You can tell when winter is almost over. The plum trees start to blossom, and suddenly there are hina dolls displayed everywhere. I saw these in the middle of the train station in Shiroishi last month, and saw a similar display in Yokohama Station a week or two ago. That doesn't mean that winter is quite over, though. It's been raining throughout the last week, which pissed me right off and was one of the reasons I decided against going to the Nagashibina. I loved the ritual last year but standing in the cold rain did NOT seem like a fun way to start my Sunday.
This time last year I was filled with unspeakable rage because my fellow Americans were being a bunch of lunatics. This Hina Matsuri - a festival dedicated to the prosperity and protection of girls - I'm raging again, but you'll have to wait a few months to hear that particular rant. Suffice it to say that the timing of a holiday concerned with those blessings of prosperity seemed somewhat ironic this year. (As far as protection goes, nothing makes me feel as safe as toting around the bachi I use for taiko class - and hey - bonus! I can practice while I walk!)
As far as I'm concerned, there was never any question as to whether or not I was going to mark Girls' Day this year with a blog. (Seriously, people, I make dolls for my hobby. This was always going to happen). That said, I did try to find new things to see. I knew there were several displays around Tokyo, and although I passed over my first choice because I didn't have time after painting on Saturday,* my second choice, though, was just a couple of stops away in Shinjuku. Keio Plaza Hotel had a special display of tsurushi hina, hanging decorations, along with some works of art that made me think of the paintings Maria's students always paint around this time of year. Except, you know, better (technically, at least. I'd argue that a lot more heart goes into the student work).
Just as hina dolls evolved from the doll floating rituals, hanging decorations are an Edo-era tradition that emerged from the desire of less affluent families hoping to participate in the holiday. Turns out the full hina display is pretty damn pricey, and not everyone could afford them. Instead, the women of the family would come together to craft small decorations that hung from red cords.
The ones at Keio Plaza were made of kimono silk by quilting artist Mitsuyo Matsuo and her artist group, Himawari. I've bought a LOT of fabric scraps in the last month or so, and it made me think about how cool it would be to make my own tsurushi hina...but since I already have a backlog of sewing projects I want to make, this probably won't happen anytime soon. Making my own display, on the other hand, seemed relatively straightforward and not too time consuming. I've been thinking about using my nendoroids to set up a hina matsuri display ever since I read about the Hatsune Miku hina doll made by Mataro last January.**
I learned a lot about the meanings behind the dolls when I visited the Ando Doll workshop in Kyoto last fall. I tried to keep it in mind when I made my own Hina Matsuri display, but I didn't have dolls that fit. The top step is supposed to be the emperor and empress. Since I didn't have any nendoroids that are couples, I just chose my favorites. The next step is supposed to be the three court ladies, but I only have two female nendos. Instead, I made this the warrior step and included my sword boys and Roy Mustang. The third step is supposed to be the musicians, so I went with a general ntheme of entertainment and called it good. You might notice that I'm lacking most of the furnishings that go along with the set, but with a move looming there was no way I was buying more crap to pack up.
The VERY sweet icing on this year's doll cake was going to the Strawberry-holic buffet at The Strings Omotesando with Sensei and the Director. About a month ago I decided I needed to eat as many strawberry desserts as I could before the season is over, and having them all at the same time seemed like a good idea.***
Apparently these buffets have themes. I mean, besides “strawberries.” There were at least a couple of other strawberry buffets going on recently, one with the theme of cats and another that featured - wait for it! - Godzilla. This one was, appropriately enough, doll-themed, with so many Barbies scattered around the buffet and tables that they must have visited every Mandarake on Honshu to round up enough to pull it off. As far as the food goes, there was a token lunch side, with salads, curry, and the best damn mac and cheese I’ve had since I last made it in Mongolia, but I don’t think anyone wasted too much time on real food. We were all there for the desserts, and they were excellent. That said, at 4500 yen we were all keen to get our money’s worth, and it’s possible that all three of us ate more than we should. I definitely wanted to just lie down and have someone roll me home with a stick; as it was, I went into hibernation mode as soon as I got to my apartment.
I was about to say that was how my Hina Matsuri ended, except that’s not quite true. I’ve been taking a photography course for my master’s this term, and our current project is light painting. I originally wanted to work with shrine imagery - I still do, and I’m pretty sure this is going to play into my final portfolio - but then I thought about the nagashi hina and decided - since it was just after Girls’ Day - to make my own as a subject for my photo. This course has been much harder than I was expecting, but at the same time, I’m pretty happy with some of the photos I got. I’m still hoping to improve on them by taking photos in the stream near my house, but for now I feel like I have a good start.
*I'm still hoping to write about the place it was later. I mean, I probably have to write a Shinsengumi post at some point, right???
**I think I'd have a lot of fun designing other pop culture dolls with them, but the clock is ticking.
***Time has proven otherwise.
I've never considered myself much of a feminist. That word - to me - always conjures up images of burnt bras, women dressing butch and protesting that marriage is enslavement. While at least one guy I dated labeled me as such because I opened doors for myself if I got to them first, I don't have a problem with marriage, I like to wear skirts, and can't live without a good bra, so feminism never has held any appeal. I also don't consider myself to be particularly political. This angers some people, but there's not much that gets me bent out of shape, and I don't really see much difference between republicans, democrats, and the rest of the power-grubbing liars. Maybe that makes me a bad person, but I really don't care. While I don't post articles on
Facebook every hour on the hour, there are a few causes out there that I
do feel are worth standing up for, ones that, by and large, are not
voter issues, but cultural ones.
The complex stew of problems that continue to face women - not the so-called glass ceiling or equal funding for women's athletics, but ending abuse, changing the culture we live in so that it doesn't blame us for being victims - is one of these causes. Like I said, I've led a pretty charmed life; I have been extremely blessed as a
woman. I have parents who have loved and supported me in pretty much
whatever I wanted to do, and who somehow raised me to be confident and
independent enough to do it. I have never been a victim - I pity the
person who would try it - and when I was bullied briefly in high school,
I went to the vice principal and ended it. But I know I'm lucky. On the last day of school I was talking to one of my students, and she told me she wasn't sure
how her summer was going to go, that her mother didn't want to let her
out of the house (according to Domestic Goddess she is about the right age to be kidnapped and sold into human trafficking, which I wasn't aware was a problem here) and often said that she wished she'd never had a
daughter. This was one of my best girls,
who is kind and considerate and a natural leader...but that wasn't good
enough. The fact that she was a girl was a problem. It often is, in Asia. Not as badly as in China,
which has the worst, man-made gender gap in history, but even in more
moderate countries there is still often a preference for boys. One of
the reasons I respect my Dark Lord and Master so much is because of how
much he loves his daughter; he wouldn't trade her for all the boys in
the world.
Now, if you were to go in for slut-shaming,
if you were to blame women for what happens to them, there would hardly
be a better place to do it than Asia. Maybe I just don't go out often
enough back home, but I have never seen girls dress as scantily in the
States as they do over here. The outfits that some of the Chinese staff
wore to school back in Shanghai could easily be used in another, much older profession. I've almost never worn skirts so short, or bared so much skin, and their dress is occasionally frustrating because it's hard to be modest (and fat) and compete with gorgeous Asian women. You're never going to win. But that's my problem, not theirs.
And that was kind of the point of the "My Short Skirt" march last week that was being put on by Young Women for Change. When Facebook told me about it I decided the time had come for me to get political. See, a colleague (a male colleague, I don't mind saying, since I do feel like that has some bearing) last year posted a "satirical" article on his Facebook page about a rape festival in India. There is no such thing, but I think there are some subjects that are too serious for such treatment. The author says it was written to raise awareness, but the way it was written made me and my female friends sick, and since the way this colleague played off our protests about what poor taste it was with a comment about how "some people don't get satire," rather than reacting as the women did, I have a feeling that he was actually the one that didn't get it.
"My Short Skirt" is one of the Vagina Monologues, written by Eve Ensler. My university, UMKC, puts on a performance of it each year for V-Day, and I was there for what seems like it must have been the first, although I can't tell you what year it was (I'm guessing 2002, but can't be sure). It is, by turns, funny and disturbing and empowering, and I'm glad to know my alma mater is still doing it. Young Women for Change did a performance of it here in 2011, and performed "My Short Skirt" for last Friday's march (you can see the first couple of stanza in the video below, but they are in Mongolian, so you might not get much out of it). The point of the piece is that how a woman dresses has nothing to do with anyone but herself.
Here's where I may get a little controversial... While I agree that it should have nothing to do with anyone but herself, we are only human. Most of the time what we choose to wear does send a message, whether that message be "I value my job," or "I'm trying to get your attention." And while women are NOT responsible for men's thoughts or actions and should NEVER be blamed when they are victimized, we ARE responsible for our own safety. We have the power to choose where we will go, who we will go with, what we will do. Don't make choices that take control out of your hands. It's easy for me to say, I know - I don't drink, and as an introvert I've usually had enough interaction and am ready to go home long before other people get to their "bad decision making" stage - and the fact is that bad shit can happen, no matter how careful you are. However, it's a lot less likely to happen if you don't ignore the fact that you have both the power and the responsibility to protect yourself. Drink moderately. Don't put yourself in bad situations, such as going out alone.
In a perfect world, a girl could walk down any street at any time of
day wearing whatever she likes and be perfectly safe, but we don't live
in a perfect world. Events like this march are important, because they do help raise awareness, and bring us a little closer to that perfect world. Until then, we don't do ourselves any favors by pretending that our choices have no bearing on what happens to us. Let me finish by saying how difficult this post was to write. There's a reason I don't usually do serious. It's hard, it's not natural for me, but while everyone is saying - correctly - how wrong it is to blame victims, and how bad slut shaming is, I think there is also a need for voices that tell women that they have power over what happens to them, and (as my Dad would say) to pull their heads out of their asses. I hope I haven't offended anyone, and if I have, I'm sorry, but I still think it needs to be said.
Insh'Allah next week will bring a return to lewd jokes and gratuitous swearing.
p.s. For the record, my experience with safety as a woman in Mongolia has been completely positive, and I would go so far as to say that female expats are safer here than male ones. I can't speak for Mongolian women, and I haven't done the research to tell you about them. I guess I could, but I'm tired of hammering this thing out, so we'll leave it at that.
