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In the golden years of Japan’s economic boom, its men would venture to foreign shores, seeking the thrill of illicit encounters offered by women from poorer nations. But today, the tables have turned, with foreign men now flocking to Tokyo for “sex tourism” as the yen weakens and poverty rises.
Yoshihide Tanaka, secretary general of the Liaison Council Protecting Youths (Seiboren), painted a grim picture of the current landscape.
“Japan has become a poor country,” he told This Week in Asia at the organisation’s offices. Nearby, in a park that’s become synonymous with the city’s sex trade, young women wait for customers before the sun has even set.
Tanaka’s organisation noticed an increasing number of foreigners frequenting the park as soon as pandemic-era travel restrictions were dropped.
“But now we are seeing a lot more foreign men,” he said. “They come from many countries. They are white, Asian, black – but the majority are Chinese.”
This influx has coincided with a troubling rise in teenagers and women in their early twenties turning to the sex industry to survive, Tanaka said, alongside an alarming increase in violence.
“It’s getting worse. Much worse,” he said, shaking his head. “There are more kids here and more violence, but our organisation cannot do anything more than we are already doing.”
Tanaka’s frustration is palpable as he reflects on his decade-long struggle to support the young Japanese women who wash up in Tokyo’s notorious Kabukicho district – a maze of bars, love hotels, and host clubs where the vulnerable are often preyed upon.
Among them is Rua*, a 19-year-old who felt out of place in her high school in neighbouring Kanagawa prefecture. Arriving in Kabukicho in February with hopes of finding a cafe job, she quickly found herself overwhelmed by expenses.
“I owed a lot of money to a host, so from April I went to the park,” she said, using a euphemism for standing on the narrow streets around Okubo Park, waiting to be approached by a potential customer.
“I needed to pay off my debts and wanted to buy nice things, like clothes,” said Rua, her youthful features accentuated by a chic bob and a flair for “Gothic Lolita” fashion.
To finance her visits to her favourite host at a local club every few days, she has also dabbled in what’s known as papa katsu – finding sugar daddies to help cover her expenses.
She speaks of her work with startling nonchalance, detailing prices for an hour in a love hotel – between 15,000 yen and 30,000 yen (US$100-US$200) – like menu items. On slow days, she will meet around five men; on weekends, that number can double. Rua recently had her second abortion, a grim reality of her lifestyle.
“There are all different types of men who come to the park, but I would say that about half are foreigners,” she said. “I’ve talked to girls who have been here longer and they say that is different, that it used to be mainly Japanese men, but this place has become famous.”
Rua mentions “one English man” who is a regular customer, as well as others from Taiwan, mainland China and Hong Kong. “I’m popular because of the way I look so I am always busy,” she said.
But the risks are ever-present. “One of my friends was attacked by a Chinese man on the street a few weeks ago,” Rua said, her voice steady but laced with fear. “They were talking about the price and he suddenly got angry and hit and kicked her. She hit her head on something and had a bad injury. It happens quite often, but I have been lucky so far.”
Tanaka corroborated Rua’s experience. When she called him after her friend was assaulted, he rushed to help, taking the injured woman to the hospital. He said she was angry and wanted to file an official police complaint.
But when it came time to confront her attacker, the police were far more interested in labelling her a prostitute than pursuing justice for her assault. Faced with the reality that reporting the crime could lead to her own arrest, she withdrew her complaint.
“That is always what happens,” Tanaka said, his frustration evident. “The girls are assaulted because the customers know they will not go to the police … The men know this. They think they can do anything.”
Tanaka remains cautiously optimistic about Rua’s future, though he is acutely aware of the toll that her work will take on her mental and physical health – he has seen it countless times before. Few who frequent Okubo Park emerge from the experience unscathed.
As local police and government authorities turn a blind eye, Tanaka fears the spiral of young lives caught in a web of desperation and exploitation will only worsen, while the world watches in silence.
“I think someone is going to get killed, sooner or later,” he said. “It’s inevitable. Right now, no one cares about these girls. One of them being killed by a customer might get their attention briefly, but I expect they will soon forget again.”
Since the archive link didn’t help in getting the full article:
Full text
In the golden years of Japan’s economic boom, its men would venture to foreign shores, seeking the thrill of illicit encounters offered by women from poorer nations. But today, the tables have turned, with foreign men now flocking to Tokyo for “sex tourism” as the yen weakens and poverty rises.
Yoshihide Tanaka, secretary general of the Liaison Council Protecting Youths (Seiboren), painted a grim picture of the current landscape.
“Japan has become a poor country,” he told This Week in Asia at the organisation’s offices. Nearby, in a park that’s become synonymous with the city’s sex trade, young women wait for customers before the sun has even set.
Tanaka’s organisation noticed an increasing number of foreigners frequenting the park as soon as pandemic-era travel restrictions were dropped.
“But now we are seeing a lot more foreign men,” he said. “They come from many countries. They are white, Asian, black – but the majority are Chinese.”
This influx has coincided with a troubling rise in teenagers and women in their early twenties turning to the sex industry to survive, Tanaka said, alongside an alarming increase in violence.
“It’s getting worse. Much worse,” he said, shaking his head. “There are more kids here and more violence, but our organisation cannot do anything more than we are already doing.”
Tanaka’s frustration is palpable as he reflects on his decade-long struggle to support the young Japanese women who wash up in Tokyo’s notorious Kabukicho district – a maze of bars, love hotels, and host clubs where the vulnerable are often preyed upon.
Among them is Rua*, a 19-year-old who felt out of place in her high school in neighbouring Kanagawa prefecture. Arriving in Kabukicho in February with hopes of finding a cafe job, she quickly found herself overwhelmed by expenses.
“I owed a lot of money to a host, so from April I went to the park,” she said, using a euphemism for standing on the narrow streets around Okubo Park, waiting to be approached by a potential customer.
“I needed to pay off my debts and wanted to buy nice things, like clothes,” said Rua, her youthful features accentuated by a chic bob and a flair for “Gothic Lolita” fashion.
To finance her visits to her favourite host at a local club every few days, she has also dabbled in what’s known as papa katsu – finding sugar daddies to help cover her expenses.
She speaks of her work with startling nonchalance, detailing prices for an hour in a love hotel – between 15,000 yen and 30,000 yen (US$100-US$200) – like menu items. On slow days, she will meet around five men; on weekends, that number can double. Rua recently had her second abortion, a grim reality of her lifestyle.
“There are all different types of men who come to the park, but I would say that about half are foreigners,” she said. “I’ve talked to girls who have been here longer and they say that is different, that it used to be mainly Japanese men, but this place has become famous.”
Rua mentions “one English man” who is a regular customer, as well as others from Taiwan, mainland China and Hong Kong. “I’m popular because of the way I look so I am always busy,” she said.
But the risks are ever-present. “One of my friends was attacked by a Chinese man on the street a few weeks ago,” Rua said, her voice steady but laced with fear. “They were talking about the price and he suddenly got angry and hit and kicked her. She hit her head on something and had a bad injury. It happens quite often, but I have been lucky so far.”
Tanaka corroborated Rua’s experience. When she called him after her friend was assaulted, he rushed to help, taking the injured woman to the hospital. He said she was angry and wanted to file an official police complaint.
But when it came time to confront her attacker, the police were far more interested in labelling her a prostitute than pursuing justice for her assault. Faced with the reality that reporting the crime could lead to her own arrest, she withdrew her complaint.
“That is always what happens,” Tanaka said, his frustration evident. “The girls are assaulted because the customers know they will not go to the police … The men know this. They think they can do anything.”
Tanaka remains cautiously optimistic about Rua’s future, though he is acutely aware of the toll that her work will take on her mental and physical health – he has seen it countless times before. Few who frequent Okubo Park emerge from the experience unscathed.
As local police and government authorities turn a blind eye, Tanaka fears the spiral of young lives caught in a web of desperation and exploitation will only worsen, while the world watches in silence.
“I think someone is going to get killed, sooner or later,” he said. “It’s inevitable. Right now, no one cares about these girls. One of them being killed by a customer might get their attention briefly, but I expect they will soon forget again.”
*Name changed to protect interviewee’s identity