[Female Announcer] Let's quit.

116th out of 146 countries. Japan's ranking in the Gender Gap Index remains at the lowest level among developed nations. It gives me a cringeworthy sense of discomfort.

It might be presumptuous, but I wonder if we [female announcers] have influenced the image of women in Japan and caused trouble for women in other professions.


[Female announcer]
That is our common name. In an era where even terms that emphasize gender, such as "female lawyer" or "female police officer," are being challenged, our profession, which is still grouped as "female (joshi)," is eerie.

"Good looks, youth, cleanliness, obedience, a smile... that's what men want from a [female announcer]!"

A long time ago, at a drinking party, an older man once insisted on this while spitting as he spoke. It gives me chills to think about it now, but as a newcomer at the time, I swallowed it whole, believing that I should aim for that ideal image because I wanted to be active in a glamorous world.


However, I gradually began to feel a sense of incongruity.
Especially while learning about "disaster reporting," a job directly linked to human lives.

Through daily study, training, and drills, as well as actually going to disaster sites to report and listening to the stories of bereaved families, I realized that this is not a job that can be done with a half-hearted attitude.


And it turned into a conviction during a disaster training session I attended at an elementary school in Onagawa, Miyagi. It was when a woman who had lost her entire family in the tsunami shared her precious story.
"My child was swallowed by the waves right in front of me. We were making eye contact until the very end. I wish I could have taken their place."
The me at that time, who was aiming to be a [female announcer], could not look her in the face. I kept my head down and clenched my fists in anger at myself.
At this moment, I quit being a [female announcer].

Several years have passed since then, and the times have changed. As far as I know, there are no longer any announcers who call themselves [female announcers]. We have shed our skin as [female announcers]. However, this name just won't go away. Perhaps it cannot be helped, as we have recognized the [value of young women] for decades, enjoyed the benefits, and kept broadcasting it over the airwaves.


It is time for us to raise our voices.
To say that we have already quit being [female announcers].
We will also show it through our actions. It does not mean we should engage in reporting or stop caring about our appearance.
It means facing every job as an "announcer." With pride. That is all.
(We don't have to go to those hellish drinking parties that are like entertainment anymore, right!)

It may be a long road, but the time has come to start walking. Our journey of bright atonement.