In the golden years of Japan’s economic boom, its men would venture to foreign shores, seeking the thrill of illicit encounters offered by women from poorer nations. But today, the tables have turned, with foreign men now flocking to Tokyo for “sex tourism” as the yen weakens and poverty rises.

Yoshihide Tanaka, secretary general of the Liaison Council Protecting Youths (Seiboren), painted a grim picture of the current landscape.

“Japan has become a poor country,” he told This Week in Asia at the organisation’s offices. Nearby, in a park that’s become synonymous with the city’s sex trade, young women wait for customers before the sun has even set.

Tanaka’s organisation noticed an increasing number of foreigners frequenting the park as soon as pandemic-era travel restrictions were dropped.

“But now we are seeing a lot more foreign men,” he said. “They come from many countries. They are white, Asian, black – but the majority are Chinese.”

This influx has coincided with a troubling rise in teenagers and women in their early twenties turning to the sex industry to survive, Tanaka said, alongside an alarming increase in violence.

“It’s getting worse. Much worse,” he said, shaking his head. “There are more kids here and more violence, but our organisation cannot do anything more than we are already doing.”

Tanaka’s frustration is palpable as he reflects on his decade-long struggle to support the young Japanese women who wash up in Tokyo’s notorious Kabukicho district – a maze of bars, love hotels, and host clubs where the vulnerable are often preyed upon.

Among them is Rua*, a 19-year-old who felt out of place in her high school in neighbouring Kanagawa prefecture. Arriving in Kabukicho in February with hopes of finding a cafe job, she quickly found herself overwhelmed by expenses.

“I owed a lot of money to a host, so from April I went to the park,” she said, using a euphemism for standing on the narrow streets around Okubo Park, waiting to be approached by a potential customer.

“I needed to pay off my debts and wanted to buy nice things, like clothes,” said Rua, her youthful features accentuated by a chic bob and a flair for “Gothic Lolita” fashion.

To finance her visits to her favourite host at a local club every few days, she has also dabbled in what’s known as papa katsu – finding sugar daddies to help cover her expenses.

She speaks of her work with startling nonchalance, detailing prices for an hour in a love hotel – between 15,000 yen and 30,000 yen (US$100-US$200) – like menu items. On slow days, she will meet around five men; on weekends, that number can double. Rua recently had her second abortion, a grim reality of her lifestyle.

“There are all different types of men who come to the park, but I would say that about half are foreigners,” she said. “I’ve talked to girls who have been here longer and they say that is different, that it used to be mainly Japanese men, but this place has become famous.”

Rua mentions “one English man” who is a regular customer, as well as others from Taiwan, mainland China and Hong Kong. “I’m popular because of the way I look so I am always busy,” she said.

But the risks are ever-present. “One of my friends was attacked by a Chinese man on the street a few weeks ago,” Rua said, her voice steady but laced with fear. “They were talking about the price and he suddenly got angry and hit and kicked her. She hit her head on something and had a bad injury. It happens quite often, but I have been lucky so far.”

Tanaka corroborated Rua’s experience. When she called him after her friend was assaulted, he rushed to help, taking the injured woman to the hospital. He said she was angry and wanted to file an official police complaint.

But when it came time to confront her attacker, the police were far more interested in labelling her a prostitute than pursuing justice for her assault. Faced with the reality that reporting the crime could lead to her own arrest, she withdrew her complaint.

“That is always what happens,” Tanaka said, his frustration evident. “The girls are assaulted because the customers know they will not go to the police … The men know this. They think they can do anything.”

Tanaka remains cautiously optimistic about Rua’s future, though he is acutely aware of the toll that her work will take on her mental and physical health – he has seen it countless times before. Few who frequent Okubo Park emerge from the experience unscathed.

As local police and government authorities turn a blind eye, Tanaka fears the spiral of young lives caught in a web of desperation and exploitation will only worsen, while the world watches in silence.

“I think someone is going to get killed, sooner or later,” he said. “It’s inevitable. Right now, no one cares about these girls. One of them being killed by a customer might get their attention briefly, but I expect they will soon forget again.”

*Name changed to protect interviewee’s identity

Okay, so what would you do if a neo-Naz*, white supremacist who called on a holy war against J*ws and is a loud, proud misogynist lives in your town, you are a Jewish feminist and you know his address?

Further, what would you do if friend after friend messaged you with his address and told you that you should pop over since you live in the same town and report what it looks like from outside his home at 1826 S. Home, Berwyn, IL 60402?

Are there boxes potentially possessing dog poo? Are there boxes potentially possessing used menstrual products?

What would you do if it's a Sunday and you've done your work for the day? Pop over there, you would. You're a good friend, you're curious as well.

So that is what I did.

I shot a short video, less than two minutes, from the public property of the sidewalk outside this address, noting that there were no boxes. As I did, a woman pulled up in her car, rolled down her window and was like, "Is this where the douchebag lives?" (Paraphrasing.) And I was like, "l think so!" and we laughed about his incel ass for a minute. Then she was like, "You should ring his doorbell and see what he has to say for himself." (Again, paraphrasing.) And I have one serious weakness. It's chocolate. Okay, I have two, one more relevant for this situation. I cannot back down from anything that even smacks of a dare. So I figured ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. There were no "no solicitors" signs up and, believe it or not, I would have respected that.

So I rang the doorbell, he immediately swung the door open like he was at damn Waco, sprayed me with a burning liquid (Pepper spray? Mace?) and pushed me down the stairs onto his sidewalk. I rolled into a protective position because I was anticipating kicks or stomps, he grabbed my phone, ran back inside, bolted the door and shut the blinds. Friends, it is dark in there, like a bunker.

I have video. I am holding onto that for evidence.

The woman in the car, probably feeling shitty for encouraging me to do it, called the cops and made a report. She begged me to get in the car with her because she was scared for my safety but I wasn't going anywhere. Thanks, mysterious friend, for calling the cops because I obviously did not have a phone. We should get tea and talk about old times! You are also my main witness.

Anyway, I gave my full statement to the cop (Fuentes gave one separately and gave "no comment" as his statement) and the cop called an ambulance to check my eyes after being sprayed. (The cop gave me my phone back, which may be damaged after the incel stomped it like Rumpelstiltskin, which is why the pictures are pictures my husband took from my phone, as it's no longer operational.) The nice EMTs took my vitals in the ambulance, too. I am a little sore on my right side, where I fell, but I'm fine.

Nicky, your little spray is as weak as you are. I hate to tell you to invest in a new brand but I didn't even need eye wash.

Anyway, the cop, the EMTs and my husband* all asked, "Why did you ring the doorbell?!" kind of incredulously. I don't know, why not? Again, no "no soliciting" sign and I was showing off for my new friend. Also, I think threatening women and girls everywhere deserves some kind of an explanation.

I want to make it very dear that I am not whining about being pushed down the steps and pepper sprayed by a 26-year-old who then took possession of and possibly broke my phone. I'm 57- years-old and 5'1" so it's kind of funny that he's have this melodramatic reaction to me but here we are. I guess thems are the breaks when you're despised by about half the country and millions overseas as well. lid be touchy as well but, then again, I'm not making r*pe jokes or demeaning bodily autonomy.

I don't know if he's done this to others or I was the tipping point, but Fuentes is a little on edge.

So if you wanted to send Nicky a care package but were concerned you might not have the correct address, this is all to say, it is confirmed: 1826 S. Home, Berwyn, IL is the correct address. 💩🩸

* I have forgiven my husband. He made me a nice vegan hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows.

PS - Fuentes is a VEWY fwightened widdew man. Don't ring the doorbell. He's a little on edge. Go figure!

PPS - Should I file a police report? Yes, I rang his doorbell (did not hop a fence or anything) but I does that merit assault and property damage?

PPPS - Yes, I know the pictures are blurry. Believe me or don't believe me. They are pictures my husband took with his phone camera off my phone because there was no way of sending them otherwise.

PPPPS - Please stop telling me to stop by Nick Fuentes' home at 1826 S. Home, Berwyn. It makes him feel unsafe when people pop over. Imagine being a proud internet troll and being this scared.

Yep. They're all like that.