The Jaa Tsuku Katsuo Issue Isn’t Just for Others — Masculinity Expert Outlines the Exit Strategy

We asked Takayuki Kiyota, writer and representative of “Momoyama Shōji,” who continues to publish work on gender-related issues

The Tuesday drama “Then You Try Making It Yourself” (TBS) has been drawing attention every week, especially on social media. The story follows Katsuwo Ebihara, a high-spec protagonist who unconsciously holds male-chauvinistic values. After his girlfriend Ayumi Yamagishi refuses his marriage proposal, he begins to face himself.

Online, many viewers say, “There really are people like this!”—and perhaps some secretly think, “I might have been like this too,” feeling a sting of recognition.

So what should a person do if they realize they have “Katsuo-like tendencies”?

We asked Takayuki Kiyota, the writer and representative of “Momoyama Shōji,” who continues to address issues related to masculinity, about what sparks awareness and how one can begin to change from there.

When men change, it always begins with pain

—The drama “Then You Try Making It Yourself” is getting a lot of attention right now. Since you’ve long studied gender and men’s ways of living, Mr. Kiyota, are you also following it closely?

Kiyota: Yes. I’ve always liked the works of the original author, Natsuko Taniguchi, so I was looking forward to this one. Taniguchi’s works often depict what I call one step outside of everyday life—human relationships that exist right beside us, yet we rarely notice. By shifting the angle just a little, she shows us new perspectives and small hopes that weren’t visible before. I feel that this drama is packed with that same essence.

For example, after his proposal is rejected, in a typical storyline Katsuo would get angry or cling to her, but instead he suddenly starts cooking. And even though he once told his junior colleague Shirasaki, “A man making bento is gross,” he eventually starts making bentos himself.

The relationship with Tsubaki—whom he met on a dating app—is the same. While it initially seems like it may turn into romance or end in a fight, it instead develops into a friendship mediated by the wounds of heartbreak. This reconstruction of a relationship feels very fresh. And it’s not depicted in an unrealistic way—it feels grounded. That’s what I find so appealing about Taniguchi’s work.

—Katsuo began reflecting on himself after having his proposal rejected. Is it difficult for people to gain such awareness without some big event happening?

Kiyota: Yes, especially for men. Without some kind of crisis—heartbreak, failure at work, trouble in relationships, or physical/mental distress—many men simply do not reflect on themselves.

Take Katsuo, for example. As a character, he’s exaggerated, so he comes across like a naturally male-chauvinistic guy, but in reality, values like his are still very common. Social norms and conventions work in his favor, so he believes his behavior is normal. Since he has never felt any real consequences, he has no reason to question himself. That’s why a major event—something big enough to shake his everyday life—is necessary.

—Indeed. Something may seem strange to those around him, but to the person himself it’s just business as usual.

Kiyota: Even if someone briefly thinks, “Maybe I’m the problem,” actually changing their behavior, how they spend their time, or their relationships is not easy. For someone like Katsuo to look back at his past actions and then change his behavior requires a lot of energy. A little awareness alone is rarely enough to bring about real change.

The reason Katsuo was able to change is his honesty

—There are so many opportunities to notice things, yet why do most people fail to notice?

Kiyota: If we’re talking just about moments of awareness, then yes, there are countless triggers. For example, seeing news about paternity leave and thinking, “I didn’t take it,” or seeing arguments online about housework and childcare and reflecting, “How was it in my home?”

Those thoughts aren’t meaningless, but real-world problems aren’t something you can solve simply by noticing them.

If you stop at “I didn’t take paternity leave,” nothing changes. You have to think concretely about what kind of problems that caused, what kind of feelings you may have imposed on your partner. If you don’t examine it as your issue, it probably won’t have any real meaning. Understanding something in your head and connecting it to your own behavior are completely different things.

—So even if you understand something intellectually, it’s meaningless unless you recognize it as your own responsibility. What’s the difference between people who can notice and those who can’t?

Kiyota: Hmm, that’s difficult. I’m in no position to speak as if I’m above anyone, and thinking in terms of men who can notice are great, and men who can’t are bad becomes dangerously dualistic. But if there’s something we can learn from Katsuo, it’s that—both for better and worse—he is straightforward.

For example, there’s that scene where Tsubaki, whom he met on a dating app, compares Katsuo’s homemade oden to convenience-store oden. It would be natural to feel hurt or even angry when something you made with care is dismissed. But instead, Katsuo draws a line back to himself: “Wait,  haven’t I done the same thing to Ayumi?”

The same goes for the combination of motsuyaki and Coke Highball that junior colleague Minamikawa likes. At first he rejects it—“That won’t go together,” “Impossible”—but after various realizations, he eventually tries it himself and thinks, “This is good!”

Everyone has moments of awareness, but the real question is whether you can relate them to your own behavior. And when doing so, whether you can look honestly at your own actions and values without treating yourself as an exception. That’s where honesty comes into play.

—In the original story, Katsuo is a 27-year-old from Oita. Are there generational or regional differences in these tendencies?

Kiyota: Broadly speaking, gender equality has progressed with time, and people raised in older eras tend to be more constrained by traditional gender roles. I’m from the Showa generation, and when I was a child, it was normal for households to have full-time homemakers, and gendered expectations were still very strong.

If Katsuo were truly a 27-year-old living today, his gender views indeed appear quite old-fashioned. The story explores his family relationships as well, and while the era matters, the region where one grows up and the household environment likely have a major influence.

Today, dual-income households are the majority, and people are encouraged to share childcare and housework, and to take parental leave. Katsuo’s family also confronts this shift in the story. As society’s understanding of gender changes rapidly, more and more people may feel caught between differing sets of values.

Learning from Katsuo’s mistakes: how invisible biases affect relationships

—If someone lives without realizing they hold biased values, how might that affect their relationships?

Kiyota: In Katsuo’s case, for example, at work he forced his own values onto his juniors, who were put off by him or made fun of him. Even at a group date, his unconscious male-chauvinistic behavior caused him to be isolated—he was the only one who left after the first round. On his way home, he went to a bar with some women who had approached him, but even there he was laughed at with, “(Your values) are seriously bad,” and they left him early.

At home, there’s a high chance that such behavior damages a partnership as well. Katsuo’s failed proposal is one possible outcome for a man who never noticed how skewed his values were.

In the drama, his juniors openly criticize him, but in real life most people will simply withdraw quietly without saying anything. And since he doesn’t think of himself as male-chauvinistic, he’d never understand why everyone is distancing themselves. Which is frightening.

—In friendships, you might expect someone to tell you honestly, though?

Kiyota: If you have a friend who is truly committed to your well-being, they might push through the discomfort and say, “You’re out of line, man.” But realistically, the quiet fade-out is far more common. Especially if someone—even a friend or coworker—makes sexist remarks in front of the opposite sex, people will instantly draw a line. Rumors could spread in group chats, and before you know it, everyone is keeping their distance.

In the real world, Shirasaki and Minamikawa would absolutely not stay involved with someone like Katsuo. Shirasaki was told, “A man making bento is disgusting,” and Minamikawa was scolded for not cooking. Just because someone is your senior at work doesn’t mean you’ll want to stay close to them if they speak like that.

Real change begins with stumbling and struggling

—For people who think, “I might be a Katsuo type,” where should they start?

Kiyota: It’s a difficult question, but I think Katsuo’s actions offer good hints. Through cooking, he gained the chance to imagine—very concretely—how Ayumi must have felt, and how his words and behavior had affected her. He began thinking seriously about what lay behind his mistakes.

Beyond cooking, he also started showing vulnerability to his juniors and consulting them about his worries. It might feel embarrassing, but that kind of self-disclosure is an important part of the process.

However, these realizations only came to him after a crisis. Conversely, people who don’t feel something is wrong in the first place rarely question their own values. And honestly, I’m not sure there’s a reliable way to prevent that in advance.

What’s important is not trying to understand everything just with logic. You need to feel it—by getting discouraged, struggling, failing over and over, and connecting those moments directly with your own behavior and values. Learning to understand another person’s pain is never simple.

Katsuo, after starting to cook, began noticing how amazing instant dashi granules and mentsuyu are. He once mocked them as lazy shortcuts, yet when he used them himself, he realized they were what made the dish taste right. This process of having your values shaken by unexpected experiences—that’s the essence of change.

—So the only option is to wait for someone to change? But no one waits forever, right?

Kiyota: Sadly, yes—most of the time, it’s already too late. In the end, the only person who waits for your change is you. That’s why instead of waiting, what matters is your willingness to stay with yourself.

Katsuo acknowledged the strengths of instant dashi and mentsuyu honestly and shared that with others, which gradually improved his relationships. But he was constantly asking himself questions along the way. His ability to support himself with persistence played a big role.

If someone even slightly thinks, “I want to change,” then they need to face themselves—slowly adjusting their lifestyle and habits, trying new things, and deepening their self-understanding without rushing. “Then You Try Making It Yourself”can be a wonderfully supportive companion in that process. Personally, I love Katsuo’s fashion every episode, so I plan to enjoy following the drama as it continues.

▼ Takayuki Kiyota
Born in Tokyo in 1980. Writer and representative of “Momoyama Shōji.” Graduated from Waseda University’s School of Letters, Arts and Sciences I. Writes on themes including gender, relationships, human dynamics, and culture in various media. Author of “I Can’t Go Back, But I Will Live: The Future of Masculinity” and “I Meant Well, But, An Introduction to the Study of Men’s Failures.” Part-time lecturer at Joshibi University of Art and Design. Regularly updates the “Momoyama Shōji” podcast.