A yarn of hope: how Japanese women turned adversity into opportunity | Yumiko Ono | TEDxMarunouchiWomen

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community.

Ono speaks to her audience of how the women who suffered from the 311 disaster. Those whom pulled together from their horrid situation and created an opportunity for themselves, by beginning a knitting community. She described great stories of regular but amazing women who inspired to make more of themselves, despite all the stereotypes placed upon them, and encouraged them to pass on their stories to young girls who are just looking for a role model.

Whenever I talk to young Japanese women,
all seem to have a common complaint.

"I can't find any role models
around me," they say.

"I keep hearing about the same
handful of wildly successful women,

but they have nothing to do with me

and I can't find anyone around me
that I could aspire to."

Well, it's true

that Japan has a long way to go
in the advancement of women.

After all,
the Global Gender Gap Report says

Japan is number 105 out of 136 countries.

But beneath the surface, I've encountered

many, many powerful stories of women
really trying to make it work,

women coming up against challenges,
overcoming them,

and sometimes
even turning them into an opportunity.

Here is a group of women
from Shichigahama, in Northern Japan.

All of their homes were washed away
by the tsunami two and a half years ago.

They're living
in temporary housing complexes.

Their futures are uncertain.

But take a look at this picture,
they seem kind of cheerful.

And look at all this knitting
in front of them.

They did all of that.

They knit every day.

Not just for themselves

they knit for everybody around town.

They knit for other tsunami victims.

And recently, they sent a batch
of baby hats and sweaters

to the refugees from Syria.

How did this happen?

It's because of Teddy Saka.

Here on the right.

Teddy is a retired missionary from Ohio.

With a big, warm smile
that you can see here.

She was living in Shichigahama
during the time of the earthquake,

and she wanted to do something
to help the women.

She thought that well,
maybe if they kept their hands busy,

that might help them
take their minds off their worries.

It worked.

It worked even better
than Teddy had ever imagined.

Teddy held classes every week
- more than 30 women showed up -

some every single day,
including the weekends.

They knitted, they chatted,
and they comforted themselves.

"Oh, the bath water turned so cold,
so quickly in the winter.

How can I cope?"

"My husband's so depressed.

He sits in front of the TV all day
and does nothing."

Of course, the knitting
didn't solve every problem.

After all, they're still stuck
in temporary housing

two and a half years later.

But it did give them something
to look forward to.

They formed a bond.

When one woman didn't come in one day,
they said, "Are you OK?

Why aren't you here?"

Soon, people from around the world
started giving yarns to these women,

and they felt guilty
about just receiving.

They wanted to give back.

They found that the knitting
was a way for them to do so.

Because they heard about
the refugees from Syria.

More than two million people
were fleeing their countries

to nearby countries, including Jordan.

They were living in refugee camps.

Some women were having babies there.

It was getting cold.

And there weren't enough clothes
to keep them warm.

So they just started knitting up
baby sweaters and hats

like the ones shown here.

And recently, they sent them
to a bunch of Syrian refugees in Jordan.

This is Mayumi Hoshi.

She lives in a temporary housing complex

with her husband
and a 90-year-old father-in-law.

Her home was washed away,
and she doesn't know

when she's going to get out
of this temporary housing.

But she told me,

"Even for somebody like me,
in such a tough situation,

it feels so good to be able
to do something to help others."

I've been a journalist
for more than 20 years.

During this time,

it's been a deeply frustrating
but also fascinating time

for women in Japan

the year that I graduated
from college, 1987.

Well, that was the year
that the Japanese companies

started experimenting
with The Equal Opportunity Act

which meant that they could hire
a certain number of women

on the same career track as men.

But they were kind of tentative
in about how they went about this.

Imagine the frustrations
of a career track woman

working for a bank

who's told that she still has to wear
a company uniform,

just like all the other women clerks,

because otherwise,
the clerks would get upset.

I myself got discouraged by this,
and I decided to join a foreign company.

Four years later,
I learned that 25% to half of the women

who entered their jobs
on the career track

had already left their jobs.

But this was just the beginning.

There were more and more women
entering the workforce.

Some were in it for the long call.

They were going to work
until they retired,

and they wanted to keep their identity,

which meant they wanted
to keep their maiden names

even after they got married.

Well, this was against Japanese law,
you couldn't have two last names.

It had to be either his last name
or her name, and you had to choose.

It was very unlikely that he was going
to give up his name for hers.

Some women got creative.

They practiced
what I call "serial divorce".

It works like this:

they register their marriage
under his name,

but she continues to use her own name
in all other walks of life

until it comes time, let's say,
renew her driver's license.

What happens then?

They file for divorce.

She renews her driver's license,

and then they get married again,

until it comes time for her
to renew something else,

like like her passport, for instance.

And it goes on and on.

Well, it kind of gives you
new ideas, doesn't it?

Soon though, the long economic slump
meant that women were losing their jobs.

The clerks were replaced by temps,
and the temps were cut all together.

But some women didn't want
the corporate lifestyle anyway.

They wanted to found their own companies
and do something they enjoyed more,

like doing your nails.

Suddenly, the manicurist
was a hot occupation.

But it was a very competitive
scene out there.

To really stand out from the crowd,
it helped to have a license

not just in Japan
but in the prestigious U.S.

So I followed a group of women
who all boarded a plane,

headed to New York, determined to get
the New York state manicurist license.

(Laughter)

With them, they all had each,

one of these
plastic hand mannequin things

with long nails at the end
so that they could practice.

Imagine the guy who opened up
the luggage to check. (Laughter)

Oh gosh!

They hold themselves up
in a hotel room for a whole week

to practice, practice, practice,
polish, polish, polish,

and they all passed with flying colors.

The story that has stayed with me,
a long time after I wrote it,

is the journey of housewife Masako Torini.

Masako was a well-off housewife,
who saw it as her life mission

to tidy up the house

and take care of her husband
and two children.

She collected wedgwood chinaware

and she spend
her New Year's vacations in Hawaii.

Then, her husband's business failed.

For the first time, in more than 20 years,
Masako had to go and find a job.

She wrote up her resume.

It had one job on it, flight attendant,
that she got out of high school,

but which she left when she got married,

as was the rule back then
for all flight attendants.

The rest of her resume was blank.

It took months and months
for Masako to find a job.

But she finally landed one
as a hotel receptionist.

It was a world that she knew little about

and which had little tolerance
for the likes of her.

Her boss was her daughter's age.

And she found that she was really bad
at some of the basic things at work

like getting phone numbers down correctly
and spelling people's names correctly.

But Masako hung in there.

And in the end,
she found a way to make her mark.

Remember,
she used to be a flight attendant

which meant she got grueling,
intensive English language training.

And nobody else at the hotel
could speak English.

So, whenever there was as foreign guest,
it was Masako's turn to handle them.

Masako's life also changed at home.

Before, when her husband
yelled "Ashtray",

Masako would come
and bring it over to him

even if it was right in front of his eyes.

Now, after she started working,

he was the one
who had to take in the laundry

that was hanging outside.

One day, she ventured to ask him,

"Oh dear, I'm so tired.
Do you mind making coffee for me?"

He grumbled.

But he did it.

(Laughter)

Japan still has a long, long way to go

in the advancement of women
as we heard today.

Japan has lofty goals.

30% of leadership positions to be
designated to women by the year 2020.

Well, last year that number was 6.9%

for companies with 100 or more employees.

So there is a long way to go.

But when young women come to me
and say that they have no role models,

in fact, there are a lots of role models.

there are lots of people
who could be role models,

but their stories are not being told.

I've had to push and plead
for people to tell me their stories.

I say, "Can I interview you?
Can I get your profile?"

And they would say to me,
"Me? Oh, but my story's so boring."

I ask all of you here: don't say that.

All of you in this room
have fascinating stories to tell.

Tell your stories
to the young women around you.

And if you're a young woman,
ask about people's stories,

give them more examples
so that they could be empowered,

and show them
that there's more to be encouraged.

Thank you.

(Applause)