February 19 is the Japanese American community's Day of Remembrance. It was 75 years ago today that E.O. 9066 was signed *allowing* the incarceration of more than 120,000 Japanese and Japanese Americans on the west coast. That time, no other courts challenged the E.O., and some--but not enough--friends and neighbors stood up for us.
This is a 1944 photo of my Grandma Yasu holding my father in her arms (he was born there, delivered by a horse veterinarian), my auntie and uncle. They are posing in front of their neighbor's tar paper barrack in the Minidoka concentration camp. I love this photo not only because I love my family deeply, but because of its vibe of normalcy. They had already been imprisoned (first in horse stalls at the Puyallup fairgrounds) for two solid years yet they persisted and resisted. This morning, instead of getting sucked into the vortex of atrocities they faced (as I admittedly sometimes do), I have been meditating on the ways my family and my community resisted from behind the barbed wire.
Here are some of them:
raising children, birthing children, smiling and being happy, beautifying barracks, making art and furniture, planting gardens, joining clubs, taking jobs, making friends, forming sports teams, continuing studies, writing to friends back in Seattle, supporting the war effort, throwing dances, leaving camp early to join the workforce in random Midwest cities like Cleveland and Kansas City, dreaming of returning to Seattle. Not giving up on America's promises. Not turning their backs on their Japanese heritage. Not losing themselves. And once the war was over, and the camps were shut down, not being afraid to tell me and my sisters the whole truth.
In case you were wondering why I stand up for all marginalized and disempowered groups, now you know.