In the collective imagination, tekiya street vendors are rough, hardened men. Yet nearly half of the workforce at matsuri festivals are women. So behind appearances, who really runs the tekiya business?
It is 10 p.m. at the Tōka Ebisu festival at Yanagiwara Ebisu Shrine in Kobe. A group of women is gathered around a grandmother standing behind a yatai stall. Each brings her money: here, a bag containing the takings from baby castella; there, another from karaage; and yet a third from roasted chestnuts.
The grandmother collects the bags and has her 33-year-old granddaughter count the bills. “And in this one, how much is it?” Every yen is tallied and then recorded in the account book. The grandmother, Yoshiko, keeps a close watch.
When they are not at festivals, the women vendors come directly to her house to hand over the day’s earnings. And the same ritual begins again. Bills are counted in tens of thousands or in thousands. Piles of 500-yen and 100-yen coins are made. The floor is strewn with bundles of banknotes, which are then carefully put away, safe from prying eyes.
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Exclusively Male Leaders
“Grandma,” I ask her, “why are you in charge of the accounts?”
“Because I’m oyakata!” she jokes in front of the group of women.
We all know this isn’t true. Women vendors can never become tekiya bosses. In fact, they are not even considered tekiya in their own right. One boss once told me that they are called tekiya simply for convenience, without any distinction being made between women and men.
Most often, they are “someone’s wife.” Philippe Pons notes that the wives of oyakata may be called anego, literally “big sister,” but never “mother,” while men are called “father.” According to Kanae Atsu and her research in the northern districts of Tokyo, women are always called nēsan. They are never considered “mothers,” despite their husband’s status as “father.” Fictive kinship therefore does not include them.
In reality, they are merely “collaborators,” not to say “assistants.”
Menopausal Women: Men in the Making
This has even become a joke with one of the women I regularly work with. One day, she tells me she has reached menopause and that she is “becoming a man.” We both laugh, joking that she might finally be able to become a real tekiya!
In her second book on a commercial group in Tokyo, Where Do the Tekiya Come From? Tracing the Modern and Contemporary History of Street Commerce, Kanae Atsu writes: “Women are indispensable to the ikka ‘commercial group’ as bearers of the trade, but they cannot be members of a ‘family-based social group’ according to the customs of tekiya society.” The author notes that women cannot bear the shop sign—the title reserved for men. The anthropologist also points out that the perception of women as assistants is a practice very typical of East Asia.
A Combative World
After the death of her husband, the head of one of the largest tekiya groups in Hyōgo Prefecture, Takami, who lives in Amagasaki, had to choose a successor for him. At no point was it considered that she might take over from her late husband herself. I asked her whether she would like the situation to change. She found the question incongruous.
When I ask the women who work at matsuri festivals why only men can lead the groups, they reply that it is a fierce, brawling world and that men are needed to put an end to conflicts. For a French woman like me, this seems rather strange, since it is these very same men who caused the conflicts that then need to be soothed…
Change on the Horizon?
Yuki is the granddaughter of an oyakata. Unlike others, she hopes the situation will change. “I would like to become oyakata myself, to have my own group,” she says. Mutsumi, who is married to a tekiya and has been in the trade for 30 years, adds: “If I were a man, of course I would want to become a leader.”
In an influential group in Hyōgo Prefecture, in Amagasaki, the women worry about the day when the group’s nēsan dies. “It will be completely different—things are bound to change, especially since she’s the one who manages all the money.” The nēsan women, just like the male oyakata, are guarantors of a certain order and of the proper functioning of the social family. Without her, what would become of the enterprise?
Women and Their Ties to Suppliers
If Grandmother Yoshiko joked with me by saying she was oyakata, the fact remains that she is the one who manages the accounts. Everything goes through her: shopping, restocking, wages, and earnings.
She is the one in contact with suppliers to place orders. Goods are delivered to her, and she is the one who pays for them. In many families, women are the holders of the money and distribute it according to needs. When we go out to eat with other tekiya, it is always the highest-ranking woman who pays the bill.
Although they cannot become leaders, the women who hold the highest rank are nonetheless nēsan, the “big sisters,” those to whom obedience and respect are owed. This is the case for Takami, whom I mentioned earlier. Although she is not oyakata, she is granted certain privileges: she can open her stall whenever she wishes and keep the profits for herself. From that point on, this widow no longer needs a man, as she runs her shop with an iron hand.
Fear of Retirement
At retirement age, male tekiya can ask their boss for permission to open an independent stall. Women, of course, cannot: they are only allowed to work alongside their husbands. This raises an obvious question: what happens to all these women when their husbands die?
When we know that life expectancy in Japan is 87.14 years for women and 81.09 years for men, and that women continue working later in life than men, what becomes of them?
Do Single Men Exist?
If women can exist in tekiya society only when accompanied by a man, what about the reverse? Can men progress on their own? The answer is no. One of the few rules for becoming an oyakata, the leader of a tekiya group, is to be married. This is the second most important criterion, after having proven oneself over many years.
Mandatory marriage provides stability and the reflection needed to keep the business afloat. Marriage is seen as having one’s feet on the ground. It is also an acknowledgment that being supported by one’s wife is indispensable to the proper functioning of the enterprise.
During the sakazuki ceremony—the exchange of cups of sake that allows a member to become a leader—only men are invited, along with the wives of the incoming and outgoing chiefs. The male assembly is then welcomed by the women at the banquet that follows the ceremony, but the women are not allowed to attend it. Historian Philippe Pons also writes that the mother or wife “serve to magnify the exploits of men.”
Two flips of a coin
Women are therefore an asset nonetheless. If they are the key that allows men to access high-ranking positions, they are also valued for their gender at matsuri festivals. Several of them explained to me that women sell certain goods better than men do. “People trust us more; we attract customers better,” one of them smiles.
In this sense, ringo ame (candied apples) and banana choco are entrusted to women. Stalls selling candied ginger are the preserve of mature women over 60, since the clientele is older than at other stands. As for baby castella, while men handle the baking, women take care of sales.
The image of the good salesperson, then, is a feminine one.
“As Strong as a Man!”
Feminine, perhaps—but no less virile than men. Indeed, some of these women constantly demonstrate their strength by carrying, like the male tekiya, goods or 40-kilogram propane tanks. In my view, these women seem to occupy a higher position in the hierarchy than those who only sell, but this does not please all men.
One day, as we were packing away the yatai after a festival, a man saw me carrying a propane tank and asked me to put it down. “That’s not women’s work,” he said. Yet two of them were loading the truck just like I was, and once the task was done, they showed me their biceps, shouting, “As strong as a man!”
However, reducing women and wives to the public face of tekiya at markets and festivals would be misleading. As we have seen, they also manage the accounts and suppliers, and they take part in choosing which collaborators will be present at festivals, as well as which part-time workers to hire based on the recommendations they receive. They therefore wield significant decision-making power, whatever one may say.
Differences in Pay?
In a patriarchal society like Japan, women struggle to gain recognition. Even so, there is no pay gap between men and women in tekiya society. Everyone is treated on the same footing and paid in the same way. Both women and men are paid by the day if they are part-time workers, and at the end of the month if they are regular vendors.
Hoping for perfect gender equality in tekiya society is therefore a utopia—even in 2026. Women will always need men, and vice versa. They acknowledge needing men when it comes to loading and unloading trucks and goods. As for men, they will always need women if they want to gain access to positions of responsibility.
