By Martina Baradel - The Conversation
Nishimura Mako is a petite woman in her fifties, with loose hair and a delicate face.
But you soon realize that she is not a traditional Japanese: she has tattoos even on her neck and hands and is missing her little finger.
They are signs of belonging to the yakuza, the famous Japanese criminal organization.
The yakuza is dominated by men and only leaves supporting roles for women
.
Typically, a woman involved in the yakuza may be an
anesan
, the wife of a boss who looks after the young members and mediates between them and her husband.
The members' wives and partners support the group peripherally.
Some get involved to the point of managing yakuza-owned clubs or dealing drugs.
When I interviewed Nishimura recently, as part of my research, he told me that when he became involved with the yakuza, at age 20, he took on both roles.
But it went a step further: Nishimura is the only woman to have participated in the
sakazuki
sake cup exchange ceremony.
This is the ritual that confirms formal membership in a yakuza group.
Join the band
Born into a rigorous family of government officials, Nishimura's childhood was strict.
Her memories revolve around her authoritarian father and the bamboo stick he used to discipline her.
During junior high school, he felt the need to escape the yoke of his family.
So she befriended fellow rebels and eventually biker gangs (
bōsozoku
) who taught her how to fight.
Nishimura Mako during his apprenticeshipVia The Conversation
This rebellious streak led her to a young member of the yakuza, who took her under his wing and taught her how to collect protection money, resolve disputes, blackmail, and find girls for prostitution.
His life took a turn when one night he received a call: his friend was in a fight and needed help.
She rushed to the rescue and, with a club, turned the scene into a bloodbath.
This caught the attention of the head of the local yakuza group, who called her into her office.
She told me that she still remembers her words:
“Even if you are a woman, you must become a yakuza
. ”
By then, she had already been in juvenile detention centers several times and her family had given up efforts to save her.
She accepted the boss's invitation and began living the rigorous life of a yakuza apprentice.
She enlisted with a cohort of male recruits and eventually became involved in the group's criminal activities.
Master of finger cutting
Finally, she underwent the
sakazuki
ceremony dressed in a male kimono, and vowed to dedicate her life to the path of the yakuza.
As an affiliate,
she ran prostitution and drug businesses
, collected debts, and mediated disputes between rival groups.
When she cut off her little finger to apologize for a collective mistake in a ritual known as
yubitsume
, she realized that she was good at it.
Members who did not dare carry out the amputation would ask Nishimura to do it for them, earning her the nickname “master of finger cutting.”
But disillusionment set in for Nishimura in his thirties, when methamphetamine became his group's main business and his own addiction began to take its toll.
He escaped, although, ironically, he continued to run his meth business independently.
In retaliation she was expelled from the group.
At that time she began a relationship with a member of a rival group, and a pregnancy prompted her to cut ties with the yakuza world in exchange for a quiet life raising her child.
But, despite his efforts, his yakuza past – marked by his tattoos – prevented him from getting a regular job.
She married the father of her son, now a yakuza boss, and returned to the prostitution business and drug trafficking.
After a second pregnancy, the fights with her husband became increasingly violent, to the point that the police showed up every time one broke out.
They finally divorced and he was left with custody of her two children.
He rejoined his old group, but meth had changed the boss he adored, and within two years he left for good.
Life after crime
Nishimura lived as a male yakuza and retired as such.
She found a job in the demolition business and a modest house where she now lives alone.
She leads a quiet life, trying to be accepted by the community and help others.
With the help of a former yakuza, he also runs a branch of Gojinkai, a charity dedicated to providing housing and help to former yakuza members, ex-convicts, and addicts.
He says, “My day is not complete if I don't come here at night.”
They gather around a table to talk about old times, current difficulties and to see how others are doing.
She is still the only woman at the table.
She insists that what earned her respect in an exclusively male world was her capacity for violence: “I was very good at fighting, I never lost to a man.”
But Nishimura doesn't want to be a feminist icon: it wasn't her intention to break gender stereotypes or advertise herself as the only female yakuza.
There have been other women – such as Taoka Fumiko, widow of a yakuza boss – who, although not formally affiliated, have had a significant impact on the history of the yakuza.
But none took a step like that of Nishimura, who became a full member with his little finger cut off.
Their story redefines the boundaries of gender roles and loyalty in the brutal world of Japanese organized crime: a unique journey of identity and belonging.