Japanese women struggle to find a place in the Japanese sumo world

Sumo is more than a sport in Japan. It’s a sacred tradition, a 1,500-year-old spectacle steeped in Shinto ritual and ceremony. But at its heart lies a long-standing taboo: women are still barred from the traditional ring, the dohyo in Japanese.

That legacy is facing quiet resistance. While professional sumo — the sumo that the world is used to seeing — remains closed to women, a small but growing group of more than 600 female wrestlers (rikishi) is making strides at the amateur level in Japan.

Their ambitions extend beyond the sumo world championships, an international men’s and women’s amateur competition starting this weekend in Bangkok.

“I want sumo to become an Olympic sport with no gender distinction,” says 27-year-old Airi Hisano, who pursues sumo alongside her day job at Tachihi Holdings and has a reputation as the strongest female rikishi in Japan. She weighs 115 kilograms and stands 1.72 meters.

She’s the sole member of the company’s women’s sumo club and head coach Daiki Toyonoshima is pleased with his lone pupil, particularly when she’s sparring with other females.

“Watching them throw each other and fall face-first without using their hands was deeply impressive,” says Toyonoshima, a former pro rikishi. “Women’s sumo is powerful and matches the intensity of male bouts.”

Veteran NHK broadcast commentator and club manager Fujio Kariya says women’s sumo could have an impact in a country where gender roles are rigid.

“It can spark real change — not just in sports, but across Japanese society,” Kariya says.

A striking display

At another training site, the Keio University Sumo Club, women and men — and boys from the Keio High School team — train side by side.

Leading them is 22-year-old Rio Hasegawa, the 2024 middleweight world champion and the first female to join the Keio Club since its founding in 1919. At 1.71 meters and 72 kilos she’s taller and heavier than most Japanese women. Her build reflects the power sumo demands.

Unlike males who compete bare-chested in mawashi, the traditional loincloth, women wear it over spandex shirts and bodysuits.

“It’s unavoidable — women have body parts that must be covered,” Hasegawa says. “I’ve never wanted to compete dressed like a man.”

She adds that clothing also signals body image expectations.

“If I quit sumo,” Hasegawa says, “I might think about losing weight.”

Male rikishi often drop weight once they leave sumo, with research showing the large body mass might lead to health problems.

“In Japan, slim is often equated with beautiful,” says 19-year-old Shiho Suzuki, one of Keio’s four female rikishi. “But for performance and health, thin isn’t everything. A strong, healthy body with some weight on it is attractive, too.”

Suzuki, who is 1.6 meters and 78 kilos, says girls in sumo often face teasing — enough to drive some to quit.

Others like Keio University sophomore Nana Nishida call it outright bullying. As a middle schooler, she lost 20 kilos (about 45 pounds) over just three months in an attempt to make it stop.

“Sumo is a sport where you cannot win with technique alone,” Nishida says. “It’s important to make use of your body type.”

Since 2016, girls from across Japan have traveled to Tottori Johoku High School to attend week-long spring and summer training camps at the nation’s largest girls’ sumo club. REENO HASHIMOTO, TOKYO, MDT/AP