Takeshi Dylan Sadachi, Writer & Content Producer
This piece is part of a broader exploration of queerness in Japan—how it's lived, framed, and understood both locally and globally. Before we dive into different topics, it feels important to pause on a word that often sets the tone for the entire conversation: conservative.
“How conservative is Japan?” As a queer Japanese person involved in social science, I get asked this question a lot and it’s always hard to answer.
Whether I’m explaining queerness in Japan or the challenges queer people face, it’s a conversation I have to start from scratch every time— a whole TED talk. After all, “is Japan conservative? is not a yes-or-no question. Worse, it’s not even a spectrum.
When we talk about places in relation to queerness, whether they are nations, regions, or communities, the idea of how “conservative” a place is often takes centre stage. It is easy to see that conservativeness is seen as queerness’s archnemesis of some sort. I, too, use the word “conservative” often. In fact, one of my research topics focused on queer individuals in Japan who actively engage in conservative politics. In fact, one of my research topics focused on queer individuals in Japan who actively engage in conservative politics (and goes on to explore why that might sound “contradictory” but can make sense, since it all comes down to what “conservative” actually means to different people, which we’ll get into more throughout this series). When discussing social and cultural issues, it’s unavoidable because it is such a fundamental concept.
To “conserve” means to protect or preserve. So to be conservative is simply to prefer the status quo or past: a tendency toward caution, hesitation, or outright resistance to change.
So, is it true to say that a society that is seen as rather static, traditional or retaining distinct cultures and values is conservative? It’s become a kind of stock epithet for certain cultures, Japan among them. And yet, Japan is a country that has seen some of the most dramatic cultural and political shifts of the modern era. “Conservative” isn’t a new word to the discussion of queerness. But it’s also a word we need to keep queering, especially in non-Western contexts.
Sure, you can start by saying that being culturally conservative is different from being politically conservative, and so on. Those distinctions matter—but they are all intertwined. And when “conservative” is used as a label before a proper noun, it still signals that there is at least some level of consensus around the perception that the place is, in some way, “conservative.”
As we explore queer culture and politics in Japan and beyond throughout this series—what is considered conservative, what it means to be queer in a “conservative” place, or even what it means to be queer and conservative in such a place—the term continues to follow us.
Dressing Conservatively?
This question of what “conservative” means came up when I was talking with some American and British friends. They said they felt the need to cover up more in Japan and wished women here would dress less conservatively.
As someone who started their career in fashion, I was intrigued. Judging by the recent Western red carpets, it’s clear that we are in an era marked by the least fabric in history. Showing skin confidently is framed as empowering—rooted in the shift from chaste ideals to waves of sexual liberation over the past few decades. Think of John Singer Sargent’s painting Madame X, how scandalous it was in the 1880s just for a woman to be showing a bare shoulder. The idea that showing skin is progressive and hiding, conservative, is rooted in this specific context.
When that becomes the standard, it flips. At a flashy event, it’s almost expected that women will show skin. Ironically, if you don’t look sexy, you risk being seen as “underdressed”. So the real question is: who’s feeling the pressure, those who show skin, or those who don’t?
Especially since the 1900s, Japan and the West have mostly moved in step, with peak skin-revealing trends in the ’90s and 2000s. The fabric-heavy fashion in Japan might not really be about “conserving” the immediate past. The truth is, who knows? Maybe conservatism is keeping some people in Tokyo away from crop tops. This may sound like playing devil’s advocate, but the point isn’t to deny that conservatism exists. It’s to complicate the narrative.
Gaydar in Japan
Speaking of dressing, there’s also this common idea that Japan, despite being conservative —therefore, homophobic— is full of men who “dress gay”.
Admittedly, queerness is frequently equated with gender nonconformity or deviation from traditional gender presentation. I remember a Japanese friend who studied in the US jokingly telling me “it must be hard being a straight man there… if you wore pink, had female friends, or went to a salon instead of a barber, people assumed you were gay”.
A conservative ideology of gender expression and conservative attitudes toward homosexuality tend to go hand in hand. That is why Japan can appear “contradictory” from a certain point of view.
Even in the fashion industry, where I used to work, friends from abroad would often say that I was not really a minority as a queer person. But the reality is, most of the male editors and stylists I knew in Japan were straight. I wasn’t going around asking anyone’s orientation, of course, but being surrounded by queer people here in Tokyo, I’ve found that working in fashion or beauty as a man isn’t a strong indicator of being gay.
As you guessed, this perceived contradiction does not mean Japan is post-gender or sexuality-blind. Stereotypes exist, but they are different. The stereotypical gay "look" here is sometimes called ikahomo, short for ikanimo homo (obviously homo). It often refers to stocky men with cropped hair, rugged beards, and plain UNIQLO basics. In Japan, an overly well-dressed, salon-going man, in the most extreme case, will likely be seen as a nanpa or charai straight guy who is trying too hard to attract women. In this framing, gay men, on the other hand, do not need to make that effort to impress women and can “let themselves go”. “Nanpa” is historically defined as a man who casually associates with women and has a strong interest in fashion. The idea is that you are trying to stand out and catch women’s attention, often through style. That kind of self-presentation is closely tied to the modern word “charai”, which is almost exclusively used to describe men. The typical charao (charai man) wears printed shirts, bleached hair, lots of accessories, and perfume. Not in a dapper way, but in a flashy or gaudy one.
You could call them “flamboyant”, but here it is equated with being flirtatious toward women. At the same time, the word is also used to police men who show “too much” interest in women, almost like calling someone “slutty”, a word that in Western contexts is usually reserved for women. And just like with women, the way you dress can be used to justify that judgment. These days, nanpa mainly refers to catcalling or approaching women on the street in search of a date.
This is not to say Japan does not engage in “generic” slut-shaming. It absolutely does, and women’s subjectivity and agency in sex and romance have been poorly represented throughout much of Japanese history. But what this dynamic shows is that flamboyance and self-styled expression in men are more often linked to heterosexual flirtation.
It is not really a contradiction either, once you consider the logic behind it; think peacocks and other male birds. What might seem “non-conservative” in terms of how people dress does not necessarily reflect a less conservative attitude toward queerness.
While this deserves a more detailed discussion elsewhere, even the stereotypical aesthetics of lesbian “butchness” look different in the Japanese context. The “top,” often stereotypically associated with butchness, is more likely to wear heavier glam makeup and have straight long hair—more kuru byuti ("cool beauty") than the innocent kawaii style often associated with a “bottom.”
Hence, it’s not that Japanese men are less “conservative” simply because they don’t conform to Western ideals of masculinity. Within this cultural context, it isn’t contradictory. However, it doesn’t mean it’s irrelevant either. It opens up space to explore how societally normalized gender performance that deviates from rigid binaries, or reflects culturally different expectations around gender and sexuality, whether through fashion, behavior, or presence, might still shape a less hostile or differently mediated experience for queer people. That difference doesn’t cancel out conservatism, but it does complicate how we recognize it.
Is Japan “BL Paradise” or "Model Conservative Nation"?
Having lived in places like the US and the UK, I cannot help but notice a strange irony: Japan is often romanticized by two very different types of “outsiders”.
Within the community of people who are obsessed with Japanese pop culture, those often labeled as “otaku” or “weebs”, there’s a noticeably high percentage of queer people. The other group, mostly conservative white men, sees Japan as an “uncontaminated” place where “wokeness” has not yet reached. And both are right and wrong, in their own ways.
In certain aspects, Japan sometimes feels like a queer-coded fever dream with extravagant fashion, “weirdness” that goes viral online, gender fluidity and so on. The boys in anime and idol groups are soft and beautiful. Harajuku fashion feels like camp. Electro-heavy J-pop sounds like the original hyperpop. And of course, this is the country that invented BL and Yaoi. Whether you call them anime fans, otaku, weebs, or Japanophiles, there’s a strong queer presence in these circles. Still, it is plain to see that Japan is far from a queer utopia. Legal and social challenges remain significant enough to generate headlines like “Only G7 Nation Without Gay Marriage” quite often.
This phenomenon is echoed in South Korea, too. K-pop fandoms are also known to have a disproportionately large queer following. I remember seeing a meme once that summed it up perfectly: something like “queer people love Korea but Korea hates them.” The link between East Asian pop culture and queer identity could be a whole other research topic and essay. Still, it’s worth noting that most of these fans are not naïve. They don’t blindly idealize these countries and most can recognize the issues and still find joy in the culture. But the meme does make a point and there’s a kind of sad, sharp irony in it that’s hard to ignore.
Then there’s the other kind of fantasy. The stereotype of the older white man who moves to Japan and falls in love with Japan for its… “conservativeness”. These men would say things like “women are still women here” and “they do not know pronouns”. On X or Reddit, they praise Japan for being clean, polite, structured—because it has not been “contaminated” by gender politics, they/them pronouns, immigrants and blah blah. For them, Japan becomes a kind of safe haven of “conservativeness”.
Japan is often used as “proof” that restricting immigration and avoiding legal progress on LGBTQ+ rights leads to a better society. Of course, there’s no real correlation behind that argument.
In addition, if we go back to the earlier distinction between cultural and political conservatism, Japan is arguably more “progressive” than the US in most areas of politics. For instance, its public healthcare system, greater spending on infrastructure as well as education, and even the more conservative party is in favor of equal wealth distribution. While there are serious issues with the process and definition, abortion is still accessible and legal, with fewer obstacles than in many parts of the US. While there are serious issues—especially around LGBTQ+ rights and gender equity—Japan is not as politically conservative as it’s often made out to be by those projecting fantasies onto it.
Is Japan a queer-coded aesthetic paradise? Or a reactionary fantasy? Where there's smoke, there's fire. It’s easy to see where both perceptions come from. However, ultimately, these outside views only complicate things further and in some ways, they prove the point. Applying a framework like “conservativeness” to a completely different cultural context is never straightforward.
Thinking About “Conservative” at a Penis Festival
It’s easy to talk about contradictions from a distance. But sometimes, it takes standing in the middle of it all to really understand why terms like “conservative” or “progressive” don’t quite fit.
This April, I went to the Kanamara Matsuri in Kawasaki, a festival where thousands gather to celebrate fertility and STI prevention by parading giant penises through the streets.
There were families with small children, all happily sucking on penis-shaped candies. Old ladies were taking selfies in penis hats. It was a wholesome festival.
I caught myself hesitating at the candy stand. Why, as a twenty-something queer person with a degree in gender studies, was I feeling shy about buying a penis lollipop? Who was I to be so prudish, when clearly no one else in the crowd seemed to mind?
The festival is organized by one of the auxiliary shrines of Wakamiya Hachimangū, a larger shrine founded in 1559. The modern version of the festival was revived in the 1970s with new intentions: promoting fertility, celebrating sexual health, and raising money for HIV awareness. Queer communities have been part of it from the beginning. The largest mikoshi, a giant pink phallus, was donated by Elizabeth, a now-closed legendary chain of crossdressing clubs.
As I stood there in the crowd, a penis lollipop in one hand and the sound of taiko drums echoing in the background, I was thinking about the word “conservative”. People were waving inflatable genitals, praying for healthy babies, taking selfies with drag queens. Elderly neighbors from the local festival committee were chatting with Shinto priests and thanking them for their blessings. Nearby, kids who had practiced taiko drumming ran to their parents, faces full of accomplishment.
Is Shinto traditional and conservative? Yes. But is this festival some progressive outlier within Shinto? Not really. The celebration of genitals and fertility predates Japan’s current cultural prudishness. Is Japanese public sex positive? Maybe.
According to the Cambridge Dictionary, being conservative means to “not like or trust change, especially sudden change.” It can refer to politics, fashion, social values, or behavior. But throughout this piece, we’ve seen how complicated that definition can become. A penis parade hosted by elderly Shinto priest. A country with no legal same-sex marriage but plenty of gender-fluid pop idols.
The point is not to stop using the word “conservative”, but to use it with care. To define it in context. To stay aware that it is a label—real in perception, yes, but never rigid.