SOCIAL SCIENCES — ANTHROPOLOGY

Japanese Women’s Speech: Changing

Language, Changing Roles
Hillary Brass

T he purposes of language in everyday use go far beyond the simple conveyance of practical
information. Certain speech styles index an individual’s position in the social hierarchy, regional
affiliation, and gender, leaving listeners with more than the information contained in the content
of the utterance. A great deal of this communication has to do with how someone says
something, rather than what they say. Different people employ different linguistic forms for a
variety of reasons, and do so consciously or subconsciously. These choices depend on
circumstances such as the audience, other participants, or setting. Men and women alike
manipulate their speech styles according to the type of image they wish to project. Such
linguistic alterations connected to gender, by definition, are intertwined with notions of what is
proper womanhood or manhood, according to the norms of the society in question. The social
construction of gender identity through language has effects that reach beyond the confines of
private conversation. If women present, through their speech, an image of themselves as
deferent, passive, and uncertain, “people accept the idea [and] it begins to have consequences in
the world.”1 This phenomenon can be examined in numerous societies throughout the world, as
female subordination is, apparently, universal.2 However, in this paper, I will focus on the
linguistic habits of Japanese women because there seems to exist a pervasive distinction—at
least on the surface—between the languages of the two genders in Japan.
Japanese Women’s Language (JWL) is thought to be a clearly defined subset of the
Japanese language as a whole. Women’s language (joseego) is held up as the ideal form of
female communication, as men’s language (danseego) is for males. Traditionally, these are the
proper ways for members of the respective genders to speak, and they are set as opposites to one
another, as mutually exclusive binary distinctions.3 However, it is my intent to show that, while
these language ideologies may exist at a theoretical level, they are not reflected in practice,
especially by the younger generations of Japanese women. I aim to exemplify the way in which
these speakers are conscious of the effects of their speech style and utilize the appropriate forms,
as consistent with the goals they wish to accomplish and the corresponding identities they wish
to create.
In English, too, women are said to express themselves linguistically differently from men
in a way that allows for subordination. According to Lakoff,4 women supposedly use tag
questions, hedges, empty adjectives, hypercorrect grammatical forms,5 intensifiers,6 and other
speech forms, creating an image of uncertainty, irrationality, and insecurity, which makes
possible the continued subordination of women. However, in Japanese, the differences between
joseego and danseego are more explicit and definable, and thus one requires background
knowledge to fully understand what JWL is and why it exists. To the end of establishing that
background, the first section focuses on the origination of JWL and women’s roles in the
Japanese societies of the past, as the two are connected closely. The next section centers on
specific components of the Language. Because verbal communication is intertwined with
attractiveness in Japanese culture, particularly with that of the woman, the following portion
discusses the notions of ideal womanhood and how language helps construct this identity. Since
language is tied to notions of beauty, some believe that JWL should be preserved to maintain this
traditional conception of the ideal Japanese woman. Therefore, the next section examines
motivations for preserving JWL, while the following one centers on JWL’s perpetuation by its
proponents. Though some support it, JWL appears to be lessening in popularity, especially with
younger Japanese women, and so the next section takes up the question of who actually does use
it and why they might do so. Women in positions of authority must (rather explicitly and
consciously) make the decision of how to manipulate their speech in order to be respected and
taken seriously by subordinates. JWL seems to be inherently at odds with such a goal, and the
issue of what linguistic choices a woman in this position possesses is addressed in the following
portion. The phenomenon of code-switching is investigated next, in an attempt to discover when
and why women switch from JWL to wakai mono no kotoba (young people’s speech), for
example, or other forms of speech, and to learn about the deeper motivations of speech styles and
why JWL may be fading out of use. Lastly, a discussion of the underlying meanings of keigo
(polite language) and danseego (men’s language) is taken up to understand what speakers intend
when employing these linguistic forms.

Methodology

I inquired into the speech of real Japanese women from a variety of angles. Primarily, I
read extensively from the available literature on the subject, both to gain a background in which
to position my questions and to learn others’ conclusions in similar studies. Examining others’
work allowed me to determine the consistency of my findings with larger-scale studies. I also
watched Japanese drama television shows to gain perspective on the portrayal of women’s
speech in that popular culture medium.
My Japanese professors served as key resources over the course of the project. They
provided me with literature on JWL and put me into contact with local Japanese women and men
with whom to conduct my research. I interviewed four Japanese women and two Japanese men.
Three of the women are housewives and college graduates in their mid-thirties; they live in the
U.S. because of their husbands’ work. The other woman is a college professor of Japanese, also
in her mid-thirties. Both men are professionals; one is a doctor in his late-thirties and the other is
a prosecutor in his mid-thirties. They are living in the U.S. because of their employment. In one
interview I spoke with three women simultaneously, while I interviewed the fourth woman one-
on-one. I conducted both interviews with the men individually. All followed a similar structure
with general questions regarding personal information at the beginning, both to become more
acquainted with the respondents and to hear their speech. Then, I asked them questions
specifically about how they speak, modifying the questions according to the gender of the
interviewee. I tape-recorded and transcribed all of the interviews and analyzed them in terms of
the content and form of the respondents’ speech. I then supplemented my findings with those of
others from my research.

The Origination of JWL & Women’s Roles of the Past

Concerning the evolution of Japanese Women’s Language (JWL), there is no single

account. This style of speech is connected with tradition and culture and is seen as “uniquely
Japanese,”7 indicative of the beauty and femininity of the Japanese woman. It is such a part of
this ideal that researchers often point to times long ago for the original source of this speech.
Some say that it developed from a register employed by court ladies in the fourteenth century,8
while others focus on the influence of Confucian philosophy during the Edo Period (1603-1868),
which emphasized women’s discipline, virtues, conduct, and proper linguistic forms.9 In the late
Meiji Period (1880-1910), Japan became intent upon forging an identity as a nation-state, and
social organization went through a revision. Women came to be seen as a distinct “social
category,”10 and much thought was put into how this “new” entity could be more feminine, that
is through forms of speech. Thus, it may be seen that, while earlier speech patterns of fourteenth-
century court ladies of the Edo Period may have had some effect on JWL, the primary catalyst
for its development was the goal of modernizing Japan in the late nineteenth and early twentieth
centuries. Central to this objective of “feminizing” women was the ideology of the “good wife
and wise mother” (ryoosai kembo shugi),11 which supposedly reinforced the traditional
conception of the ideal woman. However, these ideas were neither inherently connected to
femininity nor were they distinctively Japanese. They were a combination of Confucianism
(imported from China, first in the sixth century) of the ex-samurai classes and Western ideals of
domesticity. In 1903, the National Language Research Council (Kokugo choosa iinkai) was
created with the purpose of language planning, exemplifying the key role the government played
in the standardization of language.
During and after World War II, this linguistic gender dichotomy continued to grow and
solidify. The promotion of women’s speech was to “serve as a tool in integrating women into the
national culture, and thus making them more likely to submit to the ultra-nationalistic program in
wartime.”12 Therefore, the formulation of JWL did not occur naturally or even as an indication of
ideal womanhood, but simply as a means of governmental manipulation. The goal here was “to
reinforce hierarchical social relations and gender roles by regulating language”13 in order to unify
the people during the war. By conforming to the standards of linguistic etiquette, women would
acknowledge their subordinate position and act dutifully towards their masters, that is, their sons,
their husbands, and ultimately their government. During this time period, though, JWL was not
disseminated to women of the middle and lower classes. It was taught at schools of the elite,14
and only after World War II did these linguistic forms become increasingly known and
employed. JWL became associated with higher class women, and so women chose to speak it to
be identified as part of that group. Over the years, using “proper” JWL has been constructed by
the media as a way to improve one’s social status and as an index of femininity, which is one of
the reasons for its longevity. However, since the late twentieth century, Japanese women have
been reexamining and reevaluating gender roles,15 often incorporating their use of certain
linguistic forms to counter or reflect (depending on the circumstances) the standard notions of
Japanese womanhood. While it is not the only (or perhaps the most effective) way to initiate or
facilitate a greater social change, the importance of the strategic use of JWL lies in that it is an
individualistic approach offering a starting point in effecting a greater reformation of gender
roles and relations.
One of my female interviewees in her thirties asserted, “Maybe in a traditional time, uh,
the usage of [gendered language] was more strict, but it has been changing.” All of the other
respondents expressed similar sentiments, which are also supported by the recent literature on the
subject of JWL. In addition to their speech, the roles of Japanese women in society have been
going through a transformation, especially since the Japanese Constitution of 1946, which
“guaranteed women’s equal rights in the workplace.”16 One researcher observes that “as women
have advanced into various spheres of social, professional, political, and educational life, the
linguistic forms they use have inevitably changed.”17 This shift in linguistic practice may at least
in part be correlated with women assuming roles that had previously been occupied by men,
particularly in the workplace.
Gender has not always been the decisive factor in determining roles within and outside of
the household. A strict division of labor according to gender began to become prevalent during
the project of the large-scale modernization of Japan,18 just as JWL was gaining popularity as the
proper way for women to speak.19 Thus from the very beginning, the two were connected
closely. Women stayed at home and men went to work, and through this separation, linguistic
differences became more apparent. Because it sprang from a Confucian context in which
hierarchy and loyalty are heavily emphasized,20 women’s language served in part to signify the
inferiority of its speakers, giving voice to the stratification between the genders.

Components of JWL

According to Cindi Sturtz Sreetharan, “it has frequently been noted that Japanese
speakers have a notion of what it means to ‘talk like’ a woman or a man.”21 The prominence of
these notions grew out of the textbook distinctions between the two forms of communication as
clear and direct. This section will focus on the commonly cited components of JWL.
Politeness in Japanese is of particular importance. Through the use of honorifics, varying
forms of subject- and self-address, and sentence final particles (SFPs), social hierarchies are
created and maintained. Often one must confront the issue of social status and, thus, politeness
when conversing in order to understand how to relate to the other person. Women are typically
thought to speak more politely and indirectly than men22 and to use more standard forms and
prescriptively correct grammar.23 This politeness is expressed in a high-pitched voice, sometimes
referred to as the “service voice,”24 but studies have shown that when Japanese women speak in
English, they lower their pitch. This may be a result of the absence of the expectation of a high
pitch for women in English like that in Japanese.
The system of honorifics in Japanese is complex. It serves to determine social ranking,
even if it does so indirectly. One cannot form many sentences in Japanese without first
considering the relationship between the speaker and addressee. There are two categories of
honorifics: taisha keigo or “addressee honorifics” (AHs) and sozai keigo or “referent honorifics”
(RHs).25 AHs function to elevate the addressee him/herself because he/she occupies a higher
status, while RHs do this for their belongings and/or actions.26 RHs can also make the speaker’s
actions or belongings more humble. Honorifics are used non-reciprocally between men and
women,27 and this is relevant because when one speaker employs them but the other does not in
response, an indirect statement is made concerning the unequal status of the individuals. RHs do
not refer only to respectful and humble speech but also to beautification words. Women utilize
these simply to “sound prettier” when speaking, as in the prefixes “go” or “o” when attached to
shujin (goshujin; husband, though goshujin is also the word used to refer to someone else’s
husband) or kane (okane; money). This standard form of women’s speech is undeniable, as
indicated in the title of this book published in 1994: Onna no miryoku wa hanashi-katashidai
(Women’s Attractiveness Depends on How They Speak).28 However, according to Dunn29 and
Okamoto,30 older women use more honorifics than younger, perhaps indicating a decline in
social hierarchy definition.
The use of pronouns is another way in which speakers express varying levels of respect
to their listeners or addressees. In terms of first-person singular pronouns, a spectrum of
politeness exists which also correlates with femininity (the most feminine being equivalent with
the most polite and the most masculine, the most impolite). The most feminine/polite is atashi;
ore is the most masculine/impolite. Watashi and boku complete the spectrum between the
extremes31 and are the most commonly used self-referential pronouns. Women typically use
atashi and/or watashi and men boku or ore, though these distinctions are becoming less hard and
fast. Atashi has a self-deprecating connotation while ore is thought of as other-deprecating and
more aggressive. The use of the second person pronoun anata is also rife with underlying
meanings. The use of anata is indicative of a hierarchical relationship and, thus, men use it more
often than women because they typically occupy a higher position.32 Both categories of
pronouns require women to carefully navigate between social status and societal expectations if
they wish not to offend.
Sentence final particles (SFPs) are an additional avenue by which gender differences are
expressed. Their equivalent is harder to convey in English than that of the pronouns, but certain
SFPs are approximately equal to tag questions, exclamation points, or expressions of degrees of
certainty. Just as in English, women are typically thought to employ tag questions more than men
because they do not wish to be perceived as incorrect, opinionated, or pushy; the SFPs that
women use most often are wa, na no, yo ne, and no ne which require a response,33 even if it is
just agreement or confirmation. Men, on the other hand, utilize ze, yo, da yo, da, and dane, which
are perceived as more confident and final. However, the use of one set of these particles does not
inherently exclude the other. Nakamura says that one can easily determine whether a piece of
writing in the media is directed toward men or women depending on the use of SFPs because
they are so readily identifiable as belonging to one or the other gender’s vocal repertoire.
Despite these separations between masculine and feminine speech styles, a “behavioral
paradox” exists for women who wish to portray the correct balance of modesty and femininity
without sounding too modest and feminine, as if it were contrived.34 This excessiveness is called
burikko, which comes from the verb buru (to pretend) and ko (child). It is a derogatory term used
to describe women who “feign naïveté.”35 The components of burikko speech stem from
expressions of JWL and body language that are seen as immature and girlish. Burikko is signaled
by a falsetto, nasal voice, baby talk, the avoidance of Chinese loans, use of the “o” prefix, head
tilt, onomatopoeic words, and the like.36 Thus, while most of these are also components of JWL
in general, employing them too excessively is perceived negatively by both contemporary men
and women.37 Women are sent conflicting messages, and they must learn how appropriately to
express themselves verbally so that they are seen as neither overly masculine nor excessively
feminine.

The Ideal Japanese Woman

 Speech patterns are strongly connected to attractiveness, especially for women in
Japanese culture. If a woman wishes to be considered a kotobabijin (language beauty), she must
understand how to properly manipulate the language she employs. This entails striking the
correct balance in utilizing the components of JWL discussed above to sound feminine, but not
too feminine, as there is the “linkage of a particular speech style with desirable femininity.”38
Kindaichi Kyosuke (1882-1971), one of the founders of Japanese linguistics, draws out this
connection between speech and desirability even further in his statement about Japanese
womanhood as “beautiful and excellent beyond compare as is their language.”39
Youthfulness is strongly emphasized as a desirable trait for women in Japanese culture,
as it is in many. Through different speech styles, women may appear younger than they are and,
thus, more attractive. For example, by altering the phoneme shi to si to sound as if she has a lisp
(like a child), a woman linguistically reduces her age and thus affects others’ perceptions of her.
Youthfulness can also be expressed through the use of honorifics. As older people are generally
seen as occupying a higher status, using honorifics implies an age separation. By taking the
position as lower ranking individuals through the use of honorifics, women additionally portray
themselves as passive, deferent, and submissive, also qualities of the ideal Japanese woman.40
Onnarashisa (Japanese womanliness), however, is not only marked by youthful naïveté
and passivity. According to Lebra,41 traditional socialization to fit the role of the “good wife and
wise mother,” supposedly indoctrinated by Confucianism, entails that women be modest,
elegant, refined, and tidy as well. As Shimoda Jiro (1872-1938), who played a large part in
women’s education, explained, “Women should display femininity in speech and demeanor.
They should be gentle and modest … [T]hese constitute the qualities of fugen (feminine speech)
and fugyoo, two of the shigyoo four ways.”42 The shigyoo are the four doctrines of Confucianism.
Thus again the notion of the ideal Japanese woman is connected to what was commonly referred
to as Confucianism.

Why Preserve JWL?

Because language does so much more than simply convey information, proposing and/or
allowing for change within it to occur causes controversy. Particularly with JWL, a linguistic
form which is connected to deep-seated gender and national ideals, transformation may seem
threatening to certain people and/or segments of society. This section focuses on why some wish
to preserve JWL and what their reasons are for this hope.
JWL is inextricably entangled with a nostalgic idealization of Japanese history and the
specific notions of onnarashisa (Japanese womanliness). Older men, particularly, feel that the
neutralization of Japanese and/or the use of masculine speech forms by women is dangerous
because it challenges the traditional concept of the Japanese woman.43 In 1992, in a letter to the
editor of the Asahi Shinbun newspaper, a fifty-nine-year-old man writes, “In Japan, there is an
attractive and adorable women’s language”44 and says that he questions the education and
upbringing of women who do not use appropriate feminine speech. He clearly views this
phenomenon as threatening the ideal of the Japanese woman to which he is accustomed. Some
older men prefer burikko (exaggerated femininity), even if they realize it is feigned, because they
like what it represents.45 It is linked to another time period when women were more socially
inferior, restricted to the domestic roles of wife, mother, and subordinate to their
husbands/masters (goshujin). In turn, this idea of womanhood is connected to the Confucian
ideology of dan-son, jo-hi (men superior, women inferior)46 and of the “good wife and wise
mother” (ryoosai kembo).47 As this “Confucian” ideology became prominent during the late
Meiji Period when Japan was working toward becoming a modern nation-state, JWL is
ultimately seen as a distinctive, indicative, and definitive component of Japanese-ness. Allowing
it to change or to fade out of use means a loss of this history and an acceptance of elements from
the “outside,” which may indirectly serve as a concession and recognition of this component of
the “other” as superior and/or more correct.
Thus, because JWL is connected to these notions of national character and womanliness,
some women hesitate to change the way they speak by incorporating neutral or male language.
Their desire to maintain harmony and not to disrupt the status quo is so great—and so
expected—that it is “almost suicidal”48 to challenge these notions. Whether or not a woman
chooses to alter her speech certainly depends upon her socioeconomic position, as expectations
for individuals frequently vary according to this classification. The audience is another factor
contributing to the speaker’s specific choice in a particular situation. The women I interviewed
explained that they use JWL in situations where they do not know the person to whom they are
speaking and/or if they wish to distance him/her linguistically because they do not feel
comfortable with him/her personally. Thus, although some women may not truly believe in the
importance of preserving JWL, because of its links to tradition (both national and social), their
continued use of it in certain circumstances allows for its perpetuation and preservation.

Perpetuation of JWL in Media

The longevity of JWL can be partly attributed to its presence in the media. Certain media
adopt elements of stereotypically feminine speech when the target audience is female. Women
then use these linguistic forms because it is what the media expose them to; the selection of
certain types of speech by the media and the subsequent usage of them by women becomes a
self-perpetuating and self-sustaining cycle. The media indirectly tell women how they should
and are expected to speak, and women indirectly tell the media how to define women’s language.
The presence of JWL is observable in magazines, romance novels, television, and anime. These
are the media categories on which this section will focus.
One may recognize the presence of JWL in magazines by examining not only the
linguistic forms employed but also the topics selected based on assumed audience interest. In an
investigation of women’s magazines, Yukawa and Saito49 noticed that a higher degree of
exclamatory and incomplete sentences are used, giving the impression that women are more
emotional and illogical than men, or at least that they communicate in this way. Additionally,
there is a smaller percentage of proper nouns in women’s magazines, as compared to men’s,
leading one to assume that women are less worldly or informed about matters existing outside of
home and domesticity.50 In magazine advertisements, women often are directly addressed as
anata, a second person pronoun indicative of a hierarchical relationship, which is not present in
ads directed toward men. Ultimately, a magazine is identifiable as intended for women or men
based upon the subject matter. Women’s magazines focus on topics such as fashion, cooking,
and celebrities’ lives. Thus, women are told what are appropriate subjects for them to be
concerned with and, conversely, those that belong to the more serious “male realm.” This, in
turn, affects the way women speak and what they speak about, as they find one set of models for
their behavior among the imagined members of the intended audience of these magazines.
Another media source from which Japanese women may construct notions of proper
feminine speech is that of romance novels. Though these are fictional accounts of idealized love,
they may be employed to gain a deeper understanding of what Japanese culture holds up as
appropriate speech and personality traits of desirable young men and women. In contrast to
Western, Harlequin-style romances, “[i]n the Japanese category romance, beauty is in the ears,
not the eyes, of the about-to-be significant other,”51 thus emphasizing the importance of being a
kotobabijin (language beauty) above all else. As one might expect, the language of the men and
women in these romances falls within the stereotypical, binary divisions of danseego (male
speech) and joseego (female speech). As a first person pronoun, women use watashi and men use
boku. Women abstain from employing the hierarchical second person pronoun anata, while men
may use it, and there is a high occurrence of stereotypical sentence final particles (SFPs) for both
genders. The components of gendered speech are utilized much more in romantic novels than in
real life to create clearly complementary gender identities. However, this traditional speech is
much more a part of femininity than masculinity.52 Thus, while a Japanese woman reading these
romances may recognize the extremely polarized binary distinctions between the language of
female and male characters, it will be difficult for her to deny the fact that the successful
feminization of the female character is closely tied to her language use. Therefore, the reader
may, consciously or subconsciously, use her own language to index her own femininity as well.
Gender divisions in speech and interests can also be seen in television shows and anime.
In how-to television programs (such as cooking, carpentry, and the like), the use of directives
varies according to the gender of the expert. Male experts tend to make more “bald-on-record”53
directives while women often employ requests, using keigo (honorifics).54 Even though these
women are in charge in that they are the teachers in these television shows, they continue to
employ this polite speech. Women viewers are, thus, sent a message of inherent inferiority, even
when their skills may surpass those of others. In cartoons there is a “particularly clear field for
playing out of traditional cultural visions of men’s and women’s natures, and the language
appropriate to these natures.”55 Anime shows are divided clearly between those intended for boys
and those intended for girls, based on both the subjects involved and the speech patterns utilized.
Boys’ anime have samurai as characters and/or focus on detective-type stories, science fiction,
or sports.56 The overarching theme for girls’ anime is love. Just as in the romances, the language
use of the genders conforms to the stereotypical conceptions of each. Thus, it may be seen that
women and men are conditioned by the media from a young age—if not to follow the linguistic
expectations—to know and be able to recognize what is particularly female speech and what is
not. When asked when girls begin to use JWL, one of my interviewees (a doctor in his late-
thirties) explained that he believed girls knew by the age of ten the distinctions between female
and male speech, even if they did not speak according to them at that age. It is undeniable that
the media help to create this conception to some degree.

Who Uses JWL?

Because linguistic practice often strays from linguistic ideology, it is useful to examine
who in reality does employ JWL and who does not, or utilizes it in a manner inconsistent with
prescribed usage. As Okamoto and Smith explain, “‘deviant’ uses [of linguistic forms] are
meaningful choices rather than mere exceptions or anomalies.”57 Therefore, insight may be
gained by focusing on the social groups that employ JWL differently. Specifically, I will be
considering the speech of women who live in Ibaraki, schoolgirls, proponents of women’s
liberation, and homosexual men.
 For women of the Ibaraki region in Japan, JWL is not so much an index of femininity as
it is an index of urbanization.58 This area is primarily rural and the local economy is based on
agriculture. The dialect spoken is significantly different from that of Standard Japanese (SJ),
which is based on Tokyo vernacular. It is viewed negatively as backward and countrified by
speakers of SJ. However, there is a near absence of gendered language in Ibaraki-ben (Ibaraki
dialect) and particularly of honorifics.59 As nooka no yome (farmers’ wives), women of Ibaraki
participate extensively in farm chores and tasks alongside men. By avoiding honorifics, group
solidarity on the farm is strengthened, something that is necessary for a successful harvest.
Though women and men are still women and men in Ibaraki, the gender differences are not as
salient as in urban areas, for example, and they are, thus, not as clearly reflected in speech. As
such, it may be said of JWL that it is a regional phenomenon, rather than one that occurs
naturally from gender differences.60
An additional sector of Japanese society that does not employ the prescribed features of
JWL is that of schoolgirls. This is a rather recent development as commentators in the 1990s
increasingly began to notice. The decision to use JWL depends upon the image that the
schoolgirl wishes to project. The variation of jogakusei-kotoba (speech of schoolgirls) depends
on whether or not the speaker wishes to be viewed as a conformer or a rebel. Therefore, the
“studious, pro-school girls use the ‘feminine’ pronoun atashi, whereas girls who are more non-
conformist use the ‘masculine’ pronouns ore and boku.”61 Unlike the women of Ibaraki, these
school girls are making an active choice to use JWL differently (or “incorrectly”), which serves
as a statement about their attitudes toward a confining and restrictive linguistic register.
Proponents of women’s liberation also strike out against prescribed JWL because they
reject the feminine image that is inextricably connected to it. It may be seen that not only
“feminists” but also modern women in general view JWL as an outdated form of
communication, and they think they sound “too feminine” if they use it. According to one of my
interviewees, if she used JWL it would not fit with her character because she is not “feminine,”
and she perceives JWL as excessively feminine. Some Japanese teachers hesitate to teach the
proper gendered forms of language because they do not believe it is an accurate representation of
real speech among Japanese people.
One of the groups which actually does employ a form of JWL is not comprised of women
but of men. This style of speaking is called onee kotoba (older sister speech), and it is used by
certain members of the homosexual male community. Not all gay men use it, and often those
who do are scorned by those who do not.62Onee kotoba is similar to JWL, but the differences
between the two lie in the crudeness of the words employed and the subjects discussed.63 Rather
than a true mimicking of JWL, onee kotoba parodies it. In using it, gay men construct a liminal
identity, somewhere along the spectrum of homo- and heterosexuality, where they feel most
comfortable.

Code/Register Switching

Japanese women understand how to use the proper form of language in the proper
circumstances. They understand which is appropriate in which situations and apply this
knowledge accordingly. At times, gender seems to be the primary factor in determining a code
switch, but it is certainly not the only motivation in a Japanese woman’s decision to employ
JWL. This section will first focus on those situations in which language is governed largely by
gender and then examine those in which other factors are more relevant.
 It has been noted that Japanese high school girls alter their speech when at school with
boys and then change it again when they return home. Girls say that they, “cannot compete with
boys in classes, in games, or in fights with watashi,”64 so they use the traditionally male self-
referential pronoun, boku. Here, it appears that gender—or gender conflict—is the primary
motivation for speech alterations. Girls realize that the pronoun they are expected to use because
they are female is not effective in a mixed-gender setting. However, outside of school, they do
not employ boku because they know it is not generally acceptable in the larger society.65 The
girls have such an effective grasp on language that they can strategize with it and make it “work”
for them. They are “bilinguals who have two distinct codes, boku language and watashi
language. They select a code depending on a situation.”66
At times, adult women also alter their speech register primarily as a result of the limiting
tendencies of the expected form of JWL. Often, these women occupy positions of authority and,
like the high school girls, have come to the conclusion that they cannot be effective leaders if
they restrict themselves to traditional JWL. However, instead of reaching out to borrow patterns
of speech from typically “male” language, these women choose to utilize speech styles from
within their own linguistic repertoire. Janet S. Smith calls these options the “motherese strategy”
and the “passive power strategy.”67 “Motherese” is used between a woman of a position of
authority and a subordinate who is considerably younger than her. It is modeled after the way in
which a mother would direct her child to do chores or other tasks. When this age gap does not
exist, they employ a passive power strategy, which makes use of the power of suggestion (a
directive without a verb) or a verb plus the positive form of itadaku or morau (verbs which mean
“to receive”).68 Thus, here it can be seen that while gender is a primary factor in causing the
women to change their speech patterns, they do not automatically need to resort to using men’s
language, as this may not be as acceptable for adult women to do as it is for high school girls
(though they do not practice it in the larger society).
Women, particularly younger ones, may also register switch because of their gender, but
not in order to increase their effectiveness or power in a situation, at least not outright. This code,
called burikko (feigned naïveté or innocence; it means to “play child”), “downplays or masks the
adult sexuality of the woman doing it.”69 According to my interviews, women may choose to
switch to burikko around men in order to be more attractive, as youthfulness and innocence are
highly valued. One of my interviewees, who is a Japanese professor in her mid-thirties, remarked
that she sees burikko as “unnatural” for most women and that she teases friends who switch to
that register in front of men and then back again when they are no longer present. Other
interviewees of the same age group expressed the same sentiments toward burikko and explained
that they had made similar observations about its occurrence. While burikko is thought to convey
innocence and naïveté, some believe that the women who employ it are “crafty flatterers”70 or
schemers, who strategically use it to exert control over others.
However, “gender cannot be isolated as an independent variable for determining
language use, and … [other] variables need to be considered as simultaneously relevant.”71 For
example, young women, who use what traditionally are considered parts of men’s language, are
unconscious that they are doing so.72 There is a notion that this register is simply the way in
which young people express themselves; it is called wakai mono no kotoba (literally, “young
people’s speech”). It creates a “youthful and playful” image of its users73; it is not an assertion of
equality between the sexes or an attempt to augment the power that the stereotypical language of
one gender lacks. Gender plays an insignificant role in this type of code switching, particularly
because what once were thought of as masculine or feminine speech patterns are interpreted
differently today.74 Many of my interviewees expressed accord with this notion. In particular,
both men I interviewed thought that men and women speak similarly. One, a prosecutor in his
mid-thirties, explained, “Onna mo otoko mo onaji kotoba o tsukau” (“Both men and women use
the same words”), and the other, a doctor in his late-thirties, said, “Joseego shika tsukawanai
kedo, danseego wa ima wa warikoo-wakai nihonjin mo deru” (“[Women] don’t only use JWL,
but now [regardless of gender] young Japanese also use men’s language”).
Sunaoshi makes the case that JWL is differentiated not only along the lines of gender but
also of class.75 Thus, women of rural Ibaraki do not speak JWL because it is a regional
phenomenon that corresponds with urbanization. If a woman from this area moves to a large city
like Tokyo where JWL is more common, she might code switch to quicken her assimilation into
the new society, though this would be considerably difficult if she did not grow up hearing JWL.
A woman moving to a rural area may attempt the opposite task so that she will fit in better. It is
clear that the alteration of registers is not solely dependent upon gender but also location, as,
obviously, the gender of these women has certainly not changed. It is only the environment that
changes, and their speech according to it. The social construction of the proper behavior and
language of the Japanese woman varies, depending on where she makes her home, bringing into
question the “inherent” femininity of JWL.
Additionally, a woman may choose to employ JWL in situations where she feels she must
be polite, as keigo is a large component of it. My interviewees explained that they use JWL when
they do not know someone well but then switch back to casual speech when they are among
friends. One woman explained:

I: If–even if, ah, I first met the person, if I feel comfortable, uh, regardless of
their gender, I may use the casual speech or I use–I intentionally use, ah,
nandeiunokeigo or, ah, polite language to keep the distance–
H: Uh huh–
I: So I–I don’t think it’s a gender, but I think it’s a chemistry that I feel.

Here, code switching is a very personal thing that occurs based on the individual’s feelings,
independent of gender. Using the keigo of JWL can also be persuasive and confers a degree of
power upon the speaker,76 which may be another reason why women choose to utilize it in
certain situations. Thus, while JWL is tied intricately to gender and ideals of proper womanhood,
many women today certainly—if not also in the past—switch registers between it and other types
of speech, depending on the context and not solely according to the gender of the participants.

Keigo and Danseego

The value of examining the speech of Japanese women from a diachronic perspective
cannot be denied. Holding JWL up as the ideal regardless of time period and context can only
result in incomplete understandings of what it means to use JWL and why a woman might
choose not to do so. In particular, concerning the politeness of JWL and the use of linguistic
features traditionally thought of as components of danseego, one must take a second glance to
comprehend what is actually being communicated.
Honorifics often are assumed, without much discussion, to be polite. If a speaker humbles
herself and elevates the listener through the employment of certain words, she is automatically
labeled as polite. However, it is dangerous to assume that polite language (a significant
component of JWL) is inherently polite,77 without taking context into consideration. Keigo holds
different meanings for different people and so people—particularly women, since they are said to
use it more than men do78—choose when to use it depending on their varying views of it. To a
young woman, keigo may primarily convey femininity, rather than politeness, and so she may
opt not to use it in a situation where she feels she must portray herself as assertive and
authoritative. Contrarily, an older women may view keigo as mainly expressing the respect she
has for a person and so she employs it when speaking with her superior at work. These norms
and standards vary across gender, region, and generation (among other factors), which highlights
the importance of taking such factors into consideration. A younger woman may not speak
onnarashii (like a “typical” woman) because she views it differently than did her counterpart of
twenty years ago. She may use keigo not to convey respect but to strategically afford herself a
kind of social power, as keigo can also be persuasive.79Keigo may also be utilized to improve the
listeners’ view of the speaker, as a command of polite language is often seen as an indicator of
good upbringing and education. Thus, the use of keigo must be examined in conjunction with the
context of the situation and from a diachronic perspective. Though polite language (and,
therefore, being polite) is often viewed as signifying a lower social rank, one may understand
from this discussion that polite language may not have anything to do with being polite.
Just as keigo is not inherently polite, linguistic forms traditionally considered parts of
danseego are not inherently masculine. Young Japanese—both women and men—speak what
they call wakai mono no kotoba (young people’s speech), which makes use of moderately
masculine SFPs (da,ne, da yo), discourages the use of explicitly feminine words such as the self-
referential pronoun atashi, the expression of uncertainty kashira, and emphasizes a quick tempo,
as a slower one is connected to an older generation.When asked if they are speaking danseego,
women deny this assertion and explain that they are simply speaking the way that young people
do. It is not uncommon for high school-aged girls to use the traditionally masculine self-
referential pronoun boku,80 though they do not feel as if they are identifying themselves as
masculine or male. There has been a broad neutralization of Japanese, both men’s and women’s
language, so much so that what was thought of as feminine or masculine in the past is no longer
interpreted the same way.81 This highlights, once again, the importance of investigating language
diachronically and not assuming the existence of two set, distinct, bounded, and timeless entities.
Time affects language and, therefore, language is in constant flux.

Conclusion

Significant changes have been occurring in Japanese society in the past fifty years,
particularly due to equal education opportunities. Before World War II, education for women
focused on preparing them to be ryoosai kembo (a good wife and wise mother).82 Since then,
education has undergone reform so that now boys and girls are learning generally the same
things and women have the opportunity for higher education, which was denied them before.
Women began to enter the workplace in significant numbers in the 1960s and 1970s. By 1982,
half of all married women were working outside the home.83 The Equal Employment
Opportunity Law (EEOL) of 1985 and its revision of 1997 have largely affected the demographic
of the workplace in terms of gender. Just as “when women are expected to be both a breadwinner
and a caretaker at home, they acquire both masculine and feminine qualities, because both
qualities are essential to do the tasks required of women,”84 so also women’s speech habits began
changing, for similar reasons. A great deal of linguistic change may be attributed to the presence
of women in the workplace.
With that said, true equality between women and men in the workforce has yet to be
attained. As in many other industrialized countries, Japan’s women are not paid as well as men;
however, the discrepancy between pay is much greater in Japan than in the U.S., for example,
with women in Japan being paid as little as half of what men receive for performing the same
job. Several factors contribute to this compensatory inequality, and they cannot all be listed here.
In particular, women in the workplace were historically expected to quit upon marriage and/or
childbirth, as their primary role was that of wife and mother. This career trajectory still exists in
the mindset of some employers, even though more and more women are now continuing to work
after marriage and childbirth. These “employers view women as secondary … workers in the
workplace … and pay them low wages.”85 Indeed, as Kawashima explains, “age functions as one
of the determinants of women’s work status: permanent regular workers are mostly young;
contract workers … are young to middle-aged women; part-timers are mostly middle-aged; and
pieceworkers are older women.”86 The young women are most likely to be unmarried so they
have less responsibility, which allows them to devote more time to working outside the home. In
the minds of employers, as women age, marry, and have children, the converse becomes true,
and they differentially employ women and men accordingly. The changing speech of women
may also be correlated with the work and age breakdown above, demonstrating the connection
between the changing roles of women in society and their linguistic choices. Young women are
less likely to use traditional JWL when speaking and more likely to pursue a career outside the
home, while the opposite is true for middle-aged and older women.
As a result of this persistent inequality in the workplace and division of labor by gender
in the home, Japanese women are electing to postpone marriage in the interest of their
professional goals. Though marriage was traditionally seen as the symbol of the achievement of
adulthood (specifically for women), this view is slowly changing.87 This trend is more
pronounced among more highly educated women, most likely because they wish to put that
education to work. Although the old saying deems women unfit for marriage after their twenty-
fifth year, just as a Christmas cake is thought to be no longer fresh after the twenty-fifth day of
December, today women’s mean age of marriage is twenty-six.88 Even if women do marry, they
are delaying childbirth and not having as many children as in years past; today the average
number of children per Japanese woman is only slightly over one.89 Traditional marriage and the
traditional roles of a wife and her husband are becoming less and less attractive to young
Japanese women. The present state of marriage and the demographic of today’s workplace
support this assertion, as do the trends in the shifts of linguistic behavior of the younger
generations of Japanese women.
Throughout my interviews, when asked about their conceptions of JWL, none of my
interviewees could give a direct answer. One man (a doctor in his late-thirties) said, “A no kiite
ireba, wakarimasu” (“If I hear it, I know [joseego]”). A female respondent (a college graduate
housewife in her mid-thirties) explained that while it depends on the woman who is speaking,
“Amari … wa sona ni nai to omoudesukedo” (“I don’t think there is very much variation
[between women’s and men’s speech]”). Another asserted that she understands joseego because
she is a Japanese professor and must teach it to her students, though she feels reservations about
doing so because she does not believe that the language—at least in practice—is so decisively
split into these mutually exclusive opposites. When asked to give examples of JWL, each
interviewee could list specific features of typical joseego, such as SFPs and kashira as opposed
to kana, usually without much difficulty, but they maintained that women do not truly speak this
way, especially today. Undeniably, joseego is closely connected to femininity, but it seems it is
more than just femininity with which it is intertwined. If it were simply femininity that this
register represented, certain women would not be so reluctant to speak according to the rules of
joseego. It is a specific conception of traditional femininity and ideal Japanese womanhood
against which these women are rebelling through their rejection of JWL, reflecting their
changing roles in society. This rebellion may not even be conscious—though for at least one of
my interviewees it is—or it may have been for women of the past but has become mainstream
today, as evidenced by the existence of wakai mono no kotoba (young people’s language). Now,
it is simply the way young people, regardless of gender, speak. While components of highly
feminine and highly masculine speech are still identifiable, most people choose to use words
from the neutral language that lies between the extremes in the middle of the spectrum. The
speech of my interviewees reflects this phenomenon. At the beginning of each interview, when I
asked questions simply to hear how they spoke and then later as well when we were actually
discussing JWL itself, the women never utilized any highly feminine forms. All respondents
used the most neutral pronoun watashi (including the men) except for one instance when a man
(a doctor in his late-thirties) used boku, the least masculine male self-referential pronoun.
The Japanese dramas that I watched also confirmed the assertion that people in general
are now speaking “neutral” Japanese, rather than using those forms associated with one or
another gender, although to a lesser degree. Some female characters did use stereotypically
feminine SFPs, for example. However, the women did not play roles reflective of notions of
traditionally Japanese womanhood (that is, those of wife and mother). Both women worked
outside the home, were not married, and actually were being pursued by men who had taken a
liking to them, though the women themselves were uninterested in those romances. Perhaps
when these women have acquired a status outside the home, they have the freedom to utilize
feminine speech patterns without fear of stereotyping because they have already proven
themselves, in a sense. However, it is worth noting that one woman just had been demoted and
was not given respect in the workplace, while the other was infatuated with her boss. If anything,
one must acknowledge that the gender roles portrayed by the media are complex and
unpredictable, which, in the very least, allows women to understand that it is acceptable for them
to occupy the traditionally incompatible roles of mother and businessperson, for example.
I have aimed to show that JWL, while perhaps upheld as the ideal speech of Japanese
women, does not define the speech habits of women in practice, and that women strategize
linguistically, not only according to their gender and that of conversational participants. From an
examination of the components of JWL, to its connections with ideal Japanese beauty, to who
uses it today, and why some wish to preserve it, an extensive investigation of this linguistic
phenomenon has been conducted. The neutralization of the Japanese language and the new and
varied conceptions of Japanese womanhood emerge as logical conclusions.

Notes

1
Ian Hacking, “Are you a Social Constructionist?” Lingua Franca, May/June, 1999: 20-25, 70.
2
Sherry Ortner, “Is Female to Male as Nature is to Culture?” in Anthropological Theory: An
Introductory History, ed. R. Jon McGee and Richard L. Warms, 3rd ed. (Boston: McGraw Hill,
2004), 371.
3
Shigeko Okamoto and Janet S. Shibamoto Smith, “Introduction,” in Japanese Language,
Gender, and Ideology: Cultural Models and Real People, ed. Shigeko Okamoto and Janet S.
Shibamoto Smith (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 5.
4
Robin Tolmach Lakoff, Language and Women’s Place (New York: Oxford University Press,
1975).
5
J. Coates, Women, Men, and Language: A Sociolinguistic Account of Sex Differences in
Language (London: Longman, 1986).
6
Janet Holmes, An Introduction to Sociolinguistics, 2nd ed. (London: Longman, 2001).
7
Miyako Inoue, “Gender, Language, and Modernity – Toward an Effective History of ‘Japanese
Women’s Language,’” in Japanese Language, Gender, and Ideology: Cultural Models and Real
People, ed. Shigeko Okamoto and Janet S. Shibamoto Smith (New York: Oxford University
Press, 2004), 57.
8
Sumiyuki Yukawa and Masami Saito, “Cultural Ideologies in Japanese Language and Gender
Studies,” in Japanese Language, Gender, and Ideology: Cultural Models and Real People, ed.
Shigeko Okamoto and Janet S. Shibamoto Smith (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004),
24.
9
Shigeko Okamoto, “Ideology in Linguistic Practice and Analysis,” in Japanese Language,
Gender, and Ideology: Cultural Models and Real People, ed. Shigeko Okamoto and Janet S.
Shibamoto Smith (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 43.
10
Inoue, 60.
11
Rumi Washi, “Japanese Female Speech,” in Japanese Language, Gender, and Ideology:
Cultural Models and Real People, ed. Shigeko Okamoto and Janet S. Shibamoto Smith (New
York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 76.
12
Ibid., 84.
13
Ibid., 79.
14
Ibid., 89.
15
Okamoto and Smith, 11.
16
Yoshi-Fumi Nakata and Ryoji Takehiro, “Employment and Wages of Female Japanese
Workers: Past, Present, and Future,” Industrial Relations 41: 52.
17
Orie Endo, “Aspects of Sexism in Language,” in Japanese Women: New Feminist Perspectives
on the Past, Present, and Future, ed. Kumiko Fujimura-Fanselow and Atsuko Kameda (New
York: The Feminist Press at the City University of New York: 1995), 40.
18
Yoko Sugihara and Emiko Katsurada, “Gender Role Development In Japanese Culture:
Diminishing Gender Role Difference in a Contemporary Society,” Sex Roles 47: 444.
19
Washi, 76.
20
Sugihara and Katsurada, 444.
21
Cindi Sturtz Sreetharan, “Japanese Men’s Linguistic Stereotypes and Realities: Conversations
from the Kansai and Kanto Regions,” in Japanese Language, Gender, and Ideology: Cultural
Models and Real People, ed. Shigeko Okamoto and Janet S. Shibamoto Smith (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2004), 276.
22
Okamoto and Smith, 5.
23
Shigeko Okamoto, “Ideology and Social Meanings: Rethinking the Relationship between
Language, Politeness, and Gender,” in Gendered Practices in Language, ed. Sarah Benor, Mary
Rose, Devyani Sharma, Julie Sweetland and Qing Zhang (Stanford: CSLI Publications, 2002),
93.
24
Laura Miller, “You are doing Burikko! Censoring/Scrutinizing Artificers of Cute Femininity in
Japanese,” in Japanese Language, Gender, and Ideology: Cultural Models and Real People, ed.
Shigeko Okamoto and Janet S. Shibamoto Smith (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004),
151.
25
Okamoto, “Ideology in Linguistic,” 39.
26
Ibid.
27
Ibid., 43.
28
Ibid., 45.
29
Ibid.
30
Ibid.
31
Wim Lunsing and Claire Maree, “Shifting Speakers: Negotiating Reference in Relation to
Sexuality and Gender,” in Japanese Language, Gender, and Ideology: Cultural Models and Real
People, ed. Shigeko Okamoto and Janet S. Shibamoto Smith (New York: Oxford University
Press, 2004), 97.
32
Janet S. Shibamoto Smith, “Language and Gender in the (Hetero)Romance: ‘Reading’ the
Ideal Hero/ine through Lovers’ Dialogue,” in Japanese Language, Gender, and Ideology:
Cultural Models and Real People, ed. Shigeko Okamoto and Janet S. Shibamoto Smith (New
York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 124.
33
Momoko Nakamura, “Let’s Dress a Little Girlishly! or Conquer Short Pants!,” in Japanese
Language, Gender, and Ideology: Cultural Models and Real People, ed. Shigeko Okamoto and
Janet S. Shibamoto Smith (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 142.
34
Miller, 161.
35
Ibid., 148.
36
Ibid., 153.
37
Ibid., 157.
38
Yukawa and Saito, 24.
39
Inoue, 58.
40
Okamoto, Japanese Language, 16.
41
Yoshiko Matsumoto, “Alternative Femininity: Personae of Middle-Aged Mothers,” in
Japanese Language, Gender, and Ideology: Cultural Models and Real People, ed. Shigeko
Okamoto and Janet S. Shibamoto Smith (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 240.
42
Washi, 86.
43
Shigeko Okamoto, “Tasteless Japanese: Less ‘Feminine’ Speech Among Young Japanese
Women,” in Gender Articulated Language and the Socially Constructed Self, ed. Kira Hall and
Mary Buckholtz (New York: Routledge, 1995), 298.
44
Ibid., 297.
45
Miller, 158.
46
Kurosio, Shuppan, “Female Speakers of Japanese in Transition,” in Proceedings of the First
Berkeley Women and Language Conference, ed. Sue Bremner, Noelle Caskey, and Birch
Moonwomon (Berkeley: UC Berkeley: 1985), 129.
47
Matsumoto, 241.
48
Shuppan, 137.
49
Yukawa and Saito,142.
50
Ibid., 143.
51
Smith, “Romance,” 127.
52
Ibid.
53
Penelope Brown and Stephen Levinson, Politeness: Some Universals in Language Usage
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 60.
54
Janet S. Smith, “Women in Charge: Politeness and Directives in the Speech of Japanese
Women,” Language and Society 21: 69.
55
Ibid., 77.
56
Ibid., 68.
57
Okamoto and Smith, 6.
58
Yukako Sunaoshi, “Farm Women’s Professional Discourse in Ibaraki,” in Japanese Language,
Gender, and Ideology: Cultural Models and Real People, ed. Shigeko Okamoto and Janet S.
Shibamoto Smith (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 188.
59
Ibid., 193.
60
Ibid., 200.
61
Okamoto and Smith, 6.
62
Lunsing and Maree, 96.
63
Ibid.
64
Shuppan, 140.
65
Ibid.
66
Ibid.
67
Smith, “Charge,” 78.
68
Ibid.
69
Miller, 148.
70
Ibid., 157.
71
Okamoto, “Ideology,” 102.
72
Okamoto, “Tasteless,” 315.
73
Ibid., 313.
74
Ibid., 318.
75
Sunaoshi, 190.
76
Joy Hendry, Wrapping Culture: Politeness, Presentation, and Power in Japanese and Other
Societies (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), 161.
77
Okamoto, “Ideology,” 103.
78
Hendry, 160.
79
Ibid., 161.
80
Okamoto, “Tasteless,” 314.
81
Ibid., 318.
82
Kazuko Tanaka, “Work, Education, and the Family,” in Japanese Women: New Feminist
Perspectives on the Past, Present, and Future, ed. Kumiko Fujimura-Fanselow and Atsuko
Kameda (New York: The Feminist Press at the City University of New York, 1995), 305.
83
Nakata and Takehiro, 521.
84
Sugihara and Katsurada, 450.
85
Yoko Kawashima, “Female Workers: An Overview of Past and Current Trends,” in Japanese
Women: New Feminist Perspectives on the Past, Present, and Future, ed. Kumiko Fujimura-
Fanselow and Atsuko Kameda (New York: The Feminist Press at the City University of New
York, 1995), 289.
86
Ibid., 282.
87
Tanaka, 299.
88
Jane Condon, A Half-Step Behind: Japanese Women Today (Rutland, Vermont & Tokyo:
Charles E. Tuttle Company: 1985), 303.
89
Ibid.