I’ve been going to Ni-Chome, in the Shinjuku ward of Tokyo, long before writing Frommer’s Tokyo in the 1990s. It had a very cool reggae bar there called 69 that I loved; it was no larger than a subway compartment and was often just as jam packed. There were usually people there I knew, and I remember more than one occasion when the whole place was dancing in a unified rhythm as though one living organism, belting out the words in unison. There was another bar there called Birdland, eclectically decorated with antiques and a bunch of weird decor and run by a very Zen-like Japanese couple, she with the shaven head of a Buddhist monk, he with long hair.
Kinsmen, a sophisticated gay bar, is still there, welcoming people of all persuasions, and Advocates across the street spills out onto the sidewalk like a friendly block party almost every night. In any case, I’ve seen Ni-Chome grow over the past couple decades into what is probably the largest gay nightlife district in Asia.
My updated account of Ni-Chome appeared in the December/January 2014 issue of Element, a magazine for gay Asian men published in Singapore. To get a handle on what’s new, I enlisted the aid of Shintaro Koizumi, president of Out Asia Travel, a gay travel agency.
P.S. Unfortunately, Element ceased publication, so my article, “Queer Tokyo, Lost in Translation,” is no longer in print. I found smaller versions online, however, in fridae, and GlobalGayz. Or, you can read it here:
Queer Tokyo, Lost In Translation
| February 21, 2014 | Japan |
Walk through the narrow streets of Ni-Chome on a Saturday night, and you’re forgiven for thinking you’ve stumbled upon a massive impromptu gay-pride festival. That’s because Ni-Chome (pronounced knee-chomay) boasts the highest concentration of gay bars in Asia, if not the world.
When I first started coming here 30 years ago, much of the action centered on only a few key spots and was largely underground. Nowadays, Ni-Chome’s 300-some bars, lounges and dance clubs make it one of Tokyo’s most vibrant nightlife districts, attracting both a gay and gay-friendly crowd that fills the narrow streets and makes for a party atmosphere until the wee hours of the night.
But while first impressions suggest that Ni-Chome is an open-arms love fest, Japan’s long history as a closed society plays out even here. The vast majority of the establishments are no larger than walk-in closets, with room for only a dozen or so regular customers. . Many are also strict adherents to a specific scene catering to certain physical, fetishist or hierarchal attributes, whether it’s an attraction to “kuma” (literally bear, or hairy) types or gays on the heavy side.
In some bar, you might be asked to pay an exorbitant cover charge to discourage entry or be turned away by the “master-san,” whose main objective is to guard the tiny enclave for the benefit of regular clients. The language barrier may also be an impediment.
Ni-Chome’s rise as Japan’s premier gay nightlife area began in the 1950s, when American Occupation forces banned prostitution and forced Ni-Chome’s red-light establishments to close, freeing up cheap rentals. Japan has no laws forbidding homosexual activity. Indeed, with no prohibitions imposed against homosexuality by Buddhism or Shintoism (Japan’s indigenous religion), same-sex relationships have been well documented through the ages in Japanese literature and ukiyo-e woodblock prints, including those involving members of the royal court, samurai warriors, monks and Kabuki actors. On the other hand, while gay celebrities and drag queens are ubiquitous on talk and TV shows, gays have no legal rights in Japan. Some local governments, however, including Tokyo, have laws that ban discrimination, and in any case, discrimination is uncommon.
By Beth Reiber
Source – Element Magazine
