Third Annual Asian American Voices-April 1, May 1-2, 2009
Why I didn't attend though asked
Why I didn't attend though asked
By Paul Kusuda
The president of the Japanese American Citizens League-Wisconsin Chapter and the Wisconsin Organization
for Asian Americans co-chair both suggested that I attend a University of Wisconsin-Madison three-day event
celebrating Asian American Heritage Month, April 30-May 2, 2009. The event was titled “Reclaiming Our Past: The
Untold Stories of Asian Americans: …”
I decided not to attend any of the sessions despite the fact that parts of the package were attractive and
promised to be both instructive and entertaining. The part that put me off was described in the pre-program
announcement: “Come and listen to a panel discussion about the relevance of understanding the Japanese
American Internment to U.S. civil liberties today. Discussant … will examine the numerous and newly re-
examined aspects of the Japanese American Internment along with legal, cultural, gendered, and social
dimensions. … This discussion will also touch upon the gendered cultural dynamics that shape the portrayal of
Japanese American women after World War II.”
I was not pleased with the expression “Japanese American Internment.” In actuality, the World War II
experience was evacuation and incarceration of persons of Japanese ancestry. One-third of the uprooted
populace were aliens ineligible to become naturalized U.S. citizens. The median age, I was told (by the Manzanar
Relocation Center Census Supervisor) was 19, my age at the time. That is, half of Manzanar’s population was
older than 19 and half, under.
The president of the Japanese American Citizens League-Wisconsin Chapter and the Wisconsin Organization
for Asian Americans co-chair both suggested that I attend a University of Wisconsin-Madison three-day event
celebrating Asian American Heritage Month, April 30-May 2, 2009. The event was titled “Reclaiming Our Past: The
Untold Stories of Asian Americans: …”
I decided not to attend any of the sessions despite the fact that parts of the package were attractive and
promised to be both instructive and entertaining. The part that put me off was described in the pre-program
announcement: “Come and listen to a panel discussion about the relevance of understanding the Japanese
American Internment to U.S. civil liberties today. Discussant … will examine the numerous and newly re-
examined aspects of the Japanese American Internment along with legal, cultural, gendered, and social
dimensions. … This discussion will also touch upon the gendered cultural dynamics that shape the portrayal of
Japanese American women after World War II.”
I was not pleased with the expression “Japanese American Internment.” In actuality, the World War II
experience was evacuation and incarceration of persons of Japanese ancestry. One-third of the uprooted
populace were aliens ineligible to become naturalized U.S. citizens. The median age, I was told (by the Manzanar
Relocation Center Census Supervisor) was 19, my age at the time. That is, half of Manzanar’s population was
older than 19 and half, under.
Thus, in Manzanar, and probably in the other nine relocation centers, the majority of adults were Japanese aliens. To refer to the experience as
“Japanese American Internment” reflects a lack of understanding. Many residents were children at the time and did not recognize the implications of
evacuation, incarceration, and resettlement. The ones who felt most anguish were the Issei who, because of their racial ancestry, were not eligible
to become U.S citizens but who were forced to renounce Japanese citizenship, and even forced to declare willingness to serve in the U.S. Armed
Forces. They were in their 40s and 50s and had been forced to leave their homes, jobs and neighbors. I was certain that plight would not be
discussed.
The June 2009 issue of Asian Wisconzine had a very detailed and well-written article by Heidi Pascual, Publisher & Editor of the monthly
magazine. It was the first of a two-part piece: “Third Annual Asian American Voices – Asian Pacific Heritage Month — Reclaiming Our Past: The
Untold Stories of Asian America.”
After reading Part 1, I await Part 2 in the July issue. Ms. Pascual included quotes in her written report, reflecting her being an impartial recorder
of events. It was not an opinion piece, as is this article. At any rate, I’m glad I didn’t attend. Exposing myself to high-blood pressure events at my age
is downright stupid. I ain’t, and I didn’t.
Professor Kent Ono in his presentation “Making Memory: Japanese American Films About the Incarceration” said, according to Ms. Pascual, that
when Japanese Americans were incarcerated, one of the things that was taken away from them was cameras, because the war authority felt they
might document their experiences inside the camps. That was a complete distortion of truth, possibly to add some spice to the presentation. The fact
is that much before the end of December 1941, persons of Japanese ancestry were ordered to surrender to police authorities all contrabands such
as knives (except pocket knives) including kitchen knives and cleavers, swords (such as Samurai long and short swords), wireless radios and
cameras.
My father, older brother, and I followed orders and turned over to the Los Angeles Police kitchen knives, two cheap Brownie cameras, and two
sets of family heirloom Samurai swords (held for years by my father as gifts for my brother and me). We were given a receipt and told they would be
held for us in storage until authorized to reclaim them. About six or seven years later, after my parents returned to L.A., my father submitted his
receipt and was told that all of the property was gone. Therefore, by the time we began our camp experiences, none of us law-abiding people had
cameras.
Professor Ono also noted that stories from the perspective of the “internees” started only in the ‘80s. Actually, stories were being told earlier. I
even wrote student papers about evacuation while at the University of Chicago in 1944-49 and gave talks in Madison, Wis. beginning in the 1960s
and 1970s. None was published; however, I can list a few among many published works: Mine Okubo, “Citizen 13660,” copyright 1966; Jeanne
Wakatsuki Houston, “Farewell to Manzanar,” copyright 1972; Jack Matsuoka, “Camp II, Block 211,” copyright 1974; Michi Weglyn, “years of infamy,”
copyright 1976; Frank F. Chuman, “The Bamboo People — The Law and Japanese Americans,” copyright 1976. Suffice it to note, former camp
residents talked and wrote about camp life earlier than the 1980s.
Professor Elena Tajima Creef’s presentation was “Interning Gender in the War Relocation Authority Photograph Archive.” Included were
photographs by Ansel Adams in “Born Free and Equal,” copyright 1944. She referred to it as a weird book filled with shots of scenes of camp life and
a preponderance of Japanese American school girl headshots. According to Ms. Pascual, Professor Creef said: “There were extreme headshots,
like yearbook photos, super extreme, revealing All-American innocent citizens … Clean, bright, rather well adjusted …” She, of course, had a point
to make.
I went through the 112-page “Born Free and Equal.” There were 62 photographs, some spanning two pages. “Preponderance” must have a
different meaning for me than for Professor Creef. I found only four school girl headshots (Pages 6, 23, 30 and 50). There was a photo of physical
education graduate and single headshots of her two daughters (Pages 45, 46, 47) and of four girls walking together (page 24). In addition, there were
shots of nurses (Pages 59, 60, 61, and 62), a secretary (Page 89), WAC Private (Page 99), and a Nurse Cadet (Page 100). Also, there were 23
headshots of men.
Professor Creef referred to a photo of a group of schoolboys with their hands folded on their laps. According to Ms. Pascual, Professor Creef said:
“As they grow older, they can go to only one of two directions — either they will be reframed in wartime discourse as those mythologized heroic
Japanese American soldiers — who were so loyal and patriotic they spilled blood proving how American they were; they were decorated with
purple hearts and medals, they were called the ‘Christmas Tree Brigade.’ Or they will go the other way; the disloyal, not soldiers but the resisters.”
The sarcasm, the lack of knowledge, and absence of sensitivity was not lost on me. In fact, the quotation repelled me.
The first point of note is that Professor Creef did not say that the photo to which she referred was of a high school choir (Page 93), most of whom
were girls, and the boys happened to be in the front. The usual reference to high school students is not “schoolboys.” That derisive term was used to
push an inaccurate and unacceptable point of view. Youth had more than the two choices she posited. Most took neither choice. Most were
indifferent, as many youth are.
Professor Creef opined that as they grew older, the youth could be “reframed … as those mythologized heroic Japanese American soldiers …”
Her twisted verbiage could well be interpreted as insulting to the many who volunteered from relocation centers or were later drafted, all becoming
part of the armed forces. She, and probably no one, mentioned the bilingual Nisei who served in the Military Intelligence Service as interviewers
and interrogators in our war against the Japanese. The 100th Battalion and the 442nd Regimental Combat Team became well-known. Unfortunately,
those who served in the MIS have not been recognized; they remain an unknown part of the China-Burma-India and other Far East warfronts where
the Nisei also served in the Armed Forces.
Professor Creef’s alternative to those who were “… so loyal and patriotic they spilled blood proving how American they were …” was “…the
other way; the disloyal, not soldiers but the resisters.” She chose to ignore the men who decided to answer “No” to the question asking about
willingness to serve in the Armed Forces because they felt the federal government had abrogated U.S. Constitutional rights by establishing a curfew
and then incarcerating them. Some had conscientious objection to the government’s action. Others, of course, resisted because they felt bitterness
and expressed their “I’ll show them!” feeling. However, most gave very little thought to the entire matter.
My final point of truth in presentation: Professor Creef alleged that Mr. Toyo Miyatake smuggled a camera into camp. He was a professional
photographer in Los Angeles and must have had many cameras. Like the rest of persons of Japanese ancestry who followed government orders, he
surrendered all of them. What he took with him to the Manzanar Relocation Center were photography plates. In camp, he fashioned a device that
could be used as a primitive camera. So, he took a few photos and was thus able to continue his profession, albeit undercover, with less-than-
desirable equipment and developing prints at night using makeshift dark-room facilities. He was a courageous, inventive unsung hero, not a
smuggler.
“Japanese American Internment” reflects a lack of understanding. Many residents were children at the time and did not recognize the implications of
evacuation, incarceration, and resettlement. The ones who felt most anguish were the Issei who, because of their racial ancestry, were not eligible
to become U.S citizens but who were forced to renounce Japanese citizenship, and even forced to declare willingness to serve in the U.S. Armed
Forces. They were in their 40s and 50s and had been forced to leave their homes, jobs and neighbors. I was certain that plight would not be
discussed.
The June 2009 issue of Asian Wisconzine had a very detailed and well-written article by Heidi Pascual, Publisher & Editor of the monthly
magazine. It was the first of a two-part piece: “Third Annual Asian American Voices – Asian Pacific Heritage Month — Reclaiming Our Past: The
Untold Stories of Asian America.”
After reading Part 1, I await Part 2 in the July issue. Ms. Pascual included quotes in her written report, reflecting her being an impartial recorder
of events. It was not an opinion piece, as is this article. At any rate, I’m glad I didn’t attend. Exposing myself to high-blood pressure events at my age
is downright stupid. I ain’t, and I didn’t.
Professor Kent Ono in his presentation “Making Memory: Japanese American Films About the Incarceration” said, according to Ms. Pascual, that
when Japanese Americans were incarcerated, one of the things that was taken away from them was cameras, because the war authority felt they
might document their experiences inside the camps. That was a complete distortion of truth, possibly to add some spice to the presentation. The fact
is that much before the end of December 1941, persons of Japanese ancestry were ordered to surrender to police authorities all contrabands such
as knives (except pocket knives) including kitchen knives and cleavers, swords (such as Samurai long and short swords), wireless radios and
cameras.
My father, older brother, and I followed orders and turned over to the Los Angeles Police kitchen knives, two cheap Brownie cameras, and two
sets of family heirloom Samurai swords (held for years by my father as gifts for my brother and me). We were given a receipt and told they would be
held for us in storage until authorized to reclaim them. About six or seven years later, after my parents returned to L.A., my father submitted his
receipt and was told that all of the property was gone. Therefore, by the time we began our camp experiences, none of us law-abiding people had
cameras.
Professor Ono also noted that stories from the perspective of the “internees” started only in the ‘80s. Actually, stories were being told earlier. I
even wrote student papers about evacuation while at the University of Chicago in 1944-49 and gave talks in Madison, Wis. beginning in the 1960s
and 1970s. None was published; however, I can list a few among many published works: Mine Okubo, “Citizen 13660,” copyright 1966; Jeanne
Wakatsuki Houston, “Farewell to Manzanar,” copyright 1972; Jack Matsuoka, “Camp II, Block 211,” copyright 1974; Michi Weglyn, “years of infamy,”
copyright 1976; Frank F. Chuman, “The Bamboo People — The Law and Japanese Americans,” copyright 1976. Suffice it to note, former camp
residents talked and wrote about camp life earlier than the 1980s.
Professor Elena Tajima Creef’s presentation was “Interning Gender in the War Relocation Authority Photograph Archive.” Included were
photographs by Ansel Adams in “Born Free and Equal,” copyright 1944. She referred to it as a weird book filled with shots of scenes of camp life and
a preponderance of Japanese American school girl headshots. According to Ms. Pascual, Professor Creef said: “There were extreme headshots,
like yearbook photos, super extreme, revealing All-American innocent citizens … Clean, bright, rather well adjusted …” She, of course, had a point
to make.
I went through the 112-page “Born Free and Equal.” There were 62 photographs, some spanning two pages. “Preponderance” must have a
different meaning for me than for Professor Creef. I found only four school girl headshots (Pages 6, 23, 30 and 50). There was a photo of physical
education graduate and single headshots of her two daughters (Pages 45, 46, 47) and of four girls walking together (page 24). In addition, there were
shots of nurses (Pages 59, 60, 61, and 62), a secretary (Page 89), WAC Private (Page 99), and a Nurse Cadet (Page 100). Also, there were 23
headshots of men.
Professor Creef referred to a photo of a group of schoolboys with their hands folded on their laps. According to Ms. Pascual, Professor Creef said:
“As they grow older, they can go to only one of two directions — either they will be reframed in wartime discourse as those mythologized heroic
Japanese American soldiers — who were so loyal and patriotic they spilled blood proving how American they were; they were decorated with
purple hearts and medals, they were called the ‘Christmas Tree Brigade.’ Or they will go the other way; the disloyal, not soldiers but the resisters.”
The sarcasm, the lack of knowledge, and absence of sensitivity was not lost on me. In fact, the quotation repelled me.
The first point of note is that Professor Creef did not say that the photo to which she referred was of a high school choir (Page 93), most of whom
were girls, and the boys happened to be in the front. The usual reference to high school students is not “schoolboys.” That derisive term was used to
push an inaccurate and unacceptable point of view. Youth had more than the two choices she posited. Most took neither choice. Most were
indifferent, as many youth are.
Professor Creef opined that as they grew older, the youth could be “reframed … as those mythologized heroic Japanese American soldiers …”
Her twisted verbiage could well be interpreted as insulting to the many who volunteered from relocation centers or were later drafted, all becoming
part of the armed forces. She, and probably no one, mentioned the bilingual Nisei who served in the Military Intelligence Service as interviewers
and interrogators in our war against the Japanese. The 100th Battalion and the 442nd Regimental Combat Team became well-known. Unfortunately,
those who served in the MIS have not been recognized; they remain an unknown part of the China-Burma-India and other Far East warfronts where
the Nisei also served in the Armed Forces.
Professor Creef’s alternative to those who were “… so loyal and patriotic they spilled blood proving how American they were …” was “…the
other way; the disloyal, not soldiers but the resisters.” She chose to ignore the men who decided to answer “No” to the question asking about
willingness to serve in the Armed Forces because they felt the federal government had abrogated U.S. Constitutional rights by establishing a curfew
and then incarcerating them. Some had conscientious objection to the government’s action. Others, of course, resisted because they felt bitterness
and expressed their “I’ll show them!” feeling. However, most gave very little thought to the entire matter.
My final point of truth in presentation: Professor Creef alleged that Mr. Toyo Miyatake smuggled a camera into camp. He was a professional
photographer in Los Angeles and must have had many cameras. Like the rest of persons of Japanese ancestry who followed government orders, he
surrendered all of them. What he took with him to the Manzanar Relocation Center were photography plates. In camp, he fashioned a device that
could be used as a primitive camera. So, he took a few photos and was thus able to continue his profession, albeit undercover, with less-than-
desirable equipment and developing prints at night using makeshift dark-room facilities. He was a courageous, inventive unsung hero, not a
smuggler.