“Watashi wa Manzanar”. A reflection by Kristen Hayashi

Taking part in my first Manzanar Pilgrimage was a powerful experience on multiple levels.   Being at Manzanar provided a multisensory experience that disrupted the serenity that the Ansel Adams’ glorious landscape photographs seemingly capture. As we approached the site, the first glimpse of the clouds rolling in to create shadows against Mount Williamson was absolutely stunning. Yet, it became apparent from the moment that we stepped off the bus that this majestic and serene backdrop is complicated by whistling winds that whip through at ground level, kicking up sand and creating an intense force. Despite having read numerous descriptions of the windstorms at Manzanar, you can’t fathom how punishing they are unless you have experienced one yourself.  While the unrelenting winds, noticeably dry climate, and intense sun were novel at first, it quickly became bothersome to tease out the knots in my hair and shake the dust from the insides of my shoes and socks.  I had enough of the harsh environment after one day and find it difficult to imagine how anyone would be able to put up with these conditions day in and day out.

Although World War II likely conjured up painful memories for my grandparents’ (Nisei) and great grandparents’ (Issei) generations since they were wrongly incarcerated as a result of prejudice and wartime hysteria, it is clear that it was a defining moment in their lives.  “Which camp were you in?” is a common question that I recall hearing throughout my childhood while I tagged along with my grandparents to their social events.

Today, seventy years after the end of WWII, the Nisei—now in their late eighties to mid-nineties—still often ask this question when they meet someone who shares this collective experience.  It was inspiring to see 99-year old Nisei Jack Kunitomi, knowing that he wanted to attend the pilgrimage to honor the legacy of his sister, Sue Embrey.  The number of Nisei in attendance at the pilgrimage has dwindled considerably since many of them have passed on, causing their memories and stories to fade with them.  How will we remember the WWII experience of Japanese and Japanese Americans once those that lived through it have passed on? It made me wonder how future pilgrimages would differ without the presence of those with living memory of internment.

I have been concerned about this, which is a main reason why I have chosen to focus my scholarly research on Japanese American history.  While participating in the Manzanar Pilgrimage this year, however, I was reassured that the injustices of WWII would not soon be forgotten.  The crowd of 1500 who attended the 46th pilgrimage activated the Manzanar site.  The majority of people in attendance appeared to be too young to have lived through WWII.  Even though there were quite a few Nikkei in attendance, it was a nice to see the incredible diversity amongst those who participated in the pilgrimage.  Chatting with participants revealed that there were quite a few high school and college age students, teachers, proponents of civil rights and social justice, and individuals from diverse racial and ethnic backgrounds.  The sounds of taiko were empowering, the words of the speakers thought-provoking, and the choreography of the odori dancing touching knowing that it was intended to respect those who have passed on.  Partaking in this experience renewed the passion that I have for my research.  Similarly, Manzanar Pilgrimage Master of Ceremonies Craig Ishii, a Yonsei who founded Kizuna, an organization intended to renew a sense of culture and community in younger generations of Japanese Americans, indicated that the pilgrimage resonates with him and is the one annual event that reminds him of the importance of his work.

Amongst my parents’ generation (Sansei), since the majority was born after the war, the question has been revised to ask, “Which camp was your family in?” For many Sansei, the internment experience has defined their lives, too. Although this same question rarely comes up amongst members of my generation (Yonsei), I realized while on the pilgrimage that it is not solely the responsibility of subsequent generations of Japanese Americans to continue to remember what Manzanar and the other nine sites of Japanese American incarceration represent.  Instead, all Americans should be responsible for preventing a similar infringement on civil rights from happening again.  The theme, “Watashi wa Manzanar,” suggests that Manzanar is a symbol of injustice and activism that is inscribed within all of us, prompting us to never forget.  This message is apt since it reminds us that we are all susceptible to the infringement of civil rights if we fail to be vigilant at protecting them.

This dual meaning became apparent to me while I engaged in conversation with an Anglo American man at our hotel in Lone Pine.  He recalled that while he was on the East Coast during WWII, there was little information about the “internment camps” and the situation of Japanese Americans.  Since then, though, he has sought out information.  He was fully aware that his camping trip in the Sierra Nevadas coincided with the Manzanar Pilgrimage and although he was interested in attending, he felt that he did not belong.  I shared with him that the participants were of diverse backgrounds in addition to explaining the meaning behind the pilgrimage’s theme.

Although the Manzanar Pilgrimage intended to remember the experience of Japanese and Japanese Americans during WWII, the message of the pilgrimage has become broader in scope, emphasizing the need to protect civil liberties for all.  It is interesting that despite the broadening of this message, the rituals and practices are still closely associated with Japanese culture.  I wonder if in the next few years the program will change, perhaps adding other religious practices to the interfaith service or substituting other cultural traditions for the odori. In the meantime, this year’s theme is a reminder of our duty to be mindful of what Manzanar represents, which in the words of Bruce Embrey, “We must remember so America does not forget.”  Embrey’s words provide a call to action for my work as a scholar.  I hope to attend another Manzanar pilgrimage in addition to pilgrimages to other camps—Minidoka and Gila in particular, since this is where my family was incarcerated.  I’d like to visit these sites and imbue them into my memory so that I will never forget and those that I share my experience with will never forget, either.