Boundaries in Flux: The Imaginary vs. Reality of Shinjuku Ni-Chôme as Tokyo’s Queer Space

Introduction

Since the 1970s, cities have often been depicted as characters in literature and film, from “Tales of the City” capturing San Francisco’s gay community to “Sex and the City” portraying New York’s social life. Similarly, Japanese filmmakers have also explored urban imagery, and international cinema have highlighted urban landscapes like Tokyo and Osaka serving as both cultural symbols and striking backdrops for stories of adventure and romance (Mackie, 2011). Representations of Tokyo highlight its identity as a collection of distinct “villages”, such as the nightlife of Shinjuku and Shibuya, Harajuku’s fashion hub, the upscale Ginza bars, Asakusa’s traditional entertainment, and Shinjuku Ni-chōme’s gay district.

Known as Tokyo’s premier queer space, Shinjuku Ni-chōme is more than just a queer space; it is a critical part of Tokyo’s urban branding. Promoting Ni-chōme as a centre of openness and diversity, Tokyo aligns itself with global narratives of inclusivity, shaping its image as a progressive metropolis, which, however, contrasts sharply with the lived experiences and evolving dynamics of queer spaces, thus raising questions about the nature of queer inclusivity in a city that labels itself as progressive yet retains exclusion within the queer community and spatial boundaries that may perpetuate marginalization. Exploring these dynamics offers a window into how urban spaces regulate the tension between inclusion and exclusion, as well as the commodification of queer culture in a global city like Tokyo.

This paper focuses on the concept of boundaries as a lens to interrogate the interplay between Ni-chōme’s real and imagined identities, to answer the questions: How do the fixed administrative borders of Ni-chōme coexist with its fluid symbolic borders as a “queer haven”, and what does this tension reveal about Tokyo’s negotiation of modernity and tradition? Through a critical examination of Ni-chōme’s contested inclusivity between its symbolic branding and the lived realities of queer communities, this research uncovers how the district both reflects and shapes Tokyo’s approach to queer urban identity. In doing so, it addresses a gap in scholarship on the spatial politics of queer culture, particularly in non-Western contexts, while contributing to broader debates on the intersections of space, identity, and power in contemporary cities.

Literature Review

Queer Spatial Production

Space, according to De Certeau (1988), is the interplay of directional vectors, velocities, and temporal flux. Rather than a passive container as a “place”, space emerges from the convergence of mobile elements—bodies, objects, ideologies—activated by collective trajectories that are perpetually negotiated. Lefebvre’s (1992) distinguish between lived space (spatial practice), conceived space (the official or planned understanding of space), and representational space (the symbolic meaning attached to space) further reveals the socially constructed nature of space that is shaped by dynamic interactions between cultural practices, material objects, and symbolic representations. While space can be understood as the product of continuous social processes involving actors and material component, these actors are not solely universal and uniform subjects, but are defined by different patterns of sexuality, ethnicity, race and class (Baydar, 2012).

Queer geography focuses on the spatiality of sexual identities and the ways in which heteronormativity influences urban planning and spatial organisation. As Nash (2006) argues regarding the formation of Toronto’s gay village, it was not the result of a singular political strategy aimed at controlling urban space for a cohesive gay and lesbian community. Instead, its emergence was messy and largely haphazard, with multiple actors pursuing contradictory strategies that produced unforeseen outcomes (Nash, 2006). Queer spaces, as many urban spaces, is subject to the forces of urban branding and the tourist gaze (Urry, 1991). Puar (2007) introduces the concept of homonationalism, revealing that LGBTQ+ rights narratives, particularly in the United States, are often mobilised within the framework of nationalism as aligned with nationalist and imperialist goals while masking structural oppression, with the complicity of the LGBTQ+ community in supporting these agendas. As noted by Waitt et al. (2008), gay tourism is often marketed by national tourism organisations to normalize gayness, contributing to the shift from a focus on the commodification of gay culture—seen in spectacles like pride parades and Mardi Gras—to the concentration on “commercial modes of governance” (De Jong, 2017).

From the tourist’s perspective, queer spaces are not only sites where tourists can fulfill their desire for the unfamiliar and the exotic “Other”, but they also offer an opportunity to experience the localised everyday queer culture. As Maitland (2007) notes in his study of new tourist districts in London, for international tourists, participation in the mundane urban life is often at the core of the tourism experience. This commercialised everyday activity allows tourists to experience a “mundane cosmopolitanism” (Edensor, 2007) while searching for cultural authenticity (Brown-Saracino, 2010), as opposed to tourist bubbles (Judd & Fainstein, 1999).

Boundaries and social distinction

Boundaries have always been a central concern of studies of urban and national communities. Boundary Theory by Lamont and Molnár (2002) explores how symbolic and social boundaries shape inclusion and exclusion. Symbolic boundaries, on the one hand, serve to reinforce, maintain social boundaries, such as those in class or gender distinctions, and on the other hand, can be used to question and reconstruct the meaning of social boundaries. Additionally, symbolic boundaries vary across cultures, as social distinctions in one context may be linked to different symbolic markers in another.

While symbolic boundaries have long been studied through class and immigration lenses (Bourdieu, 1988; Ong et al., 1996), their application to queer urban spaces reveals unique intersections of cultural specificity and globalised identity politics. Scholars have argued that the explicit delineation of queer spaces plays a dual role in both protecting and, paradoxically, reinforcing social distinctions (Nash, 2006). In the early 1970s, assimilationist discourses insisted that the segregation of homosexuals into separate spaces was merely a symptom of ostracism and discrimination, while liberationists condemned mainstream portrayals that depicted queer spaces as disreputable areas frequented by a narrow segment of the community, thus providing a false sense of security that discouraged a more politically active and radical identity. By the early 1980s, however, an ethnic minority perspective emerged within the human rights agenda, reconceptualising the queer space as the rightful home of a minority group—a foundation for political and economic strength as well as community building. This historical evolution highlights the complex and ambivalent role of boundaries: on one hand, clearly demarcated queer spaces may function as sites of safety and identity formation; on the other hand, they also risk deepening social distinctions and perpetuating stigma.

Subjectivity and space

In heteronormative societies, the agency of queer individuals is often constrained by spatial discourses and practices shaped by patriarchal structures. The limited opportunities for women to enter spaces deemed “dangerous” and the discomfort felt by non-heteronormative individuals in most public spaces highlight how gender and sexuality deeply permeate the organisation and control of space. De Certeau (1984) discusses the tension between strategies (top-down, planned uses of space) and tactics (the everyday, bottom-up resistances to these spatial arrangements), where spatial practices may transcend social norms, revealing the gap between the grand spatial narratives of architects and planners and the actual use of material space. This argument is also supported by Butler (1993) who proposes that norms, while typically seen as structures that enforce conformity, also create the possibility for resistance by providing the very framework within which subjectivity is formed.

Since recent studies on urban space highlight how marginalized communities reconfigure placemaking practices rooted in their subcultural identities to assert agency within hegemonic urban landscapes, it is necessary to reconceptualise both subjectivity and space as fluid and mobile. As gender performances are often overdetermined by spatial contexts, queer individuals in queer spaces are able to subvert or reimagine these spatial boundaries (Baydar, 2012), challenging both heteronormative gender expectations and breaking the boundaries of traditional typologies of spaces.

Unlike Western gay districts such as San Francisco’s Castro that historically functioned as residential enclaves for LGBTQ+ communities, Shinjuku Ni-chōme remains a commercial nexus with its concentration of queer nightlife venues for most Japanese LGBTQ+ individuals, thus providing a useful case study to explore the dynamics of urban placemaking in the postmodern city. While existing studies on Shinjuku Ni-chōme largely focus on its historical development (Seiji, 2019), living environment as a gay district (Susaki, 2021), and the heteronormative gaze through media as well as its resistance to narratives of the metropolis (Suganuma, 2011), they often treat Ni-chōme as a static entity without considering its fluid and dynamic expansions into non-designated spaces, such as Shinjuku Gyoen Park. In addition, localised critique of spatial homonationalism in non-Western contexts (e.g., how the Tokyo government uses Ni-chōme for city branding) remain lack in the existing scholarship, and as Baudinette (2018) points out that Ni-chōme is both “real-and-imagined”, the tension between its symbolic role as a queer-friendly destination and the everyday realities of exclusion and heterogeneity within its boundaries need further investigation.

Methodology and Study Area

Data and Methodology

This study employs a qualitative approach to examine the symbolic and spatial boundaries of Shinjuku Ni-chōme, focusing on how it is represented in public narratives and how social behaviours redefine its boundaries. The methodology prioritises an analysis of its constructed identity in public discourse while also incorporating observational insights to explore the fluidity of its spatial practices.

For symbolic analysis of the construction of Ni-chōme as a multicultural symbol, this study employs a content analysis that uses data from official government publications and policies related to Ni-chōme, media representations, including newspapers, magazines, and digital media platforms that feature Ni-chōme as a queer-friendly district, as well as tourism materials such as brochures and online travel guides, which commodify Ni-chōme for international and domestic audiences. This component focuses on analysing how Ni-chōme’s identity is constructed and reinforced as a symbol of Tokyo’s multiculturalism and inclusivity, so as to uncover the role of political actors, media, and tourism industries in shaping its symbolic boundaries, revealing tensions between idealised representations and the complex realities of urban queer spaces.

As for dynamic space analysis of informal behaviours and boundary fluidity, the study bases on observational data collected in Ni-chōme and its informal extensions, such as Shinjuku Gyoen Park, meanwhile paying attention to spatial usage, interactions, and behaviours that challenge or reinforce existing boundaries. This analysis focuses on queer practices that redefine boundaries and examines the relationship between formal and informal forces within the broader context of urban queer identities.

Overview of Study Area

Shinjuku Ni-chōme is located about 750 metres east of Shinjuku Station. It was a red-light district after World War II when the sex industry flourished, but the enactment of the Prostitution Prevention Law in 1958 led to the closure of the sex industry and decline of the district until 1960s when gay bars originally in Shinjuku San-chōme moved to Shinjuku Ni-chōme, leading to the creation of a gay district. During Japan’s “gay boom” in the 1990s, Ni-chōme became a commercialised gay district (Susaki, 2021), with among 300 gay bars and nightclubs in it (Figure 1). While being close to the bustling business district of Shinjuku, the area is relatively isolated from the surrounding area because it is encircled by wide roads, making it a more secluded environment for forming a gay village (Fushimi, 2019).

Figure 1: Distribution of gay bars (grey areas) within Shinjuku Ni-chōme

Findings and Discussion

The Production of Imaginary Boundaries: Politicians, Tourists, and the Myth of “Diverse Tokyo”

Following the “Gay Boom” that Japan experienced in the early 1990s (Lunsing, 1997), the branding of Tokyo as a “diverse” and “inclusive” metropolis reached its zenith during the 2020/2021 Olympics, when the city’s political elite strategically appropriated LGBTQ+ symbols to project a progressive image on the global stage.  Much like the 1964 Olympics, which symbolised Japan’s post-war resurgence and restored its international reputation (Tagsold, 2010), the 2020/2021 Games were framed as an opportunity to showcase a new era of Japanese hospitality (Tamaki, 2019). However, beneath such kind of rhetoric lay a distinctly neoliberal agenda: the anticipated influx of foreign tourists and global media attention was seen as a catalyst for economic revitalisation. Within this context, LGBTQ+ tourists emerged as a particularly lucrative target demographic, incentivising policymakers and businesses to rebrand Tokyo as a beacon of queer inclusivity.

Shinjuku Ni-chōme, on most of Tokyo’s tourism websites, is portrayed as “home to Tokyo’s gay district” (Tokyo Convention & Visitors Bureau., n.d.) with bars and late-night drinks and “LGBT-Friendly Neighborhoods in Tokyo” that “serve as much-needed platforms for connection, dialogue, and support within the community, making Tokyo a city that embraces the colors of the rainbow” (Thoroddsen, 2024). Yet, this commodification of LGBTQ+ identity often prioritised marketability over meaningful social change, reducing Ni-chōme to a performative symbol of “diverse Tokyo” while sidelining the lived realities of its local queer community in facing heteronormative society (McLelland, 2005). Longtime patrons of the bars often lament the transformation from intimate, community-oriented clubs to upscale establishments catering to affluent outsiders (Mackie, 2011). Additionally, the lack of nationwide anti-discrimination protections for sexual minorities and universal legalisation of same-sex marriage have long been criticised as superficial acts of self-promotion and image-building, often referred to as “pinkwashing”, which has also been observed in Western contexts (Ritchie, 2014).

Shinjuku Ni-chōme’s rainbow façades and cosmopolitan allure may project an image of inclusivity, but they also mask the structural inequalities that persist beneath the surface. As politicians and tourists alike celebrate Ni-chōme as a symbol of “diverse Tokyo,” the voices of its most vulnerable inhabitants risk being drowned out. This duality—Ni-chōme as both a globalised image and a contested local space—reveals the fragility of its symbolic boundaries.

The Fluidity of Non-official Boundaries: Parks, Streets, and the Resistance of “Improper” Behaviour

Officially, Shinjuku Ni-chōme is designated by Tokyo’s urban planning policies as a commercial zone within the Shinjuku City (City Planning Map, 2024), with its boundaries strictly aligned with the chōme (zoning community) system (Figure 2). However, the non-official boundary might be permeable. The queer practices exercised within Ni-chōme as a “gay district” could spill over the designated bureaucratic boundaries into adjacent streets and public spaces like Shinjuku Gyoen Park. The conventional public space, frequented by office workers on lunch breaks and families enjoying leisurely strolls, may also become a meeting place for LGBTQ+ people, particularly those who feel excluded from the commercialised nightlife of Ni-chōme’s bars. Here, acts of intimacy—holding hands, exchanging glances, or casual conversations—become subtle yet powerful evidence of queer presence in a city that tends to marginalise such expressions. These “improper” behaviours, as defined by heteronormative standards, disrupt the official narrative of public space as a neutral and sanitised domain, revealing its underlying power dynamics.

Figure 2 Administrative division of Shinjuku Ni-chōme and its surroundings

While queer individuals reclaim public space through informal acts of resistance, the hetero-centric gaze reinscribes the very boundaries they seek to transgress. For example, Suganuma (2011) describes how heteronormative media apparatuses reinforce and even contract social boundaries by exoticising queer practices. In a Japan TV program featuring Ni-chōme, a male reporter posing as a cruiser in Shinjuku Park (a small park within Ni-chōme), with a camera positioned at a distance, documented two men approaching the reporter: one offering a cigarette, the other boldly propositioning him for sex. Through such voyeuristic hetero-centric gazes, queer intimacy was reduced to a spectacle of deviance. The narrative of the “Other” positions queer desire as inherently transgressive and confined to the margins of “acceptable” public life.

The attempt to extend the non-official boundaries of Shinjuku Ni-chōme seems not just as a challenge to dominant power structures, but as a reaffirmation of their necessity—reassuring mainstream audiences of their own “normalcy” while pathologising queer intimacy.

The Obsolescence of Boundaries? Tokyo’s Conservatism and the Need for Community Autonomy

In Tokyo, a city that markets itself as a paragon of modernity, the persistence of a designated “gay district” represents both the failures of urban liberalism and the resilience of queer communities. This paradox raises a question: are Shinjuku Ni-chōme’s boundaries obsolete or essential? On one hand, the spatial segregation of Ni-chōme’s reflects a “heterotopia” (Foucault & Miskowiec, 1986) that simultaneously mirrors and inverts dominant social orders. By clustering queer businesses and social networks within a few blocks, the district provides an escape from the pressures of heteronormativity in Japanese society, enabling intimacy and self-expression deemed “improper” elsewhere. While the portrayal of “utopia” aligns well with capitalism’s tendency to commodify gay spaces (Skeggs et al., 2004), in a setting dominated by local protection rackets, the idea of utopia is seldom achievable. These boundaries, on the other hand, tend to reinforce the very marginalisation that queer people try to escape. Tokyo Government’s tacit tolerance of Ni-chōme as a “contained” queer space allows it to neglect broader reforms of LGBTQ+ rights, effectively outsourcing social inclusion to the private sector. This dynamic reflects the form of “homonationalism” (Puar, 2007) where government strategically embrace purified queer visibility to signal modernity, while in practice perpetuating systemic exclusion. Thus, Ni-chōme’s endurance as a queer enclave reflects not urban backwardness, but a pragmatic response to Japan’s fractured progressivism.

Conclusion

This discussion paper has demonstrated that Shinjuku Ni-chōme’s boundaries—administratively fixed yet symbolically fluid—operate as a lens through which Tokyo negotiates its contradictory identity as a “progressive” metropolis. By interrogating the tensions between Ni-chōme’s branding as a queer haven and its everyday exclusions, this paper reveal how urban boundaries function as tools of power: politicians and tourism industries commodify the district to signal Tokyo’s modernity while neglecting structural LGBTQ+ reforms; queer individuals dynamically expand boundaries through intimate spatial practices, yet face reinscription of marginality via heteronormative gazes; and the enclave’s commercial isolation reflects Japan’s fractured progressivism, where state tolerance substitutes substantive inclusion.

In mainstream society, spaces are considered to be unchangeable normative frameworks, where urban spaces are often designated as the exclusive territory of certain social groups, usually excluding those who do not “fit” the norms. However, spatiality also offers a reflection and critique of these social norms. When queer space is geographically fluid and blurred by boundaries, it symbolises queer individual’s resistance to hetero-centric space and rebellion against the normative space of mainstream society. The investigation of Ni-chōme provides us with a new perspective to re-understand urban space. It reveals how power shapes the structure of social hierarchies through the control of space, and redefines the relationship between the individual and society in the face of these norms of space, thus calling for the creation of more inclusive and non-normative forms of space, and providing new ideas for future urban planning.

Yet, this paper retains several limitations. Its reliance on observational data from a concentrated period prioritises visible public behaviours in selected zones of Ni-chōme and its periphery, potentially overlooking less accessible or private spatial negotiations. Although discourse analysis of media and tourism materials effectively traces symbolic boundary construction, the absence of in-depth interviews with queer customers and bar owners constrains our understanding of internal community hierarchies and embodied experiences. Additionally, examining digital-physical hybridity, such as dating apps decoupling queer sociability from Ni-chōme’s geography, and transnational flows may reveal new modes of spatial resistance.

Ultimately, Tokyo’s exploitation of Ni-chōme as a cosmopolitan façade exposes the fragility of urban liberalism. Dismantling the district’s symbolic and material boundaries—not as erasure but as liberation from containment—demands centering those whose bodies navigate these margins daily. Only when queer space ceases to be an exception within the metropolis can Tokyo’s “inclusive” branding transcend performativity.

 

Acknowledgments

A version of this paper was submitted as coursework at Sophia University, Japan. The author would like to thank Professor Erez Golani Solomon for his guidance.

 

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