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Japan’s White Day reflects complicated global perceptions of love

The history behind Japan’s post-Valentine’s holiday is one of miscommunication, hierarchy, and obligation. 

Worldwide, Valentine’s day takes on the familiar form of commercialised love. Red roses and heart shaped chocolates abound. But in Japan, the holiday follows rituals of its own – each with their own labyrinthine of social obligations.

On the 14th of February, Japanese women are traditionally the gift-givers, still opting for the humble chocolate to display their affections. Only these chocolates aren’t just gifts; they’re currency in a carefully calibrated hierarchy of relationships.

The distinctions between the multiple types of Valentine’s chocolate in Japan are subtle but significant. Honmei Choco is arguably the most important of the season. It’s typically handmade and comes at a higher price point, designed to be gifted to significant others and spouses.

Next comes Giri Choco, a more standardised, affordable chocolate in nondescript packaging. This sweet is gifted to colleagues, bosses, and other male acquaintances as a sign of obligatory respect.

The market has exploited this detail, meaning Giri Choco is responsible for upholding much of Japan’s chocolate economy. If you’re expected to gift it, you’re expected to buy it. Call it an unavoidable festive purchase – much like the Christmas present.

Tomo Choco has grown in popularity in recent years, and is representative of platonic love. Girl friends might gift this to one another to show their affections, mirroring the rise of ‘galentine’s’ celebrations in the West. Tomo Choco is usually trendy and colourful, and crucially, the most fun to give.

Last but certainly not least, there’s Mai Choco. This chocolate is meant to be bought as a gift to yourself – the perfect representation of self-love. Japan’s luxury chocolate market has wasted no time jumping on this trend, either. Many high-end confectionary brands now cater to women buying Mai Choco for themselves.

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So with all of these variations of Valentine’s gifting, the question is how and why? When did Japan arrive at this distinct and frankly overwhelming chocolate hierarchy? The answer lies in a mishap of cross-cultural communication.

In the 1950s, an American chocolate company sought to introduce Valentine’s Day to Japan. But a mistranslation of their advertisement led people to believe it was a day when women gave chocolate to men. And so began the tradition where women – sometimes begrudgingly – hand out sweets to bosses, colleagues, and classmates, in a gesture of social maintenance rather than romantic devotion.

And just when you thought that was enough rules and regulations for one holiday, White Day comes along exactly one month later to add another layer of complexity to the whole thing.

White Day is generally seen as a sequel to Valentine’s Day, when men pick up the gauntlet and give gifts of sweets and chocolates to their partners in a gesture of reciprocation.

The origins of this subsequent celebration follow a similar route as Valentine’s Day itself, with companies spotting an opportunity to market to men – traditionally on the receiving end of affectionate gifting – in the 1970s.

Since then, White Day has grown in popularity across Japan and throughout neighbouring countries including China and South Korea, with some noting that the idea of matching Valentine’s Day gifts reflects the region’s broader culture of reciprocity.

This offers a compelling mirror to Western conceptions of love and intimacy, where love is often framed as spontaneous, emotional, and deeply personal. Japan’s interpretation, by contrast, reveals a more transactional ethos – one with cultural emphasis on social harmony and obligation.

But beneath the surface, both models are heavily influenced by capitalism and patriarchal structures.

In Japan, women shoulder the emotional and logistical labor of initiating the gift-giving process, while men enjoy the power of reciprocation. In the West, Valentine’s Day often reinforces outdated gender roles: men are typically expected to orchestrate grand romantic gestures, while women perform the role of the grateful recipient.

Despite being continents apart, both systems ultimately use romance as a thin veneer for reinforcing traditional gender dynamics.

These rigid traditions are beginning to fracture, though. Younger generations of Japanese women in particular are rejecting the idea of giri choco, and instead reclaiming Valentine’s Day as an excuse to gift chocolate to themselves and their friends.

Japan isn’t the only nation rethinking its approach to love and relationships. Across the board, Gen Z are challenging heteronormative, patriarchal, and commercialised expectations around romance, with the rise of Galentine’s Day in the US and Europe leading to a proliferation of self-love movements and emphasis on displays of platonic female affection.

While the many hierarchies and parameters of Japan’s Valentine’s celebrations may feel a world away from the fluffy – dare I say sickening – approach to February 14th in the West, these gift-giving customs provide a lens into how societal norms shape our understanding of love, intimacy, and gender roles.

Worldwide, the way we celebrate Valentine’s Day has become a symbol for the tension between tradition and transformation.

And as it turns out, perhaps the most radical thing we can do in a world so often governed by societal expectations, is to give ourselves the gift of unencumbered affection.

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