TASAKA​,​ Mura

About ten years had passed since I had last seen my father. He had come to America earlier, and I came here simply because I wanted to see him again. To me, after ten years apart, he seemed like an old man. He wasn’t even fifty yet, not nearly old enough to look elderly, but that’s how he appeared to me. My father taught judo. When people broke an arm or a leg, he knew how to fix it—he’d learned those things through judo. Eventually, it became like his trade. I married my husband through an arranged meeting in Japan. When he first came to New York, he came as a student, not as an immigrant. He landed in Seattle, but since he wasn’t an immigrant, he wasn’t stopped by immigration authorities and could go straight to New York. Immigrants, on the other hand, were held in Seattle. The matchmaker told me, “He’ll return to Japan in three years,” but he never did—not once. My relatives still write saying, “You must be coming back soon,” but I never did. At that time, there weren’t many decent jobs for Japanese people. Those who had a trade could find fairly good work, but for someone like my husband—who had lived a bureaucratic life in Japan—it was difficult. People who came here as teenagers, who hadn’t studied much in Japan, were better off; they could go to school here, learn English, and go into business. They’re the ones who succeeded. During the war, I felt sorry for the people on the West Coast. In New York, we didn’t have those problems. Sometimes people made odd remarks, though. I heard that some said they were Chinese because it made things easier. But I always said, “There’s no need to pretend to be Chinese. I’m Japanese.” Whenever anyone asked, I told them, “I am Japanese.” Nowadays, no one says such things at all. When Japan lost the war, I didn’t have strong feelings about it. The Nisei kids were outside celebrating, cheering for America’s victory. I just felt a deep sadness, an emptiness. My sons had said from the beginning, “Japan is strong at first, but in the end, they’ll lose,” and they were right. I still think it’s best for Japanese people to marry other Japanese. But if you fall in love, then it doesn’t matter. If it’s just friendship, then even with a Black person, it’s fine—but for the children, it’s hard. I shouldn’t say this, but if it’s with a white person, it’s still easier. People who come from Japan these days are lucky. They speak English well. When we came, we didn’t know a thing. I couldn’t go anywhere without my husband. But now, I’ve come to like America. In the beginning, I wanted to go back to Japan—everything made me homesick. But after living here for so long, all my children are here, and I couldn’t bear to live apart from them. After forty years in New York, no matter how nice other places might be, I don’t want to go anywhere else. No matter what anyone says, I won’t leave New York. If I went to the countryside, I’d be surrounded only by white people—it would be lonely. But here in New York, I can always pick up the phone and talk to a friend, or see acquaintances at church. That’s why New York is the best place for us Issei. Some people take up painting or other hobbies, but as you get older, your eyes grow weak, and everything feels like trouble. When I was younger, I was busy raising my children—four of them—and sending them all through college so they could stand on their own. During that time, I never really thought about studying English. Of course, I always knew I should learn it. I told myself, “Someday, when it’s my turn, I’ll study.” But when the time finally came, I couldn’t remember anything. I even went to night school for a while, but I stopped going—it was too hard to keep up. Now, I just live as I please—sleep when I want, eat when I want. I do as I like. I try not to worry. If you worry too much, you won’t live long. When my husband got sick, I tried to admit him to the hospital, but they told me he was too old—they didn’t say it directly, but that’s what they meant. So I had no choice but to care for him at home for three years. He couldn’t walk anymore. Those were hard times. This interview is part of the DMHJNY's new exhibit Issei: Portraits Of The First-Generation Japanese New Yorkers which is on view here: https://www.historyofjapaneseinny.org/issei/