Starting from Loomis and Other Stories

What It Means to Be Nisei

KL 137 What It Means to Be Nisei At this point in my life, the question of being Nisei (Japanese Americans born of immigrant parents, or second generation) is probably better put in the past tense. I feel I’m a survivor, albeit a battle-scarred one. I’m reasonably happy and proud of what I am. I’m comfortable bearing the historyofmyparentsandthesensitivityofmyJapaneseancestors.Ittook a while to appreciate this aspect of myself, but now I feel it in my bones. I also carry the history of my life in America, a history fraught with so many ups and downs that for a long time I could not fully accept myself as an American. But lately, I have become comfortable and proud to wear that skin as well. The sight of the American flag or the playing of the national anthem no longer confuses me. And it’s been a while since I encountered overt racism; I think the last time I heard the slur “Jap” in my presence was when I was still working at the library, more than twenty years ago. I made the man apologize and I felt triumphant, but, like most battles, it left a bad taste in my mouth. I wish I could relax, but my antennae are too fine-tuned to ignore any slights or slurs. KL DOI: 10.5876/9781607322542:c21 what it means to be nisei 138 James Omura, the Nisei journalist who was victimized by the superpatriotic Japanese American Citizens League for supporting the Heart Mountain draft resisters, said we must reconcile our differences and come together as a community. I’m not sure if this will ever happen, but it has been my observation that we Nisei, no matter how different we think we are—geographically, educationally, religiously, politically, or within our families—are in fact very much alike; there are so many things we share in our common background. Once, I was among Nisei who were strangers to me. They were JACLers—members of the Japanese American Citizens League—and probably Christians. They seemed very different from me and I felt uncomfortable, but as I listened to their conversation, I realized that we had many things in common. First, we lived during the same period—we were born before World War II (many of us were delivered by midwifes); we lived through the Great Depression in the 1930s, and during World War II we were incarcerated in the camps; after the war, we went to work, got married, raised families; now, most of us are retired. We grew up in a Japanese American environment—in Nihonmachi, or a Japanese community or ghetto. We communicated with our parents in Japanese; most of us went to Japanese-language school, where we spent many hours trying to learn a difficult language. Very few of us became fluent. Some of us had kendo (Japanese fencing) and judo (wrestling) training. There were basketball and baseball, too. Even sumo (Japanese wrestling) was a common experience for us growing up, at least as spectators; some Issei were real fanatics. Going to see silent Japanese movies with a benshi (a live narrator who also enacted all the parts) was also a familiar experience. But when these people talked about Tenchosetsu—that was the clincher. I could hardly believe them. After all, many of them were super-American, yet they were talking about Tenchosetsu, a ceremony celebrating the birthday of the emperor of Japan. what it means to be nisei 139 I remember this ceremony from Nihongo Gakko. Two Issei men dressed in black and wearing white gloves would ceremoniously unveil the emperor’s photograph and command us to bow deeply and reverently . Then the Japanese national anthem would be sung. The whole school acted in concert, as we were trained to do. The emperor had little meaning to most of us, only a black-and-white photograph on a wall, a man looking imperial on a horse. Our actions were in deference to our Issei parents, who revered the emperor. We were more observers than participants in that respect. What I remember most are the white gloves against the dark suits the two Issei men wore. They were like automatons, their actions so precise and correct. I remember thinking they were just common farmers , but how transformed they were by the ceremony. I was impressed with the power and influence the emperor had over them. KL...