Peeking Through a Crack in the Curtain

In the shadows of Tokyo’s dark alleys, but also on the highest floors of the most expensive apartments, there lies a world that most people prefer not to know about. A world where brutality is the norm, and loyalty is measured in blood and suffering. This is the world of the yakuza – Japan’s mafia, dominated by men with strict codes of conduct. However, men make up only half of any population on average. Behind the curtain of this brutal kingdom, women also hide – invisible, often silent, but far more complex than the stories suggest. Wives, lovers, daughters... and perhaps, though it is rarely spoken of, mysterious female bosses, the onna-oyabun.

Their lives are a daily struggle for survival in a world that does not recognize them as full members. The yakuza is an organization where women’s roles are precisely defined – they are to be quiet, loyal, and ready for sacrifice. They are the shadow of their husbands, a shadow that manages the household, raises the children, and sometimes even quietly runs the family business. Their bodies, covered in irezumi tattoos, tell stories of pain, devotion, and belonging, if not even of "ownership." However, behind this silent suffering lies something even more disturbing.

Darkness shrouds the details; this is not a world open to those of us living in a relatively predictable society of law and order. But we can peek through the crack in this dark curtain thanks to the stories of former yakuza members like Nishimura Mako, or the memories of daughters like Shoko Tendo. Their stories echo a world where women, though hidden in the shadows, play a much larger role than it might seem.

Readers interested in the history and customs of the yakuza as an organization, both its origins and its contemporary fate, are invited to explore two articles: [History of the Yakuza] and [The End of the Yakuza].

The Role of Women in the Yakuza: Between Tradition and Reality

In the world of the yakuza, women have always existed on the border between light and shadow, kept away from full power but still crucial within the organization’s structure. The role of the yakuza leaders’ wives is deeply rooted in the tradition of the organization, where, as ane-san – wives of the boss – they are an integral part of the mafia hierarchy. They provide support to their husbands, manage the household, raise the children, and sometimes become the confidantes of the darkest secrets. Their loyalty is unquestionable, and their lives are subordinated to the criminal interests of the family, though they do not officially participate in the yakuza’s activities.

However, this is only part of the truth. The reality in which these women operate is far more complex and ambiguous. On the one hand, they are the shadows of their husbands, but on the other – they play an active role in running nightclubs, illegal businesses, and sometimes even become dangerous adversaries. As one former yakuza member recalled, "Women are the shadow that can be used for quiet actions – their presence in business gives a certain advantage that men cannot provide." Their role is fluid, sometimes almost invisible, yet undeniably essential. They certainly gain experience in ruling alongside their husbands, as there are accounts that they take over his role in the event of his death: "She was the wife of the boss of the tekiya group. After his death, she took control of the group. She was an ordinary old lady," says a marubo (policeman specializing in organized crime) in an interview with the Washington Post in 2022.

Few women in the history of the yakuza have achieved a position they could call their own. However, examples like Fumiko Taoka show that in the right circumstances, women are capable of taking the reins and managing the most powerful criminal organizations in Japan. Fumiko, after the death of her husband – the legendary leader of Yamaguchi-gumi – not only took control of the syndicate but maintained it during times of chaos and uncertainty. "She was the shadow of her husband, but when he was gone, the shadow turned into a light that held the organization together," recalled a former yakuza who observed her actions up close.

In this reality, where violence, loyalty, and sacrifice often represent different faces of the same guiding value, women of the yakuza play far more complex roles than a first glance might suggest. Though they rarely become full-fledged leaders, their strength lies in their ability to manage, in their discretion, and in their loyalty to the family.

Women of the Yakuza Who Have Made Their Mark in the Organization’s History

Nishimura Mako

Nishimura Mako is an absolutely unique figure in the brutal world of the yakuza. She is the only woman who has been formally accepted into this criminal organization, undergoing the sakazuki – the sake exchange ritual that seals loyalty to the gang. Nishimura, a petite woman in her late fifties, does not look like a classic yakuza member, but her body, covered in tattoos, and the missing little finger speak for themselves.

In her youth, after a difficult childhood with a strict father, Nishimura became entangled in the world of bōsōzoku – motorcycle gangs – and quickly gained a reputation as a ruthless fighter. When she had to defend a friend, she literally turned the fight scene into a "bloodbath," catching the attention of the local yakuza boss. Her life in the criminal underworld was a constant struggle for survival, as well as for recognition among the men who ruled the gang. She became a "master of finger cutting," helping other members perform yubitsume, the act of self-mutilation in atonement for mistakes.

Ultimately, however, addicted to methamphetamine and disillusioned with the changes in her gang, she left that path, but her tattoos and past forever left their mark, preventing her from returning to a normal life.

Shoko Tendo

Shoko Tendo’s story is entirely different – she is the daughter of a yakuza boss who, from an early age, witnessed the dark side of this organization. Her childhood, which at first seemed happy, quickly turned into a nightmare of violence, addiction, and brutal relationships. At school, she was bullied, and at home, she had to face the reality where her father, a gangster boss, was entangled in numerous debts and conflicts.

In her teenage years, addicted to drugs, she was repeatedly raped by men to whom her father owed something. One of the darkest moments in her life was an attack after which she barely survived. Beaten unconscious, she slowly began to realize that if she didn’t escape from this world, she was headed for an early death.

Determined to take control of her life, Shoko covered her body with traditional tattoos, which were meant to symbolize her belonging to the yakuza, but at the same time were her final reckoning with the past. The tattoos became a manifestation of her strength and independence. Ultimately, Shoko broke free from this hell and embarked on a career as a writer, describing her experiences in the bestselling book Yakuza Moon: Memoirs of a Gangster's Daughter. Today, she is a symbol of the struggle to regain control over one’s life.

Yoshiko Matsuda

Yoshiko Matsuda is an example of a woman who, after the death of her husband – the boss of Kanto Matsuda-gumi – took over the reins of his organization. Giichi Matsuda was known for his brutality, which was most evident during the so-called Shibuya Incident in 1946, where Matsuda-gumi members clashed with Taiwanese traders in a shootout in front of the police.

After Giichi’s death, his wife Yoshiko coldly took control of the gang and ruled its hundreds of members with equal brutality, maintaining an iron grip on the black market in central Tokyo. Interestingly, Yoshiko was the first person from the yakuza to openly cooperate with Americans, revealing the inner workings of the Japanese mafia, which shows her cunning and understanding of post-war Japan’s new reality.

While history knows many cases of women associated with the yakuza, Yoshiko stands out for her ruthlessness and how effectively she took on traditionally male roles in the mafia world, where women were pushed to the margins.

Toshiko Matsumoto

Toshiko was born into a family deeply connected to the yakuza. Her father was a mid-ranking member of one of the gangs in Osaka, which exposed her to the dangers and brutality that characterize this criminal world from a young age. Growing up, Toshiko watched as her father sank deeper into debt and alcohol problems, which only exacerbated his aggression towards the family. The home was ruled by fear and uncertainty, and young Toshiko sought escape in the streets of Osaka, where she met other young criminals, often connected to the yakuza.

Toshiko quickly became addicted to drugs – in her case, it was heroin, which at the time circulated on the black market. This addiction drew her closer to one of the local yakuza bosses, who exploited her weakness and forced her to work as a hostess in one of his clubs. Toshiko, entangled with men who controlled her life, quickly became a tool to repay her father’s debts. In exchange for drugs, she was used, beaten, and her body, covered in tattoos, became increasingly "enslaved" by the organization.

The most shocking moment in Toshiko's life was the day she found out that her father had sold her debt to a rival gang, which meant not only that she was obliged to work for them but also that she had to give her loyalty to people who had once been enemies of her family. During one of the brutal clashes between gangs, Toshiko was severely beaten, and her injuries prevented her from working in the club for many weeks. Surviving in this world was becoming increasingly difficult, and her situation seemed hopeless.

It was then that Toshiko, like Shoko, began to search for a way out. She made the decision to sever all ties with the yakuza, even though she knew it could cost her life. She found refuge in a rehabilitation center for former yakuza members, where she began to rebuild her life. In her case, the process was particularly difficult, as she had to fight a deep heroin addiction as well as the psychological consequences of years of violence and exploitation.

Today, Toshiko works to support women who, like her, were entangled in the yakuza world. She helps them find a safe place to live and offers psychological support, trying to make them aware that there is a way out of this dark world. Her story shows that women can find the strength to escape the hell they found themselves in, and that even in the darkest moments, hope can be found.

A Photographic Glimpse into the Lives of Yakuza Women

The photographic project by Chloé Jafé, titled "I Give You My Life", opens a dark and hidden window into the lives of women associated with the yakuza – those who usually remain in the shadows of men but are crucial to the functioning of the entire organization. Jafé, a French photographer, with determination and perseverance infiltrated the hermetically sealed world of the yakuza to capture rare scenes, showing women who have dedicated their lives to the "family." Her photos are full of intimacy and emotion, depicting both the everyday lives of these women and their deep loyalty to the organization. Sometimes resigned, sometimes strong, the protagonists of her photography reflect the complex relationships that bind them to the men of the yakuza.

One of the central elements of this project is the tattoos – irezumi, which play a crucial role in shaping the identity of women associated with the yakuza. These highly symbolic tattoos, created with a traditional, painful method, are a sign of devotion, patience, and belonging. Every line, every motif tells the story of their sacrifice, loyalty, and suffering. Although tattoos in Japan still provoke controversy, and their bearers are often marginalized, in the world of the yakuza, they are a kind of initiation ritual and a testament to the strength and endurance a woman must show to survive.

These tattoos also become symbols of the suffering that women tied to the yakuza must endure – both physically and emotionally. Jafé captured moments in her photographs where women, sometimes nude, reveal their tattoos, which are rarely seen in public. It’s a gesture of courage, but also a reminder that their bodies are a record of difficult experiences, marked by loyalty to men who often do not appreciate them, but instead exploit them. In this context, tattoos are not just an adornment but a declaration of belonging to a world that rejects their autonomy and right to make decisions for themselves.

Life After the Yakuza

When a woman leaves the world of the yakuza, it’s rarely the end of her troubles – rather, it’s the beginning of a new kind of hell where the past becomes a shadow that cannot be shaken off. Tattoos, amputated fingers, and the indelible mark of their ties to crime remain visible on the body and in the soul. Japanese society, known for its discipline and harshness toward those who violate its order, often does not offer these women a second chance. Even if they want to escape the dark world they were once part of, social exclusion and the stigma of the yakuza are something they must fight against every day.

One of the most vivid examples of this struggle is the story of Nishimura Mako. As the only woman who was formally accepted into the yakuza through the sakazuki ritual, Nishimura faced extraordinary challenges after leaving the organization. Her tattoos and the missing little finger – a symbol of yubitsume, the traditional form of self-punishment in the yakuza – prevented her from starting a new life. Wherever she went, she was seen as part of the mafia world, even though she had long left it behind. "I couldn’t find a job," she recalls, "no one wanted to hire someone with a past like mine."

In response to these challenges, Nishimura turned to charity work. With the help of Mr. Fujimoto, a former yakuza member, she became involved in the activities of Gojinkai, an organization that supports former criminals, offering them help with social reintegration.

It was there that Nishimura found meaning in her life, helping others who, like her, were trying to rebuild their lives after years spent in the criminal underworld. Every night she meets with former yakuza members around a table, talking about the past, present challenges, and efforts to build a better future. Although her body still bears the marks of a brutal past, she now strives to help those who want to leave behind the dark path she once walked.

A similar struggle for acceptance is led by Shoko Tendo, whose story has been widely described in her bestselling book Yakuza Moon: Memoirs of a Gangster’s Daughter. As the daughter of a yakuza boss, Shoko grew up in a world of violence, drugs, and addiction that dominated her youth. The tattoos covering her body were meant to symbolize her belonging to this world, but they also became her curse.

In Japan, tattoos still evoke widespread dislike and are almost exclusively associated with organized crime. For Shoko, whose life was marked by suffering and exclusion, this symbol of loyalty to the yakuza became an obstacle in her attempts to return to normality. Although she is now a recognized writer, her life is still filled with struggles against prejudice, which accompany her even in the simplest everyday activities, like going to the gym or a public bath, where she has to hide her tattoos to avoid looks of disgust.

Conclusion

The world of the yakuza is not just one of male dominance and brutality – it is also the stories of women who exist on the boundary between two realities. On the one hand, they are submissive, quiet, but loyal; on the other hand, these same women can become key cogs in the criminal machine. Their role does not end with being the shadow of male leaders; they are witnesses, participants, and victims of a life that knows no mercy. Their bodies are maps of suffering, where every scar, tattoo, and missing finger is proof of survival in a world where loyalty is measured in blood, and honor is destroyed with the first mistake.

For most of these women, life after the yakuza is not a new beginning but a long process of avoiding looks of contempt, fighting for the simplest rights – to work, to normality, to dignity. They are trapped between the past and the present, with a past that returns like a shadow from which they cannot escape. Every tattoo, once a symbol of belonging and strength, has now become a stigma – a sign of rejection by Japanese society, which is known for its inability to forget and forgive.

Moreover, reality shows that leaving the yakuza, if even possible, is a process fraught with risk – not only of reprisals from the organization but also of almost total isolation from "normal" life. Women who have survived in the shadows of this organization for years may never find their place in a society that, on the one hand, fears the yakuza and, on the other hand, cannot understand the complicated relationships these women had with the criminal world. Even when they try to create a new life, they carry the chain of distrust and unspoken punishment imposed by Japanese reality.

In the shadow of Tokyo’s neon streets, the question remains – will they ever be able to escape their past, or are they destined for an eternal fight for survival in a world that will never accept them?

 A connoisseur of Asian culture with a deep-seated appreciation for various philosophies of the world. By education, psychologist and Korean philologist. By heart, an Android developer and an ardent tech aficionado. In tranquil moments, he champions a disciplined way of life, firmly believing that steadfastness, perpetual self-enhancement, and a dedication to one's passions is a sensible path for life.

Personnal Motto:

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

  Mike Soray

(aka Michał Sobieraj)

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