Starting from Loomis and Other Stories

Starting from Loomis . . . Again

KL 87 Starting from Loomis . . . Again I renounced my American citizenship at Tule Lake, and I feel that was the dumbest thing I ever did in my life. It was a terrible mistake for which I have paid dearly. I had opposed the registration in protest against the many injustices I had suffered—not just the incarceration but all the racist abuses I had taken as a child and as a young man, all the times I had been called a “Jap.” For my action, or inaction, I was later segregated from the rest of the camp population. Me, a kid from Loomis, segregated in a maximum security prison for “disloyal” Americans. I didn’t know what my fate would be; I was hoping that nothing drastic would happen. I just wanted to be who I was—a Japanese American, an American of Japanese descent, an American citizen. Since they would not release me, I had no choice but to sit out the war in camp. Obviously, I was not pro-Japan, even if I could read and write Japanese; I was, in fact, more advanced in the Japanese language than thosehastilytrainedatthemilitarylanguageschool.Withmylanguage skill, I realize now that I could have been very useful to my country. I would have been trained at the military language school and would have served in the Military Intelligence Service, where many Kibei and DOI: 10.5876/9781607322542:c13 starting from loomis . . . again 88 Nisei served with honor. If only the country had been more fair and trusting. But renunciation was another thing. First the US Congress passed a law making it easier for American citizens to renounce their citizenship . When I first heard about the law, I felt it was only for pro-Japan fanatics, certainly not for me. I had no real desire to go to Japan, so I tried not to concern myself with it. But unknowingly, I was swept into the clamor, and I succumbed to the pressure—both outside and within my family. In the year after the loyalty questionnaire, Tule Lake became an increasingly tense, hostile, and dangerous place. Around 8,000 people from other camps who had also either refused to answer or answered “no” to the loyalty questionnaire were brought to Tule Lake; soon, talk of renunciation was in the air. Pro-Japan factions were pressuring other internees. Some urged me to join their group, the Hoshi Dan, and told me that for my own sake I must renounce my US citizenship. Although I refused to join them, I was also afraid of defying them. The atmosphere in camp was menacing —there were stealing and beatings and killings. It was dangerous to even speak English during this time because we would be called “White Japs.” I grew increasingly afraid that I might become a marked man if I didn’t follow the crowd. In Block 40, where we lived, there was also agitation for repatriation , which often broke out in open hostilities. People questioned each other about where they stood on the subject. As secretary to the block manager, many people came to me asking for help in acquiring and filling out the repatriation forms. I listened to their questions and fears, and they only deepened my own. I was influenced by a family friend whose wife and children were in Japan. He was planning to join them after the war, so it was natural for him to be pro-Japan. He came every day to visit Mother and to give us counsel, urging us to renounce. I tried not to listen to him, but I guess starting from loomis . . . again 89 he was an influence—he was one of the few older male figures I could talk to. Though in my heart I didn’t agree with him, I didn’t want to defy him either. My brother, who worked with some of the pro-Japan fanatics in the mess hall and came under their sway, forced the issue one day: “Are we American or are we Japanese? Let’s make it clear.” And I gave in. In December 1944 I sent a letter requesting renunciation of citizenship for myself and my siblings. At the hearing in February 1945, I was afraid. I remember barely being able to speak. I had not talked with a Caucasian in over three years. Because of what had happened to us, I was filled with fear and...