This is a statement made by Yoshiyuki Iimura at the press conference held on xx xxxxxxxx 202x.
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Today, at this press conference, I would like to speak about the lawsuit I am filing against my former workplace, Higashi-Nippon International University, and about the background of my dismissal. First, I would like to explain the circumstances that led to this situation. I began working in 2023 as a full-time lecturer in the Faculty of Economics and Management at the university. I had a positive professional reputation, as many colleagues and students could attest. This positive reputation, however, sometimes had unintended consequences; there were some students whose closeness to me seemed concerning from my professional ethics perspective. This was a structural problem; the university has a chronic shortage of staff, so faculty members were responsible not only for teaching, but also for tasks that should be handled by administrative staff. These included collecting tuition payments, supporting scholarship applications, and even caring for students with mental or physical difficulties. (It was because trained counselors were not available, so faculty were expected to handle these matters—a practice not uncommon among smaller private universities in Japan, where chronic underfunding and understaffing persist.) I understood this system was problematic, but refusing such tasks would clearly harm students’ welfare. This environment made it difficult to keep proper boundaries. For example, during overseas language programs, faculty were required to exchange personal contact information. In short, there appeared to be no functioning principle at the university requiring proper boundaries between students and faculty. Instead, this structure was even presented publicly as evidence of a “supportive university.”
The exchange of contact information is directly related to this case. A student with whom I had exchanged contact information for work purposes began sending me personal messages beyond the scope of university duties. This escalated to late-night phone calls at 1 or 2 a.m. At that time, I consulted with colleagues, but only as a “troublesome situation.” As a male faculty member dealing with a student, the authority gradient—in which I was generally regarded as holding power —made it very difficult to formally escalate the issue. (In Japan, it is technically possible for a faculty member to take legal action against a student, but this is highly uncommon and generally not encouraged.) In addition, since the university had no proper system to handle such problems, I had to deal with it on my own. Her behavior clearly crossed a line and amounted to stalking-like conduct, and I felt real fear. She repeatedly engaged in what is often called “limit testing”—deliberately causing trouble to see how forgiving I would be. (I am not attempting to diagnose her; I am describing a pattern of behavior I experienced.) Sometimes this happened even during class, and at other times, she sent late-night messages and calls saying things like “Let’s go for a walk” or “Come to the convenience store with me,” which I could not comply with. She also once said, “It would be easy to accuse you of sexual harassment and get you fired.” I understand that other students may have witnessed this.
Her conduct gradually escalated. At the university, it was common for students to visit faculty offices without an appointment—unlike at most universities. At times, they would even enter without knocking, and this student was no exception. And one day, the student unfortunately came to learn of my sexual orientation. Let me state this clearly here: I am what is commonly called a sexual minority. I have been aware of this for over a decade, yet I have never disclosed it publicly. I chose not to make this public, partly because, especially in my youth, it was extremely difficult to reveal such a truth within male communities, and later, once my work began to involve writing, I wanted to avoid having everything I wrote interpreted through the lens of that identity. I will return later to why I have now chosen to come forward. To continue the story—after this point, the student’s “limit testing” became coupled with threats to reveal my sexual orientation.
At that point, I could no longer consult even my colleagues about the matter. As I have already mentioned, there was no system in place to address such issues, and had I sought consultation through any formal committee, my identity would have been revealed immediately—not only to faculty and staff, but to students as well. In fact, at this university, it was common for matters discussed in faculty meetings to become known among students the very next day. Basic norms such as proper information management were not sufficiently established, and participants frequently shared such matters as gossip. In particular, when it came to handling personal information, I had absolutely no trust in the university’s system. To begin with, jokes about whether I might be a sexual minority were already circulating among faculty members. In the city where the university is located, it seems that being unmarried in one’s thirties is seen as unusual. In other words, this was an educational institution where such topics could become the subject of jokes—an almost unbelievable environment. If my identity had been formally raised for discussion in such a workplace, it would undoubtedly have become prime material for gossip. And in that workplace, there were very few who truly understood why sharing such private information would be unacceptable.
I ended up visiting the student’s room because of this pattern of “limit testing.” The student had personally given me letters that threatened to publicly reveal my sexual orientation and explicitly requiring me to visit her room. (This may be surprising for readers outside Japan. However, in small private universities in Japan, it is not uncommon for faculty to make individual visits to students’ residences, sometimes universities even require it.) However, my visit was solely to return the letters, to explain to her why making threats about one’s sexual orientation is inappropriate, and to make it clear that I could not comply with her personal demands. This visibly upset her, but this action was purely defensive; it was necessary to protect my privacy, not to confront or retaliate against the student. Importantly, the student herself acknowledged that I had never engaged in any sexual contact with her. The problem is that the university learned about this visit, and I was dismissed before I could fully explain the situation. I could not properly explain because doing so would have immediately revealed my sexual orientation. Protecting it was essential for my personal privacy, so I prioritized that over my position at the university. I believe many people in the sexual-minority community in Japan—whether they have come out or not—will understand the reasoning behind my choice. The next problem was that the university’s inquiry appeared to have escalated her actions. After learning that the university was investigating, the student—who had once told me “It would be easy to accuse you of harassment and get you fired”—subsequently filed a criminal complaint. The complaint claimed that I entered her room against her will.
As a result, I was arrested and held in custody for 12 days. I heard that some reports interpreted my acknowledgment of visiting the student as an admission of the allegations. I believed nothing could be more devastating than the arrest and the news reports — but the most painful part began afterward. During the investigation, the police learned about my sexual orientation. The investigator then disclosed this information to a former partner of mine, claiming it was for “verification.” In other words, they forcibly outed me. What is clear is that this so-called verification produced no useful information for the police. In reality, the only effect was to intimidate and harm me. I was crushed by it. When my detention period ended, I was released, but I no longer had the strength to fight a full trial. (In Japan, for minor offenses, a defendant can choose either to contest the charges in a full trial or to accept a summary indictment. The summary indictment is a simplified procedure, typically resulting in a fine.) I accepted a summary indictment instead of fighting the charge. Not only because being outed forcibly devastated me, but also because the investigator told me that, if I went to trial, the return of my phone would be delayed. At that time, there was someone I needed to contact immediately.
The reason I am disclosing my sexual orientation today is that I was already outed against my will. Before this happened, the investigator repeatedly hinted at it. When I protested, he said with a smile, “That’s what it means to be arrested.” This type of forced disclosure uses fear as a means of control. But I refuse to live in fear any longer. I chose to speak openly so that I can no longer be threatened.
Up to this point, I have explained the background. Now I will speak about the lawsuit I am filing against Higashi-Nippon International University. I am filing the lawsuit only against the university because the matter involving the student has already been fully investigated by the authorities. Therefore, the facts that differ from the police’s view can only be stated here in my own words; they cannot be resolved through this legal action. I do have physical evidence and witnesses regarding the student’s persistent behavior. However, I do not plan to pursue legal action on that matter. (In Japan, once a criminal case is adjudicated, it is extremely difficult to overturn that decision in subsequent civil proceedings, which further discourages filing a lawsuit against the student.)
As for the university, although there were serious institutional and governance problems, I hold no personal resentment. That said, I must point out that the employment regulations used as the basis for my disciplinary dismissal were vague, and the conclusion that I had violated them was inevitably vague as well. Therefore, in this lawsuit, I am seeking the cancellation of the disciplinary dismissal and compensation for the economic losses I would have received had I remained employed. The dismissal was decided before my legal situation was determined, and I believe the university rushed to impose discipline based on unclear grounds. I intend to clarify this procedural problem. While the background I described today should be fully understood, my primary aim in this litigation is to challenge only the justification and process that led to the disciplinary decision.
In addition, I am asking the university to review student–faculty boundaries, which played a significant role in the events I described here. Specifically, I call for a major expansion of student support staff so that faculty responsibilities can be properly defined and limited. I do not wish to return to my position. However, I believe the university still has an important role in the region, and for it to remain sustainable, it must also provide a safe working environment for its employees. This case is not only about the vulnerability of individuals in the LGBTQ+ community, but also a labor issue.
While this lawsuit is legally focused on challenging the validity of my disciplinary dismissal, it carries a broader social significance. On one level, it sends a clear message about the need to protect individuals in the LGBTQ+ community from coercion and forced disclosure. On another level, it highlights the importance of ensuring safe and fair working environments within universities. By pursuing this case, I hope to contribute not only to clarifying procedural justice for myself but also to raising awareness of these systemic issues and promoting meaningful reforms. In this way, the lawsuit serves a dual public purpose: safeguarding individual rights and advancing broader societal standards for safety, dignity, and equity. I hope I can count on your solidarity.