They Called Us Enemy

I have been meaning to read this since it came out. It's a piece of history I didn't become aware of until I was an adult. This is not surprising on a few fronts, but it is a shame. School makes sure to teach us about the Holocaust, but it is quite removed from us, whereas this happened to Americans on American soil.


Takei's story of life in the camps is an interesting mix of what he experienced as a child who didn't understand and what he learned from talking to his father about it when he was older. The child's perspective is not one normally shared because, as Takei voices here, children are highly adaptable. This was routine. This was home. This was normal. Only it wasn't.

Young George is adorable. I especially enjoyed the anecdotes about his realization that the Santa that visited wasn't real and how he graciously decided not to spoil it for the other kids. But it is his accounts of his parents that are the real story. His mother, who held the family together, who took risks and had to legally fight the system, and who was wise enough to use her precious luggage space for treats for her kids for the first scary journey and her illegal sewing machine. His father, who stepped into a leadership role to help forge a community and who always answered George's questions. The way the story is told allows for a blend of viewpoints while scenes and anecdotes unfold, which more fully captures moments in time.

Later this month I review Displacement, which follows characters that marked "yes" to the two infamous questions on loyalty questionnaire. But here, we get to learn what happened to those who became known as "No-Nos". Both reads explain the struggle of answering something that is clearly a trap -- something that prevents you from answering honestly and pins you into the role of "enemy alien" regardless of what you answer. This book, Takei's family's story, delves deeper since, for different reasons, both his parents were No-Nos. This meant, among other things, they were relocated to a second detainment center, which was larger and more cruel than the others. Because of this, the story Takei is sharing encompasses a fuller picture of how bad things were and became before the end, which included the pressure to renounce US citizenship in order to save one's family. I appreciate knowing this story because of the breadth of experience it sheds light on.

We are all fortunate that Takei's father was so open and willing to talk about those days and his perspective as an adult with a family, and that George Takei in turn was willing to share with the world. Many Japanese Americans did not talk about it afterwards, for understandable reasons, but it makes it more challenging to learn the truth of the history.

This story goes on to include Takei's search for answers as he grew older, his acting career, and his involvement with politics / democracy. The section on his acting career includes notable moments like: how it allowed him to meet people like Martin Luther King Jr., Gene Roddenberry's vision / Sulu representing pan-Asian ethnicity in a positive light, and how it provided a platform for Takei to speak out on social causes. The book wraps on a sobering note, touching on how history is brutally repeating itself, partially because of lingering legal things related to Executive Order 9066. And an epilogue that shows Takei and his husband paying their respects at a monument while the text shares a quote from Barack Obama.

This book is one that can speak to many people of many different age groups. And because it is a biographical account of a very real and beloved person, it makes the history more real; it makes it something far too close for comfort, which is a good thing. This should definitely be required reading.

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First, I love the art! It has a wonderful manga flavor -- one that, appropriately, leans more towards Graveyard of the Fireflies than a stylised fantasy shounen or shoujo romance, and is well suited towards telling a story through the eyes of a child. The visuals are simplistic yet impactful, with some subtle but impressive visual effects (like the effect -- achieved cleverly by screentone -- of a window on a train reflecting the view outside, while also letting us see little George and his mother, within the train).

Now, biographical comics can really run the risk of being dry, or overly sympathetic to the subject matter; this is neither! Like we know from conventions and his internet presence, Takei is a charming, engaging, and often self-deprecating storyteller. He candidly tells us about the degradation of the camps, yes, but he also shares with us the good moments, painting a picture that is well-nuanced, not a pity-party. He also points out his own failings in his perspective from his youth, moments that he feels shame over. He could have painted FDR as nothing but a monster -- and indeed, he shares with us his righteous anger towards the man -- but he also makes it clear that that man and the history he was involved with were not so cut-and-dry.

Takei doesn't just tell about his years in the camps, but also the time leading up to them, and how that time has influenced his life (and the lives of other Japanese-Americans) since. Takei also hasn't limited the story to his own experiences, sharing the experiences of others, such as: a man who delivered books to people in the camps (at great personal risk); the rebellious souls who understandably turned away from the country that turned away from them first; the soldiers who fought for the US despite how the US treated them; and people like his parents, who lived precariously in the middle. It's easy to see how each contingent felt as they did, one's heart breaking for everyone, regardless of the choices they made.

I remember being shocked and horrified to learn of Japanese internment in middle school, about 30 years ago. We didn�t gloss over it, our teacher impressing upon us how awful it was, what a betrayal. But still, from Takei, I learned that it was even worse than I'd thought -- I never would have imagined some of the ways our citizens were abused! For example, I knew that many basically had their homes and belongings stolen from them, as they had to leave all those things behind, only to find them gone when they finally returned. But being forced to continue farming before being sent to the camps, and then forced to let someone else take the crops, seeing none of the fruits (literal or fiscal) of their labour? So basically, the farmers were made into slaves before they were imprisoned! And the fact that it wasn't as bad as Auschwitz (a sentiment I, depressingly, have heard far too often), that the Takeis and their neighbors had happy moments, or even that the barbed wire made little Gorge feel safe, doesn't make the whole situation okay (I say to those who insist it was for the Japanese-Americans' own protection) -- wrongful imprisonment is wrongful imprisonment, and racism is racism, and also wrong. Japanese-American citizens were denied the same rights, choices, and opportunities as their fellow citizens, solely because of their ethnicity, with no actual trial to prove that they were the traitors people assumed they were. A gilded cage is still a cage -- and theirs was far from gilded anyway.

And with the chilling parallels we're seeing in recent times, such as with the treatment of Muslim Americans and people at the Mexican border, the history of our treatment of Japanese-Americans is something that needs to come into even stronger light, not be swept under the rug as over and done with. Let's not make such mistakes again. To that end, I'd love to see this graphic novel --a work that teaches with emotional complexity and encourages empathy -- become required reading in middle school.

Where to begin with They Called us Enemy ...? The clean-lined, grey-toned art that is spare or detailed, depending on what the scene needs? The way the story slips masterfully between the POV of George the Child (who didn't really understand at first, and found parts of it to be a great adventure), George the 1960s Activist (who was quite upset at the lack of resistance from his parents and their peers), and the George of Today (who has a fuller, more nuanced understanding of his past and his parents)? They Called Us Enemy is the kind of multi-layered story that is perfectly suited to comics, and would not be nearly so rich if told in a different way, in a different medium.

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If I had to pick just one thing to love about this powerful story, I would have to say it's Takei's mother, Fumiko, whose quiet strength, resourcefulness, and dignity in the face of such terrible adversity is the foundation on which the family rested. Only rarely did she show how sad and frightened she felt, and because of her careful planning, George and his little brother weren't traumatized as they traveled to the camp. Though the story details how George's father, Takekuma, ended up a leader in the camp and was well respected, it also shows how Fumiko gave a much needed orderliness and loving stability to her family in the face of so much uncertainty and chaos. I don't think that George, his siblings, or his father would have managed as well as they did without her steadfastness and deep-mindedness. The creative team does a masterful job of bringing her to life for readers, that though I will never meet her, by the end of the story, I felt as if I'd known her for years.

I have a slight connection to the story of Japanese internment; I grew up a short distance from Manzanar, CA. When I was a child, my mother would often take us up the 395 to go picnicking. She would also stop at various historical markers on the way back home if we asked. Except for Manzanar. And we asked. Repeatedly. The answer was always a short, sharp, angry, "No." Finally, one day, my mother said that she'd tell us all about it when we got home. And that is how I learned about the internment camps, and that my mother didn't want to stop there, ever, because she was so ashamed and outraged that our nation had ever done such a thing.

And, unfortunately, we're doing it again, and even less humanely to asylum seekers at our borders, and for that, I am also deeply ashamed.

I can only imagine the outrage and horror the last survivors of the camps must feel.

So, when you read They Called us Enemy, feel the joy that comes from reading a beautiful work of art, let yourself be uplifted by its messages of dignity and resilience, but also do your duty at the ballot box for this coming election and every election after. Nobody deserves such horrible treatment. Nobody.