In my home country of England, tea is one of the most consumed drinks out there. The same can be said for Japan. This could be as simple as purchasing from a vending machine on a street corner or as complex as a tea ceremony. But did you know that the tea ceremony was initially a male art form? Women have commandeered tea ceremonies to the point where both teachers and students of the art are almost always female. Indeed, when I experienced my first tea ceremony in Japan, both performers were women. So my curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to find out how and why.
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The tea ceremony
The practice of the tea ceremony, or chadō, is steeped in tradition. Chadō translates to ‘the way of tea’. Tea masters place great importance on the structure of the ceremony and its order. Although customs can vary, the core ideals stay consistent. For example, the practitioners usually serve sugary sweets called wagashi, which pair well with the drink’s bitter, earthy taste. The speed and mood of the ceremonies are always slow, formal, and calming.
Tea Ceremony Origins
The earliest evidence of a tea ceremony dates back to the Zen Buddhist monks in China. One of the earliest mentions of tea in Japan was in 729 CE, when Emperor Shomu invited 100 Buddhist monks to his palace. But it wasn’t until the Kamakura period (12th century) that it became popular in Japan, with the innovation of powdered matcha. At this stage, Japanese society limited women to supporting roles.
As time went on, the practice spread from the religious into the courts and samurai culture. It was particularly useful as a platform for negotiation between warring factions. Emperor Godaigo used the tea ceremony to secretly plot his coup d’etat with his warriors in 1324 CE. The samurai’s wives and daughters often learned the discipline, even if they didn’t directly practice it.
Learning chadō fell out of fashion for young men particularly during the 2nd World War. But women continued to learn the art in preparation for marriage and were becoming tea masters more often than men. Later, in post-war Japan, women became the public face of the art. Girls learned chadō in school as part of their premarital preparation. Nowadays, although it can be a hobby, the art of tea is still a viable career and an essential part of Japanese culture.
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The modern-day tea ceremony
Once reserved for the samurai class and the courts, tea has become one of the most popular drinks of modern-day Japan. It’s difficult to walk down a street without seeing a vending machine offering at least two varieties. And the tea ceremony has international fame. Many modern Japanese women are taking up the art, with numerous schools scattered about Japan. The most popular of these is Urasenke, which claims around 70% of tea practitioners.
Considered similar to other traditional arts such as pottery, calligraphy and ikebana (the art of flower-arranging), chadō offers women an avenue for creative expression and pursuit of perfection in a comfortable atmosphere. The practitioners design the wagashi, sugary sweets served during the ceremony, to mimic the local flowers in bloom. They also display the bouquets and calligraphy scrolls around the room, linking the traditions. Though the idea of premarital preparation has become outdated, chadō remains popular among women as a hobby and possible career.
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What about female tea masters?
Although still male-dominated, the tea community has come to respect some women at the art’s highest level. Fuyoko Kobori, a respected 17th generation tea master, is one of these women. We can trace her family’s skill with tea back to the 16th-century grandmaster, Enshu Kobori, who founded one of the over 200 tea ceremony schools. Fuyoko’s passion for the art is so strong that in defiance of tradition, the tea community anticipates that she will inherit the sought after grandmaster’s title instead of her younger brother. In one interview, she describes the ceremony as an “escape from the real world”, particularly for those living in cities. Having been to one myself, I can confidently say the solemn and traditional atmosphere can indeed feel like an island of calm in the boiling pot of city life.
Although I’m sure the rise of women in chadō may cause a stir (excuse the pun!). It seems almost certain that the future of tea ceremonies lies in the hands of women. I cannot wait to hear of more inspiring women, like Fuyoko, taking up the herbal mantle in years to come!