<Begin Segment 2>

TI: Well, when you made, now, this transition from elementary school to junior high school, and the way you're describing it, it felt like a very different environment. And so talk about surviving in this now new environment.

JT: What happened when we went from elementary school, where there was a certain kind of population of student body, to a junior high school that was divided by those of us who came from south, literally, south of the railroad tracks, and those who came from Westwood and Bel Air, the wealthy kids of Los Angeles. It was really different because that's where we began to feel the segregation. There was a kind of sense that you could not mix with these other kids. They came with, some of them came to school with chauffeurs, but they oozed of money. You could just look at them and know they had a different life experience. What's interesting, though, is because a lot of them came from very educated and well-to-do families, they were much more gracious. It wasn't like they went after us, it was like they just ignored us. So we felt, in a sense, second class, I mean, that's what they made us feel like. We and the Mexicans in school kind of hung out in different places, the Mexicans in one area and the Japanese kids in another. We all had white friends among the students, but at a certain point, you separate. And we understood that; they never talked about it, we didn't, but they were the ones who were kind of the popular kids, the kids who always were on the committees and did all things and got all the praise, and we were the ones who sort of, like after the war, you gaman, shikata ga nai, you just keep your head down and work hard and do well and prove yourself.

TI: Yeah, so this is interesting to me in terms of your childhood. So what's worse? Just being confronted by more of these working class whites just having it out on the streets, but at least it's direct, right? You know where they stand and you fight them, versus when you went to junior high school and high school, being treated like a second-class citizen, actually not being included, and just saying, almost this condescending kind of attitude, almost. From your perspective, what was worse?

JT: To me, it was worse in elementary school at that level, because it was confrontational with other kids. And you just had to kind of watch yourself, especially if, like me, I would say stuff to these kids. And I knew that they didn't like me, but I didn't care. I just figured out, this is my survival, this is how all of us get past whatever this is. I mean, it was, in very simple terms as a kid understands, you have to do this so they don't do that. And you understand the physics of it, and so that was hard, because it lasted for several years after the war. And you know with adults, when they turn on you, as a kid, what the heck do you do? And it wasn't just they would tell you to get out, they would actually go after you with words, and tell you you're really evil, you're bad, and all these really horrible things adults should never say to children, no matter how bad kids are. But that was how we sometimes were treated. This is not to say this is how life was, this is probably a small part, but in my mind, it becomes a major factor in how we had to cope with a lot of discrimination. You go to junior high school and high school where you have this dichotomy of wealth and working class, it's really different because it's not that they ignore you -- I had some really good friends. In fact, one of my best friends from the ninth grade through most of high school was a girl from Brentwood. And we were really close friends, and I don't exactly know why, but we have to sit next to each other, a couple classes, and it was, with her, it was really comfortable, as it was for me with guys, white guys. Because if you're Japanese in those days, and you're in white society, you don't mix. In fact, we knew you don't even ask a white girl out, you just don't do it, that's not the way things work, because it never happened. And with her, we'd go, I don't know, after school sometimes, go get a Coke or something. But the minute I crossed the barrier, it ended. And that was when I said to her once, something about, "You want to hang out Saturday night?" or something.

TI: You were asking her out for a date, essentially.

JT: That's what she said, "Oh, like a date?" I said, "No, no, no, not a date." I mean, you weren't allowed to be romantic with girls. And I said, "No, not a date, let's just to go Westwood and buy a soda pop or something," whatever you say as a kid. And so I went to pick her up, she lived in Brentwood, and her father wouldn't let her go out with me, and made it very clear by saying, "My daughter is not going out with any fucking Jap." And she's standing there. I was totally taken aback, she was furious, and said, "I don't care, we're going." And I told her, "No, you can't." And that ended the friendship; she was really self-conscious about it after that. And at school we would see each other and try to be normal, but it was never normal after that. Once you crossed that line, then it either works or it doesn't work, and this was just a social thing. It's like in high school, all the white kids went one way, we went another way. I mean, literally went in different directions. But when that bell rang at three o'clock, it was like, okay, all these things you do together, you don't do when you leave the school grounds.

TI: Right, so that's such a powerful moment where, in many ways, you crossed that line by going to, asking this woman out and going to the house, and then being very clearly told that you should not cross that line. What did that, how did that moment change you when you think about that? When you think back, did that change you?

JT: You know, I think I tried to just put it out of my mind. It was painful.

TI: But when you told that story, there was still a lot of verve to it, I could tell that.

JT: Yeah, it was a stunning moment in my life in a way a lot of things never happen. But it made me understand just where I stood. Not with her family, but where I stood in general in mainstream society. I really did feel like, okay, we're second class. I mean, this is like 1955, '56, I think it was. And I realized that's never a line you're allowed to cross, not if you're Japanese. And it would be years later that you would start to see mixed relationships, but at that point, it didn't happen. And it wasn't that her parents were that terrible, they were like a lot of other white parents with white daughters. And it's this whole cliche about your test of your tolerance comes when your daughter wants to go out with someone who doesn't look like you, and that was the moment for her, and she was as shocked as I was. I hid it better; I had learned you don't show this kind of thing. And I made the best of it as I could, and thinking, well, on Monday, I'll say hi to her, and it'll be okay, and it never was. It never changed after that. So that's part of what I carried with me as I was growing up. I mean, by then I was a teenager, and that plus certain other kinds of experiences that, to this day, are so vivid in my mind. And some of those have to do with my parents.

<End Segment 2> - Copyright © 2019 Densho. All Rights Reserved.