“My 15-year-old mother left her incarcerated family behind, not knowing if she would ever see them again…”
My dad said that after the War, there were many people and organizations who claimed that they were supportive of Japanese Americans. “Not true,” he shook his head angrily. “Nobody stood with us.” The one exception he could think of were the Quakers, who adopted my mom from behind barbed wire to give her a life outside of the camp.
My mother, Yuriko Lillian Miyachi, was 14 years old when her whole family was evacuated to Topaz, Utah. At the time, her parents worked for a family in Hillsborough, California—her dad, as a gardener, and her mom, as a domestic. As the third daughter of four children (the youngest was a boy), my mom never imagined that she would go to college. But she had a love for the “classics” and studied Latin and classical literature at her public school in San Mateo.
A Quaker family in Pennsylvania, the Albert L. Baileys, wanted to provide the opportunity for two Japanese American girls to get out of the internment camps and receive a private-school education at the Friends’ Westtown School in Westtown Township, West Chester, Pennsylvania. My mother never knew if her unique resume played a part, but she was chosen along with her good friend, Rose Adachi.
My 15-year-old mother left her incarcerated family behind, not knowing if she would ever see them again, to join the Baileys. I take delight in thinking of her behaving with such courage and boldness.
Mom was selective in sharing stories of her life then. This one I heard several times over the years, so I know it had a big impact on her. When she arrived in Pennsylvania, her new family went out to dinner at a restaurant. The wait staff let her adopted father know that they could serve everyone but my mother, who felt ashamed at being singled out.
“In their typical Quaker manner,” my mom told me, “they quietly got up and said, ‘She is our daughter,’ and left, without causing any other disturbance.” She always remembered being profoundly impressed at the demeanor of her adopted new family and their regard for her well-being.
What my mom always focused on was the kindness of her foster family and not the racism directed at her. Similarly, it was the beauty of a sunset during a dust storm that she most remembered while imprisoned at Topaz. I used to think that she lived in huge denial, but maybe she was just living life the way a survivor does, finding the positive in everything as a way of easing the suffering. She will live on in my heart forever.
About the contributor: Kerrily Kitano grew up in Los Angeles. Her parents, Harry H.L Kitano (professor, UCLA) and Yuriko Lillian Miyachi (registered nurse), were both interned at Topaz as young teens. Like her dad, Kerrily became a social scientist (PhD, MSW, UC Berkeley) researching HIV/AIDS and substance abuse issues among Asian/Pacific Islanders and is currently training as a hospital and hospice chaplain through the Sati Center for Buddhist Studies. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband Matt and son Conor.
Copyright 2019 Kerrily Kitano. All rights reserved.