“An elderly Japanese American visitor at the museumscrutinizes my name card. “Sharon Hwang… Hwang… hmm… sounds like a Chinese or Korean name.” I nod and reply that I’m indeed Korean. His eyebrows raised, he said, “You’re Korean? Wow, and you volunteer here? Oh.”
Yes, I am Korean and I do volunteer at the Japanese American National Museum. Some visitors are surprised I would work there because of the Japanese mistreatment and abuse of Koreans during their occupation years from 1910 to the 1940s. A couple times, when they find out I’m Korean, some Japanese American visitors would hesitate a minute before saying, “It’s great to know that your parents are completely supportive of this (volunteering at the museum). You know, we aren’t the same Japanese as the ones back then.”
Korea was colonized by Japan
There is a reason why they would feel that way since Koreans even today have bitter resentment towards the Japanese. After all, my mom did not immediately approve of my volunteering at the museum. A few of her friends made curt comments about my mother’s judgement in letting me volunteer at a Japanese place. Still, she seemed okay with it and even encouraged it for a while, saying that though my grandmother and she had reservations toward the Japanese, it would be unfair for me, having not lived during the horrendous Japanese oppression, to carry those ideas
She seemed okay with it – until one particular day. At the annual Ondo Parade in Little Tokyo, I was merrily dancing a Japanese jig with people at the festival when my mom, who came to pick me up, noticed me and later roughly asked why I was dancing to that Japanese music, why I had a Japanese fan in my hand, and why I was getting so involved with this Japanese community. “Isn’t it enough that you volunteer? I didn’t know that extra activities were involved,” she said.
I was startled. My grandmother still intensely dislikes the Japanese, and I think she’s right given her experience. But I was not aware of the depth of my mom’s antagonism. Yes, I was conscious that during the years of imperialism the Japanese forced their culture and language on the Koreans for years. Elementary students were forced to salute the Japanese emperor. Making bullets for the (enemy) Japanese guns was part of the high school curriculum. To refuse to speak Japanese or to reject Japanese daily customs brought severe punishment. And yes, I’m aware that Korean females as young as 13 years were coerced into sexual slavery by Japanese soldiers. After sleeping with up to 10 men in one day, each girl and would be half-dead by sunset.
I tried to explain to my mom what the museum visitors told me. I said the Japanese who hurt her family were not the same Japanese with whom I volunteer, and that this is America—a multicultural, diverse country. If we can’t forget the mistakes of history, then we can’t advance into the future.
Then my mom quietly replied, “If we forget, the same mistake will be repeated.”
My parents left the decision up to me
I knew that my mom wouldn’t bring up this conversation again. It was one of those rare discussions where, unlike arguments over nail polish or body piercing, my parents realize that I’m growing up and forming my own ideas. Once their opinions are mentioned, they invest the power of the ultimate judgment in me.
I was not certain what action to take or what philosophy to embrace. Perhaps I could exclude the extra community activities out of deference to my parents’ resolute (and slightly selfish) opinions; the activities were, after all, “extra.” What bothered me however was the whole concept of limiting my American experience because of my mom’s disposition.
What if other families brought their grudges overseas like my parents? What if Armenians refused to converse with Turks, Jews with Germans, Muslims with Christians? Though these actions would be understandable, there are so many old and new ethnic and racial resentments that hanging onto them would make social progress impossible.
After much reflection, I concluded that I would not try to argue my mom out of her opinion, but as the next Korean American generation, as a product nurtured by a changed and different culture, I should respect my family’s experiences and conceptions while having the right to choose my own.
The fact that the museum was Japanese was not of particular concern to me. It was only when my mother made her surprising comment that I began to realize how diverse the museum was—amidst the Japanese Americans at the museum were other people of many ethnicities, ranging from Latin Americans to Europeans to multiracial people, though I admit there were very few Koreans. Maybe time will change that.
I honestly consider the museum’s role in society as a bridge for people to gain greater knowledge and I did not like how I, as a representative of the museum, was facing such a conflict.
For a while after the epochal conversation with my mom, I quietly skipped a few of the Japanese community activities to let my mother know that I respected her opinion wholeheartedly. Slowly but surely I then began to continue participating in events once more, tacitly displaying the results of my decision to choose my own way. And through the pessimistic face I noticed a gleam of approval in my mother’s eye.
I have lots of duties as a volunteer
On an average day at the museum I stroll around, seeing if everyone is finding things satisfactory. One afternoon, a tall Japanese woman approaches me. She pulls behind her ears the wisps of white highlighting her gray hair. “Hi…(she looks at my name card)… Sharon. I was wondering…my parents were in the Manzanar internment camp during World War II…is there a way I can find their records on file?”
“Sure,” I answer. I take her to the records computer in the Legacy Center. She tells me the name of her parents, and sure enough their records show up on the monitor. “Here,” I point to a list on the screen, “is what your parents filled out in the WRA (War Relocation Authority) forms upon entering camp. See, here is their birth date, birthplace, their then-current education status, their occupation, and so on.” I print it out for her. She scrutinizes the papers and suddenly points out, “Oh…a mistake. My dad was born in 1910, not 1920.” “Well,” I say, “You have to remember there’s not only the entire process of accumulation, but also that the people who compiled these records didn’t really care for the people or the information, so inattentive mistakes are apt to occur.” The woman nods in agreement. She thanks me, and right before she leaves I remind her to go visit the art exhibit upstairs and perhaps to attend the video show later in the afternoon in the education center.
Most of the time I’m a Legacy Center docent here at the museum. The Legacy Center is where camp records are accessible to the general public via computer files and microfiche, where World War II narratives are displayed and where activities, such as origami folding, are available for kids. There is also a small exhibit—currently there is an exhibit depicting life at the Heart Mountain internment camp. It’s just one aspect of the museum’s effort to share and increase an awareness of the Japanese American experience.
I love volunteering here. On two or three Sundays a month in the afternoon (or whenever I’m available) I come in and have a variety of activities as a museum volunteer. I may help some students with their research by giving them a packet on Japanese American history, or I may help people find their camp records on file. (The Japanese Americans were forcefully interned into 10 camps throughout western United Sates during World War II after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Though there was no proof of treason, the U.S. government feared that Japanese Americans might be supporting the Japanese cause.) I may give a quick lesson on origami paper folding to families or visitor groups, and sometimes I may just stroll around in the Historic Building (where the Legacy Center is located) and the new Pavilion, making sure everyone is finding things okay or guiding them throughout the museum. Other days, I work in the back office performing clerical duties. Throughout the entire process, I form friendships with the docents—all of whom are volunteers.
I learn history and meet interesting people
I first got involved when I paid a series of visits to the Japanese American museum to do research on the internment camps (it’s ironic how the internment of Japanese helps me better understand the oppression of the Koreans, though I feel the two are of varying degrees.) After staying there for hours at a time, I soon became interested in volunteering when I became aware of everything the museum had to offer.
Through volunteering here, I learn history and become familiar with societal trends and customs. But one of the most special benefits is the people I’ve met and the friends I’ve made. At the museum, I work with not only friendly volunteers, but with people who are living examples of history themselves. Many of the elders are third, fourth, even fifth generation and have served in WWII and were interned at the camps. I also associate with those of different social and economic backgrounds.
While volunteering, I often meet noteworthy visitors. Several instances arose where a visitor would call me over and point to a photograph in an exhibit and tell me, “Hey, that’s my uncle,” or “She’s my old neighbor!” This is only one example of the tangibility and relevance of the history at the museum—it is not like a typical history gallery where only the old roots are displayed and new sprouts don’t grow.
After volunteering for a couple months as a clerical assistant, I attended the training sessions required for becoming a docent. The sessions aren’t long, grueling trainings, but simply a practical process that docents should undergo. In these meetings, history of the Japanese Americans culture and society in America is emphasized. In one training session, history was all we reviewed for three to four hours. Full knowledge of history enables us as docents to share with the visitors, for it’s not only the Japanese-American history—it’s everyone’s history.
Small museums need the help of volunteers to thrive
There’s a lot to be excited about at the museum these days. A new, extremely spacious building, the “Pavilion,” next door was opened mid-January to the public as an extension of the museum. Here we have a Japanese tea house, permanent exhibits, and a larger volunteer facility (including a lounge and kitchen), a larger museum store and reception area, a larger volunteer lounge, more activities/history education rooms, and did I mention a larger volunteer lounge? Exhibits include Common Ground: The Heart of the Community, a historic overview of the Japanese American community that will be shown via artifacts, video, interactive components, and a barracks display. There is also a contemporary art exhibit by Bruce and Norman Yonemoto: Memory, Matter, and Modern Romance. Soon, I will (hopefully) be a building tour docent.
The volunteer experience here is fulfilling in every way, so consider volunteering here or at any other museums. There are many small museums that can only flourish with help from volunteers. Nevertheless, with the new building, the museum is looking for more volunteers—so hope to see you soon!”