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C
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ap
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T
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Be
A
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d
Yes.
You
helped
me
remember
.
I am
Tapestry.
I remember
the
young
woman.
Peggie
Nishimura Bain.
She is
Nisei.
She lives
with
her
family.
Washington
State.
1941.
World War II.
Japan
attacks
Pearl Harbor.
With
mistrust,
with
prejudice,
with the goal of economic gain,
many
scapegoat
the
Japanese community,
here
at home.
They
call it
“removal.”
They
call it
“relocation.”
Some neighbors
- with suspicion, with fear -
look away.
Some neighbors
- with compassion, with love -
choose to help.
1942.
Peggie
- a mother
now -
with her
family.
Along with
thousands
of
Japanese
Americans
- adults
and
children.
Forced
from their
homes.
These are
not
“internment camps.”
These
are
not
“relocation centers.”
Peggie
and
her children,
forced
into
the
prison camp
in
Tule Lake,
California.
Approximately 120,000
people
of Japanese descent,
Incarcerated.
Camps built,
under duress,
with
their own hands.
Prison
camps
built on
stolen
Native
lands.
The land,
soaked with
their
tears,
buckles under
layers of pain.
Pain on
pain.
Harm on
harm.
Peggie and
her children,
forcibly
transferred
to
the
Minidoka prison camp
in Idaho.
Forced
to work.
Small
hands,
till
the soil.
Barbed wires.
Guard
towers.
Burning
sun.
Freezing
nights.
Empty
stomachs.
Peggie
tries
to
build
a sense of
normalcy,
to feel
free.
Peggie
creates
joy
by
crafting
jewelry.
An
act
of
resistance.
Resilient
in her
hope.
Yet,
Peggie
longs for
freedom.
She is
not
a threat.
They were
never
a threat.
The U.S. has
always
been
their home.
But
after they are
allowed
to
go
free,
they discover
their
homes
have been
vandalized.
Their lands,
stolen.
Many
cannot
return.
Japanese American
survivors,
displaced again.
Peggie
holds onto
her
memories.
Their farm.
Their home.
Forced
to move
across the country
- to Chicago,
Illinois -
Peggie
faces
prejudice
yet again.
Landlords
turn her away.
Peggie
and the other
survivors
find
new homes,
but their memories
of pain, of loss,
of
displacement,
continue to go
unacknowledged.
To
echo
camp survivor
Shigesato ‘Shig’ Murao,
they
long
to be
accepted.
WHO DECIDES WHAT
HISTORIES WE REMEMBER?