08/08/2026
This - what she writes is on point in my opinion.
Taking advantage of the fact that most of my followers here are men, I want to take a moment to touch upon a somewhat sensitive and for many, uncomfortable topic. Please don't take this post as a blanket generalization or an attack against men in general. I simply ask you to read this with an open mind and use it as an invitation to reflect on the reality of being a female karate instructor today.
If you read Gichin Funakoshi’s autobiography, "Karate-Do: My Way of Life," you will find reflections on women in karate that were, for his era, remarkably progressive. He openly advocated for women and young girls to train, highlighting the health benefits, the power of self-defense, and the idea that karate belongs to everyone, regardless of age or gender.
Yet, reading those same pages through a modern lens reveals how deeply patriarchal conditions were embedded from the very start. Funakoshi felt compelled to address a common societal fear of his era: the concern that women practicing martial arts would become overly independent or try to "dominate their husbands." His counter-argument was classic benevolent sexism. He reassured men that karate actually makes women more obedient, stating that because karate begins and ends with etiquette, a woman following the path would "never dream of commanding her husband." He also framed female practice around graceful, dance-like movements akin to rhythmic gymnastics, reassuring society that karate wouldn't strip girls of their traditional femininity.
Even as the father of modern karate opened the dojo door to women, he felt forced to package their inclusion in a way that wouldn’t threaten male authority, assuring men that martial arts would produce better, more submissive wives rather than equal peers.
Fast forward nearly a century, and that subtle bias is still very much alive, even amidst genuine progress. Look at the Japan Karate Association (JKA). To their credit, the JKA has been remarkably progressive in recent years. If you look at the official instructor roster of the Tokyo Honbu Dojo today, women make up about 20 percent of the elite, full-time professional instructors. Powerhouses like Yuko Hirayama (7th Dan), Satomi Okuie (6th Dan), Mai Miyash*ta (5th Dan), and Kyoko Akiyama (4th Dan) are living proof of this evolution. Compare this to the 1960s or 1980s, when female Kenshusei graduates were incredibly rare anomalies. Today, the JKA regularly sends these female masters across the globe to lead major international seminars, conduct grading exams, and judge world-class tournaments. The progress is undeniable.
Yet, the ultimate structural glass ceiling remains completely intact. Across almost all karate federations, including their highest executive committees, a woman has never held the position of Chief Instructor. A prominent female former athlete and JKA instructor Yoko Takahashi has branched out to establish her own traditional organization. It's a monumental moment for female independence on paper. But she still felt the need to bring in a legendary male master, Masahiko Tanaka, placing him effectively above her as the primary figurehead. Whether that decision stemmed from internalized gender expectations or was a calculated move to survive in a deeply conservative environment, it highlights a frustrating reality: even top-tier female martial artists still feel forced to leverage a male "stamp of approval" to gain institutional legitimacy among traditionalists.
This institutional dynamic trickles straight down to everyday life l. When a male instructor posts a video of a technique, the comment section is usually filled with respect. But when a female instructor posts the exact same technique, often executed with superior precision, men jump in to claim her heel was a millimeter off or assert that the technique wouldn't work on a real man. It is the modern digital manifestation of fragile male egos trying to downplay female mastery because the reality of a woman possessing greater skill makes them uncomfortable.
Beyond social media, female practitioners face distinct, physical realities. Having trained in various dojos, attended international seminars, and spent time training in Japan, I deeply treasure those experiences, yet they also opened my eyes to troubling dynamics. In many traditional environments, basic courtesy and respect are strangely inverted: male members rarely let a woman step ahead, yield a spot in the front row or at the head of the lineup, and I’ve even seen men casually expect a woman to hold the door open for them. Far worse, however, is what happens during live practice. I have watched as men use excessive, unnecessary force against female training partners, and even more disturbingly, strike women directly in the chest. Regrettably, this isn't an issue unique to Japan; it is a pattern I have witnessed in different dojos.
Funakoshi was right about one fundamental truth: karate is an endless path of character development meant for everyone. However, it is long past time to abandon the idea that female budoka need to justify their presence through submissiveness, delicate grace, or male figureheads. True equality in karate will only arrive when a woman leading a federation or teaching a world seminar is no longer seen as a rare exception, and when a master is judged purely by the depth of her technique, spirit, and dedication.
I’d love to hear from the men here: how does this look from your side, and do you see ways we can overcome these hidden biases together?
Karina
