Emancipation begins with the three verses of the haiku

A blank page, just three lines for 17 syllables (love) is the space for haiku to let the heart breathe. And Einaudi's Collana bianca that hosts Cristina Banella's refined work Haiku al femminile becomes a meadow of crocuses in which to lie in the spring light. The scholar, a lecturer at the Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, proposes the verses of fifteen female poets from the end of the 19th century to the 1910s to show how "the activity of women in the sphere of haiku has been, together with the experimentalism of Shinkō haiku (the new tendencies of haiku, ndr), the true moment of growth and renewal of the genre in the period from the 20th century to the present day".

The erudite and meticulous introduction is a social, cultural and poetic journey into the emancipation of women: firstly, explains the pioneer of feminism, Hiratsuka Raichō (1886-1971), Japanese society is founded on the myth of a creator goddess, Amaterasu Ōmikami, and not on that of a male supreme being. Moreover, the masterpiece of classical Japanese literature Genji monogatari (History of Genji, 1001 A.D.) originated from the brush of Murasaki Shikibu, a court lady of the Heian era, but wars and neo-Confucianism, which imposed rigid stratifications on society, silenced female voices. It is like our Middle Ages with women who 'were not destined to leave a name even on tombstones or in family trees where, in their place, the ideogram woman simply appeared'. Everything began to move in the second half of the 19th century with the Meiji Restoration of 1868, when Japan reopened its territory (and its culture) to the West, absorbing what came from afar and at the same time recovering its past. In this temperament, even haiku, born in the 17th century, found new paths, first of all through the works of those who can be considered the pioneers, such as Sugita Hisajo or Hasegawa Kanajo, to give space to figures who paved the way for the broader female presence typical of contemporary haiku, "almost to the point of overturning the percentages of presence compared to men".

Feminist frenzies arrived in Japan, the countryside emptied, some women, such as Tsuda Umeko (1864-1929), studied abroad and opened the eyes of the Japanese, in 1911 the first feminist newspaper 'Seitō' was founded. Two years later, the magazine 'Hototogisu' opened up to female participation. Writing means asserting oneself, seeking a role beyond the walls of the home and 'singing flowers and birds' to improve society itself. Of course, female poets (haijin) are despised and suffer strong attacks but they defend the everyday, hearth themes. The haiku of the kitchens is a living space, a way into a world dominated by men and, as the poetess Uda Kiyoko recalls, 'the choice of the haiku genre is the result of a natural inclination: women felt by intuition in body and spirit that haiku was up to their condition: they were not taught by anyone that poetry was easy for them'.

Modern haiku becomes a means of individual expression and maintains "a connection with the culture of the past: dealing with small things, such as those connected to a domestic universe, conceals the presence of Zen; each part recalls the whole and thus, even by dealing with subjects and themes inherent to a limited space, women were able to deal with the great themes of life and death, love and hate, discrimination, religion, science, the environment". It was Takeshita Shizunojo (1887-1951), forced by the death of her husband to face the world of work in order to provide for their children, and Sugita Hisajo (1890-1946) who opened the poetic doors wide to women. Then, in the 1920s, it was the time of the 'four Ts' from the initials of their names: Teijo (Nakamura Teijo, 1900-1988), Tatsuko (Hoshino Tatsuko, 1903-1984), Takajo (Mitsuhashi Takajo, 1899-1972) and Takako (Hashimoto Takako, 1891-1963). Themes and tones intertwine, from passion to irony: Hashimoto Takako is in the vintage photos of poetic conventions and admits her desire: 'A male deer: / tumultuous and also / my breath'. The brevity of the haiku adapts to the fading forces and indulges in doubts of illness and death: 'The crepe myrtle: / some years pass and / we will be old' (Mitsuhashi Takajo) or 'The medicine / for the flu I take / and ask for tomorrow' (Nakamura Teijo).

Flip through these blank pages full of infinite space and accomplished thoughts. You will find peace, a ray of sunshine and the coming spring: 'But why / weep? I look at these / beautiful flowers...' (Hoshino Tatsuko). And it is enough to have light.