Why women, more than men, are abandoning rural Japan Bigger cities are, in turn, skewing more female Apr 1st 2026|NANTO|4 min read KOYASU MIWA traverses Japan, from Sapporo in the north to Miyazaki in the south, with one goal: to make the countryside less hostile to women. Ms Koyasu runs a consultancy that advises local governments, lectures businessmen on discrimination and runs workshops urging community elders to let women take a bigger role in local decision-making. On a recent stop in Nanto, a region in central Japan ringed by snow-capped mountains, she leads a session on gender inequality for members of its various community councils, volunteer bodies that deal with issues from disaster preparedness to organising festivals. Of the 31 council chairs in the region none is a woman. Ms Koyasu’s work is part of an effort to assuage a national worry: young women are draining away from the countryside and from small-town Japan. A government report in 2014 expressed alarm about the future of 900 municipalities, half of the country’s total. It concluded that the number of women of child-bearing age in those places would fall by half within the next quarter-century, and that these municipalities faced “extinction” as a result. Officials in lots of outlying places accept that young people will move to cities for university or a first job. But they count on them doing a U-turn and returning home in their 20s or 30s. Yet in roughly 70% of Japan’s 47 prefectures, young women are leaving at higher rates than young men. In Toyooka, a small city in western Japan, census data show that 52% of men who left as teenagers came back in their 20s. For women, the figure was just 27%. Tokyo and a handful of other urban centres are seeing the opposite trend, with more young women moving in than men. The reasons for all this are deeply entrenched: a shortage of good jobs for women, a wider gender pay gap than in the cities and many other forms of sexism. Last year a government regional-revitalisation plan cited unconscious bias and inflexible gender roles as forces pushing women away. Rural areas often struggle with attitudes that the larger cities have shed, argues Yamamoto Ren, a campaigner. In many small offices, women still make the tea while men make the decisions. Ms Yamamoto says those who have left for cities sometimes dread returning home for holidays. “Family and neighbours keep asking, ‘Isn’t it time for a baby?’” Although many Japanese women are enjoying their lives in the cities, others would willingly return to the countryside if things were different. Tokuno Sayuri, a woman in her 30s from Nanto, returned there after briefly living in Tokyo, finding the capital too hectic. Miura Miwako, a journalist in Akita, a northern prefecture famed for its bears, says she would ideally spend her whole career there. “The countryside suits me better,” she says. Yet both she and Ms Tokuno are deeply frustrated with the status quo. “When women notice discrimination here, they rarely speak up—they just leave silently,” says Ms Miura. Many smaller places have now established strategies to tackle gender discrimination. Initiatives in Toyooka include handing out manga cartoons that raise awareness of the issue, and training teachers and businesspeople. Ms Koyasu, the consultant, says her work was once met with jeers and pushback. “But people are increasingly realising that being inclusive towards women is a matter of survival.” Therein lies a tension at the heart of many of the official initiatives. The single biggest reason authorities want women to stay in the countryside is so they can have children. “I never want women to feel like they’re simply kept around to pop out babies,” says Ms Koyasu. Promoting gender equality ought to mean accepting a woman’s choice not to marry or have children. In practice, many towns send mixed signals. Even those that now promote gender equality also sponsor nannyish matchmaking schemes, such as hosting government-backed parties for young singles to find partners, or getting local elders to encourage those who are too shy to pair off. In Nanto, both programmes sit in the same department. Last year Iwate prefecture published a dating guide urging women to wear skirts that make them look “delicate” and make-up that looks “demure” to attract husbands. Changing attitudes, as Ms Koyasu puts it, will take time. ■ 日本鄉村的「消失女孩」 日本的鄉村正在失去她們的女性。 雖然日本年輕人往大城市跑不是新鮮事，但最近的數據顯示，女生離開家鄉的比例遠遠高過男生，這讓很多地方政府開始緊張了，甚至出現了「地方滅絕」的危機感。我們一起來看看是怎麼回事。 1. 誰在決定鄉村的大小事？ 我們先把鏡頭轉到日本中部的「南砺市」。這裡風景很美，被雪山環繞，但這裡的社會結構卻很「硬」。 有一位叫小安三和（Koyasu Miwa）的顧問，她每天的工作就是跑遍全日本，試圖讓鄉村對女性更友善一點。她在南砺市辦了一場講座，對象是當地的「社區委員會」。這些委員會管的事情可多了，從防災到辦祭典都要負責，但全區 31 個委員會的主席，竟然沒有一個是女性。 這就是問題的核心：在很多鄉下地方，做決定的永遠是男性長輩。 2. 回不去的家鄉 日本政府早在 2014 年就發出警告，全日本有一半的鄉鎮（大約 900 個）面臨消失的風險。原因很簡單：育齡女性流失得太快了。 很多地方官員原本以為，年輕人去東京讀書、工作，到了二、三十歲總會回鄉成家吧？結果數據狠狠打臉。在兵庫縣的豐岡市，去外地闖蕩的男生有 52% 會回流，但女生只有 27%。換句話說，女生一旦看過外面的世界，就不想回去了。 3. 為什麼女生不回來？ 這背後的原因其實很根深柢固： · 職場天花板： 鄉下的好工作少，男女薪資差距比大城市還大。 · 刻板印象： 很多辦公室還留著「女生倒茶、男生決策」的舊習。 · 社交壓力： 很多女生說，回老家過年最怕鄰居問：「什麼時候要生小孩？」這種令人窒息的關心，讓家鄉變成了壓力堡壘。 有一位在秋田工作的記者三浦美和子（Miura Miwako）說得很精準：「當女性在這裡感覺到歧視時，她們很少會大聲抗議——她們只是靜靜地離開。」 4. 為了生存，還是為了女性？ 現在，越來越多的小鎮開始緊張了。有的發漫畫宣傳性別平等，有的幫老師和商人上課。小安顧問說，以前她演講時常被噓，但現在大家慢慢發現：「這已經不是政治正確的問題，而是生存問題。」 不過，這裡有個很矛盾的地方。政府之所以想留住女性，主要目的是希望她們「生孩子」來挽救人口。 這讓政策變得很奇怪：一方面在推性別平等，另一方面卻在辦那種「保姆級」的相親活動。甚至還有縣政府發手冊，教女生要穿裙子看起來比較「纖弱」、妝要畫得「端莊」才討男人喜歡。 說到底，如果鄉村留住女生的目的只是為了讓她們當「生育機器」，那這種平等恐怕只是表面功夫。 真正的進步，應該是讓女生不論想不想結婚、想不想生小孩，都能在自己的家鄉感受到尊重，並且有發揮才華的空間。這條改變觀念的路，日本鄉村顯然還有一段路要走。 --Hosting provided by SoundOn