In Japan, landing a job can feel like running a gauntlet—especially for women. Beyond the usual grilling on skills and experience, female candidates often face a barrage of personal, even bizarre, questions that have little to do with work. “Do you have a boyfriend?” “What color is your underwear?” “Will you quit when you have kids?” These aren’t rare slip-ups; they’re a stubborn relic of workplace culture, and they’re sparking outrage as more women speak out.
A Pattern of Intrusion
For 23-year-old Aiko Tanaka (name changed), a recent interview for a sales role took a sharp turn. After discussing her resume, the middle-aged male interviewer leaned in: “Are you dating anyone? Marriage plans?” She froze, unsure how to pivot back to her qualifications. Stories like hers aren’t outliers. A 2023 survey by the Japan Trade Union Confederation found that 30% of female job-seekers faced gender-specific questions, from family intentions to physical appearance—queries their male peers rarely encounter.
The underwear question, while extreme, isn’t fiction. Social media erupted last year when a university grad tweeted about it, igniting a #MeToo-style reckoning. Experts say it’s less about the answer and more about power—testing how much a candidate will tolerate. For women, it’s a signal: conform or get sidelined.
Why It Persists
Japan’s gender gap isn’t news. It ranks 118th out of 144 in the World Economic Forum’s 2024 gender equality index, lagging in workplace equity. Traditional attitudes linger: women are often seen as temporary hires, expected to exit for marriage or motherhood. A 2022 government report showed 55% of Japanese firms still prefer male candidates for leadership tracks, assuming women won’t stick around.
Recruiters defend some questions as “practical.” One HR rep told me off-record, “We need to know if she’ll leave in two years—it’s a hiring cost issue.” But critics argue it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy: pry into personal lives, undervalue skills, and women get pushed out anyway.
Pushback and Progress
Change is brewing. Younger women, emboldened by global movements, are naming and shaming offenders online. Hashtags like #就活ハラスメント (#JobHuntingHarassment) have gone viral, pressuring companies to rethink their approach. Some firms now train interviewers to stick to job-relevant topics, and a few universities offer workshops on dodging intrusive questions—“Answer with confidence, redirect to your strengths,” one coach advises.
Legally, it’s murky. Japan’s Equal Employment Opportunity Act bans gender discrimination, but enforcement is weak, and penalties are rare. Activists want tougher rules, like mandatory reporting of harassment complaints. Still, cultural shifts take time. “It’s generational,” says sociologist Yumi Kato. “Older managers don’t see the problem—younger ones do.”
The Stakes for Women
For female job hunters, the toll is real. Some, like Tanaka, second-guess their answers, wondering if deflecting costs them the gig. Others grit their teeth, accepting it as “just how it is.” With Japan’s workforce shrinking—its population dropped by 595,000 in 2023—excluding half the talent pool isn’t just unfair; it’s unsustainable. Women aren’t asking for special treatment, just a fair shot. Until then, every interview risks being less about competence and more about surviving the gauntlet.