We do not have an institution comparable to geisha in modern Western societies. Geisha do not marry, but they often have children. They live in organized professional communities of women. They have affairs with married men, and can form other liaisons at their own discretion. They derive their livelihood from singing, dancing, and chatting with men at banquets. They devote their time to learning and performing traditional forms of music and dance. And they always dress in kimono, but not always the form.al costume. In various ways, then, geisha may be like mistresses, waitresses, hostesses, dancers, or performers. If she's not in full dress, can you tell she's a geisha? If you know what to look for, yes.
As Japanese women, the most important social fact about geisha is that they are not wives. These are mutually exclusive categories because of the way women's roles have been traditionally defined in Japan. Wives have always controlled the private sphere of home and children; the profession of geisha, for all its exclusivity, came into existence in a space separate both from the private world of the home and the public one of business. This was the arena where men could socialize. Geisha are by no means the only women who serve this function-they are outnumbered 1000 to 1 by bar hostesses in modern Japan- but this is still one of the two raisons d'etre of their profession. This is how they differ from wives. What sets them apart from the other women in the entertainment industry is, of course, their gei, their devotion to traditional arts.
It's true that their world has undergone many changes- it had to in order to survive. Until the 1920's, when they began to look old-fashioned next to the modern cafe and dancehall girls, geisha had been society's fashion vanguard. But in the face of modernization and westernization, geisha managed to twist the meaning of their profession in the opposite direction and transform themselves from fashion innovators into curators of tradition. Leaving Western dress to the bar hostesses, geisha turned kimono into their uniform. In this way they found their niche within modern Japan. The experience of oppressed indentureship of Arthur Golden's character Sayuri in his book Memoirs of a Geisha no longer occurs, nor does the custom of ritual defloration of a maiko, a privilege bestowed on the highest bidder. Yet older geisha still tell such tales of their youth, along with the strict discipline they endured at the hands of their dance and shamisen teachers.
"You couldn't do that today," said my geisha mother, "the maiko would quit." Arthur Golden accomplished a remarkable feat of imagination when he put himself inside the mind of a geisha and went on to create a compelling personality through the unfolding of events in her larger-than-life saga. Yet in this, Sayuri's story rings true because geisha are still, in fact, larger than life.
Liza Dalby
May 1999
INTRODUCTION
-Captain Frank Brinkley, at the turn of the century Geisha, along with Mt. Fuji and cherry blossoms, have been symbols of Japan to foreigners ever since Japan opened to the West in the 1850s. Who are geisha? We often hear that true geisha (pronounced gay-sha) are not prostitutes- geisha means "arts person"- but instead are highly trained entertainers. Traditionally their appeal is based on a highly refined eroticism, but the geisha's sexual favors are not directly for sale and are very difficult to attain. In truth, the answer to the question "who are geisha?" differs both geographically and historically within Japan.
The Western fascination with geisha can be seen in many forms. The 1906 opera Madame Butterfly by Puccini, though not actually about a geisha, probably did the most to create the stereotype of the fragile Oriental beauty whom the Westerner loves and then leaves behind. When the post-World War II era brought a renewed fascination with Japan, Shirley MacLaine played a geisha in the 1962 film My Geisha. And even Madonna has taken to dressing like a geisha, in her noted post-modern way.
The sacred Mount Fuji was celebrated in the nineteenth century as a symbol of Japan, as seen in this 1830s woodcut print by Hokusai.
The Japanese themselves have done their part in promoting geisha as symbols of Japan to the rest of the world-geisha have decorated posters advertising Japan ever since Japanese travel posters were first printed. Posters for the first geisha dance spectaculars were written in English as well as in Japanese. Today, many Japanese would concur that geisha represent traditional Japanese feminine virtues, despite the fact that very few Japanese have actually had any personal contact with geisha, since geisha parties are prohibitively expensive.
Arthur Golden's fictional Memoirs of a Geisha goes beyond these and other geisha stereotypes and in doing so, brilliantly reveals the fascinating world of a twentieth-century geisha. The book tells the story of a girl named Chiyo who becomes the well- known geisha "Sayuri" in Kyoto's high-class geisha district of Gion, taking us through Chiyo's life from a poor fishing-village girl in the 1920s to her final days as the esteemed mistress of a wealthy patron. In its myriad of details and atmospheric color, Golden's book vividly portrays a little known subculture of Japan in the years before and after World War II. It is a convincing portrait of Sayuri's heroic survival: from her early hardships, through adolescent rivalries, to final happiness. With vibrant ukiyo-e prints, period photographs, evocative poetry, geisha songs, and text, The Life if a Geisha explores and expands upon the world of the geisha that has long intrigued observers around the world.
Early in the century foreign visitors to Japan could buy postcards featuring geisha and cherry blossoms, both already symbolic of Japan.
Two maiko display back and side views of their gorgeous attire as they look out toward this Kyoto covered bridge.
Like the character of Sayuri, many who became geisha were born in poor agricultural or fishing villages before being sold to oki-ya houses.
A maiko, framed by the door of a teahouse balcony, gazes out on a pagoda against the Kyoto mountains.
Children play on the beach of a fishing village as little Chiyo did, while their mothers scrub the baskets used to dry fish in the sun.
Two maiko, holding their kimono up with their left hands, chat on the street of one of the Kyoto hanamachi (geisha quarters).
In this ukiyo-e print from the 1850s, Hiroshige depicts travelers on one of Japan's early highways, with Mt. Fuji in the distance.
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