Ten Thousand Things l Kimberly Hughes  12 November, 2011

Eight months have passed since the disaster of March 11th, since which time I have been riding the same emotional see-saw as many others after emerging from the cocoon of fear and shock that ruled the initial days and weeks following the outbreak of the nuclear crisis. When facing the choice of engaging my critical mind or succumbing to the more comfortable state of mind that most others here seem to have clearly chosen—blissful denial—I seem to find myself on most days choosing the latter. 

With the exception of occasionally attending and writing about Japan’s steadily growing anti-nuclear movement, I have by-and-large opted to focus upon my everyday life and personal concerns. For people living in Fukushima, however, no such escape option exists. Every day is filled with uncertainties and questions with regard to matters of basic survival: What food is safe to eat? Can I drink this water? Is it is safe to send the kids outside to play?

Outraged at being forced into this situation, a group of Fukushima women decided to take things to the next level by holding a sit-in last week in front of the Ministry of Economy. Organized by members of NGOs and ordinary citizens, the first leg of the sit-in from October 27-30 was attended exclusively by women from Fukushima, then followed by a week-long solidarity sit-in action until November 5th for anyone else who wished to offer their support.

With the national and prefectural governments continuing to add insult to injury following the 3.11 triple disaster by continuing to make one outrageously irresponsible decision after the next, there is plenty to be indignant about: Stopping citizens from attempting their own radiation measurements, radioactive dumping in Tokyo Bay,feeding Fukushima schoolchildren with quite possibly contaminated food, and releasing negligent information regarding radiation figures, for starters.

I visited the sit-in the end of the final week, after darkness had fallen. Around 30 or 40 women (and a few men) were in attendance—a small number compared to hundreds there during the daytime, I was told. Speaking with the woman staffing the registration tent, I could barely hear our exchange because of trucks parked nearby with a loudspeaker blaring the same message over and over again: “How dare you women come here and protest without identifying yourself. Each and every one of you should put your face and name on the Internet. What kind of cowards are you?” Unreal...

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