What is lost in our mission to be politically strategic?

What price do we pay for political visibility in United States history both in the past and in the present? These readings for me were about discussing the decisions and implications behind what is made visible and invisible. I took a class with Professor Creef last semester on Race and Gender in Westerns and something that we discussed a bit was how invisible the stories of Japanese American internment are within popular national imaginary. Even more invisible are the stories of resistance within the camps. Why? I wrote one of my papers in this class on how the ways that photography physically mapped narratives of Americanization, loyalty, and white assimilation onto the Japanese-American body was a politically strategic choice of people like Ansel Adams during this time given the popular narrative of Japanese-Americans as perpetual foreigners. While choices in political representation are not necessarily “good” or “bad” it is accurate to say that this representation was definitely a politically strategic one.  However, I wonder at what costs were these decisions made particularly given how invisible this period of time remains in U.S. history. So I ask again, does Americanization make you more or less politically visible…or does it make you both?

The photographic history of this time is incredibly controlled and limited.  While this makes sense given “our national propensity to render invisible that which is historically too painful to look at and to silence that which still invokes our national shame”, there are instances in U.S. American history that have been manipulated to make historical record and photography serve the hegemonic national narrative [1]. I am thinking of how pictures of Martin Lurther King Jr. are rarely accompanied by his quotes about white supremacy,  the American war on the poor, and his protests of Vietnam, but rather quotes about dreams for integration. Why haven’t the images of smiling Japanese-American internment camp members been solidified into our popular imagery? Were these not manipulations of the situation at the time? We’ve had numerous atrocities in U.S. history, so why is this one in particular one that the U.S. has trouble manipulating to serve the national narrative? If history books can manipulate slavery as a necessary atrocity for U.S. economic gain than why does the U.S. have so much trouble manipulating Japanese Internment into a palatable narrative?

Is it perhaps the nature of the photography that surrounds Japanese Internment? We were discussing at the ICA yesterday how photographs have much anxiety that surrounds them because they are thought of to better represent reality than a reconstruction in another medium such as painting. Thus, the fact that there is no photographic “image icon” for Japanese Internment is striking. Is it because of the ways that model minority and perpetual foreigner stereotypes still are mapped onto the bodies of third and fourth generation Japanese Americans in the U.S? Do these current anxieties still influence are visible memory?

[1]   Elena Tajima Creef, “The Representation of the Japanese American Body in the Photographs of Ansel Adams, Dorothea Lange, and Toyo Miyatake,” 17

Japanese Internment Camp Life

Creef:
Elena Creef’s piece discusses the visual politics of photographically capturing the Japanese-American population in the wake of Pear Harbor: a Japanese naval strike which nominally justified widespread racism, namely, the U.S.’s evacuation of people of Japanese ancestry out of their homes in the Pacific region, and into internment camps.

Kozol:
Kozol’s article challenges the authenticity of a government –piloted, photographic archive of Japanese-Americans throughout the 1940s evacuation process, given the nation’s interest in illustrating this population as obedient, loyal and non-threatening in an effort to feel secure on the home-front.

Howard:
Howard offers a panoramic display of the unique disruptions in traditional gender and sexuality roles that internment camp life presented to Japanese Americans.

I was taken aback by a specific section in the Relocating Citizenship article, where Kozol addresses the FBI’s campaign to destroy the artifacts of Japanese- Americans directly after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. In referring to the countless Japanese family heirlooms that were seized by government officials, Kozol speculates that “the objects’ ‘realness,’ the materiality of the artifacts made them threatening,” which couldn’t be a more brazen testament to America’s inherently xenophobic nature. This unveils the “difference equals deficit” model that this nation has unabashedly relied on for centuries in their countless campaigns to preserve a pristine American identity that never really existed. Our abstract/undefined understanding of what it means to be an American, may commonly be mistaken as open-ended to an outsider looking for a way in.  However, in truth, the prototypical American: the White- Euroethnic, middle-class male, who we use as our standard of acceptance, will always decide who belongs in this nation, who is defined as the underclass. No matter the history that your family may have here in America.
This reminds me of our contemporary immigration policies that subject hopeful-American citizens to arbitrary Citizenship Tests that I likely would not pass. Regardless of the fact that I am a descendant of slaves that gave their lives building this nation, my failing grade would likely categorize me as un-American.

Disappearance and Reintegration of Japanese Americans

The rounding and imprisonment of Japanese Americans during the World War II years due to the paranoia and racism among white Americans, led to not only the disappearance and removal of a race from their home and social structures, but also the internment of other races due to familial ties, such as couples in mixed marriages. I found it incredible that the U.S. government chose to uproot these people from their foundations, jobs, homes, and culture without further thought of the consequences once the war was over. Segregation gave Japanese Americans further autonomy to their own hierarchy within the camps and provided a space that intensified gender relations such as marriage and queer relations, unintended by the government. Japanese American authors have commented how the experience made them feel emasculated, powerless and targeted based off of their biological features. I thought it was interesting how there was little discussion of the after effects of the camps and their (re)integration with “white” America. Did “white” America truly feel that the masses of Japanese Americans were going to rise as if a call to arms was issued by the Emperor once Pearl Harbor happened? And if so, how did this function as an economic strategy by the government, by relocating thousands of people and supporting them for years out in the desert? Was the (re)integration met with open arms by the rest of America or still displayed apprehensions and racist attitudes intensified by the governmental xenophobia?

Instructions_to_japanese.png

Life in the Internment camps exposed Japanese Americans to intensified gender and racial divisions and new opportunities.

Lange, Adams, and Miyatake photograph the Internment camps using different strategies to represent the body and expose the double alienation felt by prisoners.

Kozol argues that the pictures respond to the hysterical racism and economic demands by whites, and the need to control the xenophobia itself unleashed.

 

 

Relocation of Citizenship, Identity, and the Body

Kozol, Howard, and Creef each explore the trope of relocation in relation to citizenship, identity, and the body through the photographic representation of Japanese-Americans during and after World War II. Kozol describes the relocation of citizenship and identity through the War Relocation Authority’s (WRA) photos, which represent Japanese-American’s “Americanness” through family portraits, domestic arrangements, sports, and commercial objects. This relocation of American identity onto the bodies of the internees, or “enemy aliens,” portrays loyalty to the white Western audience while robbing the internees of their bicultural identity, thus constructing the ideology of colorblindness. These images also fail to capture the suffering and trauma that resulted from physical and identity displacement, rendering the internees’ hardships as invisible. Howard argues that incarceration enabled the relocation of identity in terms of sexuality and gender norms in internment camps by providing flat salaries to both women and men, decreasing domestic roles, and permitting sexual freedom. Creef expounds upon the relocation of the physical body to the internment camps and the Western, “non-other” identity of the internees that is portrayed in the photos of Adam, Lange, and Miyatake. She also argues that self negation and alienation of the Nisei (second generation) enables internal struggles of identity and makes their American identity visible through “signs of American citizenship, loyalty, and heroism” (Creef 18). Furthermore, the phenotypic characteristics of Japanese-Americans places them at odds with their American identity. Overall, the images discussed in the readings present contradictory and competing notions of identity by forcing American characteristics onto the bodies of the Japanese internees, while robbing them of their Japanese realities. The Japanese-Americans presented in the photos appear visible as subjects, but their identity as both Japanese and American is invisible to the audience.

Visualizing Japanese-American Internment Camps

Kozol: The US government’s gaze creates a visual understanding of Executive Order 9066 and its impact on Japanese American’s that is little more than propaganda.

Howard: This chapter emphasized how internment affected notions of the family, gender roles and sexuality; most notably internment opened employment opportunities for women.

Creef: Professor Creef uses the photographs of Ansel Adams, Dorthea Lange, and Toyo Miyatake in order explain that the twentienth-century history of Japanese American representation, the mass relocation and internment of 120,000 people are defining when discussing the colonization of bodies and is yet to be resolved.

. The reading of Howard’s piece helped conceptualize the series of horrific events cast upon Japanese Americans during World War II. It was especially helpful because as Creef states this history is not taught. She even says that only two American historical events have become virtually invisible. These events are the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II and Reconstruction in American South. This is interesting because while it might have been more difficult to create documentary photography images after the Civil War, but the government had no viable excuse during the 1940s. Each of these authors claimed that the history has been lost due to the censorship of the government. Unfortunately, I am not sure if the images in question, depicting the horrors of internments camps even exist, I would not be surprised if the government made efforts to destroy them. The thought that this sort of dehumanizing activity was happen in the United States, so recently is baffling as the country is seen as land of opportunity for those who voluntary immigrated here.

Diary of an Ignorant American: Japanese Internment Camps

“Camp Life” by John Howard explores the everyday life of people living in interment camps in Arkansas. Howard analyzes how the formation of the Japanese culture in the context of interment camps played a key role in redefining traditional gender roles. Due to the communal structure of the camp women spent less time doing domestic activities and more time delving into once male dominated professions.

While reading “ Camp Life” I was shocked to learn Japanese interment camps existed in Arkansas, prior to reading this article I always associated Japanese interment camps with California. Recognizing my ignorance and lack of knowledge about the history of Japanese interment camps in the U.S. causes me to feel embarrassed. I know that I should know more about this history but the truth is I really don’t. Reading about the everyday routine of the people loved in these interment camp helped to open my eyes and make the history feel very real to me. While reading I was disturbed by the use of the word prisoner used to describe the Japanese people who lived in the camps. What crime did the Japanese people commit? No crime. The only criminals in this case are the American government officials who exploited and falsely imprisoned innocent people. To think the power of stereotypes is so potent that they can lead to an entire generation of people to be falsely imprisoned was heartbreaking for me.

To be American (unreal) or not to be American (real)?

This week’s readings focused on the portrayal of Japanese Americans during their relocation to internment camps as a result of wartime racism during World War II. The lack of documentation of this tragedy presents an issue as it overlooks the history of the minority in America. This creates a sense of present and past invisibility for Japanese Americans as the War Relocation Authority (WRA) transferred the racial group out of the public eye and now, when one attempts to look back towards this dark period of American history, not enough documentation exists to explain the Japanese American experience of racism. The photographs that do exist waver on the line of reality and exaggeration. A conflict occurred among the photographers, government officials, artists, or internees who smuggled in cameras, to depict the reality of the internment experience. In the photographic book Born Free and Equal, Ansel Adams depicts close-up portraits of smiling Japanese Americans as schoolgirls and service, usually military, men and women. The department of WRA, which authorized this book, took a similar approach in its photography, using the smiling internees as war propaganda to show the American public that the program was working to create loyal American citizens out of the Japanese Americans. Adam’s purpose, although different, still overlooked the reality of internment camps to debunk the notion that Japanese Americans were treacherous and dangerous like the Japanese, the enemy of the U.S. in WWII. He sacrifices the authenticity of the Japanese American experience to disprove the racist stereotypes. But photographers, such as Dorothea Lange, an authorized photographer, and Toyo Miyatake, an internee who smuggled in a camera, captured the truth in the racism that existed behind the camp walls. Their concern was not to portray loyal American citizens but rather the unseen emotions and experience of the internees. Thus, the rare documentation that does exist struggles between distorting an unreal image of Japanese American internees as loyal assimilated citizens to hide the discrimination and segregation of the United States government and representing the real (realest to our knowledge) image of Japanese Americans as historical subjects of American hysteria and wartime racism.

Asian-American Perspectives

Kozol: The American government purposefully utilized photography – a medium perceived to be objective – in order to craft a sense of Japanese-American identity that simultaneously othered, recognized and rendered invisible those affected by Executive Order 9066.

Creef: The dominant visual narrative of the Japanese American experience within internment camps stems from the FSA, WRA and Office of War Information’s consistent interest in documenting the inhabitants of the camps, giving a face to the feared other, condemning the government’s actions and struggling to catalogue the camp experience.

Howard: In disrupting ideals of family, internment camp life overturned concepts of sexuality, gendered divisions of labor, and domesticity

Throughout these readings, I am struck by the notion of national identity, and specifically the ways in which WRA, FSA and Office of War Information photography aimed to locate interned Japanese Americans within American identity. While Professor Elena Creef speaks to the idea of the “national American consciousness” and John Howard mentions the “national family,” I wonder how national identity can represent a homogeneous, unified entity in the face of the blatant discrimination of internment camps.[1] Furthermore, many of the photographs reflected a certain American-ness and “familiarity,” raising the question of what project these images aimed to accomplish upon viewing by the government, the American public and the interned citizens.[2] Such an ideal is reminiscent of Benedict Anderson’s concept of the imagined community and the ways in which citizens imagine their nationality and nationalism. According to the author, nationalism is fundamentally imagined because no citizen will ever interact with every compatriot, but yet feels a fundamental affinity and camaraderie along national lines.[3] In this context, do the photographs commissioned by the American government work toward the conception of a national identity that includes the citizens interned during World War II? If not, what purpose did these photographs hold to their contemporary viewers? As a modern glimpse into the past, what can these photographs reveal about the trajectory of the American identity?

 


[1] Elena Tajima Creef, “The Representation of the Japanese American Body in the Photographs of Ansel Adams, Dorothea Lange, and Toyo Miyatake,” 17; John Howard. “Camp Life” in Concentration Camps on the Home Front, 113.

[2] Wendy Kozol, ”Relocating Citizenship in Photographs of Japanese Americans in World War II,” 231.

[3] For further reading, please see Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities (London, New York: Verso, 2006).

Representations and Experiences of Japanese American Internment

 

Howard argues that interment camp living arrangements reshaped gendered labor divisions and provided women with greater non-domestic employment opportunities as well as provided a space for more interactions among queer internees.

Kozol examines how the gaze of the US Government in WRA photos of internment obstructs the viewer’s access to “real” experiences of internment and erases the discrimination, hard conditions, and true realities of the camps.
Creef’s chapter explores how the Japanese American body was Orientalized and feared and how photographers Lang, Adams, and Miyatake all attempted to represent the double identities and alienation of the prisoners.

Photography of Japanese American internment in the 1940’s was mostly state-sponsored as prisoners were not allowed to bring their own cameras into the camps. With this in mind, it should not be a surprise that most of the photographs of camp life were meant for the white American or governmental gaze and thus struggle in representing the dual identities and alienation of the Japanese American internees.  Most of the photos, whether state-sponsored (Lang) or not (Adams) follow conventions of 1930’s FSA photographs and provide little context for their subjects. The decontextualized images erase the injustices of internment and present their subjects as loyal citizens following the social guidelines of white America. The photographs, which often present domestic scenes of nuclear families, also actively erase the restructuring of gender roles taking place in the camps.

 

In response to:

Elena Tajima Creef. “The Representation of the Japanese American Body in the Photographs of Ansel Adams, Dorothea Lange, and Toyo Miyatake.”
Wendy Kozol.”Relocating Citizenship in Photographs of Japanese Americans in World War II”
John Howard. “Camp Life” in “Concentration Camps on the Home Front”

 

“Model Minorities” and the Construction of Color-Blindness

Elena Creef analyzes the wartime photography of Ansel Adams, Dorothea Lange and Toyo Miyatake to explore the discourses surrounding representations of Japanese Americans.  Both Creef and Wendy Kozol delve into the strategies by which images of the “model minority” were fashioned that stripped subjects of their specificity in an attempt to construct a sense of sameness and familiarity between “real” Americans and these racially suspect subjects.  This strategy coincided with the decline of scientific racism and the rise of “color-blindness,” forging an illusion of sameness across a multiplicity of racialized bodies under the notion that nation trumps ethnicity.  Thus the contradictory aims of Order 9066 to both alienate and assimilate Japanese-Americans was reconciled by photographic projects that momentarily separated out for scrutiny these subjects, only to reincorporate them and hide the evidence later.