Japan’s new prime minister, Sanae Takaichi, has found herself at the center of a cultural dilemma that is drawing nationwide attention. As the first woman to hold the country’s highest political office, she may soon confront one of Japan’s oldest and most sacred traditions: the rule that bars women from entering the sumo ring, known as the dohyo.
The issue has resurfaced ahead of the ongoing Kyushu Grand Sumo Tournament in Fukuoka. Traditionally, the prime minister presents the Prime Minister’s Cup to the tournament winner on the final day, a ceremony steeped in prestige. However, under the ancient Shinto belief that the dohyo must remain pure and male-only, women have been banned from stepping inside it.
Chief Cabinet Secretary Minoru Kihara addressed the controversy cautiously this week, saying that the prime minister “wishes to respect sumo tradition and culture” and that the government will make a decision “based on the prime minister’s will.” His remarks have left the public wondering whether Takaichi will honor tradition or take a historic stand for gender equality.
The Japan Sumo Association (JSA), which oversees the sport, has long maintained that preserving tradition is its “mission.” Yet, many see the rule as outdated, particularly in a nation where women have made significant strides in politics and public life.
Attempts to challenge the custom date back decades. In 1990, Japan’s first female chief cabinet secretary, Mayumi Moriyama, was denied the chance to present the trophy. Similar rejections followed in later years, including when Osaka governor Fusae Ota and Takarazuka mayor Tomoko Nakagawa were both barred from the dohyo despite their official roles.
The debate reignited in 2018 when female nurses rushed into the ring to save a collapsed mayor during an exhibition match, only to be ordered to leave. The incident sparked international criticism and forced sumo officials to apologize, yet the core rule remained unchanged.
Supporters of reform argue that the dohyo should represent unity and respect rather than exclusion. “The question should not be whether the prime minister is a man or a woman but respect for the position itself,” said Megumi Komori, a gender equality campaigner.
Still, Takaichi, known for her conservative values, may choose to avoid confrontation. Observers believe she could assign a male representative to present the trophy instead, sidestepping a direct clash with tradition while maintaining public support.
For now, the question remains unanswered: will Japan’s first female leader break a centuries-old barrier or uphold a custom rooted in its cultural identity? Whatever Takaichi decides, the outcome is certain to resonate far beyond the sumo ring, symbolizing the delicate balance between modern progress and ancient tradition in Japanese society.
