When Japan finally stood on the brink of historyâits first female prime ministerâit should have been a moment of pride. Instead, Sanae Takaichi found herself at the center of a nationwide witch hunt.
What should have been a celebration of progress turned into a public trial, complete with insults dressed as âfeminismâ and outrage disguised as âanalysis.â
The first female leader wasnât breaking the glass ceiling. She was being stoned with the shards.
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đ„The Gender Paradox
It was women who cheered when a female leader was finally within reachâand women who turned against her first.
Across social media, the language was viciously personal:
âNot feminine.â
âA man in disguise.â
âAn Abe puppet in lipstick.â
This wasnât politics. It was policing of gender.
Takaichiâs refusal to perform âsoft femininityâ violated Japanâs unspoken rule that women in power must still smile sweetly.
She didnât. And for that, she was branded the enemy of her own sex.
đșThe Media Classroom
Turn on the TV, and the lesson was clear: a woman who doesnât apologize must be arrogant.
Commentators dissected her tone, her posture, even the tilt of her headânever her policy.
One morning show replayed her âangry faceâ in slow motion, as if emotion disqualified leadership.
If a man slammed his hand on the desk, it was âstrong leadership.â
When Takaichi did it, it was âunstable behavior.â
Japanâs glass ceiling is reinforced by microphones and studio lights.
đłïžThe Liberal Silence
The most painful betrayal came not from conservativesâbut from liberals who claimed to fight for equality.
Where were the gender activists when slurs like âAbeâs dollâ flooded X?
Where were the feminist professors when journalists mocked her as âa man in heelsâ?
They were silentâbecause the target didnât fit their ideology.
For Japanâs left-leaning elite, women deserve support only if they conform.
Takaichiâs crime was ideological independence.
In todayâs Japan, thatâs heresy.
âïžThe Politics of Jealousy
Inside the Diet, the whispers were worse.
Senior women in rival parties mocked her as âtoo ambitious,â âtoo proud,â or âtoo close to the old boys.â
In any workplace, thatâs bullying.
In politics, itâs tradition.
Many male politicians privately admitted they feared her competence more than her conservatism.
So they did what Japanâs power networks have always done to strong women:
They isolated herâand called it democracy.
đThe Double Standards
Japan adores slogans like âwomenomicsâ and âdiversity.â
But when a woman actually wins power, she must pass tests no man ever faces.
She must be warm, but not weak.
Tough, but not cold.
Successful, but not threatening.
Fail one of those impossible exams, and the media will remind her of her gender.
âFirst female prime ministerââevery article starts there, and most end there too.
đ§©The Real Fear Behind the Hate
What if the outrage isnât about gender at allâbut power?
A woman who doesnât owe her rise to men, factions, or media patronage is unpredictable.
She canât be controlled through shame or flattery.
And that makes her dangerousâto the system built by men and maintained by obedient women.
So the attacks continueânot because sheâs female, but because she refuses to play the role assigned to her.
đžEpilogue: The Girl They Couldnât Break
Sanae Takaichi may yet fail as a prime minister. But if she does, it wonât be because sheâs a woman.
It will be because Japan still punishes women who stop apologizing.
Every insult thrown at her says less about her characterâand more about ours.
After all, a society that celebrates womenâs success only when they obeyâŠ
isnât progressive. Itâs performative.
And Japan, once again, has turned the classroom of equality into a schoolyard of bullies.