For I Was

Lua Kobayashi’s exploration of the Japanese-American experience, captured through personal narratives and treasured belongings.

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FROM 1942 TO 1946, Japanese Americans were forcibly incarcerated by Executive Order 9066, which sent them to internment camps in desolate, barren locations across the United States. Families were uprooted from their homes, allowed to take only what could fit in a single suitcase. The rest of their belongings—homes, businesses, and land—were often sold, abandoned, or left in the care of neighbors, with varying outcomes. My own family had to sell their plant nursery, and were one of the lucky ones to have their neighbors hold on to the land for them.

Amid these hardships, Japanese Americans displayed remarkable ingenuity. I heard of one family, for instance, who hid woodworking tools inside an ironing board so they could build furniture once they arrived at camp. In the camps, families were housed in shared barracks, making the few items they brought even more significant. The objects chosen to take to camp became symbols of resilience and were preserved for future generations – these are the kinds of objects I was initially curious to find for this project – what were the kinds of things people wanted to preserve for future generations? 

In Indiana, I had the wonderful opportunity to receive the Aurora PhotoCenter project residency in Indianapolis, organized by Aurora PhotoCenter and Mary Goodwin. I dedicated two weeks to meeting and connecting with Japanese-American families and individuals in the area. My curiosity centered on understanding what it meant to be Japanese American in the Midwest – especially because my Grandmother and her family lived in the Midwest area for a few months before returning home to California, as they were sent to Heart Mountain, Wyoming. I was always curious about what life would have been like had they stayed in that area.  Having grown up in California, which has one of the largest Japanese-American populations, I was accustomed to a tight knit community where your uncle or cousin probably knows someone else’s relative. In Indiana, I found a similar closeness within a smaller, more intimate circle.

With the help of some incredible individuals (Cathy F. & Nancy C.), I was welcomed into the community and able to meet a wide variety of individuals. These introductions opened doors to heartfelt stories and cherished objects that symbolized identity, resilience, and familial bonds – the warmth and hospitality I encountered was unforgettable. People welcomed me into their homes, sharing not only their histories but also their kindness. Cathy F.’s mother, Jean, shared her experiences at the Minidoka internment camp; stories of how her family was sent away from their home. Her grace and resilience reminded me of my own grandmother, and through this connection, I felt as though I gained new aunties, and started to understand how Japanese-Americans built lives for themselves in the midwest.

I met Robert T. and his son Dave. They shared framed photographs of Robert’s parents, the first in their family to immigrate to the United States. When I asked why Robert chose to settle in Indiana after the war, his answer was simple: it was his father’s choice and there was no particular reason. In my research, I learned many cities and states had incentives to employ Japanese-Americans, to encourage them to inhabit different places especially after being displaced after the war. Robert and his wife—a mixed-race couple—raised two children, underscoring the evolving identities within the Japanese-American community.

As someone who is mixed-race or “hapa” myself, this resonated deeply. In our community, generations are often defined by immigration waves: Issei (first-generation immigrants), Nisei (second-generation, born in the U.S.), Sansei (third-generation), and Yonsei (fourth-generation, like me and my sister). Each successive generation reflects increasing diversity and complexity, cultures are mixing and mingling the more these generations continue. Typically Yonsei are the most mixed, I have not had the chance to meet many Sansei that are Hapa, so it was fascinating to be able to connect over this. In the home, there was also this merging of Japanese and American culture – Japanese memorabilia next to those of typical Americana, which is shown in some of my photos. 

One of the most unique stories came from Jeff A., a Caucasian man with a remarkable collection of Japanese-American artefacts, including kimonos and other heirlooms. Jeff had grown up next door to a Japanese-American family who became like siblings to him – sharing playtime and recipes and they are still very close to this day. He learned about Japanese traditions and their families stuck by each other during turbulent times. The items I photographed were gifted to him and he now treasures them for his granddaughter, preserving such an incredible bond for future generations. 

“For I Was” attempts to encapsulate these experiences – the stories of these individuals and their ancestral journeys, inviting viewers to connect with the lived histories embedded within these personal items. This project not only preserves these narratives but amplifies the voices of those who have carried their heritage forward, offering a window into the complexities of Japanese-American life in the Midwest. I hope to continue exploring these stories and speaking with more Japanese-Americans across the country, as every state, city, and individual has their own unique story and experience of what it means to be Japanese-American.

– Lua Kobayashi

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