Jun.
2004, Xene #40
OGINO GINKO, MEDICINE WOMAN
by Deborah Davidson
In the days before the national railway system was
privatized, there was a short line that branched off
from Oshamanbe and cut straight across the western
arm of Hokkaido to the Japan Sea coast. Called the
Setana Line, it dead-ended at a port town that had
once bustled with trading ships and herring fishing.
When the herring stopped coming to these shores, the
local economy declined and the young people left in
droves to seek employment elsewhere. But Setana is
not just a carbon copy of the many other towns that
shared this common fate. One of the things that distinguish
Setana is its connection to the pioneering woman Ogino
Ginko.
The
first hint of this connection can be found at the
site of the old railway station. The wooden board
that identifies the train stop is still there, and
near where the station once stood is the bronze bust
of a woman at the base of a three-sided brick wall.
This monument memorializes Ogino Ginko, the first
female licensed physician in Japan. After the three
offshore rock formations known as the Three Stone
Cedars, Ogino is Setana's most popular symbol. Her
face decorates almost as many business cards and cake
boxes as the Stone Cedars do, and her name has been
used for Setana brand products from ice cream to sake.
Ogino Ginko was born into a respectable landowning
family in 1851. Two years earlier, Elizabeth Blackwell
had graduated at the top of her class from Geneva
Medical College in New York to become the first woman
licensed to practice medicine in the United States.
Although it was an age when book learning was not
considered necessary - or even advisable - for girls,
Ginko's father encouraged his bright daughter to study
basic reading and writing.
When Ginko was eighteen, her parents arranged for
her to marry the eldest son of an even more respectable
and wealthy family. But before long she was too ill
to continue running the household: She had caught
gonorrhea from her husband. This was considered to
be her problem, not his, and though Ginko was now
unable to bear children, custom dictated that she
remain in her husband's household in the service of
her husband and mother-in-law. This was more than
Ginko could bear, however, and she managed to sneak
back to her parents' home to convalesce. To her mother's
dismay, Ginko refused to return to her husband's home,
and after only two years of marriage, the families
agreed to a divorce.
Ginko
realized that if she wanted to recover enough to accomplish
anything, she would need the kind of treatment that
was only available through Western medicine. She traveled
from her home in Saitama to Tokyo to check into the
Juntendoh teaching hospital. The physical examinations
of her private areas by the male doctor were made
all the more traumatic by the presence of male medical
students. She endured each treatment with clenched
teeth and tightly closed eyes, repeating over and
over to herself, "It will be over soon. It will
be over soon." It was a humiliation that would
change the course of her life. Ginko became convinced
of the need for women doctors, and she decided she
would become one herself. By the end of her fourteen-month
hospital stay, her mantra had changed to "I will
become a doctor. I will become a doctor."
In those days before penicillin, even the best Western
medicine could only treat her symptoms and not cure
her completely. After her discharge from the hospital,
Ginko returned home to consider her next step. Since
women were not allowed to enter medical school, it
seemed best to pursue foundational studies in classical
Japanese texts while waiting for a chance to study
medicine. Her friends and family were scandalized,
and it was under a cloud of disownment that she left
home to seek the higher education that would eventually
lead to certification as a practicing physician.
After years of outstanding performance at one school
after another, Ginko was granted reluctant permission
to take courses at a private school of Western medicine.
There she was subjected to bullying of every kind,
from simple humiliation to the threat of violence.
There was no women's toilet at the school, and Ginko
had no choice but to use the single enclosed cubicle
at the end of the men's room. The male students would
block her from entering or leaving the cubicle. Sometimes
they would purposely expose themselves to her. She
might have tried to endure the school day without
using the bathroom, but her illness forced her to
run for the toilet after each lecture period. One
evening as Ginko was walking home from school, she
was accosted by three students who threatened to rape
her. Seeing that there was no escape, she finally
told them to do with her as they pleased, but that
they should know she was infected with gonorrhea.
The men were immediately turned off, called her disgusting
names, and left without doing her any physical harm.
As
for her studies, Ginko was at the top of her class.
Her zeal for learning and hands-on practice at a time
when cadavers were not readily available even for
medical school research prompted her to sneak into
the graveyards of executed criminals where she would
dig up bones to study. Male patients would often refuse
to let her examine them, so before it was Ginko's
turn to show her diagnostic skills in front of her
instructor and classmates, she had to spend many hours
trying, with arguments and gifts, to persuade the
patients to cooperate. Because she was estranged from
her family, she had to squeeze tutoring jobs into
her already tight schedule in order to support herself.
This strenuous life caused the symptoms of her disease
to reappear and confine her to bed for days at a time.
Yet Ginko's persistence and natural ability bore fruit,
and she graduated from medical school in 1882 at the
age of thirty-two. However, another major hurdle lay
just ahead.
Women were prohibited from taking the two-stage examinations
that prospective doctors needed to pass before being
licensed. Over and over again she petitioned for permission
to take the exam.
"There's simply no precedent and my hands are
tied," the minister in charge repeatedly told
her - until Ginko recalled a rare book she had once
borrowed from the head of the first school she had
attended. It was a Nara-period (710 - 794) legal document
that regulated the practice of medicine with a brief
reference to women doctors. This was enough for the
minister to persuade the bureaucrats to allow Ginko
to take the exams. She passed with flying colors.
Ginko's second hasband helped to establish this
church in Imakane, whici is still in use.
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Ginko gained her license to practice medicine in 1885,
when she was thirty-five years old. She opened a private
clinic and was soon inundated with patients. She worked
constantly, not only to heal the sick, but also to
further women's rights and health education. At this
time it was Christian women's organizations that were
spearheading the push for women's rights, and Ginko,
who had been baptized into the Christian church shortly
before she received her license, became active in
one of these organizations.
In 1890 she met and married a twenty-six-year-old
seminary student named Shikata Yukiyoshi. Again she
was met with disapproval and resistance on all sides.
Ginko was forty years old and was settling into the
hard-won role of a respected professional woman. It
was feared that this "unsuitable" match
would hamper her commitment to her medical practice
and her growing influence in the social reform movement.
Four years later, Ginko resigned from the offices
she held in various women's organizations, closed
the doors of her thriving clinic, and joined her husband
in Hokkaido where he and his comrades had already
begun clearing forestland in hopes of establishing
an ideal farming community based on their Christian
faith. They settled in what is now Imakane, an offshoot
of Setana. In 1897, at the age of 47, Ginko opened
Ogino Clinic in Setana, became the chairperson of
the women's association she had founded, and worked
tirelessly to improve the lives of women and children.
Not many years had passed since the Japanese government
first opened Hokkaido to homesteaders, and it was
still a harsh, untamed land. Broken by physical effort
and the emotional stress of unfulfilled dreams, Yukiyoshi
died from pneumonia in 1905 at the age of forty-two.
His wife and their adopted daughter, Tomi, stayed
in Hokkaido for a few more years before moving back
to Tokyo where Ginko passed away at the age of sixty-three.
Ginko lived in Setana for roughly twelve years, which
doesn't seem very long. But she had a significant
impact on the community and is revered to this day
as one of Setana's own heroes. Her personal possessions
are displayed in the local history museum and include
the notebook she used for studying English, a passion
of her later years.
Last year, a woman of my acquaintance passed away
in Imakane at the age of 108. She had attended meetings
at Ginko's home as a child. She grew up to pursue
a medical career, and her son is a respected doctor
of internal medicine in Imakane. Ginko's legacy lives
on.
