Recent events in Southern California have sparked outrage after the United States government deployed military forces against its own citizens. The presence of armored vehicles and federal agents in camouflage clothing resulted in a shocking escalation of governmental tactics aimed at immigrant communities, inciting a wave of anger and sorrow. Families are being torn apart, and those left behind face a deeply traumatic reality that could affect them for generations to come.
This unsettling moment resonates deeply with individuals like myself, a fourth-generation Japanese American. Our community carries the weight of historical injustices, particularly those faced during World War II when many were unjustly incarcerated by the US government. An executive order by President Franklin Roosevelt in 1942 led to the targeting of Japanese Americans, resulting in their forced relocation and imprisonment in concentration camps. The effects of such policies are not just historical footnotes; they ripple through generations, impacting families and communities long after the immediate crises have passed.
The Japanese American National Museum recently expressed solidarity with other marginalized groups, highlighting the continued fight for civil rights and human dignity. Their principled stand contrasts sharply with the silence or complicity of others amidst ongoing threats to due process, birthright citizenship, and equitable programs. As someone involved with the museum through a fellowship, I appreciate their commitment to history, culture, and the protection of rights for all.
The painful legacy of my family’s experiences during internment has prompted me to confront intergenerational trauma. As a writer, I’ve found artistic expression essential to this exploration. Brandon Shimoda’s upcoming book, “The Afterlife Is Letting Go,” is pioneering in its approach, as it explores the impact of the internment not just on those who suffered but also on their descendants. Through extensive research, including interviews with survivors and their families, Shimoda addresses the emotional toll of suppressed history and its lasting effects.
In one poignant essay, Shimoda shares a moment of vulnerability while reading children’s books about the camps to his child, emphasizing the personal nature of this legacy. Like many in the Japanese American community, my understanding of my family’s history was largely shaped by external narratives and literature rather than personal conversations. Despite being one of the most documented populations of color in US history, the stories of my loved ones felt abstract and distant until my adult years. It has only recently, as I reached my 55th year, that I’ve begun to truly grasp the emotional scars left by their internment.
The trauma of being confined in a concentration camp at such a young age raises profound questions about safety, belonging, and cultural identity. For individuals who experienced such profound loss, the desire for acceptance within American society often came at the cost of their authentic selves.
Despite my suburban upbringing, the impact of my family’s past remains. Various communities grapple with similar legacies of trauma today. While the current government’s actions against immigrants differ from my family’s experiences, I find solace in the solidarity that has emerged. During World War II, when Issei leaders were abducted, and Japanese Americans faced mass incarceration, a lack of widespread protest marked those dark times.
In contrast, the recent demonstrations against immigrant raids showcase a more unified front featuring diverse voices standing against injustice. This solidarity serves as a beacon of hope and a reminder of the strength found in collective action. The mutual support displayed by Angelenos from various backgrounds brings a sense of comfort, reminiscent of the stories of non-Japanese allies who aided Japanese American families during the internment era.
Together, we advocate not only for those currently facing persecution but also for future generations that will inherit the consequences of today’s actions. The emotional pain caused by the government’s hostility resonates deeply within those who understand the trauma of the past. Standing together, we highlight the resilience of community and the hope that can emerge from the darkest of times.
image source from：hyperallergic
