Art, Internment, and Japanese-American Identity

Kenneth Plank

History 4990: Senior Seminar in History

Dr. Soderstrom

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Abstract

Japanese-American art and literature display a unique sense of identity that aided the

victims and families affected by the relocation that occurred during World War II. The

internment of Japanese-Americans during World War II has had reverberating effects on the

Japanese-American community for generations. However, through a strong sense of cultural

identity, Japanese-Americans have survived the injustice of the camps. In order to understand

this sense of cultural identity, a thorough understanding of the background of Japanese

immigration is needed. Also required is an understanding of what the children of those

immigrant experienced while growing up in the United States. This paper will then provide a

glimpse into different aspects of Japanese-American identity by examining the works of four

Japanese-American artists.

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Introduction

In January of 1942, one month after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, an editorial

from the Los Angeles Times made the following claim: “a viper is nonetheless a viper wherever

the egg is hatched--so a Japanese-American, born of Japanese parents--grows up to be Japanese,

not an American.”1 Roughly one month after the article was written, Executive Order 9066 was

issued. This order would lead to Japanese-Americans being evacuated from their homes and

detained in internment camps across the western United States. 94,000 Japanese from California,

and 25,000 in Washington and Oregon were moved to the internment camps, for a total of

110,000--most of whom were American citizens.2 These attacks--internment, and the refusal of

their American identity--are what Japanese-Americans had to deal with in the years during and

following World War II.

To endure internment and insults, whether directly experienced or felt through familial

and ethnic legacy, one must find a way to cope. Many Japanese-Americans did so by finding

strength in their mixed identity, which they expressed through art and literature during and after

the internment experience. I have chosen to use art and literature as the mediums through which

to explore the impact of the interment on the Japanese-American identity because art and

literature are a window into cultures. While the thoughts and feelings expressed outright by

Japanese-Americans, without the flair of paint or prose, should certainly be respected, these

testimonies have already been collected and published. Some such collections can be found in

the bibliography of this essay. Since these collections already exist, there is little that can be

contributed here that has not already been said. A more meaningful contribution can be made to

1 Richard Takaki, Strangers From a Differen Shore. (Boston:Little, Brown, and Company. 1989). 388 2 Ibid., 379

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the ongoing conversation that is the history of Japanese-Americans, the internment camps, and

United States history at large, by examining these works of art and literature with fresh eyes.

Also, by attempting to connect the dots not only between Japanese and American, but also

between the generations, from Issei to Sansei.3

Furthermore, the ways in which art--whether it be painting, sculpture, literature, or song--

help Japanese-Americans cope with this injustice are unique to their mixed identity. The clear

American influence in much of this art is a shield against the accusation that Japanese-Americans

do not deserve the latter half of that identity. At the same time, the maintained presence of

Japanese themes and prose among this art and literature shows that Japanese culture is still

present in these artists’ identities. At times, these dual identities live in harmony. Other times,

there is strife, caused when the two become at odds. Regardless, the two are always present.

Japanese-Americans have proven that they are Japanese, American, and more. This mixed

identity and culture was and still is vital to the Japanese-American community’s ability to cope

with the grave injustice of the internment camps.

Background

The internment most directly affected two groups of Japanese-Americans: Japanese

immigrants, and their children. These two generations of Japanese-Americans must be

understood in order to understand Japanese-American identity, and the impact internment had on

that identity. It is important to understand why Japanese immigrants came to the US, why they

stayed, and what their children experienced growing up.

Japanese emigration to the United States began in the late 19th century. Over two hundred

years prior, Japan enacted a policy of isolation, which restricted foreign travel. This policy was

3 “First Generation” and “Third Generation” Japanese-Americans

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enacted by the Tokugawa shogunate, and was largely held until the shogunate fell in 1867. The

shogunate was replaced by the imperial government, led by Emperor Meiji, who was reasserting

his power over the country. In this new Meiji Period, Japan sought to modernize and westernize.

This was done in order for Japan to compete with, and protect itself from, European and

American imperialism. The new government placed the burden of paying for this costly venture

on the farmers, leading to difficult economic times for the lower class. Perhaps seeking to ease

this burden, the Japanese government began to allow Hawaiian planters to hire Japanese laborers

in 1884.4

These laborers did not intend to stay in Hawaii. They called themselves dekaseginin, or,

“laborers working in a foreign country.” Due to the favorable exchange rate between the yen and

the dollar, planters in Hawaii offered wages that were far superior to what a Japanese farmer

could make on his own. The laborers were promised that they would be able to make a net profit

of four hundred yen over the course of three years. In Japan, it would have taken ten years

working on a silk farm to make the same amount.5

A large number of Japanese were eager for this economic opportunity. The Japanese

government permitted six hundred slots for Japanese laborers to travel to Hawaii. 28,000

applications were submitted. Over the course of roughly ten years, 30,000 laborers, sponsored by

the Japanese government, had gone to the Hawaiian Islands. Thereafter, more migrants

continued to flock to the islands on their own, or with the aide of emigration companies.

Japanese migrants, most of whom were young men, began to see similar opportunities in the

4 Takaki, Strangers, 43 5 Ibid., 44

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U.S. mainland, starting in the 1890s. By 1924, 180,000 Japanese went to the American

mainland.6

Japan was highly concerned with its global image, especially after observing the disdain

Americans developed for Chinese immigrants. This concern would greatly shape Japanese

emigration. Japan did not allow the most poor and destitute members of society to leave the

country in search of a better life, as had been the case with European and Chinese immigrants

before them. Rather, Japan developed strict guidelines for emigration.7 This ensured that

Japanese laborers typically arrived in the United States with more money and a better education

than other migrants. To further ensure that immigrant communities in the United States would

remain stable, Japan promoted female emigration, in order to prevent the formation of “an

itinerant bachelor society.”8

The Japanese government then promoted the emigration of entire families, with the

Gentleman’s Agreement of 1907. This agreement between Japan and the United States prevented

new laborers from entering the United States, but, allowed the families of laborers already in the

U.S. to emigrate. This loophole also allowed for new wives of laborers, met through arranged

marriages, to come join their husbands in America. 9

The Gentleman’s Agreement would end up changing the reason for emigrating. That

which was once intended to be a three-year stay turned to twenty.10 For many, that twenty-year

stay became permanent. The sojourning laborers became the Issei, the “first generation” of

Japanese-Americans. By 1930, 40 percent of Japanese migrants had chosen stay in the United

6 Ibid., 45 7 Ibid., 46 8 Ibid., 45-46 9 Ibid., 46-47 10 Ibid., 52

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States permanently.11 In the same year, nearly half of Japanese-Americans were Nisei, the

“second generation” of Japanese-Americans, who were born in America. Japanese immigration

into the United States had become about settling, rather than temporary labor.

The Japanese government’s efforts to ensure that only “suitable” people emigrated to the

U.S. did not stop white Americans from having negative views of Japanese-Americans. Around

1913, a California farmer urged the legislature to do something about the Japanese “threat”:

Near my home is an eighty-acre tract of as fine land as there is in California. On the tract lives a Japanese. With that Japanese lives a white woman. In that woman’s arms is a

baby. What is that baby? It isn’t Japanese. It isn’t white. I’ll tell you what that baby is. It is a germ of the mightiest problem that ever faced this state; a problem that will make the black problem of the South look white. All about us the Asiatics are gaining a foothold.12

The legislators agreed that the Japanese should not be permitted to settle in the US. In 1913, a

California law denying landownership to Japanese immigrants was passed by an overwhelming

majority.13 The supporters of the law were open about the anti-Japanese intent behind the law.

By this time, the majority of the population in Hawaii was of Asian descent. A letter to Governor

Hiram Johnson implored that “the law must be passed ultimately, if California is not to be

Hawaiianized.”14 Around the same time, California Senator James Phelan ran with the campaign

slogan “Keep California White.”15

On the Federal level, the Immigration act of 1924 was passed, which “included a

provision prohibiting the entry of aliens ineligible to citizenship.” This provision was specifically

aimed at Japanese immigrants, even if the law did not explicitly state that this was the case.16

11 Ibid., 181 12 Ibid., 204 13 Ibid., 203 14 Ibid., 204 15 Ibid. 16 Ibid., 209

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Valentine Stuart McClatchy, publisher of The Sacramento Bee, makes this clear with his

testimony to Congress in the 1924:

Of all races ineligible to citizenship, the Japanese are the least assimimilable and the most dangerous to this country…With great pride of race, they have no idea of assimilating in

the sense of amalgamation. They do not come to this country with any desire or intent to lose their racial or national identity. They come here specifically and professedly for the

purpose of colonizing and establishing here permanently the Yamato race. They never cease to be Japanese.17

It is worth noting that without the provision that completely prohibited immigration from Japan,

only one hundred Japanese immigrants would have been allowed in the United States per year.18

Thus, intended purpose of the provision was largely unnecessary. The “colonizing” McClatchy

feared “amounted to no more than on hundredth of one percent of the U.S. population.”19 It is

also important to remember that the Immigration Act of 1924 was still in effect when World War

II began.

Due to racial discrimination and working difficulties,20 Japanese-Americans began to

form “a separate Japanese economy of hotels, boarding houses, restaurants, shops, stores, and

pool halls” in the cites of the United States. Between 1900 and 1909, the number of Japanese-

owned businesses expanded by over five hundred percent.21

Japanese-Americans, particularly the Issei, developed an “ethnic solidarity” to protect

themselves from the racist society they found themselves in. This solidarity lead to great

economic success and strong, self-contained ethnic communities.22 For example, Japanese

17 Takaki, Strangers, 209 18 Ibid. 19 Ibid. 20 Japanese-Americans faced many of the same labor difficulties all members of the lower class experienced during the turn of the 20th century, including long work ours and poor living

arrangements. 21 Takaki, Strangers, 186 22 Ibid., 180

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farmers formed social associations, called kenjinkai.23 These associations conducted social

activities, but their main purpose was to provide “economic cooperation and assistance for

employment, housing, and credit.”24

This solidarity was not always practiced happily. There was a despair to the inability to

assimilate. The Issei had come to the United States and farmed land that was previously thought

unfertile.25 They struggled to earn their place in the United States, and were told that they didn’t

belong. “We try hard to be American” one Issei said, “but Americans always say you always

Japanese.”26 A small number of Issei returned to Japan, while others “reacted to the setbacks by

sobbing, ‘shikataganai’ (‘it can’t be helped’) and facing their situation stoically.”27 The first

generation of Japanese-Americans “withdrew into a world of mute despair, saying they were

‘pioneers’ and therefore had to ‘suffer the hardships.’”28 This stoic endurance would become a

significant part of Issei identity.

These self-contained communities also reinforced white Americans’ belief that the

Japanese were “strangers” that were unable and unwilling to assimilate.29 This view of Japanese-

Americans, enhanced by wartime paranoia, would inevitably lead to the creation of the Japanese

internment camps of World War II.

In the face of despair, the Issei did have hope for Japanese acceptance in American

society:

Hope for my childen

Helps me endure much from it,

23 Ibid., 193 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid., 211 26 Ibid. 27 Ibid. 28 Ibid. 29 Ibid., 180

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This alien land.30

The Nisei, born to Japanese immigrant parents in the United States, spoke English well, and were

educated in American schools. Because of this, it was hoped that the Nisei would be able to help

white Americans understand the Japanese and their culture, and thus “would be the ‘bridge’

(kakehashi) to the larger society.”31

The Issei saw a boon in their children’s American birthright, but also wished to pass on

their own legacy as Japanese and immigrants. The Issei wanted their children to remember and

appreciate the struggles they faced as immigrants:

My son, remember!

Your parents struggled fiercely To build their life work

Under the Stigma, “Immigrant!”32

While Nisei were taught about the United States in school, they learned about Japan from their

parents. Nisei Togo Tanaka recalls that “at home, my father taught me Shunshin, the Japanese

code of ethics, and he instilled in me the values of honor, loyalty, service, and obligation that had

been taught to him by his forebearers [sic] in Japan.”33 While attending American school, most

Nisei also attended a Japanese-language school. One Nisei described herself as a student as

“switching my personality back and forth like a chameleon,” jumping between “a jumping,

screaming roustabout” at her American school, and “a modest, faltering, earnest little Japanese

girl with a small, timid voice” at her Japanese-language school.34 It is here, with the Nisei, that

the duality of Japanese and American runs deep.

30 Ibid., 212 31 Ibid., 213 32 Ibid. 33 Ibid., 215 34 Ibid.

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This duality was further enforced when the Issei continued to be seen as “strangers” in

America, right alongside their American-born children. Nisei, just like their parents, were denied

services and segregated. Japanese children were often attacked by white children on their way

home from school. Though Nisei could legally own land and homes, they frequently faced

housing discrimination. Because of this, many Issei retained ties to Japan, and many registered

their children for Japanese citizenship. By 1940, over half of the Nisei were dual citizens.35

However, the dual citizenship was only a fallback.36 The goal was still to make it in

America. To this end, Issei stressed the importance of education to their children. The Issei

worked hard to ensure that the Nisei could attend college.37 The Nisei were just as determined to

prove their worth to white Americans and followed through on their educations. In the 1930s, the

average Nisei had an education of at least two years of college.38 However, “of 161 Nisei who

graduated from the University of California between 1925 and 1935…only 25 percent were

employed in professional vocations for which they had been trained.”39 Because white-owned

businesses generally didn’t hire Japanese-Americans, by 1940, the vast majority of Nisei worked

in “Japanese shops, laundries, hotels, fruit stands, and produce stores.”40

The Japanese-American Citizens League, or JACL, sought to change this. The JACL was

formed in 1930 by Dr. Thomas Yatabe, and lawyers Saburo Kido and Clarence Arai, all of

whom had formed similar organizations with like-minded Nisei in California and Washington.

James Sakamoto, editor of Japanese-American Courier, gave the world an idea of this

organization’s aims:

35 Ibid., 216-218 36 Ibid., 217 37 Ibid., 213 38 Ibid., 218 39 Ibid. 40 Ibid., 219

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The future is bright for residents of this community, but the brightness depends upon their intent to settle here and to make homes here that they may take their rightful part in

the growth of the city. The time is here to give a little sober thought to the future. The second generation are American citizens and through them will be reaped the harvests of

tomorrow. Home, institutions, and inalienable rights to live the life of an American is the cry of the second generation and will be the cry of prosperity. It is high time to lower the anchor.41

Sakamoto was imploring the Nisei to think of themselves not only as Japanese, but to embrace

their dual identities as Japanese-Americans and through that become “one hundred percent

Americans.”42

The JACL put a great deal of emphasis on patriotism. The rationale was that Japanese-

Americans had already proved themselves economically useful. What Japanese-Americans

needed, according to JACL and James Sakamoto in particular, was to prove themselves as true

patriots. In 1936, JACL denounced dual citizenship.43

This emphasis on the American identity did not sit well with all Nisei, however. Instead,

among many Nisei, there was a sense of cultural confusion, a division within between Japanese

and American.44 This division would be profoundly affected by the coming World War II.

Pearl Harbor was attacked by the Empire of Japan on December 7, 1941. Before the day

ended, “FBI agents swept through Japanese communities in California, Oregon, Washington, and

Hawaii,” and arrested anyone suspected of having ties to Japan.45 Of course, most Issei had some

ties to Japan, having considered it a fallback if they and their children failed to make a living in

the United States. The FBI, however, put their focus on “community leaders: teachers of the

Japanese language, its culture, or its martial arts; Buddhists reverends and Christian ministers;

41 Ibid. 222 42 Ibid. 43 Ibid., 223 44 Ibid., 224-225 45 Lawson Fusao Inada, ed. Only What We Could Carry (Berkely: Heyday Books, 2000). xi

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businessmen; those with prominent political beliefs.”46 Hundreds were taken to detention camps

in the American Southwest, where some were held for months or years. A curfew was soon

imposed. At first the curfew only affected Japanese aliens, but it was quickly expanded to

include Japanese-American citizens, as well.47

On February 19, 1942, Executive Order 9066 was signed and issued. This order gave the

Secretary of War the power to determine military areas “with respect to which, the right of any

person to enter, remain in, or leave shall be subject to whatever restrictions the Secretary of War

or the appropriate Military Commander may impose in his discretion.”48 Although the relocation

of people of Japanese descent was not specified under the order, there was no doubt that this was

the intent.

Each Japanese-American family in California, Oregon, Washington, and Arizona—

including children—was required to report to designated “control stations” with only whatever

possessions they could carry. Homes and businesses had to be secured or sold. Each family was

registered with a number, before being taken to temporary camps, where they would be held

until something more permanent could be constructed. These temporary camps, thirteen of which

were in California, were created from “off-season racetracks, unused fairgrounds, and abandoned

stockyards.”49 No beds were provided, horse stables were used as housing, and the buildings

were crowded, with up to two thousand people packed into one building. Internees were forced

to live under these conditions for an average of three months, before being transported to one of

ten internment camps. These prison camps were spread throughout remote desert areas in Utah,

46 Inada, Carry, xi 47 Inada, Carry, xii 48 Takaki, Strangers, 391 49 Inada, Carry, xii

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Arizona, Colorado, Wyoming, California, Idaho, and Arkansas.50 The internees were not

informed of where they were being taken.51

The internment camps were surrounded with barbed wire, and watched over by armed

guards.52 Entire families were given a twenty by twenty feet room to live in, with “a pot bellied

[sic] stove, a single electric light hanging from the ceiling, an Army cot for each person and a

blanket for the bed.”53

Internees lived through this experience for nearly a year before a potential way out was

offered. In February of 1943, internees were required to answer loyalty questionnaires. Perhaps

the two most important and defining questions were questions 27 and 28: draft-age men were

asked “Are you willing to serve in the armed forces of the United States on combat duty,

wherever ordered?” while every internee was asked “Will you swear unequaled allegiance to the

United States of America and faithfully defend the United States from any and all attack by

foreign or domestic forces, and forswear any form of allegiance or obedience to the Japanese

emperor, or any foreign government, power, or organization?”54 Most eligible answered “yes” to

both questions, though only 1,208 volunteers out of the 10,000 eligib le were recruited for the war

effort. 4,600 young men answered “no” to both questions, earning them the moniker “no-no

boys.” These no-no boys did not say “no” out of loyalty to Japan, but, rather, in protest to the

treatment of Japanese-Americans.55

After the questionnaire had been administered, those who answered “yes” to questions 27

and 28 were gradually allowed back into American society, and permitted to “resettle in cities

50 Ibid. 51 Takaki, Strangers, 394 52 Inada, Carry, xii 53 Takaki, Strangers, 395 54 Ibid., 397 55 Ibid., 397-398

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like Denver, Salt Lake City, and Chicago.”56 The no-no boys, meanwhile, were often imprisoned

and held even after the war was over. The last of the internment camps was not closed until

March of 1946.57

It is worth noting that the internment experience was something inflicted on a minority of

Japanese-Americans. While all 110,000 Japanese and Japanese-Americans on the west coast of

the United States were relocated, this is a considerably different experience from those of

Japanese ethnicity living in Hawaii.58 While the entire Japanese population of California--one

percent of the total population of the state--was detained, the vast majority of the Japanese in

Hawaii, who numbered 158,000 and represented 37 percent of the state population, were not.59

Nonetheless, coping with interment still had a sizable impact on the Japanese-American identity,

even though a minority of Japanese within US borders were directly affected. This impact can be

seen in the arts created by Japanese-Americans during, immediately after, and even generations

after World War II. It is not a matter of the number of individuals affected by interment, but,

rather, what internment meant for Japanese-Americans as a people. Just as a family mourns the

loss of a single member, Japanese-Americans, as an ethnic and cultural group, had to deal with

what their own people had been put through.

“My family name was reduced to No. 13660”60

56 Ibid., 404 57 Inada, Carry, xii 58 "Today's Document from the National Archives." National Archives and Records Administration. Accessed October 22, 2015. http://www.archives.gov/historical-docs/todays-

doc/?dod-date=219. 59 Takaki, Strangers, 379 60 Miné Okubo, Citizen 13660 (Seattle: Universtiy of Washington Press, 1983). 19

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Miné Okubo was born in Riverside, CA. She was about 30-years-old when Executive

Order 9066 was issued.61 She first published her book about her internment experience, Citizen

13660, in 1946.62 This provides a unique situation, in that Okubo is one of the older Nisei among

my sources, and her work was published shortly after her camp experience. She was permitted to

leave the camps in 1944, and settled in New York City.63 It is also worth noting that, when she

studied art at the University of California, her studies did not focus on any Japanese style.

Okubo’s studies instead focused on fresco and mural painting.64

Citizen 13660 is a very frank account of her experiences in the Tanforan camp in San

Bruno, CA.65 Okubo chose to illustrate her experience, with short blurbs explaining what was

happening at the time. As Okubo explains, “Citizen 13660 began as a special group of drawings

made to tell the story of camp life for my many friends who faithfully sent letters and packages

to let us know we were not forgotten.”66

Okubo writes, “my family name was reduced to No. 13660.”67 She and her brother were

given three days and nights to pack up all of their belongings, with their bags marked with “the

family number, 13660.”68 It may seem like a small detail, being assigned a number for

efficiency's sake. Yet, just by the title of the book, one can see the significance from Okubo’s

point of view. Okubo and her brother were given a stall to live in, “a swinging half-door divided

the 20 by 9 ft. stall into two rooms.”69 The picture on the page this quote was taken from depicts

61 Karen M. Higa, The View From Within: Japanese American Art from the Internment Camps 1942-1945 (Los Angeles: Japanese American National Museum, 1992). 28 62 Higa, The View From Within, 28 63 Okubo, 13660, ix 64 Higa, The View From Within, 28 65 Okubo, 13660, 20 66 Ibid., ix 67 Ibid., 19 68 Ibid., 21-22 69 Ibid., 35

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walls with nails sticking out, dirty floors, and cobwebs.70 Another picture depicts a crowded

mess hall, with a sparse amount of food on plates.71 More illustrations show bathroom stalls that

lack privacy, with stalls having two toilets to a stall, and no doors.72 Okubo clearly shows us how

unprepared the US was to detain so many individuals, and the consequences of that fact. People

in the internment camps had to suffer crowded, unsanitary, and unsafe conditions for months

during World War II.

While such conditions are not acceptable for anyone, it is worth noting that, arguably,

Okubo was far more American than she was Japanese. She was born in the United States, and

educated at an American school. At that school she predominantly trained in a European style of

art. At the time she was relocated to a camp, Okubo had never even been to Japan.73 It is

important to keep this background in mind, because this situation is not unique to Okubo. As

stated earlier in this paper, the majority of Japanese who were relocated to internment camps

were American citizens. Many, like Okubo, were even born in the United States. It is difficult to

deny that these people were--and are--in fact, Americans.

Perhaps more important than the denial of her American identity, however, was the

denial of her personal identity. Given that Okubo’s book is titled Citizen 13660, the issuing of

this number is clearly something that stuck with her for years. Her family name, her family’s

identity, was replaced with a number.

Being given a number instead of a name, and forced to live in a stable meant for horses,

Okubo shows how dehumanizing the internment experience was. That dehumanizing is the

tragedy Okubo hopes the world remembers.

70 Ibid., 35 71 Ibid., 40 72 Okubo, 13660, 72-74 73 Higa, The View From Within, 29

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“I am not bitter,” Okubo wrote in January of 1983, “I hope that things can be learned

from this tragic episode, for I believe it could happen again.”74

“We believe that art is one of the most constructive forms of education.”75

Chiura Obata was quite a different character than Miné Okubo. Obata was an Issei, born

in Sendai, Japan, in 1885. He first learned to paint when he was a seven-year-old boy in Japan,

but there was a strong Western influence in Japanese painting, at the time. Likely due to this

meeting of East and West, he specialized in the Nihonga style of painting. This style is based on

traditional Japanese black ink painting, known as sumi-e, but incorporates Western-style

naturalism, or realism, along with a color palette that extends beyond black. In 1903, Obata

emigrated to San Francisco, where he took an interest in the California landscape. Notably, his

paintings “of the prewar period captures the grand scale and monumentality of the Western

landscape using line and road washes of ink to evoke mood rather than documenting specific

locales.”76 Before the relocation of Japanese-Americans, Obata’s work was in sixty exhibitions,

twenty-five of which were solo exhibitions. Obata also held a teaching position at Berkley.77

74 Okubo, 13660, xii 75 Higa, The View From Within, 20 76 Ibid., 23 77 Ibid., 23-24

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As different as Obata was from Okubo, the themes of their art become similar when we

look at their internment art. Like Okubo, Obata was documenting the experience. Obata painted

Talking through the Wire Fence (above) in 1942, shortly after the evacuation of Japanese-

Americans.78 The painting depicts two groups of people lined up on either side of a wire fence,

and is based on Obata’s own experience in speaking with visitors.79 The many subjects of the

painting are faceless, and the perspective makes it unclear which side of the fence is the prison,

and which side is free.80 This toying with perspective is something predominant in Obata’s

internment arts.81

78 Ibid., 24 79 Ibid., 23-24 80 Chiura Obata, Talking through the Wire Fence, sumi on paper, 11” x 16,” 1942, Estate of Chiura Obata 81 Higa, The View From Within, 25

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Obata also wished to highlight the Japanese people’s ability to adapt.82 He displays that

ability in Entrance to the Obata Dwelling in Topaz (above), depicting the front of Obata’s home

in the Topaz camp In Utah.83 Haruko Obata, Obata’s widow:

When kindling wood became scarce the trucks went out into the surrounding mountains

to haul wood and they discovered some nice bonsai trees, so they dug them up and brought them back to camp. Papa went with the truck and [brought] this tree back with

the roots on. He built a garden in front of our barrack door. We found all the stones near camp and put in the pebbles. Everyone liked it.84

82 Ibid. 83 Chiura Obata, Entrance to the Obata Dwelling in Topaz, sumi on paper, 11” x 16,” 1942, Estate of Chiura Obata 84 Haruko Obata, Context for Entrance to the Obata Dwelling in Topaz, A More Perfect Union, The National Museum of American History, accessed November 23, 2015,

http://amhistory.si.edu/perfectunion/collection/image.asp?ID=499

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The need to show the ability to adapt and endure is not uncommon among Japanese people. It is

a concept known as gaman, to “accept what is with patience and dignity.85 Obata, like many

Japanese-Americans and Issei in particular, endured the internment through this concept of

perseverance.

“Words are better than tears”86

Janice Mirikitani was born in 1941 in Stockton, California. She was named the second

poet laureate of San Francisco in 2000.87 Much of Mirkitani’s work is devoted toward speaking

out about issues that Japanese-Americans, women, the poor, and other disadvantages groups

face. Her book, Shedding Silence, includes multiple poems centered on the theme of speaking

out after having been silent.

The theme of speaking out after a long silence is a deeply personal theme for Mirikitani.

In a short preface before her poem “Breaking Silence,” Mirikitani writes: “After forty years of

silence about the experience of Japanese-Americans in World War II concentration camps, my

mother testified before the Commission on Wartime Relocation and Internment of Japanese

American Civilians in 1981.”88 Towards the beginning of “Breaking Silence,” Mirikitani shows a

more grim perspective on the silent enduring displayed by Japanese-Americans:

We were told that silence was better

golden like our skin, useful like go quietly,

easier like don’t make waves,

expedient like 85Delphine Hirasuna, The Art of Gaman: Arts and Crafts from the Japanese American Internment Camps 1942-1946 (Berkeley: Ten Speed Press, 2005). 7 86 Janic Mirikitani, Shedding Silence (Berkeley: Celestial Arts, 1987). 35 87 “Janice Mirikitani,” Poetry Foundation. Accessed December 12, 1987. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/janice-mirikitani 88 Mirikitani, Shedding Silence, 33.

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horsestalls and deserts89

Mirikitani then uses modified excerpts from her mother’s testimony, and incorporates them into

the poem. Mirkitani’s mother tells a “Mr. Commissioner” about the damage done to her family’s

property, how the government coerced her, and how she and her family had been clearly targeted

due to their ethnicity.90 The mother’s words in the poem conclude:

Words are better than tears, so I spill them.

I kill this, the silence…91

Mirkikitani finishes by pressing the importance of Japanese-Americans speaking out about what

happened during the war:

We must recognize ourselves at last. We are a rainforest of color and noise.

We hear everything. We are unafraid.

Our language is beautiful.92 Urging people to speak out is very typical of Mirkitiani’s work. Unlike those Japanese-

Americans who adhere to the gaman concept, Mirikitani sees the silence as a limitation that has

permitted the continued abuse of her people.

Urging Japanese-Americans to speak out is a natural extension of what the JACL was

trying to do. The difference is that Mirikitani’s urging is focused on speaking out about the

injustices that Japanese-Americans have faced, as opposed to the patriotic displays the JACL

called for. Speaking out about the injustice of the camps is how Mirkitani and many other

Japanese-Americans have chosen to cope with the internment.

89 Ibid. 90 Ibid., 33-35 91 Ibid., 35 92 Ibid., 36

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I am not Japanese and I am not American93

John Okada was born in Seattle, Washington, in 1923. After being transferred to an

internment camp, Okada avoided a prolonged stay by volunteering for the US Army, which was

a common choice among young Japanese-Americans men in the camps. Also like many

Japanese-American men, once he was in the Army, he was assigned to the Air Force, where his

primary duty was to negotiate surrender with Japanese pilots. Thus his book, No-No Boy, is far

from biographical.94

No-No Boy is a fictional novel about Ichiro Yamada, the titular no-no boy. Ichiro had

been imprisoned for two years for answering “no” to both loyalty questions posed to him by the

US government. This situation causes an inner turmoil, making Ichiro uncertain if he is Japanese,

American, or neither. He also comes into conflict with his mother, who feels deep attachment to

her Japanese roots. Okada describes her as “a Japanese who breathed the air of America and yet

had never lifted a foot from the land that was Japan.”95 She is proud of Ichiro for saying no to the

loyalty questions. Ichiro, however, feels deeply conflicted about his choice.

Okada’s story speaks to the cultural confusion many Nisei faced even before World War

II. The interment further agitated this confusion, and not only for the no-no boys. Though the

story is not based on Okada’s personal experiences, he speaks to the torn loyalty many Nisei

faced, shown when Ichiro thinks of his mother:

We were Japanese with Japanese feelings and Japanese pride and Japanese thoughts

because it was alright then to be Japanese and feel and think all the things Japanese do even if we lived in America. Then there came a time when I was only half Japanese

because on is not born in America and raised in America and taught in America and one does not speak and swear and drink and smoke and play and fight and see and hear in

93 John Okada, No-No Boy (Rutland: Charles E. Tuttle Company, 1957). 35 94 “John Okada Biography” eNotes. Accessed December 11, 2015. http://www.enotes.com/topics/john-okada 95 Okada, No-No Boy, 29

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America among Americans in American streets without becoming American and loving it.96

Yet, Ichiro laments that his love for America was not enough, and regrets siding with his

Japanese half. He feels distant from his mother, which makes him feel like he has lost that

Japanese half of his identity. Yet, his American identity provides no comfort, as Ichiro explains:

“I am only half of me and the half that remains is American by law…it is not enough to be

American only in the eyes of the law and it is not enough to be only half and American and know

that it is an empty half…I am not Japanese and I am not American.”97 Okada offers no easy

answer in response. Like many Nisei, like many Japanese-Americans, Ichiro must continue

searching his identity.

“The music speaks for itself. And it certainly spoke to me”98

The children of the Nisei are known as the Sansei, the third generation of Japanese-

Americans. One such member of this generation is Lawson Fusao Inada, former poet laureate of

Oregon. Inada was born in Fresno, California in 1938.99 He was only four when internment

happened, but he has written poetry about what he recalls from the experience. These poems are

collected in his book, Legends from Camp.

The themes of Inada’s interment-related poems are numerous. “The Legend of Protest”

displays a bitterness in response to the FBI taking in community leaders immediately after the

Pearl Harbor attack:

People ask: “Why didn’t you protest?” Well, you might say: “They had hostages.”100

96 Ibid., 34-35 97 Ibid., 35 98 Lawson Fusao Inada. Legends from Camp. Minneapolis: Coffee House Press, 1992, 55 99 “Lawson Fusao Inada” Poetry Foundation. Accessed December 11, 2015. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/lawson- inada 100 Inada, Legends, 9

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The “Legend of the Flying Boy,” meanwhile, deals with the innocence and foolishness of

children, while “The Legend of the Hakujin Woman” honors a Hakujin (Caucasian) woman who

chose to be with her Japanese husband in the internment camp.101

Though the themes are numerous, these poems are all bound by one common theme,

which Inada describes:

Still there is a remoteness to history, and to simply know the facts is not always satisfactory.

There’s more to life than that. So you might say I’ve taken matters into my own hands—taken

the camp experience in my hands, stood in the sun, and held it up to the light. What did I find?

What did I find? What I expected to find: Aspects of humanity, the human condition.

Okubo told us about the dehumanizing aspects of the interment experience. Inada, by

contrast, points to the humanity still present within that experience. Legends from Camp includes

poems about children, elders, religion, and home, among many other these relating to the human

condition. Inada and Okubo together give us both factual and emotional insight into the

interment experience.

Despite the title, Legends from Camp does not only include poetry about the camp

experience. In a section titled “Jazz,” Inada proclaims that jazz music spoke to him, “[and] I

certainly listened. Yes, I listened to its warm and gentle voice, its soothing, beautiful voice as it

told me, told me, showed me its home, that special place.”102 In the introduction to the “Jazz”

section of Legends from Camp, Inada recounts an encounter with Billie Holiday that he cites as

an inspiration for him to devote his time to poetry.103 Even for an introduction, Inada can’t stop

himself from becoming poetic about the “enduring philosophy” of jazz. A philosophy “of

101 Ibid., 11-13 102 Ibid., 55 103 Ibid., 59

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adaptability, ingenuity, creation; of humor, wisdom, resourcefulness; of individuality, and

collectivity; of power and empowerment; of the strength and beauty of the human spirit.” He

calls Jazz “America’s gift to the world.”104

Not only does Inada’s love for jazz speak to his American identity, but, as Inada himself

points out, jazz speaks to his identity as a person of color: “It was something [Asian-Americans

and African-Americans] could share in common, like a ‘lingua franca’ in our ‘colored’

community. And in our distorted reality of aliens and alienation, it felt like citizenship.”105 Inada

sees jazz as a means of bonding with other people of color.

Japanese-Americans’ status as people of color is just as significant to their identity as the

Japanese and American aspects. Much of the discrimination that Japanese-Americans faced is

not dissimilar from what African-Americans, Mexican-Americans, and other groups have faced.

In the case of segregation in America, the discrimination was the same, with Japanese-

Americans being excluded from “White Only” places just like African-Americans.

With Inada, we see the ethnic solidarity among Japanese-Americans expand into

solidarity between people of color.

Conclusion

Through the art and literature, Japanese-Americans have shown the strength and

importance of their complex identities. Their art depicts the use of Japanese concepts, such as

gaman, to endure what seems insurmountable. On the other hand, their American identity, a

status for which Japanese-Americans struggled to prove their worth for over two generations,

cannot be denied. They are Japanese, and they are American. This dual identity has been their

104 Ibid., 56 105 Ibid., 57

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shield for fending off the pain of prejudice and injustice for two generations, for both the Issei

and Nisei. They give this legacy to the Sansei, the third generation, and the Yonsei, the fourth:

Right there; front page news, Three weeks before 1942, "Pearl Harbour's Been Bombed And The Japs Are Comin',"

Pictures of soldiers dyin' and runnin', Ken knew what it would lead to,

Just like he guessed, the President said, "The evil Japanese in our home country will be locked away,”106

These are the words of Mike Shinoda, born in 1977. Shinoda is a Japanese-American rapper and

co-founder of the band Linkin Park. His words show that the internment is still on the minds of

Japanese-American artist to this day. Yet, it is worth noting that this is the only work by Shinoda

that deals with the internment. Japanese-Americans are still conscious of the event, but, it does

not rule them.

I had intended to examine the impact of World War II internment on Japanese-American

art, with the expectation that some great change had occurred. However, Japanese-Americans

responded in much the same fashion that they had responded to the discrimination they had

faced. Japanese-Americans owned their identities before the internment happened, and

maintained those identities through the internment, and the great discrimination that followed the

war. The impact of the interment was not a change in Japanese-American identity, but rather a

strengthening of all its aspects. A strengthening of gaman, of speaking against injustice, of

cultural confusion, and of cultural solidarity.

Japanese-American identity, legacy, and culture cannot be taken away by the internment

experience, and certainly not by dismissive editorialists. Japanese-Americans are now and

forever part of the United States, and the world.

106 Mike Shinoda, Kenji, Fort Minor, Machine Shop Records, CD, 2005.

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Bibliography

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Camps 1942-1946. Berkeley: Ten Speed Press, 2005.

Higa, Karen M. The View From Within: Japanese American Art from the Internment Camps 1942-1945. Los Angeles: Japanese American National Museum, 1992.

Inada, Lawson Fusao. Legends from Camp. Minneapolis: Coffee House Press, 1992.

------, ed. Only What We Could Carry. Berkely: Heyday Books, 2000.

“Janice Mirikitani,” Poetry Foundation. Accessed December 12, 1987.

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/janice-mirikitani

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------. Entrance to the Obata Dwelling in Topaz, sumi on paper, 11” x 16,” 1942, Estate of

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