By Kelly Uyemura, a Southern California Native and Yonsei
On April 27th, 2024, the 55th annual Manzanar pilgrimage took place. This would be my second time going on the trip, accompanied by my aunt and boyfriend. Waking up at five in the morning and chugging a can of espresso, I thought back on my first trip to the camp during the 54th pilgrimage: enlightening and powerful yet left me in a jumbled mess of emotions by the end. I was tired and emotional and felt like I missed something on that trip. As we packed up our made-in-advance onigiri and drove to where the bus would pick us up, a part of me wondered if this trip would be like the last or if I could potentially find what I had missed the year prior.
After a four-hour drive from Little Tokyo to Manzanar, I stepped off the bus for a photo-op session at the camp sign. Immediately, harsh winds blast us with dust and cold. When we arrived at the ceremony at the Ireitō, we set up our chairs and sat down. The keynote speakers talked about current politics and its relation to the internment camps. They discussed how the government had forced a false narrative on the Japanese community, turning them into enemies, all for the sake of having a scapegoat. Talks of reparations for other minority communities who have suffered at the hands of white supremacy rang throughout the Sierra. By the time the taiko was playing again to begin the memorial service, I was rocked with emotions from the past hour of speeches.
The service proceeded with a Shinto prayer, a Christian sermon, and a Buddhist chant, with everyone being encouraged to sprinkle a bit of incense and pray. Afterward, my family decided to take the remaining pilgrimage time to explore the grounds more.
I remembered a large chunk of what the camp looked like from the year prior. I had visited the interpretive center and the fire station already, so I wanted to take a look at the barracks this time. When we walked into the first one, block 14, building 1, I did a quick overview of the room. Towards the back was a recreation of the living quarters, with a couple of signs with information and photos displayed. I glanced quickly before hearing my aunt shout, “Grandma?!” The image she pointed at displayed my great-grandma Kato alongside my great-aunt Sumi and great-uncle Tak. A small crowd around us made surprised remarks, and we took photos of ourselves with the sign. My aunt was crying tears of happy surprise.
Something that had sat with me for a very long time was whenever I heard or read about the camps before, it never felt truly real. When you look at photos of people in textbooks, museums, etc., you view them as the faces of what happened. Logically, I knew my family was in Manzanar and that this was a historical event that affected them, but I never felt they were the face of it. It was only then, when I saw the photo of my family getting off the train at Manzanar, that I allowed myself to experience the impact of internment at an emotional level. We were the face of the tragedy that occurred all those years ago. Pieces of a puzzle I already knew the complete picture of continued to click together in my heart, and my view of Executive Order 9066 had changed to one of cruel personal reality.
When asked how I feel about the pilgrimage this year, it’s hard to explain how I felt to others. Even after a few days to process the event, I still look back at the pilgrimage and can’t really put into words exactly how I feel. There’s anger, sadness, and overwhelming pressure in my chest when I think back on the experiences my family had to face. But then there’s hope, solidarity, and an overwhelming feeling of togetherness when I stood among all the other attendees during the main event, starting from the keynote speakers all the way through praying at the Ireitō. I felt as if I could join hands with all the other pilgrims, as if the threads that bind us to other people, to complete strangers, were illuminated, at least for a moment. It feels strange to me that I can find such joy in a place permeated with suffering. It’s a mixed bag of feelings—a situation where I can’t say for sure how I felt in the end.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been to Manzanar, but unlike the first time, I was able to figure out what I had missed. The first one felt like I didn’t have closure—that this was all just a distant memory of people who had already passed away. But this time, I could finally feel it strongly, that this was a tragedy that the people I love had gone through. It felt like closure for my own curiosity and beliefs that were desperately needed to connect with my family. I left Manzanar with a sense of contentment and thought, “I’m glad I came here. I hope my family is glad I came here, too.”
Of course, there’s still work to be done. The idea of the camps will never just vanish. The pilgrimages will continue to happen, and I’ll inevitably return to the camps once again to pay my respects and reflect on my family. I wish to bring my children in the future, and hopefully, they’ll bring theirs, too. The camps are something that I have a connection to, and I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want my family’s experiences to be forgotten.
As I boarded the bus and left Manzanar back for Little Tokyo, I began to think about dinner, how I wanted to get some fries at the McDonald’s rest stop, and how I’d be getting a good night’s rest after such a long day. However, as I started to leave the Sierra and head back to the big city, I talked with my boyfriend about how he felt about it, since this was his first pilgrimage to Manzanar. After all his thought and all his reflection, the only and most appropriate word he could come up with was “powerful,” and I agreed. After all, despite it being difficult to truly put the experience into words, I couldn’t help but agree. “Powerful” was precisely what it was.
Kelly Uyemura, a SoCal native and Yonsei (fourth-generation Japanese American), earned a B.F.A. in Creative Writing with a minor in Japanese Studies at Chapman University. She earned the Literary Women’s Festival Harriet Williams Emerging Writer award and has previously published in Chapman’s Ouroboros Magazine. She is passionate about preserving Japanese culture, and when not writing or researching, can be found cooking traditional Japanese dishes and watching anime.
