「もっと踊ってよ、アメノウズメさん
腕ふり回し、汗かき散らし、
首しならせて、
踊って、踊って、もっと、もっと」

"Dance for us again, Ame no Uzume
Swing your arms, shake off the sweat
Tilt your head toward the heavens
And dance, dance, again, again"

— Takako Arai (新井高子), Asa o kudasai,

Chizu o moyasu (『地図を燃やす』), 2013

When the world was plunged into darkness and the Sun goddess Amaterasu withdrew into a rocky cave, the desperate deities convened a council. They tried everything—pleas, rituals, spells—but nothing worked. Eight hundred concerned kami stood around the heavenly cave in distress, from which the wounded Amaterasu refused to emerge, depriving the entire world of the life-giving rays of the sun. Then she appeared on the scene—or rather, leapt onto an overturned barrel: naked, laughing, unruly. Ame no Uzume—the goddess of dawn. She was not the most powerful. She was not the most important. But it was she, by dancing wildly and laughing shamelessly, who lured Amaterasu out of the cave and returned light to the world. Not solemnity, but ecstasy. Not power, but the ritual of joy. It was not great wisdom, but sacred foolishness that averted catastrophe.

Amaterasu, though worshipped as the highest deity of the pantheon, shuts herself off: she embodies control, a sense of duty, propriety, a wounded soul that can no longer dance. She is the archetype of the woman burning out in the light of expectations, seriousness, and the pursuit of a socially imposed ideal. Uzume is her opposite—wild, naturally corporeal, sensual, joyful. She does not rebel, but heals. Her dance is catharsis: a reminder that the body too has a soul, and that sanctity can laugh heartily.

In Japanese mythology, femininity does not appear as a single fixed ideal, but as a dramatically stretched triad of archetypes: the mother, the warrior, and the shamaness. In this view, Izanami—the primordial mother of the world—is the Great Mother, both creative and destructive. Amaterasu is the virgin warrior—closed within her radiant dignity, separated from the body and emotions. And Uzume? Uzume is the third pole—wild, sensual, laughing, manifesting in rhythm, body, and intimacy. For contemporary scholar Hirosawa Aiko, Uzume is more than a myth—she is a model of 21st-century female identity. Not one that conforms to norms, but one that transforms them. Uzume does not seek acceptance—she creates a new space in which spirituality does not exclude sensuality, and tenderness can coexist with strength. Hirosawa calls this assertive receptivity (shutaiteki juyōsei): femininity not as an assigned role, but as a conscious choice. So let us see what we can still learn today from the ancient mythology of Japan!

Ame no Uzume – goddess of dawn, dance, and joy

In the Shintō pantheon, Ame no Uzume no Mikoto (天宇受売命 or 天鈿女命) occupies a peculiar and luminous place—not as a powerful creator of worlds or a furious warrior goddess, but as the one who restores order, life, and light through laughter and dance. Among the thousands of kami, or spirits and deities of Japanese religion, Uzume stands out not by majesty, but by unrestrained joy, indecent courage, and the deep wisdom of the body. Her story is found in the central Shintō myth, recorded in the ancient chronicles Kojiki (712 CE) and Nihon shoki (720 CE), which form the foundation of Japanese national mythology.

In this myth, the Sun—goddess Amaterasu—after a series of humiliations and acts of violence from her brother, the storm god Susanoo, hides herself away in the cave Ama-no-Iwato, taking with her all the light of the world. Heaven and earth fall into darkness. The world begins to die: plants wither, people suffer from hunger, and the divine order is suspended. Then eight hundred spirits gathered at the entrance to the cave convene a council. Attempts at persuasion, spells, and pleading fail—Amaterasu does not respond.

And then Uzume appears.

An unassuming goddess, not the “most important,” not a warrior nor a ruler—but a dancer. She improvises: she sets up an overturned wooden tub as a stage, hangs a shining mirror and jade beads in front of the cave, and begins a wild, even obscene, dance. To the rhythm of drums, she stomps barefoot, sways her hips, laughs uproariously, and tears off her clothes, revealing her breasts and genitals, eliciting bursts of joyous laughter among the gods. This is sacred shamelessness, stemming from ancient fertility rituals. But it is not provocation—it is catharsis. When Amaterasu, intrigued by the noise and sounds of merriment, peeks her head out of the cave, she sees in the mirror… her own brilliance. Amazed, she takes one step, then another—until the god of strong arms (Tajikarao no Kami) shuts the entrance behind her. Light returns, order is restored. And not by power, but by laughter. Not by violence, but by dance. Not by the solemnity of the council of eight hundred concerned deities, but by the naked frolics of the unruly Ame no Uzume.

This dance was not merely a spontaneous ecstasy. In the Shintō tradition, it is regarded as the birth of kagura—ritual dance in honor of the kami. The kagura performances, still staged in Shintō shrines today (though no longer nude), re-enact this scene through the miko priestesses, who pass down the memory of Uzume from generation to generation. Uzume thus became the patroness of dawn (for she awakened the Sun), of laughter (for laughter heals), of theatre (for she began performance), and of fertility (for the dancing body creates life).

Within the Shintō hierarchy, she also serves as a kami of boundaries—not so much geographical ones, but existential ones. The boundary between light and darkness, joy and sorrow, body and spirit. As a companion of Amaterasu’s divine grandson, Ninigi, Uzume participates in his descent from the heavens to earth (tenson kōrin), persuading the guardian of the earthly realm, Sarutahiko, to let the divine procession pass—not by force, but with a smile, perhaps even flirting with him on the boundary between heaven and earth. Eventually, she becomes his wife, and their descendants give rise to the Sarume clan, responsible for ritual dances and communion with the kami. In this way, Uzume becomes an initiatory figure, a guide through the world of chaos and shadow.

Her presence can still be felt today in Noh theatre, in the comedic kyōgen performances, in ceremonial kagura, but also in boisterous festivals and in laughter that unexpectedly breaks the silence—as if Uzume herself were reminding us that joy is not a luxury, but the force of life itself.

What does her name mean, and what secrets does it hold?

The name Ame no Uzume holds many layers of meaning, combining into a poetic whole the ideas of celestial power, feminine energy, ritual expression, and the boundary between worlds. In ancient Japan, where the word was magic and the character a gateway to another dimension, the names of deities (kami) did not merely describe their functions, but also defined their place in the cosmos.

In the most frequently encountered classical sources, the goddess’s name appears in two versions:

► 天宇受売命 (Ame no Uzume no Mikoto) – from the Kojiki
► 天鈿女命 (Ame no Uzume no Mikoto) – from the Nihon shoki
Although the phonetic readings are the same, the differences in kanji carry various nuances of meaning, the interpretation of which requires both linguistic and cultural knowledge.

天 (Ame) – “heaven”

The first character in the name, 天, read as ame (in kun’yomi) or ten (in on’yomi), means “heaven,” the divine sphere, and also the spiritual world. In Shintō mythology, Ame often signifies a deity’s origin in Takamagahara—the “High Plain of Heaven,” the celestial dwelling place of the kami. This character also carries connotations of cosmic order and divine harmony—it stands in contrast to the dark realm of Yomi, the underworld into which Izanami vanished (you can learn more about that story here: The Tragedy of Izanami and the Fury of Izanagi in the Land of Decay – In Japanese Creation Myths, Death Always Wins).

宇 / 鈿 (U) – “space, firmament / ornament”

Here we encounter the first significant difference between the two versions of the name.

► In the spelling 天宇受売命, the character 宇 is used, meaning the celestial firmament, roof, or the expanse of the universe. It relates to the idea of a cosmic canopy, and thus also the boundary between heaven and earth. This character also appears in the word uchū (宇宙) – “cosmos.”

► In the alternative version from Nihon shoki: 天鈿女命, the character 鈿 (u) is much rarer and more poetic. It means a metallic ornament, inlaid jewelry, and in a ritual context—a feminine decoration used during kagura dance. It alludes to Uzume’s status as a goddess of performance, adorned with gleaming accessories that shimmer in the light of ritual fire.

受 (Zu) – “to receive, receptivity”

The character 受 (read here as zu) signifies receiving, accepting, receptivity, and can also be interpreted symbolically as readiness for intimacy—be it spiritual, sexual, or ritualistic. In the feminine and sacred context, it indicates the ability to incorporate heavenly power, but also to open oneself to ecstasy, laughter, and life. This is the core of Uzume’s entire symbolism—the goddess who receives, but also transforms.

売 / 女 (Me) – “woman”

Here again, we find two variants:

► 売 – although it now means “to sell,” in ancient Japanese it could be used phonetically as me (woman), in an archaic function. This type of usage—employing a character for its phonetic rather than semantic value—is a classical technique in man’yōgana, the ancient Japanese writing system.

► 女 – a far more straightforward character for “woman,” read as me or onna. In the Nihon shoki version, where it appears as 鈿女命, it emphasizes that Uzume not only receives divine energy, but embodies femininity itself.

Possible interpretations of the name Ame no Uzume:

► “The woman who receives heavenly energy”
→ Ame (heaven) + u (firmament, space) + zu (to receive) + me (woman)
→ An archetype of woman as a channel between heaven and earth—a medium of divine ecstasy, a guide of dawn and life.

► “Ornamented woman of the heavens”
→ With the 鈿 (metallic ornament) variant—portrays Uzume as an artist and ritual dancer, whose body and movement are both an adornment of the world and a tool of sacred transformation.

► “She who dances between heaven and earth”
→ A metaphorical interpretation, capturing her role as a liminal figure—a woman present at the border between worlds: sacred and profane, life and death, body and spirit.

Note on archaic language forms

It is worth remembering that the language of the Kojiki and Nihon shoki—written in the 8th century—employs archaic Japanese and frequently uses the man’yōgana system, where Chinese characters function primarily as carriers of sound rather than meaning. This means that many kanji used in the names of deities operate on a symbolic-phonetic level, making their interpretation multi-layered.

Example: the writing 鈿女 may be phonetic (read as Uzume), but semantically it evokes associations with ornamentation and femininity—something that perfectly aligns with Uzume’s role as a divine dancer, whose body and gestures are at once art, sanctity, and an act of world transformation. Thanks to such a polysemous name, Ame no Uzume is not only a mythological figure but also a linguistic poem about femininity, laughter, and ritual.

Let us recall the myth

Legend about Amaterasu in a Cave and Dancing Ame no Uzume

In ancient times, when the world was still taking shape, heaven and earth were ruled by divine forces, and above them stood Amaterasu Ōmikami—the goddess of the sun, of light and order, worshipped as the highest among all kami. Her brother, Susanoo no Mikoto, was the opposite of that harmony—an unrestrained god of storms, winds, and wild force, whose heart was as turbulent as the hurricanes he commanded. Banished from the heavens for his disobedience, Susanoo went to his sister to bid farewell—yet even his gestures were full of chaos.

As part of a strange divine wager, Amaterasu and Susanoo began creating children from sacred objects they gifted each other—to prove the purity of their intentions. But Susanoo, as was his way, crossed the line. He destroyed rice fields, knocked down the heavenly gate, and finally, in a fit of rage, threw a dead horse—sacred to Amaterasu—straight into her weaving hall, causing the death of one of her handmaidens. Outraged and plunged into grief, Amaterasu withdrew into a cave called Ama-no-Iwato—a rocky cavern in the heavens—sealing it behind her with a massive boulder and cutting the world off from her light.

In an instant, the entire world was engulfed in darkness. Nothing grew, nothing bloomed, the sky hung heavy over the earth, and the gods—desperate—gathered at the entrance to the cave. They tried every possible way to persuade Amaterasu to return, but none succeeded. Then she stepped forth—Ame no Uzume no Mikoto—the goddess of dawn, laughter, and wild joy. She set up an overturned barrel as a drum, climbed onto it, and began to dance—in a mad, indecent, trance-like fashion. She removed parts of her robe, shook her breasts, laughed uproariously—and all the gods burst into joyful laughter, applause, and cheers. Intrigued by the noise, Amaterasu cautiously slid the boulder aside.

And then, seeing her own reflection in the gleaming mirror hung at the entrance—Amaterasu believed it to be a new sun goddess—she stepped forward. At that moment, a strong god standing to the side moved the boulder away, and light once again flooded heaven and earth. Uzume’s dance not only restored the day but also gave rise to the ritual theatre of kagura—and initiated the tale of feminine power that restores harmony to the world not with anger, but with laughter and the courage to be oneself.

Strong Feminity of Uzume

Dance as a spiritual and revolutionary act

This was not a dance for entertainment. Nor was it merely a spectacle for the eyes (well, perhaps it was—but that was not the main intention). When Ame no Uzume—the divine woman, embodiment of dawn, laughter, and trance—stood before the cave with the sealed entrance in which Amaterasu had hidden, her movements were not merely bodily expression but a ritual intervention in the order of the world (and this remains the purpose of kagura ritual dance to this day). It was there, at the mouth of the cave, where the whole world had fallen into darkness, that not only joy was born, but Japanese theatre itself. From the birth of that dance arose kagura (神楽)—sacred music and dance, which still lie at the heart of many Shintō rituals.

Kagura, literally “music of the gods,” is a form of ritual dance performed in Japanese shrines for hundreds of years. Its roots trace back to the myth of Uzume—her dance upon the overturned barrel, the drums, the shouts, the baring of breasts and hips. This “indecent” ecstasy was not an affront to the sacred—it was its driving force. It was through laughter and corporeality that Uzume jolted the gods from their lethargy and Amaterasu from her mourning. It was not great wisdom, but sacred mischief that reversed the catastrophe.

Her movements created an archetype: the priestess dancing in trance, a medium between worlds. To this day, miko—Shintō priestesses—perform ceremonial kagura dances as an expression of communion with the kami. Rhythmic gestures, fans, drums, bells—all of it refers back to Uzume’s primal act, which led the world out of shadow.

Uzume did not merely dance. She entered a trance, and her feet struck rhythmically upon the overturned barrel as if it were a drum. The drum in Japanese tradition—as in many other world cultures—symbolizes the heart of ritual, the pulsing rhythm of the universe. Uzume’s stomping feet were the heartbeat of a world being reborn. The laughter she provoked was not merely a response to a naked dance, but a mechanism for restoring balance. In Japan, laughter had exorcising power—it drove away evil, healed the soul, brought light (unlike in most Christian medieval beliefs, for example).

That is why Uzume is considered not only the inventor of dance, but the inaugurator of ritual laughter as a form of spiritual transformation. Laughter became the gate between the world of suffering and the world of light—a kind of cathartic exorcism that requires no words, only rhythm, body, and courage.

Ecstasy instead of silence – Uzume in contrast to Amaterasu

In the myth, Uzume and Amaterasu meet as two poles of feminine being: the withdrawn, lonely, silent sun goddess, and the dancing, noisy, sensual goddess of dawn. Amaterasu flees into darkness, mourning, and the death of the world. Uzume—acts. Not through force, not through logical persuasion, but through active ecstasy that disarms the darkness. Uzume exposes her body, disarms convention, crosses boundaries—and that is precisely why she is effective.

This opposition is not a negation, but a complement (just as dawn is not the opposite of the sun—thus: Uzume is the complement of Amaterasu). Without silence—Uzume’s ecstasy would be mere buffoonery. Without laughter—Amaterasu’s darkness would never have lifted. Japanese mythology here reveals something deeper than a comical story of the gods: it shows the balance of feminine forces, which together create wholeness—and the courage of laughter that heals the world.

Uzume and the paradigm shift – from taoyame to ozu-me

In Japanese myths, femininity is often portrayed through the filter of subtlety, silence, and submissiveness. In classical texts such as Kojiki and Nihon shoki, the term taoyame (手弱女) appears frequently, which can be translated as “delicate woman,” or literally, “woman with weak hands.” This word is saturated with cultural expectations: softness, passivity, emotionality. Such femininity is assigned value, but it is also constrained—its strength lies in silence, its power in non-action.

Yet Ame no Uzume, although referred to as taoyame in one passage of the Kojiki, eludes this label entirely. When all the gods stood helpless before Amaterasu’s sealed cave, it was she—not the strongest, not the most hierarchically important—who stepped forward. She initiated action. She approached the problem from a seemingly “improper” angle—through laughter, obscenity, dance, and corporeality. And yet, it was her gesture that brought back the light. In this way, Uzume embodies a reversal of the paradigm—she is a taoyame who acts like an ozu-me (a powerful woman).

In an alternative etymology of her name, recorded in the Kogoshūi, Uzume bears the ancient name Ame no Ozu-me (天大女命 or 天鈿女命). The element ozu can mean “great,” “strong,” and in Old Japanese could also suggest “wildness” or “untamed power.” Thus, Uzume appears not as a “delicate woman,” but as a powerful woman who does not deny her corporeality, but sanctifies it—through ritual, dance, and action.

This radical contrast makes Uzume an archetype of the transformative woman—who can unite gentleness with strength, warmth with initiative, closeness with leadership. In this sense, she is not the opposite of taoyame, but its spiritual and social evolution.

Femininity as choice, not imposition

The contemporary scholar Hirosawa Aiko introduced the term “assertive receptiveness” (shutaiteki juyōsei, 主体的受容性)—a concept describing femininity not as a quality assigned from above, but as a conscious choice of strategy and presence. Uzume embodies this model: she is receptive, but only when she chooses to be; she acts, but not through violence or domination—through ritual, humor, and empathetic transformation of the situation. She does not fight—she transforms.

In this sense, Uzume becomes the embodiment of femininity as an act, not as an identity imposed by society or myth. Her dance and laughter are not an escape from norms, but a rewriting of them—on her own terms.

The sacred shamelessness – psychological and social dimensions of Uzume

There is something in her that resists easy categorization. For psychoanalysts, Uzume is a trickster figure, a saint of shamelessness—someone who operates at the threshold of chaos and order, profane and sacred. Her nudity is neither erotic nor comedic in itself—but symbolic: it is an act of reclaiming space through the body, a breaking of taboos that had paralyzed the gods. Her shamelessness heals Amaterasu’s shame. Her laughter drives out the darkness.

In Japanese culture, where shame (haji) often functions as a moral and social regulator, Uzume becomes a therapeutic exception. She laughs at what cannot be spoken. She dances where silence once reigned. She is needed precisely because she transgresses—not to destroy, but to renew.

The Woman of Japanese Mythology

In the mythology recorded in the pages of the Kojiki and Nihon shoki—the two oldest Japanese chronicles—femininity does not appear as a single fixed ideal, but as a dramatically stretched triad of archetypes: the mother, the warrior, and the shamaness. This structure was proposed by Japanese psychologist and mythologist Kawai Hayao, who developed his interpretative map of the feminine psyche rooted in Japanese mythology. In this perspective, Izanami—the primordial mother of the world—is the Great Mother, both creative and destructive. Amaterasu is the virgin warrior—enclosed in her radiant dignity, separated from body and emotion. And Uzume? Uzume is the third pole—wild, sensual, laughing, manifesting through rhythm, the body, and community.

Amaterasu—though venerated as the highest goddess of the pantheon—symbolically severs herself from the world in her most famous myth: she hides in a cave, withdrawing from life both literally and metaphorically. She is the figure of a woman crushed by duty, wounded, controlling—who has forgotten how to dance in the light of day. And it is precisely here that Uzume appears—as her shadow. Everything Amaterasu represses—laughter, shamelessness, dance, corporeality, connection with instinct—Uzume embodies and expresses. She is unafraid of laughter, unashamed of the body, unwilling to mute her presence. She steps onto the stage as a divine trickster, but her “foolishness” holds healing power—like cathartic laughter that lets you breathe again.

Uzume not only leads Amaterasu out of the cave—she also shows the path to inner integration. Symbolically, she heals the fragmented female identity, uniting the spiritual and the corporeal, the serious and the playful, the sacred and the sensual. This is not about a return to archaic wildness, but about an acceptance of wholeness—a place where joy, spontaneity, and strength do not exclude one another.

The contemporary scholar Hirosawa Aiko takes this psychosocial analysis a step further. In Uzume, she sees a model of 21st-century feminine identity—not one that “adapts” to a role, but one that chooses. Hirosawa calls this attitude shutaiteki juyōsei—“assertive receptiveness”: the awareness that one can be tender and strong at the same time, that one can laugh out loud and manage life with dignity. Uzume does not fight for a place in the system—she creates a new space, where corporeality, spirituality, and community dance together. In a world full of pressure and division, her figure becomes increasingly relevant: as a symbol of a femininity that need not be “ideal,” but true enough to bring light back into the cave.

Ame no Uzume Today – Between Symbol and Practice

Though Ame no Uzume hails from remote mythological epochs, her dance has never ceased to resonate. It is still danced today in kagura—ritual Shintō performances, where the body of the priestess moves to the rhythm of drums, fans, and bells, on the threshold of trance and prayer. In shrines such as Taga Taisha or Amanoiwato Jinja, offerings are still made to her—not only of rice or sake, but of laughter, song, and movement. Uzume, though sometimes pushed to the margins beside the solemnity of Amaterasu or the force of Susanoo, has remained alive—because she represents something culture has always needed, even if it has often been ashamed of it.

In a reality increasingly demanding authenticity, Uzume is a profoundly contemporary figure. Patroness of laughter and flirtation, but also of spiritual ease—not the superficial, hedonistic kind, but a deep ease in tune with oneself. Patroness of crossing boundaries—those imposed by society, gender, religion, and “good manners.” Her presence dissolves the tension between sacred and profane: she shows that laughter can be prayer, and dance a means of restoring the world’s balance.

Do we need more Uzume today? A woman who does not apologize for existing. Who does not ask whether it is appropriate to laugh. Who does not hide her body, but turns it into a tool of transformation. Perhaps that is why she keeps reappearing— in manga, in performances, in theatre, in the rituals of new spiritual movements, in women’s circles, and on activist forums. Not as a decorative goddess, but as an archetype—free, wild, present.

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"Strong Japanese Women"

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    未開    ソビエライ

 An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)

Personal motto:

"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)

  Mike Soray

   (aka Michał Sobieraj)

未開    ソビエライ

 An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)

Personal motto:

"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)

Mike Soray

(aka Michał Sobieraj)

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