Welcome to "Japanese America," where the Japanese American National Museum unveils captivating stories that add a Nikkei slant to the American narrative. In each episode, we explore the unique experiences, challenges, and triumphs of Japanese Americans, illuminating their rich contributions to the mosaic of American life. From historical milestones to contemporary perspectives, join us for an insightful journey through the curated collection of the Japanese American National Museum, showcasing the diverse tapestry of a community that has shaped the American story in extraordinary ways. Welcome to "Japanese America," where each story unfolds like a chapter in a living history book.
In honor of Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) Heritage Month, hosts Koji Steven Sakai and Michelle Malizaki take the podcast on the road to the Japanese American National Museum (JANM) in Little Tokyo. In this special archival episode, they dive into a landmark 2024 conversation with the legendary George Takei, recorded by Sharon Yamato during the Tule Lake Pilgrimage.
George reflects on his family's cross-country odyssey through the American concentration camp system, from the swamps of Rohwer, Arkansas, to the high-security Segregation Center at Tule Lake. He provides a visceral description of Tule Lake as the most militarized of all ten camps—complete with three layers of barbed wire, machine gun towers, and tanks patrolling the perimeter.
The heart of the episode explores the "logic of dissent" and the "no-win" nature of Question 28 in the government's Loyalty Questionnaire. George also shares the profound lessons he learned from his father about "participatory democracy" and the responsibility of citizens to ensure that a "government of the people" does not slide into autocracy.
Highlights include:
The origins of his bestselling graphic novel, They Called Us Enemy, and his children's book, My Lost Freedom.
The reality of life inside the Tule Lake stockade and the "incompetence of racism" found in the government's literacy traps.
A powerful warning for 2026: Why democracy is a choice that requires active participation every single day.
Tune in for a deep look at the fragility of American ideals and the enduring strength of the Japanese American spirit.
CREDITS
The music was created by Jalen Blank
Written by Koji Steven Sakai
Hosts: Michelle Malazaki and Koji Steven Sakai
Edited by Koji Steven Sakai
Produced by Koji Steven Sakai in conjunction with the Japanese American National Museum
I remember when my parents went off on long walks in camp, both in the rower and to tule lake, because privacy was impossible in camp. Those paper thin walls, the neighbors can hear us and we can hear them. And their gossip was the common currency conversation among people. And so if you wanted to talk about something private, there was no way you can do it in camp in the block where we all know each other. And so my parents went on long walks far away, away from our block where people know us. And very frequently they would come back from those walks with looking at my mother's mother's face, I can tell that she had been crying bloodshot eyes and. And little puffy. And so I knew something was happening. But, you know, I was not able to understand. I asked, mommy, don't cry. Welcome back to Japanese America. It's May 2026, which means it's officially Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month. I'm Michelle. And I'm Koji. We're out of the home studio today. We're actually sitting inside the Japanese American National Museum in Little Tokyo. Today we are sharing a landmark conversation with George Takei, recorded by Sharon Yamato at the 2024 Tule Lake Pilgrimage. George is a man who has spent his career navigating the final frontier, but he spent just as much time making sure we don't forget the frontiers of our own history. But before we roll the tape, we have a very important, very simple debate to settle. George is a Star Trek legend, but for our opener, Koji, level with me. What do you like better, Star Wars or Star Trek and why? Star Wars? I've always been a bigger Star Wars. I just, I don't know, I like the stories better. Uh, what about you? Which one do you like? Star Wars or Star Trek? I like Star Trek. Why? Because I because I saw George Takei in a, you know, Asian Japanese in a on TV, like, wow. You know, amongst all the white people and, you know, black lady, I only I don't remember. And so I was like, so happy to see him on TV. Let's get into the interview. George's graphic novel, They Called Us Enemy is huge now, but when it started, his publishers were actually looking for something a bit more Hollywood. And the publishers wanted me to write a book that emphasized primarily the Star Trek part of my life. But I thought, this is a wonderful opportunity to talk about my childhood imprisonment and a commentary on American history at that time, and they agreed to that. So I wrote my autobiography. The first third is about my imprisonment and our family's recovery, getting back on our feet, which is an epic. I consider it an epic part of Japanese American history. George was very strategic about using the graphic novel format. He wasn't just trying to be trendy, he was trying to solve a specific problem in our community. I, as a teenager myself loved comic books, uh, back then. And, uh, I, as I said, I'd like to target the teenage audience. And because I loved comic books, then why not tell it in that style? In Japan, there's the manga form of publishing. And so I talked to my publishers and they knew people who can help me adapt it for manga of visual storytelling. And so I wrote my script, and then they broke it down into panels with the taking what I'd written as the dialogue and having an omniscient narrator over that. That's another whole different art altogether. And I have enormous respect for my animation partners. What reaction did you get? It was almost immediately a bestseller from publication, and it's still a bestseller. And the next book that followed, it followed in that pattern. It's becoming a bestseller as well. So I wanted that story to be known to as many Americans. But I also discovered by that time that, uh, there are many Japanese Americans who know very little about, uh, practically nothing about their own family history because their parents were reluctant to discuss those years with their children that were born after the internment. A lot of people don't realize that the Takei family's journey was a literal cross-country odyssey before they even ended up at Tule Lake. We were initially sent from Los Angeles, California, to the farthest east of all the camps Rohwer, Arkansas, just a few miles from the Mississippi River. And then from there, because of their response to the loyalty questionnaire, we were segregated from the others to a to what they called a segregation camp for disloyalty. Tule Lake wasn't like the other camps. Once it became a segregation center, the government didn't just add more barbed wire, they added a whole lot more muscle. Tule lake, which became the biggest, most populous of all the camps. 18,000 people where other camps held anywhere from 6000 to about 13,000 Tule Lake held 18,000 people became the the most populous camp. It also became the most turbulent camp, and it also became the most militarized camp Tule Lake had not just one barbed wire fence, but two more three layers of barbed wire fence. The sentry towers had installed in them machine guns aimed down at us. The other camps had sentry towers, but just armed guards. Ours had machine guns, and they had a half a dozen tanks patrolling the perimeter. George has this incredible way of pointing out that what happened wasn't just cruel, it was deeply incompetent. Before we let George answer this, let me tell you about the two loyalty questionnaires, the infamous loyalty questionnaire. Question 27 stated, are you willing to serve in the Armed Forces in the United States on combat duty, wherever ordered? Question 28 Will you swear unqualified allegiance to the United States of America and faithfully defend the United States from any and all attacks by foreign and domestic forces and forswear any form of allegiance or disobedience to the Japanese Emperor or any other foreign government, power or organization. They came down with the loyalty questionnaire, which everyone over the age of 17 had to respond to, and they were put together by incompetence. If you look at those key two key questions, they are illiterate questions. Anyone who knows English grammar would know better than that. The worst of them, question 28 was one sentence with two conflicting ideas. It asked, Will you swear your loyalty to the United States of America and forswear your loyalty to the Emperor of Japan? We're Americans, but the government assumed that we had an inborn racial loyalty to the emperor just because we look like this. That was the height of racism at its extreme. Michelle, any thoughts or surprises so far? You know, I met George many years ago and he told me that. So he was born in L.A., raised in L.A., and then he was sent to Arcadia, the horse track? Yeah. The racetrack. Yeah. Yeah. And then I didn't know where he went after. I didn't know he was, like, all over America. And then he was at Tule Lake. Oh, I don't know. And he was telling me about like the first day he was like, so happy because it was interesting at the horse track, the stall, because he didn't know anything, because he was a little kid. And that makes me sadder. This is so awful and unfair. I mean, to me, what's what's interesting about what George is talking about, I think so far is this kind of idea about Tule Lake. I think people, when they think of when they think of the the concentration camps, they think of like the book Farewell to Manzanar. They think about Manzanar itself. But Tule Lake was much more like a prison. I mean, sorry, when it became a segregation center, it was much more like a prison. There was a lot less freedom. There's a lot less things you could do, like at Manzanar or those camps. You could, you know, you could have dances, you could organize, you could sometimes people like in Manzanar, there's a famous story about somebody going fishing, like walking out and going fishing, coming back. But at Tule Lake, none of that was none of that was okay. Like it was armed guards, tanks and everything like that. And I think what George is talking about to me that's important is that he's reminding us that Tule Lake was much more like a prison than, than kind of the what we, what we know as, as concentration camps today. And it was the biggest camp amongst all of the camps. Well, it wasn't a camp, but it was a segregation center. But they had more people, more population at that center than all the other places. Yeah. What's interesting about Tule Lake and, and my grandfather's episode kind of took kind of address this a little bit, but it was, it was a confusing time, I think, for people, you know, like my grandfather, for example, he, he thought he was going to be sent back to Japan or sent to Japan, I should say. And so he thought, if I express loyalty to Japan earlier than later, I'm going to be able to go back to Japan. And the earlier I go back to Japan, the better than later going back to Japan. And what is the Japanese government going to do if they find out that I pledge allegiance to the United States government? There was a lot of rumors that Japan was going to, you know, that they were going to send everybody to Japan. There was going to do all these things. And. And he, like my grandfather, he talked about he thought he was never going to go back to America. So, you know, if those are the two options, you know, you might consider wanting to go back or go to a country sooner than later. One of the reasons George has such a vivid memory of the camps inner workings is because of his father's role as a block manager. I tried to do research on my own, couldn't find books about them in the library, and the only source. My father was a block manager, and so he was the one who explained to me what was happening in camp. And as I grew older, it was the combination of what what my father shared and what I learned, and particularly the book Years of Infamy by Michi Weglyn that gave me a deeper understanding. And so I asked some questions to my father based on what I read there, and he was able to fill me in. He was a block manager, so he knew about a lot of the things that happened that most, most of the people in camp did not know about. This is where George gets into the real philosophy of democracy. He says its greatest strength is also its greatest weakness. When I was in my later teens, my father often quoted to me Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. Ours is a government of the people, by the people and for the people. He said, those are noble ideals. That's what makes American democracy great. But that's also where the weakness of American democracy is, because it's about people. People are fallible. People make mistakes. George's father taught him that if democracy is made of people, then being a citizen is a job description. You have to participate. Ours is a people's government. And yet the people are fallible human beings. And my father recited that by saying, think of that a government of the people, by the people, for the people. That means citizens of that government have the responsibility to make it a good system. Citizens are not participating. That's the important lesson. And he told all his children at school, volunteer for projects, join clubs, uh, run for student government. I was a student body president in the middle school, as was my brother in high school. I was senior board president. And then, um, in my late teens, my father took me to the Adlai Stevenson for president campaign headquarters, and we volunteered and he showed me what participatory democracy was. We closed the George's final warning. It's a reminder that a quiet government is usually a dangerous one. My father used to say the easiest form of government is a dictatorship. You don't have to do anything. You just leave it to the man and you'll do it for you and to you. But given this form of government, a people's democracy, if we don't take the responsibility for the shining ideals that we have, then the alternative is autocracy. Koji, any thoughts about your family who were also incarcerated at Tule Lake. Yeah, I think a lot about how hard it must have been. I mean, what I love about when I hear George's stories is that it gives me a sense of what my family went through. Like my dad and my aunt and everybody, including my grandfather, because my my family didn't really talk about Tule Lake. They didn't talk about any of the camps. And so it's powerful for me to hear, you know, any of these stories about Tule Lake and what happened and what was it like? What about you? Did you have any thoughts about it as you heard more about, uh, about democracy or any, any of the things that he's talking about? Yeah, I really, I feel. I'm so embarrassed that I didn't know. So anything about all these for a long time for living in America for many years. And I went to Manzanar and it was terrible, but it's not as harsh as Tule Lake. And oh my gosh, the guns are pointed at you from the Watchtower and stuff like, oh my gosh, all, all these Japanese Americans always these things that they had to go through and they, I don't know, and I this is so I don't know. I'm so happy that I, I'm, I was born after the war that I had a privilege. It's a privilege to come to America as a free person. But back then, if I look like this Japanese face, they would just put me in a in a camp or because I'm such a I don't know, I'm I can't read English. I'm sure I'm gonna be at the Tule Lake for sure. Because the question that written by, I don't know, terrible English writer, I don't know what to say. And I'm sure I'm gonna be at the camp. Well, actually, what's interesting about those questions for you was that you couldn't become a naturalized citizen back then. And so if you gave up your Japanese citizenship, which is what they're asking you to do, and you couldn't become an American citizen, then you're nothing. You're no, you're no citizen of anywhere. And that's scary. I mean, that's, you know, that's why one of the that's why that question is so terrible is for especially for people that just moved because there wasn't a choice. I mean, it doesn't make sense. Like if I can't be American, like I at least could be Japanese. And if I can't, you know, it can't be Japanese, I can't be American. It's, it's scary being country less like, where do you go live on a do you live on a cruise or something? I don't know, but you know, like, what do you do? You know, so I think that that's that's a really, you know, that was a, that was a scary place for I think a lot of people. And if that happens now, because I become American citizen and the Japanese citizenship just disappeared or evaporated because you could only have one citizenship. And if that happened right now, I have really nowhere to go because I don't have Japanese citizenship. Like if what am I going to go? I only have American citizenship. Yeah. I mean, it would be scary because we're yeah, we're like, if you have no country, you can't go anywhere. You're stuck. Right. You're kind of stuck in a limbo like a purgatory. Well, one of the questions, one of the things that I find interesting when I, when I hear your answers is my mom's response to all of this stuff when she was alive was and she was from Japan, right? I mean, she's, she was older, much older than you, but, um, but her response was always, well, of course she would get arrested. You're Japanese. And during the war, I'm curious to see why your reaction to it is different than like somebody like my mom's. Is it is it a generational thing you think, or is it? When I was raised in Japan, Emperor was just a symbol of the peace of Japan. And I, I mean, I guess I admire him, but I'm not like I'm not loyal nor disloyal. I'm very neutral to the Emperor. I'm so happy. It's like I'm I don't know, should I say this? I mean, like, he's like a panda bear for bunnies. So you think it's that it's. My mother was raised at a time that was it was much more patriotic or much more stronger. I think so. Um, maybe 20 years before I was born. People used to have a picture of the Emperor. Like each family would have a picture of the Emperor. But by the time I was born, that wasn't the case. Especially in the cities. Maybe in the countryside, but not in the cities. And we are. We didn't care as much as for the Emperor. I mean, I, I feel bad to say that, but like, we didn't care as much for the Emperor. You didn't treat the emperor like a god. No, no. It was more of like a figurehead or more of like a like a politician or figurehead. Right. Than than if you grew up 20 or like you said, if you grew up 20 years of before you, it was like he was seen as a like a, as like a God figure, God figure. But by the time I was born, he's just a symbol of Japan. And I don't know, I thought he's kind of like panda bear. Michelle sitting here at JANM hearing George talk about the weakness of democracy being the people. It's a heavy thought for Asian Pacific Heritage Month. It means we can't celebrate the past. We have to constantly guard the future. Exactly. It's about being participatory, whether that's in our storytelling or our communities. Koji, in our world today, do you see more people leaning into the responsibility George talk about, or are we still waiting for someone else to beam us up to a better future? I don't know, I think it's I, I might be a negative, pessimistic person, but I feel like people are always waiting and hoping. Even in the last presidential election, you know, the majority of people don't vote still and then let alone like for the Senate or, or, you know, state or city or local elections, people just don't vote. And then, you know, they complain about their taxes and they complain about everything. And I just wish that if people cared so much and complained like monku, monku, monku so much about things that they should, they should get off their butts and do something. And instead of talking about it on Instagram, they should, they should say or do something, you know, and to remind people why it's important. This is actually one of the reasons why I think that there should be a mandatory service for young people. It doesn't have to be military, or it could be if you want it to be. But like, you know, you go work in a go like, like one of the biggest things I think is if you took people from California and moved them to Mississippi for work, you know, with the government, and you took people from Mississippi and moved to California, it would change our country because, you know, like I think a lot of people in California think people from other states might not be as smart or might be backward and then vice versa. I think people from Mississippi sometimes think people from California are, you know, are these like crazy people? But in reality, if they move here, they'll see that we're just like them. You know, everyone's everyone's pretty similar and especially for Americans. And I just think that that would make a better place. What about you? Well, it's easier to, you know, just complain and like, you know, nitpick about things that you didn't do than do something and try to change the world. And changing the world could take just a little step by everybody. And that might be a big step for everybody. But it's, it's that first step is the hardest step to take. Yeah, I mean, I understand it's hard. We have work and life and families and relationships and, but, but I do think it's important that we, we as Japanese Americans, for example, we step out and talk about it. This is why I like to talk about the Japanese American incarceration experience, because it just reminds people that what happened to us doesn't happen again. And, you know, I always share with my son that it's our responsibility to bring it up and to talk about it and make sure that it's not something that's forgotten. A huge thank you to George Takei, Sharon Yamato, and Evan Kodani for this conversation. Next month, we're heading just down the street for Koraku and the taste of home feeding a community. Yay! I can't wait. We'll see you then. We'll see you then. All right. Bye. Bye.
