Swastika Jajoo

1. Introducing Dazai’s Schoolgirl

As I shared in my last post, Kawaii is a deeply-rooted cultural phenomenon necessitating a specific kind of gender performance. In order to concretize our understanding of the presence of this performance in contemporary society, it is vital to first reflect on the nature of its historical archetype. Osamu Dazai’s 1939 novella Schoolgirl or 女生徒　provides a contextual foundation for the (re)construction of this archetype, offering both social commentary and highly individualized observations from the firsthand perspective of a schoolgirl. In a critical reading of the schoolgirl, one is able to trace the constituents of Kawaii: a normative femininity characterized by a pretension to innocence and smallness. 

Schoolgirl was first published in 1939 in the Literary World magazine. In 1940, it was conferred with the Kitamura Tōkoku Literature Award, Dazai’s first ever literary award. Despite its considerable popularity after its first print, it is scarcely known today. It was translated into English in as late as 2011, an undertaking by Allison Martin Powell for One Peace Books. What Schoolgirl allows for us to deconstruct the character of a schoolgirl, both offering room to comprehend the struggle of subscribing to a normative femininity while also accepting this norm. The protagonist, even as she is able to acknowledge her own pretentiousness, does not seem to be able to find a way out of it. Her performance of gender, thus, is typical in that she is just another schoolgirl but atypical because her questioning of this performance is fierce. 

In my analysis of Schoolgirl, I will first establish the historical context that it was produced in, and proceed to then pick instances from the novella that can be recognized as characterizations of attitudes that can possibly be seen to have contributed to perceptions of modern-day femininity. I will focus on the protagonist’s opinions and relationships about and with women in her immediate surroundings, her reflections and criticisms on her own femininity, and contemplate on how her evident sense of alienation could be the result of her continuous grappling with this femininity, compounded with other personal factors. Beginning with an introduction and discussion of the archaic phrase Ryōsai Kenbo (“good wife, good mother”), I will also evoke another archaic phrase that has been gaining recent popularity, Yamato Nadeshiko, to point out how portrayals of an idealized Japanese woman are not mere archaisms but still strongly prevalent. 

2. Ryōsai Kenbo and Yamato Nadeshiko

Situating the novella in its pre-war political context, specifically with regards to the position of women in society, requires an understanding of Ryōsai Kenbo or the phrase “good wife, wise mother”. Popular as an East-Asian concept, the phrase, coined by Nakamura Masanao, first appeared in Japan in the late 19th century towards the close of Meiji period but is said to have been most significant in the war period. Ryōsai Kenbo delineates the performance of domestic chores that were thought to be the ideal of womanhood. Childbearing was considered a “patriotic duty” at the time in order to urge women to be nationalistic. In 1911, when the ethics textbooks came out, it was introduced to elementary schools’ curriculum. (Nocedo, 2012)

Although the phrase Ryōsai Kenbo (“good wife, good mother”) is not commonly evoked now despite continuing to remain startlingly relevant, a different phrase called Yamato Nadeshiko has become well-renowned. Yamato denotes the nation Japan and nadeshiko is the name of a delicate pink carnation called Dianthus Superbus. The phrase was employed historically as a floral metaphor to describe the epitome of demure Japanese feminine beauty: shy, modest and innocent (The British School in Tokyo Principal’s Blog, 2015). It has been used nostalgically in reference to what is seen as the modern rarity of a ‘good’ Japanese woman who exhibits all the traditional virtues, with the Japanese Women’s soccer team also holding the same name.  The last two mojis or letters of  “大和撫子” translated to English mean “a child that can be caressed”, with the verb 撫でる meaning “to brush gently; to stroke; to caress” and the noun 子 meaning a child. 

The origin of the phrase remains ambiguous, but it’s traceable first mention is by French journalist Pierre Loti in his Madame Chrysantheme (1888), recounting his visit to Japan of 1885. His conclusion was largely, “France for food, Japan for wives”, and even though he did make critical commentary about aspects of the Japanese society, he was all praise for Yamato Nadeshiko. 

The Yamato nadeshiko is renowned for her bihada (美肌, beautiful skin), bihatsu (美髪, beautiful hair) and yanagigoshi (柳腰, willowy hips), not to mention a patented okuyukashisa (奥ゆかしさ, a deep and abiding modesty) that both defines her personality and adorns her being. She’s also about practicality. According to my own observations, 75 percent of the typical Yamato nadeshiko is made up of an unshakeable devotion to kaji (家事, household chores) — whether she’s married or not.  (Shoji, 2013)

3. The Schoolgirl and Femininity: Firsthand Reflections 

The protagonists dealings with her own femininity are fraught with ambiguity; even in her desiring of certain feminine traits and her want to be noticed or paid attention to, there is a clear disgust towards pretentiousness. This ambiguity appears at several points in the course of her monologue, an instance of which can be observed in the opening pages of the novella, “I’m slightly self-conscious and then suddenly irritated and annoyed…”. This self-consciousness is a very contextual occurrence; it emerges in her relationship with the world and her own memory. At this point, she defines this feeling as, “Sort of like opening a box, only to find another box inside, so you open that smaller box and again there’s another box inside, so you open that smaller box and again there’s another box inside. and you open it, and one after another there are smaller boxes inside each other, so you keep opening them, seven or eight of them, until finally what’s left is a tiny box the size of a small die, so you gently pry it open to find…nothing, it’s empty…” (17).  This emptiness, we can assume, rises largely from having lost her father. But it isn’t only that; her prose seems to indicate that the loss of her father has opened up a deeper wound, making her acutely aware of an emptiness that has existed all along. This sense of emptiness, it can be argued, lies in her realization of her own womanhood and femininity especially as an adult, a disgruntling state that she both wants to live up to seeks an escape from.

“Now, even when I make an outfit for myself, I wonder what other people think. […] I always want everyone to think I am a good girl.” (42)

This is an assertion she makes repeatedly, although her sentence structures alternate from creating an impression of goodness and purity in relation to people in her surroundings to actually being a good girl. This performance of femininity may not be for oneself, but one is deluded into thinking that it is in fact for oneself, hence solidifying the concept of unconscious self-objectification. 

“What’s more, when my glasses are off, I don’t ever think about arguing with anyone at all, nor do I feel the need to make snide remarks. All I do is just blankly stare in silence. During those moments, thinking that I must like a nice young miss to everyone else, I don’t worry about the gawking, I just want to bask in their attention, and I feel really and truly mellow.” (19)

This particular passage lends itself to a metaphorical reading. If one were to understand the function of glasses as enabling not only seeing but critical evaluation of one’s environment because of the ability to see them clearly, it could be assumed that taking the glasses off implies a conscious dumbing down of sorts. With her glasses off, she refrains from voicing her opinions and embraces silence and innocence, in order to be able to receive attention and be perceived as a “nice young miss to everyone else”. In her choice to use the words “everyone else”, it is revealed that she does not see herself as a “nice young miss”, but anyhow makes the effort in order to be perceived so. Consequently, we are told how she has an urge to make the attempt to cry but fails and comes to the conclusion that she might have “turned into an impressive girl” (23). This reflects how an essential part of being “an impressive girl” is resisting such urges for dramatic emotional display; what we see is not a refusal to cry, but an inability to squeeze out a tear. A static emotional state, thus, seems like a prerequisite; one must cluster all feelings together in order to construct a farcical appearance of being calm.

“I changed into the underclothes I had finished sewing yesterday. I had embroidered little white roses on the bodice. You couldn’t see this embroidery when I put on the rest of my clothes. No one knew it was there. How brilliant.” (24)

Another important aspect of prescribed femininity is inconspicuousness. Despite its ubiquitous presence in terms of both objects and attitudes, it has the quality of being inconspicuous. While it is a tool for seeking attention and eventually, validation, it is also manifested in small actions that come without a necessary motive but there is still an awareness about rendering something as appearing to be an unconscious effort. 

“In this very magazine, there was the headline, “Young Women’s Shortcomings”, with things various people had written. As I read it, I got the feeling that they were talking about me and I started to feel self-conscious.” (36)

“The religious ones were quick to bring up faith, the educators were all about moral obligation and the politicians trotted out Chinese poetry. […] …Instead of telling us not to do this or that, were to instruct us convincingly about what we ought to do, all of us would gladly pay heed. […]They scolded us for not having any real hopes or ambitions, but if we were to pursue our true ideals, would these people watch and guide us along the way? […] But it would require considerable effort to express such things in our typical life as a girl.” (40)

The mainstream women’s magazines at the time were certainly not at the forefront of progressive social change: Shufu no tomo, more famous for its supplements on knitting and cooking, confined few articles on women’s rights and placed its emphasis firmly on the ‘good wife and wise mother’. In the first half on the 1930s, two-thirds of the table of contents of the rival magazine Fujin Kurabu or Women’s Club consisted of moral instruction or ‘glorious stories’ aimed at women as daughters, wives and mother, together with articles on home management. The first underlying message was of women as the property of men.  (Wilson, 1995)  In the novella’s temporal context, we learn of a prevalent didacticism; there is a societal attempt to maneuver the lives of women through reprimanding their lifestyles. What must be noted is that this kind of reprimanding necessitates an appropriation on the part of the people reprimanding; the expressing of “such things in our typical life as a girl” requires “considerable effort” precisely because the writers of these articles are not women but men in positions of power who are appropriating the way women should lead their lives. The protagonist clearly finds this moral policing exhausting; her deliberations with regards to this constant ‘scolding’  are more self-oriented than social criticisms. 

“Really, I don’t know which is the true me. […] My self-criticisms seem basically pointless to me. I would start to judge, and when I’d get to my negative or weak traits, I’d immediately begin to indulge or wallow in self-pity, and then decide it’s no good, why not just leave well enough alone, so I’ve given up on criticism. It would be best best if I just didn’t think of anything at all.” (36)

“I didn’t know whether it was better to maintain a fierce distinction between yourself and your acquaintances in society in order to deal with and respond properly to things in a pleasant manner, or rather never to hide yourself, to remain true to yourself always, even if they say bad things about you.” (78)

This inability to know one’s true self, or in our protagonist’s case, ‘the true me’, can be understood as representing the conflict an individual faces while trying to navigate the terrains of her community. “I can be so pretentious that it’s hard to deal with sometimes.. “I overcompensate, so that I become a monstrous littler liar ruled by the conventions of poise,” I might say, but then, this too is just another pose, so it’s hopeless. […] As I stood there modeling for Mr. Ito, I prayed intently, “Let me be natural, let me be genuine.” (52) Here, I’d like to argue that the “conventions of poise” can be read as belonging in the framework of femininity, asserting again how “poise” is not something one is naturally imbued with, but something that one must aspire to acquire, and that its ultimate manifestation must be in the bounds of a certain “convention”. There are times when the protagonist makes remarks resembling “…I wish I had nice eyes that sparkled softly.” (21) or “No matter how you looked at it, I didn’t look cute at all.” (54), reiterating that her conception of beauty is fraught with a limitedness, an invisible governing standard that qualifies what may be considered beautiful and what doesn’t “look cute at all”. 

In a similar vein, she also mentions “If I were to experience failure upon failure day after day – nothing but total embarrassment – then perhaps I’d develop some semblance of dignity as a result.” (35) This evokes the idea of embarrassment as being a stepping stone to ideal womanhood; if one must develop dignity, it is a milestone to be achieved through failure and the downplaying of one’s own position rather than making an effort to be independent, self-reliant and successful. On another occasion, however, we hear her saying “I will never do anything to make myself a laughingstock – even in my pain and loneliness, I will still protect what is important.” (69) The “important” object in question here is not directly named, but one could again locate it in the ambit of desired womanly traits that require of a woman to be smiling regardless of what she may truly be feeling. 

In its aspiring towards an everlasting beauty, femininity, especially how it is perceived here, also implies a return to childhood, or rather, the retention of a childlike quality reminiscent of innocence even through adulthood. Although we are not given the exact age of the protagonist, we are aware that she is a schoolgirl and that she strongly resists the transition to adulthood.

“As I hoisted it, I was startled to hear myself exclaim, Alley-oop! I have never thought that I was the kind of girl who would utter such a unrefined expression as “Alley-oop”. It seems like the kind of thing an old lady would should – “Alley-oop!” It’s disgusting. Why would I have said such a thing? It’s as if there were an old lady somewhere inside of me, and it makes me sick.” (18)

“It made be miserable that I was rapidly becoming an adult and that I was unable to do anything about it. (85)

“I want to have a doll-like body forever. I splashed the bathwater about, trying to imitate a child, but I still feel depressed. (86) 

These remarks also give us linguistic insight; the protagonist’s disgust at using an archaic expression reflects her conscious rejection of all archaism. Perhaps, this could be read into further to see how Kawaii must necessarily be a reflection of the new and the young, an overt exclamation that establishes the superiority of the “doll-like body”. It is also interesting to note that by nature, trends are short-lived; however, in it’s adulation of innocence, Kawaii, even as a trend, emphasizes a certain kind of “forever”. 

The Schoolgirl and Female Relationships 

The protagonist shares observations and anecdotes of conversations and experiences with several women who feature in her life, from passengers on the bus to her own mother. The articulation of these views becomes revelatory in understanding her own position on femininity. What occupies a large part of the text is how she perceives her relationship with her mother. Although there are visible fluctuations, there is enough evidence to say that she pities her mother, and as a strangely drawn consequence, she pities herself. Towards the novella’s closure, she acknowledges this most strongly, “Indeed, Mother and I are both as weak as the other.” (72) It is as though she sees her own pretentiousness being reflected in her mother, and being direct witness to it allows her to draw insights like:

“Not surprisingly, she was laughing cheerily at something. When it was just the two of us, no matter how hard she laughed, Mother never made a sound. On the contrary, when she entertained guests her face didn’t smile at all, instead high-pitched laughter rang out.” (62)

Even as she says, “I want to be a good daughter whose feelings are in perfect sync with Mother’s, and just because of that, I go to these absurd lengths to please her.” (69), she criticizes her mother for being reduced to a weak woman after the death of her father,“She was nothing more than. a weak woman. Was this how subservient she had become since father was gone?” (76). It is perhaps her reflections on the doubleness of her mother’s attitudes that eventually enables her to see her own possible pretensions. The discussion in question here is of her mother’s laughter, a distinctive trait in the deliberations made on women’s beauty. While entertaining guests, “high-pitched laughter” rings out, which is unlike the mother’s soundless laughter when she is only in her daughter’s company. This could again be analyzed as the doubleness that Kawaii creates, where one aspires to convince oneself of a certain kind of existence of the self while also at the same time manufacturing a different kind of self to present to other, and eventually witnessing a superimposition of these selves which creates confusion as to what the original self is. This is why the sexism that Kawaii propagates is barely noticeable; it does not only involve living up to a societal standard but also deluding oneself in believing that there is, in fact, no societal standard and one’s attempts to be Kawaii are out of a natural predisposition. 

Her conversation with her friend Kinko is a more pronounced reflection of how innocence entails a deliberate dumbing down in order to achieve “full” femininity. 

When I asked her sweetly, “With whom is your omiai?” she answered straightforwardly, “Every man to his trade, or so they say.” “It’s best for a temple daughter to become a temple bride. I’ll never have to worry about where my next meal comes from. Kinko seems to lack any trace of a personality, and as a result, her femininity is at full tilt.” (55)

Not much later, our protagonist also makes a startling assertion, “Heaven forbid if beauty were to have substance. Genuine beauty is always meaningless, without virtue.” (73) This is indicative of a feigned emptiness and in effect, subservience, that must come with being beautiful and hence allowing one’s femininity to perceived as being at “full tilt”. 

Intriguingly, we can also read this analogy of an implied hollowness as being extended to food. The protagonist busies herself with preparing a snack for her mother’s visitors. “…since I can’t offer much in the way of cooking, the least I can do is try to fool guess with something beautiful that bedazzles them with its outward appearance.[…] When I looked up the word “rococo” in the dictionary the other day and saw that it was defined as a decorative style that was elaborate yet devoid of substance, I had to laugh.” (72)

Even as she tries to plate the ingredients carefully in order to construct a beautiful dish, she lapses into a reverse chain of thoughts, “In the end, who cares?! I told myself desperately and, no longer concerned with taste or appearance, I flung things about in a messy clatter. Looking decidedly displeased, I brought the meal to the guests.” (73) This occupation with being able to construct beauty through a simulated nothingness leads to severe exhaustion in the case of our protagonist. While invoking a beloved teacher, she remarks “But I would like this teacher a whole lot more if she weren’t so “composed.” She’s a bit too poised – there’s something unnatural about her. It must be exhausting to be her.” (48) Clearly, there is a sense of being trapped in this simulated nothingness.

Towards the conclusion one comes across what is perhaps the most piercing statement with regards to the protagonist’s perception of the position of women, “Long ago, women were called slaves, dolls, mere works with no self-regard, and though bad things may have been said about them, they had a vastly superior sense of femininity than the likes of me, as well as inner reserves and the wisdom to contend with their state of subservience effortlessly. They understood the beauty of genuine self-sacrifice and knew well the pleasure of wholly unrewarded service.” (94)

This lends itself quite easily to an ironical reading; the protagonist pushes the idea of a femininity that will not revolt against social standards but rather embrace them with acceptance in order to be able to peacefully co-exist with what seems like a society that will not move. This is also to suggest that the weight of the contradictions the protagonist’s own self is fraught with would considerably minimize if she were to accept her position as being inherently subservient. The eulogizing of “self-sacrifice” in the compendium of virtues that constitute femininity is foundational to the formation of Kawaii as it is understood today because self-sacrifice, in the sense it is used, has the connotation of purposefully making invisible one’s own beliefs, ideas and opinions in order to not rupture the social fabric.