The Untold History of Women in Sake Brewing
By Laura Pollacco
For as long as the Japanese have been cultivating rice they have been fermenting it to create sake.
The two practices, both the agricultural cultivation and fermentation of rice, are thought to have arrived on Japan’s shores by way of China or Korea as early as 500 BC, during Japan’s Jōmon Period (c. 14,000 and 300 BC). Fast forward through thousands of years of cultural, religious, and technological evolution, and sake, or nihonshu, continues to hold an unshakeable place in Japanese culture. Throughout its long history, the production of sake has seen advancements and refinements while the consumption of sake has taken on a myriad of meanings, and yet, perhaps one of the biggest evolutions is one regrettably less focused on: the role of women in sake production.
The history of women in sake production has been an undulous one, tied to the capricious whims of society and societal expectations. Once important creators of ritualized sake at Shinto shrines and of sake in the home, women were eventually excluded from sake production due to physical, and perhaps spiritual limitations as well, as sake production expanded during the Edo Period. However, they have made a comeback in recent years, taking on the role of toji (brewmaster) of their family’s brewery.
Only 70 years ago, women were still banned from entering breweries, yet today many women work in and even run breweries across Japan. Over the last few decades, a number of women have risen up to take on the esteemed title of toji and, as of writing, 33 women are registered as toji by Japan’s Toji Guild Association. This title is not one women have only just recently been granted; it is one they potentially are reclaiming.
The word toji itself first appeared in the 8th century and, at that time, referred to the female chief (male chiefs were called obito) of a clan. In the 9th century, the word expanded to mean female head of a wealthy household, essentially a wife, broadening and at the same time diminishing the power it held only a century earlier. Even still, the roles expected of a tōji were varied, and one such responsibility included the brewing of sake for the household. Due to this, it is thought that the term toji which today means “brewmaster” may have originated from the same word which meant “woman of the house,” one who brews sake.
Why were women so fundamental to sake brewing initially? To answer that we must look at both science and myth. One of the earliest forms of sake was kuchikamizake (mouth chewed sake), where, as the name suggests, the sake was produced by thoroughly chewing rice before spitting it and allowing it to ferment over several days. The amylase enzymes in human saliva acted as the starter, breaking down the starch and transforming it into alcohol.
However, not everyone was considered ideal for the role of “chewer.” Many believe the practice was only undertaken by women; usually attractive, young women. The resulting sake was therefore bestowed the title bijinshu (beautiful woman sake). Scholars suggest that, realistically, anyone could have partaken in the act of making kuchikamizake; perhaps, though, there was a preference for drinking sake chewed by attractive women rather than, say, a middle-aged man.
The act of kuchikamizake was also prominently performed by miko (shrine maids) during Shinto ceremonies. Japan’s indigenous and animistic religion, Shintoism, contains many gods of various rank and stature and, during the Jomōn, Nara (710-794), and Heian period (794-1185), miko were valued shamans—conduits for these gods—due to their special spiritual purity. They were important social figures associated with the ruling class and would oversee both religious and political functions.
Over time, and with the rise of the more patriarchal teachings of Buddhism and Confucianism within Japan, their role has been drastically reduced, with male priests taking over many of their former duties. Then, during the Meiji Restoration, an edict outright forbade all spiritual practices conducted by miko. Today, miko act as simple shrine attendants, though they continue to enact the dances and rituals as a way to maintain traditions.
Much like miko, sake is also thought to help bridge the gap between mortals and the gods. In the Kojiki, Japan’s oldest text, which contains the ancient myths of the Japanese islands, many stories feature the gods enjoying sake or utilizing it for their own ends. As such, sake has long been considered a drink of the gods; to imbibe it is to be closer to the divine. However, unlike the miko, whose importance in both the spiritual realm and of sake creation has waned substantially, sake is still highly regarded in Shinto practices. To date, it is one of the most common offerings made to the gods and is featured in many ceremonies and special occasions, such as weddings, New Year’s celebrations, the opening of a new building, or bringing in a good harvest.
Even with the introduction of koji mold (which replaced saliva as the starter for fermentation and is still used today) in the 8th century, women continued to have a place in the production of sake. Both women and men engaged in sake brewing, and, based on a list compiled by Kyoto-based koji makers dated 1425, three out of the roughly 350 breweries within the prefecture were owned by women. Even in the instances where a brewery was under a husband’s name, their wives would likely have been active participants. So why, then, were women then muscled out of the sake business?
There are many reasons given as to why, with one probable answer lying in that very question: it was a matter of muscle.
At the beginning of the Edo period (1603-1868), the production of sake began to be scaled up. Smaller sake batches known as koku (meaning 180 liters) gave way to much larger wooden barrels as brewing was transformed into a larger operation that required heavy lifting, which was considered inappropriate for women. Another facet was that the Tokugawa Shogunate decreed that sake only be produced in the winter months. With brewing now becoming seasonal labor, men who farmed and fished in the summer, turned to sake brewing in the winter. While they likely returned year after year to local breweries, some might have traveled away from home to do so, and for a woman, this was not considered appropriate. Over time, women were pushed out of the industry and eventually completely banned from entering the breweries altogether.
This ban was also down to a number of other reasons. During the Edo period, built on Buddhist and Confucian tenets, Japan’s rigid division of roles based on gender were strongly enforced. Beyond simply lacking strength, there were other beliefs keeping women out of sake production. In terms of religion, women were now seen as unclean due to menstruation, and therefore excluded from sacred places, which, along with sumo rings and certain temples, also included sakagura (sake and shochu breweries). It was also thought that women emitted a different aura from their body which could somehow kill sake yeast. From originally being a key duty in the household, women were now barred from the production of sake and from reaping the financial rewards that came with it. It would take more than three centuries before they would return to the role.
In fact, it wasn’t until after WWII that women made a tentative return to the world of sake and another half a century before they began to make any real impact. The first female toji brewmaster in Japan was Rumiko Moriki of the Moriki Shuzo brewery in Iga, Mie. Since Moriki, there have been more and more women who have earned the title, with notable mentions including Isae Mizuno, the toji for Hakubotan Shuzo in Hiroshima Prefecture from 1985 until her retirement in 2014 and, more recently, Miho Imada of Imada Shuzo brewery in Akitsu, Hiroshima. Imada has gained global recognition for the quality of her sake.
From once occupying a pivotal role in sake production, both on the religious and business scenes, to being barred from setting foot into breweries where they once worked, women in sake have experienced a fluctuating past. Today, more women are stepping up to run their family breweries as Japan’s population declines and, along with it, the domestic demand for sake. While more light is being shone on these women, allowing them a slight edge over their male counterparts, they still remain in the minority within the sake industry. However, as female sake brewers continue to make strides in the modern-day production of this thousand-year-old practice, they are simply returning to a domain that was once theirs to begin with.
About the Author: Laura Pollacco is a freelance journalist and photographer living in Tokyo. Having returned to Japan in 2022 on a working holiday visa, Laura took the opportunity to travel to lesser-known regions in Japan, away from the hustle and bustle of tourist-heavy destinations. During this time she discovered that stories about Japan can be found anywhere, from the sleepiest seaside communities to the cities not highlighted on tourist packages. Aside from travel, Laura has many hobbies and interests that have allowed her to meet and communicate with a variety of people from politicians to sumo wrestlers, bonsai masters to parkour athletes. Outside of writing, Laura spends much of her time in rehearsals as a theatre actor, a love she has nurtured since she was five years old.
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