"Queer" and "queerness" were words people put to us after the fact.
So for me personally--
I mean, even "gay" at the time, unlike today,
that word had a negative image.
The word, "homosexual" was considered more neutral,
so we all said that or we shortened it to "homo."
And now that's discriminatory language.
Things have come full circle and now "gay" is the word of choice.
I guess I'm kind of from the last "pure homo" generation.
I'm not a spokesperson for lesbians
or artists for that matter,
but I just want to make things easier.
You have to accept something to make the world a more pleasant place.
The question, "Why are you gay" is really rude.
Everyone knows that.
Most people, basically. At least gay people do.
Because there's no, "why," you just are,
and asking for a reason is inappropriate.
But those same gay people will ask me with a completely straight face,
"Why are you into BDSM?"
And I mean,
if you're gay, or into BDSM, or trans, or lesbian or whatever,
to ask that question implies, "Normally people aren't like this, why are you?"
I'm just so incredibly uncomfortable with that.
I felt from a young age that there was no one else in the world like me.
When I finally found out that one given part of me, my sexuality,
that there might be other men who liked men in the world,
at first I was thrilled and joined the group.
But then I found out, like with what you said about BDSM a moment ago,
that it was still divided.
About the time I was starting sex work,
Japan was beginning to discover the diagnosis of "Gender Identity Disorder."
Suddenly it was, "These people aren't queer, they're sick."
In part because of the information I'm putting out,
younger people are slowly beginning to think about it not that way,
not as an illness but as a question of human rights.
We talked about that diagnosis before.
I don't want to be told I'm sick, you know.
I'm not sick. I'm just myself.
Aya Kamikawa really is something, though.
I'd like to see her in the national government.
I think Kamikawa could take a parliament seat, probably.
The other day, was it?
I heard the Philippones elected their first transgender congresswoman.
There you go. You're next, Tomato.
You should do it!
But I don't have—you know...
None of them do!
But would you really want to jump into that viper's nest?
[Vivienne Sato] The things you're talking about are relatively masculine,
well—I might call them patriarchal.
Political thought is chief among them.
Politics is—well, right now, of course, we've got this representative system.
And I can't help thinking that system is—
well, that maybe the time is coming when it won't be appropriate to the era anymore.
Things are very ambiguous.
Femininity recognizes things aren't nailed down.
It can accept these kinds of things.
It doesn't revolve around a single principle but is many things coexisting.
We have natural disasters, we have these unprecedented events.
Like the world's unpredictable,
we don't know what's going to happen next.
We're going to have to transition to something more flexible,
more diverse, more ad hoc.
That sort of flexible way of thinking.
Our identities—
I think it's okay to have many different identities.
So you don't have to just present one identity and charge through everything.
Put another identity out there.
Or draw out another identity from a different person you're with.
Originally, the word "queer" meant "strange," right?
Yeah, yeah, right.
Basically, the people who thought they were "normal"
thought these other people were strange, so they called them "queer".
But essentially,
when the people who thought we were strange,
when they come to use the word "queer" without the meaning "strange,"
then queer theory will have done its job.
So the more we're out there saying, "What's wrong with being queer?"
the less leverage the other side is going to have.
I think the people who attack us are pretty queer.
Yeah, yeah.
From our point of view.
Plenty queer!
Yikes!