Sylvia And Aki

“And if a Japanese girl like Aki was allowed to go to Westminster School, why can’t I?”

Here, Sylvia’s questions continue as she faces the racial hierarchy in American society: Neither she nor Aki are white, and both have suffered because of white oppression. However, Aki was still permitted to enroll in Westminster, while Sylvia was not. Part of this is due to colorism—Aki is paler than Sylvia—but also due to the “model minority” myth about Asians. Historically, this also had to do with numbers and population logistics, but Sylvia doesn’t know this; she only understands the unfairness of the situation for everyone.

“For the first time in her life, Aki wondered if there was something wrong with being Japanese. And if that were true, then there was something wrong with her. She began to think of being Japanese as not merely different but bad.”

Meanwhile, Aki is forced to learn about discrimination much more quickly than Sylvia. Her life changes drastically after Pearl Harbor, and while prejudice and racism toward Asians (including Japanese Americans) have existed since Asian immigrants arrived in the United States, it now becomes more obvious and explicit. While Aki has always been proud of her heritage, now she begins to wonder about the hatred directed at her because of it.

“‘We must pack up or get rid of everything from Japan,’ her mother said. ‘If we keep too many things from Japan, people may think we love Japan more than we love the United States.’”

Aki’s lessons about discrimination and racism follow her home, as her mother teaches her the dangers of expressing her Japanese heritage. Although Aki is correct that no one in her family is a threat, merely having Japanese possessions could endanger them all; discarding them is painful but necessary to survive. This quote also introduces the symbolism of Language, Letters, and Memorabilia as Cultural Heritage.

“[Hoover School] was going to be just like all the other Mexican schools she and her brothers had attended—nothing but out-of-date hand-me-down textbooks with pages torn or missing and secondhand desks scarred with pencil marks and initials.

Once again, we get leftovers.”

Although segregation is legal in the United States under the guise of “separate but equal,” Sylvia knows immediately that this is a fallacy. Especially now that she has seen how new and nice Westminster and its materials are, Hoover School is even more obviously an indication that Latinx students are considered second-class citizens, receiving only Westminster’s “leftovers.” This description emphasizes the theme of Segregation/Incarceration Versus Freedom and the importance of Gonzalo’s legal actions later.

“Who would put an electric fence next to a school?”

To further prove the point introduced in Quote #5, Sylvia witnesses a live electric fence along the schoolyard and the student who is injured by it. Not only does this query reinforce the theme of Segregation/Incarceration Versus Freedom, but it also questions whether lawmakers and school administrators even view Latinx children as human, considering the school borders a cow pasture, and the fence is presumably meant to keep animals in their enclosures rather than human children. This also foreshadows the barbed wire fences and armed guards at Poston, where Aki’s family is incarcerated.

“‘They [the Civil Control Station agents] took some of the men first,’ her [Aki’s] mother said. ‘Newspaper reporters, teachers, businessmen like Pop—men they thought might be a threat.’

‘A threat?’ Aki echoed. ‘Pop isn’t a threat to anyone. If he is, then why didn’t they take all of us? Aren’t we all threats?’”

Just as Aki’s family must sort their belongings into “Safe to Keep” and “Must Discard” piles, so, too, can they come under suspicion because of their job or their community roles. Perceived leaders or influential individuals in a community (e.g., journalists, teachers, people with resources) are targeted first and viewed as dangerous, even though, as Aki points out, they are not. This quote not only explores the Segregation/Incarceration Versus Freedom theme but also its effect on Family, the first of many sudden, traumatic separations that will affect Aki for the rest of the novel.

“But all she really wanted was to have her father back, to stay on the farm, to go back to school—to have things be the way they’d been before the evacuation.

But what I want doesn’t matter.”

In a continuation of exploration of the Family theme in Quote #7, Aki, now missing her father, realizes how important each family member is to her family unit. She also experiences the extreme effect of segregation and incarceration, losing her home, her life, her freedom, and her family all in mere days. Most importantly, she learns how powerless she is facing these institutions alone.

“Aki didn’t trust her eyes at first. Her mother was standing on the platform weeping. Aki had never seen her mother cry in public before.

What has Poston done to her?”

Finally reunited with her mother after a traumatic separation due to illness, Aki realizes the importance of Family support, not just for herself but for her mother, too. Mrs. Munemitsu has lost not just her husband but her daughter, and, as the remaining adult, must hold herself and her family together. This is an overwhelming situation, as she realizes the consequences of segregation and incarceration even more than Aki does because she knows what is waiting for them in Poston, a far cry from the home they’d built in Westminster.

“‘Separating our children by the color of their skin is wrong,’ her father said. ‘The children should go to school together.’”

Gonzalo speaks from adamant experience against segregation; he knows what Hoover School is like and attended Westminster School as a child—he has experienced firsthand the stark contrast between the two and why segregated schools fail. Although Gonzalo initially fights for his family to have the same opportunities he almost had, this statement hints at his eventual goal of integration and educational freedom for all Latinx children, not just Sylvia and her brothers.

“‘Don’t sell your family short,’ he finished. ‘Don’t sell yourself short.’”

While he is a hardworking man and has the calluses to prove it, Gonzalo is also a strong proponent of education as a gateway to future opportunities, which is why he fights so strongly for freedom and against segregation. However, Sylvia, who is just beginning to realize the struggles she and her family face in the society around them, feels powerless against the systemic racism and discrimination around her. Gonzalo, the fighter, encourages her to rise above and push past these obstacles, for her sake and for her family’s, to do what they could not.

“She placed the dolls side by side, then stood back. How nice they look together—almost like sisters. She rested Keiko’s pale china hand in Carmencita’s brown cloth one. It seemed right and good to see them so close.”

While Sylvia still struggles with the question of Aki’s educational privilege, she remains curious about Aki as well. Though she and Aki come from different ethnicities and cultural backgrounds, Sylvia notices the similarities between them—they have suffered, but they also have similar treasures. By putting the dolls together, Sylvia views them as equals and indicates her interest in Aki’s Friendship, thereby simultaneously introducing another theme and its related symbol.

“‘The beginning is easy,’ her mother said. ‘The continuing is hard.’”

Aki is shocked by the spartan setup at Poston, a stark contrast to the life she had in California. Still, she is hopeful at first that she will be able to adjust, especially now that she is reunited with part of her Family. However, her mother’s warning indicates the difficulty of Endurance in a place like Poston, where they are not only humiliated but made to start from scratch again, just as many Japanese immigrants did when they first arrived in the United States. Her words also indicate the unknown time frame of the camps: How long will they be kept at Poston? Will the war ever end? When can they go home? Can they even go home? There are no answers, which makes the continuing, as Mrs. Munemitsu says, even harder.

“Maybe the wrong people are locked up, she thought.”

Sylvia’s first visit to Poston is shocking. Although she is told it isn’t a prison, it definitely seems like one. After meeting Aki and her family for the first time, Sylvia also gains a new depth of understanding of segregation/incarceration—its injustice can happen on a large scale, not just to individual families like hers, but to whole communities and ethnicities. Though she may know little about the incarceration camps, she questions them from the beginning, also signaling her budding Friendship with Aki.

“They are farmers, Sylvia thought on the way home, just like we are. To the sun and the seeds and the soil, Mexican or Japanese, Mendez or Munemitsu didn’t matter: the people knew how to make things grow.”

Sylvia’s observance of the vegetable plots and small gardens and farms at Poston introduces another symbol of the novel: Farming as Equality. Farming is a point of similarity that Sylvia understands—her family farms, and Aki’s family does too, which puts them on truly equal footing in Sylvia’s understanding and teaches her that inclusion and diversity are healthy—like farmers, promoting these concepts can “make things grow.”

“‘What nerve! I’m imprisoned in this camp, being denied my rights as a U.S. citizen, and at the same time I’m being asked to deny my loyalty to any other group.’

Are we still U.S. citizens? Aki realized she didn’t know.

‘What am I supposed to do?’ Seiko asked.

Aki felt sorry for her brother and torn in two herself. No longer fully American, yet not Japanese, either. Not quite a prisoner, not quite free.”

This quote explores the theme of Segregation/Incarceration Versus Freedom through Seiko’s struggle with the Leave Clearance Admission form. The form has two trick questions—willingness to fight for the US military against the Japanese and forswearing loyalty to the Japanese emperor in favor of the US government. While these are complicated questions in and of themselves, Seiko is angry at being asked these questions on top of unjustly losing his freedoms as a US-born citizen. With multiple identities in question, there are no good answers.

“‘[Hiring a lawyer] may be expensive,’ Sylvia’s father said. ‘But the only thing more costly would be doing nothing.’”

Although lawyer retaining fees are daunting, Gonzalo Mendez’s determination to do so proves his dedication to fighting segregation and gaining freedom for his children’s education. This shows not only his strong belief in justice but also his devotion to his Family. By accepting the systemic oppression of segregation, he would only hurt his children’s future, and he refuses to do so. For Sylvia, this determination makes him a hero.

“Her father said, ‘Sylvia, there cannot be justice for one unless there is justice for all.’”

Here, Gonzalo continues his dedication to freedom of education but expands his scope not just for his family but also for his Latinx community. Everyone must benefit, or no one will. This quote can also be applied on an even larger scale to encompass the Japanese American incarceration camps, reinforcing Sylvia’s question about whether they should exist at all.

“She thought about Aki. How can she celebrate a holiday that’s all about freedom when she’s inside an internment camp? What can the word freedom mean to someone trapped behind a barbed-wire fence?”

This question about injustice and freedom continues to haunt Sylvia as her father prepares for his lawsuit against Westminster School. Though Sylvia is still free to celebrate July 4 with her family, she considers the irony from Aki’s perspective as an unjustly incarcerated person. This empathy will lead her to initiate her friendship with Aki through a letter, signaling her desire for a connection with Aki, perhaps to help her endure life at Poston.

“No one would consider Hoover School and Westminster School to be equal. If the schools were equal, then white kids would go to Hoover. Sylvia knew that would never happen.”

During the court hearings, Sylvia further considers the hypocrisy of segregation. Aware of the stark difference between Westminster and Hoover Schools and the “tests” supposedly in place that she was never given, Sylvia wonders at the blatant lies and hurtful “justifications” used by the white administration to keep the Latinx children second-class citizens. As Sylvia notes, “separate but equal” school systems would only work if white children were treated the same way, which is impossible.

“Sylvia shrank down in her chair. She stared at her hands.

I am clean, she thought. I am clean.”

Sylvia’s growing awareness of prejudice and discrimination manifests itself as her fixation with hands. Her parents’ hands, like her own, are darker in color and callused from their labor-intensive blue-collar jobs; in contrast, the school secretary and court typist’s hands are pale and soft, indicating their comfortable white-collar jobs. As another layer of prejudice, the school administrators stereotype Latinx people as “dirty,” which Sylvia knows is not true—Gonzalo is meticulous about hygiene. However, despite knowing the factual truth, she still struggles against the hurtful comments directed at her and her community.

“‘Do you [Mr. Kent] believe that the white students are superior to the Mexicans in the respects and in the details you have mentioned here [hygiene, education, manners, etc.]?’

‘Yes.’”

Although the white school administrators dance around the issue during the court hearing, Mr. Marcus, the lawyer representing Gonzalo, pushes them into admitting their discriminatory segregational practices. Although such statements are hurtful to hear, they are an important step in establishing the need for integration and the freedom of education. Though Sylvia doesn’t know it at the time of the hearings, her family will eventually emerge victorious in the case.

“Aki couldn’t get that image [of the devastation of the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki] out of her mind.

That’s not how I imagined peace would look.”

Aki, too, pays a price for her freedom—the war ends, but at a terrible cost. Though Aki only has a relatively indirect connection to Japan, less than her parents, who immigrated from there, she understands the horror the atomic bombs unleashed on Japan and the harm it does to Japanese Americans still incarcerated at Poston: Her neighbor likely lost family to the bomb in Hiroshima. Though Aki is overjoyed to be free, she is left wondering if peace was worth the civilian cost.

“Aki nodded slowly. […] ‘I guess it’s like my pop says: sometimes if you move a little and look at something from a different angle, you might just see that thing in a whole new way.’”

While Aki and Sylvia’s friendship was dependent on Aki’s family’s misfortune, they still value the connection they have. At the same time, this quote can be applied to other aspects of the novel—Sylvia coming to understand the injustice of the incarceration camps, and the judge ruling in favor of integrated schools. This sentiment could even be something as simple as putting two dolls together and calling them sisters.