KOOZ The project stems from the fact that in Japan, 48% of single-mother households live in poverty, with some even living with their children in small cubicles of Tokyo Internet cafes. How is this problem reflective of the social disparity present today in Tokyo?

XIDIAN WANGThat is a good question. This research was initially unpacked around two topics — poverty inequality and gender inequality, and the correlation between them. They are both rooted in Japan's political economy and culture, tracing back to the post-war era, and even earlier history.

Firstly, poverty. Early on, I realised that single mothers were not the only residents of internet cafes. In fact, internet cafes or 24-hour kitchens are a prevalent choice for a considerable number of low-income individuals in Tokyo, known irrespective of gender as "net café refugees." Since the late 20th century, Japan's government's advocacy of neoliberalism exacerbated income inequality by rewarding the already affluent while providing less support for the impoverished. One can easily observe societal stratification, where individuals born into affluent families may find it easier to access better education and secure higher-paying jobs. In contrast, individuals from low-income households cannot access similar opportunities, thus perpetuating a cycle of poverty.

Housing also plays a significant role in this cycle of poverty. The most immediate aspect is that precarious housing situations, like internet cafes, make it challenging for the poor to secure stable employment, while the costs of paying for their existing shelter make it difficult for them to save money to rent somewhere new. Additionally, housing poverty brings about a deeper and more troubling impact: lower self-esteem on a massive yet individual scale. Osamu Aoki and Deborah McDowell Aoki, scholars of poverty in Japan, argue that the notion of 'If you work hard enough, you will succeed' — an adaptation of the 'American Dream' — resonates strongly with Japanese people, which is also the essence of why neoliberalism and free-market economies prevail in Japan. However, this mindset transforms poverty, a societal issue rooted in socio-political and economic systems, into a personal issue affecting one's self-worth and identity.

The compounding effects of poverty have been exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic, with the widespread closure of spaces like internet cafes, which previously housed the urban poor — including the CYBER@CAFE, where I first learned about single mothers residing in internet cafes through the NHK documentary 女性たちの貧困 “新たな連鎖"の衝撃 (Women in Poverty: The Impact of the New Chain Reaction). This spatial injustice against the poor indicates that society does not deem them worthy of living space, let alone a stable, safe, and healthy one.

Another topic is gender. I encountered numerous documentaries and books like "Tokyo Women in Poverty," which reveal the startling extent to which poverty and gender are correlated in Japan, especially for women without husbands. This is perplexing; one might well question why such gender-based social stratification is tacitly allowed to persist. Before the 1990s, social compromise and job security were typical features of employment relations in Japan, despite their unique gender and inequality patterns. Since the 1990s, the rise of neoliberalism has gradually unfolded; women are encouraged to enter the workforce while often resorting to irregular employment patterns, turning these women into cheap labour, thus exacerbating inequality and insecurity. This is why you can see single mothers holding jobs but still struggling to raise their children.

If married women can sustain their livelihoods, then for single mothers, divorce signifies downward social mobility. Unjust employment practices, extensive invisible unpaid work, the demands of being the primary caregiver, and the unreliable alimony from fathers — all contribute to the likelihood of even a former middle-class housewife living below the poverty line post-divorce. What's more alarming is that these circumstances are tough to change through individual efforts, as they stem from systemic social injustices. No mother wants for her child to grow up in an internet cafe, but some cannot escape it.

KOOZ The project builds upon and continues the discussion on feminist urbanism as fuelled by the work of Leslie Kern and others. What does this look like as seen from the city of Tokyo?

XW Before delving into this discussion, I’d like to outline some materials that have greatly informed my understanding of feminist urban studies in the Western context. One is the Matrix Feminist Architecture Archive, an organisation founded in London in 1980 — yet many of their texts remain relevant today (perhaps warranting reflection on why this is). Dolores Hayden's Grand Domestic Revolution, offering a narrative on American feminist design history, and Leslie Kern's Feminist City, elucidating onher personal experience as to why contemporary urban spaces are not designed for women,have contributed significantly to my thinking. Broadly speaking, this research is also influenced by feminists like Chizuko Ueno. However, my comprehension of feminist urbanism in Japan stems primarily from conversations with local scholars and residents, as well as my own experiences. Listing these sources serves the purpose of acknowledging that, as a researcher with only two years of engagement in this field, my knowledge and insights are inevitably limited. Nevertheless, I hope that sharing my perspectives will inspire more individuals to engage in this discourse.

Two themes frequently discussed within the global feminist discourse hold intriguing parallels with my observations of Tokyo mothers — spatial isolation vs. female solidarity, and destination studies.The phenomenon of spatial isolation of women, particularly in suburban settings, has been a recurrent topic of discussion in the West. Suburban dwelling patterns encourage a ‘private, inward focus’ — direct access to the garage from the inside of the house eliminated the need to go outside and encouraged the use of the backyard as a private location for entertaining; mothers had less time and opportunity to socialise with other people. This phenomenon is mirrored in Japan — perhaps in an even more pronounced manner — where not only suburban single-family houses and danchi (a post-war form of collective housing centred around nuclear families) but also urban single-family apartments tend to confine Japanese mothers to traditional domestic responsibilities (such as childcare and kitchen duties).

However, intriguingly, while Western feminism has advocated for a grand domestic revolution, Japan has witnessed a subtle, maybe unconscious resistance. The danchi, mentioned earlier, gave rise to the women's co-op movement — a novel Japanese cooperative model known as the ‘group purchase and distribution system’ in the 1970s. Since each danchi unit was too tiny to invite other women over, the small communal space around the staircase on the ground floor was used as a meeting place or social hub for the distribution of goods and for the interaction of housewives in the co-op. These women get together at least once a week to chat before and after the food delivery. Through this collective purchase routine, these women forged connections with other women, urban services, and even engaged in political activity.

Another widely explored issue is that women’s involvement in multiple roles is associated with travel to multiple destinations in the city. The travel patterns of mothers are more complex than those of commuting men, who are treated as the typical citizen in urban design. In general, a clearly defined city zoning is heavily designed for men, whereas mothers require a more integrated urban environment to navigate their dual roles of paid work and unpaid care work. Luckily, Tokyo's urban planning system, characterised by mixed-use zoning, makes it always possible to find housing, stores, workplaces within the same block. This is also why single mothers choose to reside in the city rather than in cheaper suburban areas: they rely on the city's network of resources, including childcare, healthcare, and employment opportunities. A notable departure from Western feminist emphasis is the meticulous care provided by Japanese mothers to their children, which they voluntarily undertake and are unwilling to relinquish. Consequently, they are reluctant to outsource their unpaid work to other women. Thus, I believe that a child-friendly work environment might hold more significance for some mothers than the establishment of perfect childcare facilities.

KOOZ The proposal suggests that shared living is the most effective means of addressing the challenges faced by Japanese single mothers. How does the project challenge the relevance of the nuclear family house within Japan and reconstruct a model for communal living?

XW The concept of the nuclear family has never naturally emerged from Japanese culture. In fact, until a century ago, Japan was an agricultural country. Most households lived and worked under the same roof, including not only the expanded family members but also workers and so on. However, since the post-war period, the Western-introduced ideal of the nuclear family has proliferated rapidly — today, the regular nuclear family home, designed for the combination of a working man and a housewife, dominates the design of both single-family houses and apartment buildings. Such nuclear family residences typically confine women to specific roles: the kitchen becomes the woman's domain, while a series of compartments in an apartment are cleaned and maintained solely by the wife as the primary caretaker. The majority of a woman's labour throughout the day is dedicated to serving this inwardly-focused private family space and its occupants.

However, when considering a group of single women and their children, one must discard this notion of the nuclear family and its concept of home. Almost everything in this project stands in opposition to the nuclear family paradigm: the formerly concealed kitchen is placed on the street; clear definitions of functions and roles of each room are replaced with fluid and undefined spaces; the paradigmatic division between zones designated for men's paid work (office districts) and women's unpaid work (residential districts) in the urban landscape is challenged, merging work and living spaces more closely and providing mothers with greater autonomy. The benefits of these fluid spaces and definitions foster a fluid concept of family. This is somewhat of a return to the traditional Japanese extended family structure and female solidarity at that time, resisting the constraints of the dominant nuclear family ideology pervasive in contemporary Japanese culture.

The most significant difference from common communal living is the definition of sharing. For this specific demographic, I believe the greatest significance of sharing lies not in shared spaces or facilities, but in shared responsibility. This notion extends from other feminist projects, such as an intriguing artwork by EDIT Collective called Gross Domestic Product, featuring a vacuum cleaner that requires three people working together to operate it, encouraging equal sharing of the duty of cleaning. It is also influenced by shared kitchens in Lima, where the poorest women gather to work for the benefit of their own children and their neighbours' children. Additionally, local Japanese practices, such as the aforementioned emergence of co-ops among full-time housewives in danchi, are also influential. Initially aimed at sharing purchasing responsibilities through group purchase and distribution, these co-ops fostered close bonds among women, even organising political and social activities.

KOOZ How did the typology of the share house (shea hausu) develop at the turn of the millennium, and how did it seek to reintroduce community life as a critique of isolated living ?

XW The emergence of share-houses initially catered to low-cost housing needs for international students and other foreigners. A lightly furnished private bedroom and a set of communal amenities make up a share-house life; it is a highly commodified type of communal living. Typically, a share-house has a communal living room, a shared kitchen and dining area, and a bathroom with a shower and toilet. More than one household may share the whole house.

However, with successive economic downturns, the appeal of share-houses has expanded among young people — first in Tokyo and then in other major cities — due to their favourable locations, low rent, and minimal initial costs. Some share-houses even offer cleaning and maintenance services. They are particularly popular for Japanese people returning from studying abroad, who are more accepting of this novel living arrangement.

According to a sociologist I spoke with, the social aspect of share-houses initially derived influence from popular American TV series like Friends. For many young Japanese, the show's depiction of living in a flat with friends and mutually supporting one another has become an ideal lifestyle. Sharing the necessary spaces like dining and cooking areas, while maintaining some individual privacy, make share-houses naturally align with this lifestyle ideal. Some share-houses today also foster communities based on similar circumstances — such as single mothers — further enhancing their social attributes.

I believe share houses are reintroducing community life into the isolated housing market by offering different levels of social support. They provide information and social network support through a quasi-community atmosphere while offering emotional, esteem, and tangible support through a more intimate quasi-family vibe.

Regarding the community atmosphere, information exchange is crucial. Many people inhabit expensive cities due to abundant resources but often overlook that it needs one to actively connect with others in the community. During my research, I found that many single mothers were unaware of government-provided benefits; a staff member of a single mothers' share-house mentioned that most mothers initially chose share-houses for easier access to information. The organisational structure of share houses is well-suited to fulfil this function — on one hand, operators typically possess more information about the city and community; on the other hand, many interpersonal interactions occur within share-houses, allowing for informal support through activities like cooking together or picking up children together from school. Such behaviours generate numerous informal conversations and information exchanges which are exactly what it takes to form a mutual support community.

The notion of family is a more profound topic. Architect Kengo Kuma views share-houses as an opportunity to change the paradigm of the family; however, there has been limited research on how share houses facilitate the emergence of this new type of "family." Not every share-house achieves a familial atmosphere, but those that do clearly exhibit a stronger sense of community and fewer feelings of loneliness among residents. Learning from the share-houses I visited, I believe that smaller-scale share-houses with residents facing similar circumstances or challenges, featuring shared spaces designed to resemble an intimate home (e.g. floor seating instead of Western-style tables), and ensuring that there are trained social workers among the management team, have been conducive in fostering a sense of "home." One share-house in Shinjuku particularly touched me during my journey. It comprised only two floors, converted from a single-family house. Initially intended as a shared residence for street children who refused to return home, it aimed to provide the emotional support that these children lacked from their biological families. Eventually, due to its familial atmosphere, it even attracted children who did not reside there, serving as an emotional shelter. Without it, they would still be lonely even in their own homes.

KOOZ The second documentary of CCA’s latest three-part trilogy, When We Live Alone, explores the city of Tokyo as a laboratory where ideas around living alone are tested, in projects like Takashi Ippei’s Apartment House. Contrary to the share-house model, Apartment House is the sum of all spaces which constitute a house (kitchen, bathroom, bedroom), with each inhabitant owning only one of them. By living in this way, people begin to ‘visit’ other spaces, allowing people to gather and to form a kind of family. What do you think of this reimagining?

XW The Apartment House represents a fascinating housing experiment. I view it as a more extreme version of a share-house; it serves as a critique of the sense of loneliness prevalent in Tokyo and the architectural ideals of previous generations of Japanese architects. When we look back at some classic cases, such as the now-demolished Nakagin Capsule Tower and Toyo Ito's PAO for the Tokyo Nomad Woman, they seem to exude a strong sense of optimism toward living alone, especially minimal living. In contrast, Takashi Ippei suggests that no matter how much Japanese society values and accommodates solitude, certain elements are indispensable for a high-quality life, such as a bathtub where one can lie down, a room full of sunlight, and occasional social interaction.

However, a further question arises: How can we live together yet independently? Just like the lifestyle depicted by another woman living apart from her husband in the film, I believe it is about the right to choice. It's about how we can create conditions where we can choose solitude at times and sharing at others, within limited constraints. This is not only a question that the Apartment House needs to answer, but also one that all share-houses face, as the essence of a share-house is to explore and reshape the boundaries between public and private family (including single-person households). The Apartment House takes a more radical approach in this regard — if you need a kitchen, it forces you into someone else's space for social interaction. This means that if someone wants to cook (although not necessarily every day), the personal space of the resident who owns the kitchen is compressed to their small bed; if they have no desire for socialising or eating at that time, they must endure the noise and smells emanating from the kitchen.

Therefore, I believe that the approach of categorising these ambiguous spaces (bathroom, tatami room, kitchen, etc.), which can be either shared or private, as private spaces may only suit a certain type of people. However, reconsidering the positioning of these spaces within a share-house is indeed very enlightening. In my project, these spaces are placed more within non-defined flexible spaces, leaning more toward the public end of the spectrum but allowing for some overflow of private life (afuredashi). For example, you can see the kitchenette next to the staircase, which does not truly belong to any resident, but a few people who are close by may have personal items or engage in daily activities there. Others may occupy other spaces closer to them, even though these spaces are not bound to any resident in terms of ownership.

KOOZ Your project "Home Shinjuku" is an urban and architectural proposalwhich would transform a number of abandoned houses, interstitial spaces and underused parts of public buildings into spaces where mothers can live together and operate small businesses cooperatively. Beyond shelter, is the project an attempt to reclaim the city itself?

XW This is in fact the core statement I aim to convey through Home Shinjuku. I believe that providing affordable housing alone cannot fundamentally solve the problem; we need to re-empower these women with the right to the city.

The design aspect of this project initially began with questioning whether we could reimagine placing family life within public spaces and connecting it with public activities: for instance, as I mentioned earlier, having all mothers and children cooking and dining on the streets, with these street kitchens also generating profit. While this may not be the optimal solution to the issues faced by single mothers, it represents a radical challenge to the existing power structures. For too long, we have hidden kitchens within the depths of private households, allowing people to overlook the unpaid labour of mothers. Placing these activities in public spaces and linking them with activities outside the home not only facilitates sharing between different families; it also forces the public to confront the dual responsibilities borne by single mothers.

At the outset of this project, I conducted an exploratory project called "All space shared". It envisioned numerous moments to answer one question — what if this city were designed for single mothers and their children? In this project, the garbage bins — where mothers frequently encounter each other — are placed in the middle of the street instead of hidden in back alleys; streets are pedestrianised and even domesticated; even cars are imagined in anti-collisionconfigurations. Another concept that later grew in importance is "afuredashi" — originally a lifestyle observed on the streets of Japan — whereby people extend some personal furniture and activities into public alleys, creating an extension of their home while promoting interpersonal interactions. These seemingly insignificant acts are a powerful claim to urban space, blurring the boundaries between family and public spaces, and further blurring its boundaries with the city itself.

The core solution of this project evolves from these small scenes — by developing interactive community commercial activities to help single mothers rebuild social relationships and integrate into city life. This means combining shelters with various small businesses — convenience stores, dry cleaners, nail salons, pharmacies, restaurants, and more. On one hand, this addresses the issue of employment discrimination faced by single mothers, helping them regain the right to dignified living in the city through self-sufficiency rather than one-off donations. On the other hand, these community businesses encourage mothers to communicate with other residents and encourage them to visit other small businesses in a‘mom's co-op’, making more and more places in the city comfortable spaces for them, rather than just their own homes. Additionally, there is a cliche about the eyes of the street; these small businesses are scattered throughout the city, and the mothers working inside are also ‘watching’ the streets outside, making the urban spaces nearby relatively safe for these mothers and children, even if they do not technically belong to the collective mom's co-op. The right to the city is something they regain for themselves. This project merely offers a path, an opportunity.

Bio

Xidian Wang is a designer and researcher based in Cambridge and London. Her projects focus on feminist architectural design, minority representation, and spatial justice. She has a keen interest in interdisciplinary approaches and media. With an MPhil degree from the University of Cambridge, her graduate thesis project, "New Domesticity: The Shared Life of Low-Income Single Mother Families in Tokyo," conducted in Cambridge and Tokyo, received several award nominations, including the RIBA Presidents Medal and the Azure AZ Awards. She received her Bachelor of Architecture and Bachelor of Psychology from Tsinghua University, which shaped her perspective on the nuanced relationship between architectural spaces and people.

Federica Zambeletti is the founder and managing director of KoozArch. She is an architect, researcher and digital curator whose interests lie at the intersection between art, architecture and regenerative practices. In 2015 Federica founded KoozArch with the ambition of creating a space where to research, explore and discuss architecture beyond the limits of its built form. Parallel to her work at KoozArch, Federica is Architect at the architecture studio UNA and researcher at the non-profit agency for change UNLESS where she is project manager of the research "Antarctic Resolution". Federica is an Architectural Association School of Architecture in London alumni.