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We're melting.

Why are we here?

Last weekend, as part of a student initiated course on Manzanar and the Japanese American Internment, I visited Manzanar National Historic Site, one of ten WWII internment camps used to incarcerate over 110,000 Japanese Americans. The following is a short reflection essay on the experience, required for the course.

Although the WWII internment is the most significant event in 5 generations of Japanese American history, for the most part, it had little impact on those not among the 110,000 forcibly relocated persons. So when I looked around at the others attending the Manzanar Pilgrimage, it was with interest and some surprise I noticed a diversity of people — all ages, religions, and races had gathered in the sandy desert heat to remember what seemed like a uniquely Japanese American experience. Former internees were there to tell a younger generation about the camp experience; parents brought their children to learn about the internment and experience Manzanar first hand; activists were there to continue the campaign for justice on behalf of Japanese Latin Americans internees; a group of Arab-Americans was present to build connections to a community that, 60 years ago, faced similar challenges of discrimination because they also "looked like the enemy"; a lifelong resident of Independence, a town 6 miles north of Manzanar, has been attending the yearly pilgrimage ever since she learned about the internment camps in the 1970's, 30 years after the last internee left Manzanar; and there were dozens more unique stories and reasons for visiting.

So of course I had to ask myself, "Why am I here? What is my reason for visiting Manzanar?" Perhaps I went hoping a journey to Manzanar would help me figure out what Manzanar and the internment means to a 4th generation Japanese American who grew up in a typical suburb, more American than Japanese, where, for many years, being Japanese American consisted mostly of having dark hair, eating rice, and going to a different church on Sunday. The pilgrimage also made me wonder what the internment will mean to 5th and 6th generation Japanese Americans when the direct, personal connection to the racism, injustice, and hardship of the WWII internment is gone. How relevant will this story be to the hundreds of thousands of people whose families have lived longer scattered across the country than in the west coast Japantowns of the early 20th century, when being Japanese American meant more than just having dark hair and eating plenty of rice? Will people think harder or pause longer because they had a great-great grandparent who, over a century before, was moved from one place they've never been to another place they can't imagine? Maybe. But maybe not.

I can't help but wonder if maybe distance can be a good thing. As time passes, it seems easier to look back at this history without shame or fear or anger and share the more universal message of Manzanar. The story of Manzanar and the Japanese American internment serves as a warning to the dangers that racism can pose to freedom and liberty and if the Pilgrimage made anything clear, it was that this is a lesson relevant to people of all ages, all religions, and all races. There wouldn't be a thousand people standing in the sun in the middle of the Sierra Nevada on the last Saturday in April watching a Shinto priest, a Christian minister, a Muslim imam, and a Buddhist reverend perform a joint ceremony commemorating the hardships endured over half a century ago by the Japanese American community if it wasn't.