Experiences – Life – Inspiration 🇨🇭🇯🇵

I recently stumbled into a topic that I honestly never thought much about until now. It happened while watching a video by Shohei Kondo, a Japanese Youtuber I follow more and more these days. I like him because he is Japanese but speaks from a different angle. He lived abroad for more than ten years, so he has that mix of insider understanding and outsider perspective that many people online don’t have when they talk about Japan.

He reviews comments, reactions, and online opinions about Japan and simply says what makes sense and what does not. Very straightforward. And in one of his videos he talked about something I knew existed but never really looked into deeply. Kokuhaku culture.

Kokuhaku means confession. In Japan a romantic relationship usually begins only when someone confesses their feelings directly. Before that moment you are not dating. After that moment you are. Simple in theory. Heavy in practice.

As I listened to Shohei explain it I realised he might be on to something much bigger than I expected.

Kokuhaku sounds sweet at first. Two people, one moment, and an honest expression of feelings. But the reality behind it creates a very rigid structure. The relationship cannot simply “grow”. You cannot just spend time together, see each other, and naturally drift into dating like in many Western countries.

Everything depends on the confession.

One moment.

One yes.

One no.

And this puts all the weight on the person confessing, which in Japan usually means the man. Shohei pointed out that this system creates fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of losing a friendship. Fear of embarrassment at school or work. Fear of stepping out emotionally in a culture that values smooth social harmony.

When you think about it this way you start to understand why many Japanese men hesitate to confess at all.

Shohei also made a point that actually surprised me. Many people want to explain Japan’s low birthrate by saying that raising children is too expensive. But he called that nonsense. And honestly, he has a point.

Countries like the United States, Switzerland, the UK, Singapore, and many others are much more expensive places to raise a child. Yet people still date, get married, and have families. So clearly the money explanation alone does not work.

His idea is simple. If the barrier to starting a relationship is already too high then everything that comes after becomes irrelevant. If young people never get into relationships then discussing the cost of raising a child is already too far ahead.

It is like trying to explain why no one buys a house when people are too afraid to even walk into the real estate office to ask a question.

What strikes me is how Japan is stuck between tradition and modern life. The older generation still believes in the kokuhaku moment. The younger generation lives in a world where relationships naturally form through shared experiences, hobbies, small steps, and gradual interest.

But the old rule is still there. Waiting. Watching. Quietly controlling the flow of romance.

Most young people simply never reach that confession moment. Not because they do not want connection, but because the system makes the first step too dramatic, too risky, and too final.

Shohei’s idea is that Japan might not have a financial birthrate problem. It might have a connection problem. A courage problem. A communication problem. And the more I think about it the more it makes sense.

Listening to Shohei gave me a new angle on something I see around me in daily life. People in Japan are kind, polite, thoughtful, and considerate. But when it comes to expressing emotions directly things suddenly become complicated.

Kokuhaku culture looks simple on the surface but it creates a wall around the beginnings of romance. A wall that many people simply never climb.

And this makes me think. Maybe Japan does not need to change the big things first. Maybe it needs more room for natural connection. More room for slow beginnings. More room for trying, failing, learning, and growing without putting everything on the line in a single moment.