Japan's fetishists find a safe haven for their sexual preferences at Tokyo's Department H: 'I come here to be myself'

Makeshiki cuts quite a figure as he strides through the revellers. Tall for a Japanese man - admittedly enhanced by his boots - he is clad from head to toe in sheer black latex, although the skin-tight hood that conceals his face has openings for his eyes and mouth that are ringed in red.

Such an expression of counterculture sexuality would be impossible to carry off in everyday Japan, but here, within the safe space of Department H at the Tokyo Kinema Club, the nation's fetishists are able to wear their preferences on their sleeve. Assuming they have that much clothing on.

"I have been coming here every month for the last seven years," says Makeshiki, who is cagey about giving too much away. He is 37 years old and works for one of Japan's big telecommunications companies, but is reluctant to provide details that could potentially identify him.

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"I am a salaryman. Some years ago I discovered that I love latex," he says. "But this is my secret. I have never told my family or my friends, even my closest friends. I don't think they would understand. I actually do not think they would try to understand if I tried to explain.

"I suppose I am often uncomfortable in Japanese society and I come here to be myself," he adds.

"This is my freedom."

It is a sentiment I heard expressed time and again over the course of the evening.

Department H is this year celebrating 15 years as Tokyo's premier event for fetishists of every flavour, although it can trace its history back to the first Salon KittyFire 2099 soiree in Shibuya in 1994.

The event gets its name from a Canadian government department in the X-Men comic-book series, whose members include Northstar - one of the first openly gay characters to appear in a US comic.

While evenings were quieter during the coronavirus pandemic, party-goers are now making up for lost time.

Held on the first Saturday of every month, Department H's doors open at midnight and the final attendees are typically ushered out well after dawn has broken over the Uguisudani district of love hotels, bars and convenience stores.

Each event has a theme, such as April Fool's Day and an evening dedicated to female sumo wrestlers. The Japanese wedding industry is enthusiastic about "June brides", so I am welcomed in the foyer by two strapping transvestites wearing lacy wedding dresses, veils, high heels and two pairs of huge, fluttering eyelashes.

IDs are carefully checked and, at reception, I quickly discover I am dramatically underdressed in T-shirt and shorts. The entrance fee is 5,000 yen (US$36), although the attractive lady at the desk in a wig and a black thong under a fishnet body stocking lets me know that I will get a discount if I make more of an effort with my attire next time.

A large glass box set into the wall contains the "catch of the day", a bare-chested woman with a mermaid's tail who smiles demurely and waves at passers-by. Double doors open to a gracefully curving balcony congested with men and women in chains and leather, rubber or latex or gossamer-thin layers that are designed to leave nothing to the imagination.

In one corner, a man is overseeing a workshop on shibari, the Japanese art of rope bondage, giving tips on knots and the best ropes to use. Nearby, tattoo fetishists are comparing skin ink on every part of their anatomies while others admire piercings. A man walks past in a gas mask and a pair of briefs. A short woman in red leather tugs at a man on a leash as he crawls hurriedly to keep up.

Mayumi is dancing alongside the stage on the ground floor of the venue, hair pulled back and encased in leather straps across her entire body.

"I guess it's curiosity," she says when asked why she is here tonight.

"This is my second time. I enjoyed the first time and met some interesting people, so I thought I would try it again."

The 40-year-old consultant says Department H offers "a great atmosphere and anyone can do whatever they want. I really like that freedom."

Suddenly, the stage comes alive with the master of ceremonies standing in a spotlight, replete in wedding dress. The applause is deafening. The MC introduces his fellow "brides" before the evening's festivities really get under way.

Galatia Suzaku and Norio Ichigozaki appear in more traditional Japanese wedding attire, with the addition of a fox mask for the bride, and perform an athletic part-dance part-striptease that concludes with them both in their underwear. Next on stage, shibari expert Takashi Murakami intricately binds his pliant victim, Jin, and hoists him off the stage. As a finale, Murakami suspends Jin horizontally and gives him a couple of electric shocks.

Tosuke has worked his way to the front of the crowd and is applauding enthusiastically.

"This place is special to me and people like me," he says. "Here, I can be anything I want to be and do anything I want. Department H is barrier-free."

Short and powerfully built, Tosuke is a 54-year-old anime artist who describes himself as a "gay bear" who also enjoys performing burlesque.

He dismisses the notion some may have that Department H is a pick-up joint for Tokyo's sexual minorities.

"That's not what all this is about," he says. "There are plenty of bars and clubs where gays or anyone else can meet other people. But this night is all about having fun and doing what we want to."

To Tosuke's approval, the next act on stage is an accomplished burlesque dancer who makes the most of a pair of bright-red feathered fans. A team of samba dancers, in dazzling regalia and skimpy costumes, starts to dance as the crowd begins to take things into their own hands.

A woman with bright-red hair, leather bindings and a studded collar has lined three willing participants up against a wall and is soundly thrashing their bare buttocks with a cat o' nine tails.

Nearby, a young woman in leather and high heels sits astride a middle-aged man on his knees and is enthusiastically slapping his buttocks, while just yards away, a girl wrapped in bandages splotched with what I assume is fake blood sings on the stage.

All around us, no one bats an eyelid.

As I look on, Yuko sidles up alongside me. She is wearing the sort of all-in-one swimsuits that high-school girls wear and looks about 15 years old - but tells me she is 35.

She leans in to make herself heard and repeats the oft-heard refrain that Japanese society is not open and that here, at Department H, she can be herself and really feel "free".

Still holding my eyes, she reaches out and with an indelible marker draws a smiley face on my forearm. And with the grin of a teenager but the insight of a 30-something, she adds the characters chikan.

It means pervert and it won't wash off. No one gets out of Department H unscathed.

This article originally appeared on the South China Morning Post (SCMP).

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