Established in 1995 by the AAS Committee on Educational Issues and Policy and the Committee on Teaching about Asia, the Franklin R. Buchanan Prize is awarded annually to recognize an outstanding pedagogical, instructional, or curriculum publication on Asia designed for K–12 and college undergraduate instructors and learners.

On March 24, 2021 during the annual Association for Asian Studies conference, SPICE’s Manager of Curriculum and Instructional Design Rylan Sekiguchi formally accepted the 2021 Franklin R. Buchanan Prize for his authorship of What Does It Mean to Be an American?

SPICE co-developed the website for What Does It Mean to Be an American? with the Mineta Legacy Project. What Does It Mean to Be an American? was inspired by the life of Secretary Norman Mineta, former U.S. Secretary of Commerce under President Bill Clinton and U.S. Secretary of Transportation under President George W. Bush. President Clinton, President Bush, and Secretary Mineta contributed video interviews for the website.

Buchanan Prize Committee Chair Kristi Roundtree praised the publication, sharing the Committee’s reasons for why it deserved the distinction:

What Does It Mean to Be an American? was chosen by the committee for its blend of traditional classroom methods and materials with compelling videos, well-conceived discussion questions and activities, and extension lessons as well as its excellent use of primary and secondary sources… Committee members also agreed the curriculum answers an urgent need for teachers to be able to engage students with the ongoing conflicts around race, immigration, civic engagement and activism, while grounding these concerns within a clear historical framework. What Does It Mean to Be an American? skillfully weaves the Japanese experience into each unit, making the curriculum a most worthy recipient of the Buchanan Prize.

In his acceptance speech, Sekiguchi noted

I feel deeply honored to receive the Buchanan Prize… To my team of collaborators on this project—Dianne Fukami, Debra Nakatomi, Amy Watanabe, Hannah Eaves, and Monica Olivera—thank you for truly bringing our online curriculum to life. … I [also] want to thank the members of AAS for the important work you do to promote a better understanding of Asia. As you know, in the U.S. there’s been a recent surge of violence against Asian people. I believe ignorance is a factor in these attacks, because ignorance can breed fear, and even hate. The work that you do to promote a better understanding of Asia is so invaluable. Let’s all continue that work as a community.

Sekiguchi is a three-time recipient of the prize, and his third award marks the seventh time that SPICE staff has received the award.

What Does It Mean to Be an American? is comprised of six lessons: Immigration, Civil Liberties and Equity, Civic Engagement, Justice and Reconciliation, Leadership, and U.S.–Japan Relations. There are more than 200 primary source images and 23 videos created specifically for the curriculum. To access the free online curriculum, visit https://www.whatdoesitmeantobeanamerican.com/.

In his March 15, 2021 lecture for SPICE’s Reischauer Scholars Program, actor George Takei—who played Hikaru Sulu, helmsman of the USS Enterprise in Star Trek—added “and Stand Back” to the iconic Star Trek words, “Live Long and Prosper,” as he was greeting students. His addition of “and Stand Back” was a message to the RSP students that it is important to continue to socially distance during the pandemic.

During his riveting lecture, Takei didn’t need to draw upon his acting skills to engage his audience of students as he recollected his family’s life after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and drew parallels between his family’s experience during World War II and anti-Asian sentiment and hate crimes (including killings and stabbings) against Asian Americans today. Takei was four years old at the time of the Pearl Harbor attack, and following the signing of Executive Order 9066 by President Franklin Roosevelt on February 19, 1942, Takei and his family along with approximately 120,000 people of Japanese descent—two thirds of whom were American citizens like Takei—were forced from their homes.

As he did with his legions of fans in Star Trek, Takei had the students glued to their screens as he recalled the day that he and his family were forced from their home in Los Angeles.

On that day that I can never forget, I had just turned five years old. It was a few weeks after my birthday, April 20. My father had gotten us dressed up hurriedly and told us to wait in the living room while my father and mother did some last-minute packing in the bedroom. Our baby sister was an infant and she was in the bedroom with them in a cradle. In the living room, my brother and I were just gazing out the front window at our neighborhood and suddenly we saw two soldiers marching up our driveway. They carried rifles with shiny bayonets on them. They stomped up the front porch and with their fists, began pounding the door. I still remember how it felt, like the walls were trembling… My father came out of the bedroom, answered the door, and literally, at gunpoint we were ordered out of our home… Shortly after and escorted by one of the soldiers, my mother came out holding our baby sister in one arm and a huge duffle bag in the other, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. The terror of that morning is still alive in me. I will never be able to forget that horrific day. It is seared into my memory.

Upon hearing this, RSP student Kogen Brown reflected, “I was deeply struck by the fact that these details remained in Mr. Takei’s mind after all these years. I remember only a few snippets of my life from that age, and the fact that he remembers so many specific aspects about the time that he was interned really goes to show the emotional and psychological impact that internment had on Japanese Americans—even those who were so young that they didn’t know what was happening or why it was happening to them.”

The War Relocation Authority (WRA) was the federal agency created in 1942 to oversee the Japanese Americans who were removed from the West Coast during World War II. The WRA built and operated a network of camps, where those removed were subjected to forced incarceration. Takei and his family were taken to the horse stables in Santa Anita Racetrack where they were assigned to a horse stall, which was still pungent with horse manure. The family stayed for four or five months in the so-called Santa Anita Assembly Center while the more permanent concentration camps were being built. From Santa Anita, Takei and his family were sent by train to the so-called Rohwer War Relocation Center in Arkansas. Takei recollected, “There, as a five-year-old child, I had an adventure. A discovery of a whole alien world. I am a southern Californian. I’m used to palm trees. In Rohwer beyond the barbed wire fence was the bayou. I have memories of camp as a fun experience, but that was a child’s experience. At the same time, parallel to my childhood experience, my parents had a grotesque experience—barbed wire fences, sentry towers, machine guns pointed at them. When we made the night run to the latrine from our barrack, searchlights followed us. My mother considered it an invasive, humiliating light but the five-year-old me thought it was nice that they lit the way for me to pee. Same experiences but two different memories.”

During his recollection of his life during World War II, Takei noted, “There are relevant lessons that apply to what’s happening today. We talk about Asian hate, hate of Asian people, and horrific things are being done to elderly Asians because of the pandemic we are going through. This kind of hate is what Japanese Americans were subjected to more than 80 years ago… back then, graffiti was painted on some of our homes, on our cars… like what’s happening today.”

Takei underscored the ironies of being detained behind barbed wire. He noted,

“I still can’t wrap my head around how horribly the U.S. government failed Japanese Americans,” reflected RSP student Kalia Lai, “Hearing from Mr. Takei that he and the other Japanese American students still had to say the Pledge of Allegiance at the start of school made me realize how empty those words, ‘with liberty and justice for all,’ turned out to be for Japanese Americans, and how inhumane the incarceration camps were.”

Takei also shared that in 1943, the War Department and WRA established a “loyalty questionnaire” as a means to assess the loyalty of all adults in the WRA camps. Takei spoke specifically about the final two questions, questions 27 and 28, which created confusion and resentment.

Question number 27 asked if Japanese Americans were willing to serve in the armed forces of the United States on combat duty wherever ordered. Question number 28 asked if individuals would swear unqualified allegiance to the United States and faithfully defend the United States from any or all attack by foreign or domestic forces, and forswear any form of allegiance or obedience to the Japanese Emperor, or any other foreign government, power, or organization. U.S. citizens resented being asked to renounce loyalty to the Emperor of Japan when they had never held a loyalty to the Emperor. At the time, Japanese immigrants were barred from becoming U.S. citizens, so they wondered if renouncing their only citizenship would leave them stateless.

Despite the confusion, thousands from Hawaii and the concentration camps served in the U.S. Army. The 442nd Regimental Combat Team was organized on March 23, 1943, after more than a year during which Americans of Japanese descent were declared enemy aliens by the U.S. War Department. Takei emphatically noted, “We weren’t the enemy, we were Americans.” The 442nd RCT became the most decorated unit for its size and length of service in U.S. military history. Following the end of the war, President Truman honored them and said, “You fought not only the enemy, but you fought prejudice—and you have won.”

Takei noted the importance for students to study about history as it teaches us important lessons and stated that he has made it his life’s mission to talk about the incarceration of Japanese Americans. “As a matter of fact, today we are living through a time that will be studied as a very important part of history by future generations,” expressed Takei. Recalling his years behind barbed wire, he emphasized that he and his family were viewed with suspicion and hate simply because of the way they looked. “There were no charges, no trial, no due process… Terror made toxic by racism started to affect the so-called leaders of our country, the politicians, but instead of leading, these politicians got swept up by the hysteria and became part of that hysteria… We have so much to learn from history because we are repeating the same kind of mentality that put us in these barbed wire prison camps.”

These words resonated in RSP student Noah Kurima, whose paternal grandparents were among the 120,000 who were incarcerated. Kurima commented, “What surprised me the most upon hearing Mr. Takei speak about his wartime experiences are the parallels that I see in our country eight decades later. As a 16-year-old, I would have hoped that more progress had been made in the area of cross-cultural understanding. The hysteria, racism, and failure of political leadership that Mr. Takei described from his childhood seem eerily similar to what I have seen in the media recently. I hope that the RSP students in the year 2100 will not be witnessing the same parallels that I am today.”

In a strongly emphasized message to the students, Takei said that the ideals of the United States “are noble but they become real and true only when the people infuse those ideals with truth with backing. At times of panic and hysteria, we start behaving irrationally.”

RSP Instructor Naomi Funahashi reflected, “I hope that my students especially take this message to heart. I honestly hesitated to close the session because of the clear impact that Mr. Takei was having on my students.” Funahashi gratefully acknowledged Takei and noted, “Sharing your recollections—particularly those of you as a five-year-old boy—we could feel your very palpable sense of terror and fear, and through your voice, you helped students to understand why it’s such an important issue to study today.”

George Takei is a social justice activist, social media superstar, Grammy-nominated recording artist, New York Times bestselling author, and pioneering actor whose career has spanned six decades. He has appeared in more than 40 feature films and hundreds of television roles, and he has used his success as a platform to fight for social justice, LGBTQ+ rights, and marriage equality. For the full story of George Takei’s childhood imprisoned within American concentration camps during World War II, see his graphic memoir, They Called Us Enemy. Naomi Funahashi and I are grateful to Brad Takei for his support of George’s lecture and this article, and also to Michael Kurima for his support as a liaison between SPICE and George Takei.

The following is Part 3 of a multiple-part series. For Part 1, please visit here, and for Part 2, please visit here.

On December 8, 2020 and January 19, 2021, SPICE posted two articles that highlight reflections from 16 students on the question, “What does it mean to be an American?” I decided to ask students to share their reflections because many have expressed concern about the divisions in U.S. society either directly to the SPICE staff or indirectly through the teachers with whom the SPICE staff works. Part 3 features nine additional reflections.

The SPICE staff’s hope is that the free educational website—“What Does It Mean to Be an American?”—will help students reflect upon their civil liberties during this challenging time. On March 24, 2021, SPICE’s Rylan Sekiguchi will be honored by the Association for Asian Studies for his authorship of the lessons that are featured on the website, which was developed by the Mineta Legacy Project in partnership with SPICE.

One of the featured students, Keilyn Toma, is an American who is enrolled in SPICE’s Stanford e-Japan course, which introduces U.S. society and culture and U.S.–Japan relations to high school students in Japan. The other eight students live in the United States. The reflections below do not necessarily reflect those of the SPICE staff.

Talia Christian, Texas:
As a multiracial South African immigrant, I’ve had to keenly observe America. I noticed that people in the U.S. come from many different bloodlines. Sadly, the beauty of this is overlooked because so many find peace with the idea that America is a melting pot yet don’t acknowledge what that means. I find myself uncomfortable because I don’t belong to any racial group in America. How will I identify at school? South African isn’t an option. Am I going to live on the White, Hispanic, or Black side of town? Because de facto segregation is very much alive, I must choose. I hope to see change in America as part of being an American, which means that I have the freedom to be that change and instill unity.

Gracee Curley, Arizona:
In today’s world, people seem to be judged by what they do and don’t have, or their race. It seems like after 2020 happened, everyone has a different perspective of America and what it means to be American. To me, being a Native American in the new world today means seeing those “above us” imitating our sacred sound or backing away from us just because of the color of our skin. It means seeing our own culture used as a Halloween costume outfit, and even seeing our people used as school mascots. Being American for me is being scared to go out into public. Nobody wants to be judged in this world just because of one’s ethnicity.

Jeana Fermi, New Jersey:
The American identity is inherently revolutionary, forged in the radical notion that anyone can adopt it, and rooted in the winds of change. Being an American has no strict boundaries; it is an open-ended question that we fill with our own uniqueness and interpretations, thus birthing an identity of synergy. Our nation is not perfect, its history marred by painful legacies of injustice that continue to permeate the society we live in now. But I’ve found a unique hope in the American propensity for change—that the pursuit of progress is not merely optional, but fundamental to being American. The American story is a collective striving to form a more perfect union not in spite of our differences, but because of them. I feel most American when I join this effort.

Zaynab Jawaid, California:
To be American is to be hardworking. My grandmother came to New York in the ’70s and always held multiple jobs. In order to make it in America and provide for her family she had to work hard and always give 110 percent. Hard work may seem difficult at first, but it is always rewarding. My parents have also persevered and worked hard to give my siblings and me a better and easier life than they had. My grandmother and my parents’ example (especially my mother’s) have shown me how hard work always pays off in the end. As an immigrant and a person of color, you have to give that extra effort in order to make it in American society. Being American also means to be able to believe and practice the religion you want, and for me that means Islam.

Koki Mashita, California:
As a Japanese citizen living in the U.S., I have been able to observe cultural differences. The U.S. values individualism, patriotism, and opportunity unlike anywhere else I have lived. Americans often speak up for their own beliefs by protesting. This may make the U.S. seem like an unstable country but speaking up is essential for change. If Americans didn’t love their country, Americans wouldn’t be advocating for their beliefs. An example of this advocacy has taken place during COVID-19, with many Americans, who are struggling to make ends, speaking up. By speaking up, some new opportunities have arisen despite the pandemic. For example, many new businesses that accommodate for restrictions, such as social distancing, have been established. The values of individualism, patriotism, and opportunity come to mind when I think of what it means to be an American.

Phoebe Masters, Ohio:
America is by no means perfect. There are actually times in my life when I have not been very proud to be an American. There are so many problems that plague the country: racial inequities, record high incarceration rates, and corruption in the government. But, being an American means we have the ability to see these imperfections in our country and advocate for change. In America, we have the right to protest and speak out against what we think is wrong and unjust. It is our duty and right to hold lawmakers and government officials accountable for implementing the change we want to see. America is not perfect, but being an American means change, evolution, and innovation as a result of endless ideas and opinions coming together, creating one united nation.

Ellie Sul, California:
To me, being American means taking advantage of every opportunity given. We have a proper education, a gateway to our dream occupations, and a path to our aspirations. Growing up in America, I’ve been given countless possibilities to achieve my dreams. My grandfather, who came to America to seek a better life for his family, gave his children and grandchildren the opportunity to be successful in America. He was like so many other immigrants who crossed oceans to come to America for the greater good of their families. Being American has granted me this life full of fortune and possibilities, and I am eternally grateful.

Keilyn Toma, Japan:
If you were to ask me “Are you American?” I would answer no. I was born in California to Japanese and Chinese parents, but 16 out of my 18 years were spent overseas. I prefer the rice fields of Saitama to the mountains of Utah and the bustling streets of Hong Kong to the avenues of Boston. But perhaps this is the new “American.” The increasingly international fabric of America means more people like me. For me, the American ideals of individuality, opportunity, and freedom serve as support and an instrument of change in whichever culture I choose to be a part of. The opportunity in multiculturalism lies in applying the best parts of different cultures. That means encouraging individuality within Japanese conformity and promoting change within Chinese rigidity. 

Abigail Weiss, Louisiana:
If I was asked what it means to be American growing up, I would likely say I am proud of the country I am from, referencing equality of opportunity and the American Dream. Recently, however, the overwhelming level of injustice in this country has diminished the sense of pride I used to have by being American. I used to gladly dress up on July 4th, but in recent years my friends and I are hesitant to even associate with anyone who posts a picture in front of the American flag. This may not represent the universal experience of young Americans, but I think this does highlight the growing political divide. I think there is still hope for me and many other members of my generation to restore our sense of pride in this country by electing officials who care about the lives of all Americans.

SPICE’s Manager of Curriculum and Instructional Design Rylan Sekiguchi was announced this week as the recipient of the 2021 Franklin R. Buchanan Prize for his authorship of What Does It Mean to Be an American? The prize is awarded annually by the Association for Asian Studies, which will formally honor Sekiguchi in a ceremony at 2pm PDT on March 24, 2021. This is the third time that Sekiguchi has won the award.

SPICE co-developed the website for What Does It Mean to Be an American? with the Mineta Legacy Project. What Does It Mean to Be an American? was inspired by the life of Secretary Norman Mineta, former U.S. Secretary of Commerce under President Bill Clinton and U.S. Secretary of Transportation under President George W. Bush. President Clinton, President Bush, and Secretary Mineta contributed video interviews for the website.

Established in 1995 by the AAS Committee on Educational Issues and Policy and the Committee on Teaching about Asia, the Franklin R. Buchanan Prize is awarded annually to recognize an outstanding pedagogical, instructional, or curriculum publication on Asia designed for K–12 and college undergraduate instructors and learners.

Grandparents have an endearing position of high stature in Mexican culture. Grandchildren have countless stories about the cariño (endearment) they receive from Abuelito (Grandpa) and Abuelita (Grandma). My immigrant grandparents sacrificed a lot when they migrated to the United States. Their courageous journeys and perseverance to attain the American dream left an invaluable mark on me. My abuelito’s journey to the United States initially on the Bracero Program led me to conduct research on the program. The Bracero Program was a binational labor agreement between the United States and Mexico that was in effect from 1942 to 1964. It was established due to the labor shortage brought about by World War II. Thousands of Mexican men were recruited and joined the program to work primarily in agriculture in states like California.

It was my abuelito’s cariño, work ethic, and courage as an immigrant that I have never forgotten. My abuelito worked in the highlands of Jalisco, Mexico, where his skilled farm labor contributed to making the highlands of Jalisco productive for the cultivation of agave. Thousands of the region’s men—including my abuelito—joined the Bracero Program and left Mexico for the United States. Once in the United States, they worked in the agricultural industry and transformed it into the multibillion-dollar business that it is today.

In my research, I have had the chance to interview members of the family of Rafael Silva, who was also a bracero from Jalisco. One of his grandsons, Isa Silva, will be entering Stanford next fall as a recruit for the Stanford Men’s Basketball team. I recently had the chance to talk with Isa and reflect upon the legacy of his abuelito and mine. The work that they performed was brutal, often working with the short-handled hoe for long periods. Reflecting on his abuelito’s contribution to making the Salinas Valley into the “Salad Bowl of the World,” Isa noted, “My grandparents’ immigrant journey and hard work means everything to me. It’s one thing that motivates me and inspires me. I respect the generations before me and am forever grateful for their sacrifices. Because of my grandparents and parents, I work hard in the classroom and it has taught me to give back.”

After the Bracero Program formally ended in 1964, agricultural executives sponsored thousands of braceros like Rafael Silva to stay in California. Not only had the braceros’ lives been transformed from rural poverty in Mexico to making working-class earnings, but their hard work would also eventually transform the lives of their children and grandchildren like Isa. Considered the “Ellis Island” for many Mexican immigrants, the U.S.–Mexico border became an important migration corridor for thousands wanting to find work in the agricultural fields in places like the Salinas Valley. For many young braceros, their earnings provided them with the hope of one day marrying and starting a family. For Rafael Silva, that hope became a reality when he married Eva Silva Ruelas and they settled near the U.S.–Mexico border in San Luis, Sonora, Mexico. While Rafael worked in the agricultural fields in Arizona, Eva and her young children resided in San Luis. Eventually they were able to move together to the Salinas Valley where Rafael continued working in the agricultural fields and Eva worked at the Matsui Nursery, a company founded by Andy Matsui, an immigrant from Japan.

My research has uncovered numerous stories of braceros like Rafael Silva overcoming poverty. Among children and grandchildren of braceros are professors at U.C. Berkeley and Stanford, members of the U.S. Congress and California legislature, as well as successful entrepreneurs, attorneys, educators, physicians, and a former NASA astronaut. Despite these successes, braceros themselves have received little recognition. With this in mind, I decided to organize an event with SPICE to honor braceros, with hopes that it would also make an indelible impression on a Mexican American generation whose bracero fathers or grandfathers had made major contributions to the U.S. economy. They, too, were part of America’s “Greatest Generation.”

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The following is Part 2 of a multiple-part series. For Part 1, please visit here.

Since the unprecedented events on January 6, 2021, I have had the chance to communicate with many young students. Like many Americans, they too are concerned about the divisions in U.S. society and what has been projected abroad about what it means to be an American. On December 8, 2020, SPICE posted an article that highlights eight reflections from students. This article features eight more students from diverse backgrounds.

As I mentioned last month, my hope is that the free educational website—“What Does It Mean to Be an American?”—will help students reflect upon their civil liberties during this challenging time. The lessons were authored by SPICE’s Rylan Sekiguchi for use at the high school and college levels, and the website was developed by the Mineta Legacy Project in partnership with SPICE.

One of the students, Junow Iwasaki, is an American who is enrolled in SPICE’s Stanford e-Japan course, which introduces U.S. society and culture and U.S.–Japan relations to high school students in Japan. The other seven students are living in the United States. The reflections below do not necessarily reflect those of the SPICE staff.

Ana Maria Griffin Morimoto, New York:
Being an American means eating turkey and sushi for Thanksgiving dinner.
It means decorating the Christmas tree, and finding presents.
It means wearing a kimono on New Year’s Day, and eating osechi-ryori [traditional Japanese New Year’s foods].
Being an American means I get the chance to fight and reach my dream of becoming a performer.
It means choice—free and independent to be exactly who I want to be.
It means beauty on many levels.
The beauty of loving whoever I want to love.
The beauty of knowing I can make it.
Being an American means being an immigrant.
I can choose to speak Spanish or English with my classmates or co-workers.
Being an American is being a former orphan from Colombia who gets to share what it is to be an American.

Mana Iketani, Hawaii:
December 7, 2020 marked the 75th anniversary of the Imperial Japanese Navy attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, killing 2,403 people, and led to the United States’ formal entry into World War II. It is a terrifying topic to learn in school in Hawaii as a Japanese immigrant, causing me to inevitably think, “Would my classmates start discriminating against me or disdain me?” Against my prediction, I never faced any discrimination since I moved here at age nine, even after my classmates learned the history. People in my state are respectful to each individual, tolerant of the diversity of backgrounds, cultures, and ideas. Respecting others and yourself is what it means to be an American in one of the most diverse countries of the world.

Junow Iwasaki, Tokyo, Japan:
I was born in New York as a dual citizen but have lived in Japan ever since I was a baby. Though I am an American, I have hesitated to talk openly about my nationality because I want to “fit in” with others. However, having experienced funny looks from kids and adults who ignore me, I have come to realize that I cannot simply be perceived as Japanese either. I am still figuring out my identity, but I think being American is not just speaking English or acting outspoken and bold. Americans living abroad like me contribute to the fabric of what it means to be an American. Despite how I have been perceived, I wish that I could simply be who I am, an American who embraces two cultures.

Sienna Mack, Washington:
Being an American should have nothing to do with your race, your citizenship, or your religion. The only thing that defines an American should be the will to stand up for what is right no matter what. It should mean striving for the American dream of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” regardless of how big or small your efforts are. True patriotism means understanding that this country was founded on ideals yet to be achieved, and as Americans, humans, and citizens of the world, it is our right and duty to realize that dream. Throughout the history of our country, built on revolution, people have rebelled against injustice. And time and time again, as we do so, we reach a little bit closer to the American Dream.

Carrie Masters, Ohio:
Being an American means that I live in a land of freedom, opportunity, and diversity. I have the ability to shape my future. I determine where I live, my career, my religion, my political views, etc. A core Midwestern value is to work hard so that I am prepared to take advantage of opportunities that arise. These chances create responsibility, and it is imperative that we reciprocate by helping others. That help can be in the pursuit of big goals or something simple. Being an American means living with, learning from, and respecting different cultures. America benefits from our different cultural backgrounds and ideas, which become part of who we are. I am fortunate to live where I can make my own decisions and achieve my goals through hard work.

Erykah Lalah Secody, Arizona:
As Native Americans, Navajo, we are citizens of two sovereign nations, the U.S. and the Navajo Nation. We are the only language-minority group in the U.S. with this unique dual citizenship status. But being an American to me means being a citizen in two of the greatest nations in the world, a nation built on meritocracy, as we are taught in our Native homeland, “...if it’s to be, it’s up to me.” Being an American means we are a nation of diversity, a nation of, for, and by the people, a nation of immigrants in their journey to America in pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness.

Eli Stein, Hawaii:
I live in a country rich with opportunities, guided by the ideology that Americans, like the bald eagle, are born with wings granting flight in return for hard work. I have learned this is not the case. While the United States offers opportunity, it is plagued by inherent inequality. Some are born with clipped wings, while others fly with little effort: an inequality driven by systemic racial injustice. The United States is rooted in a repetitious cycle; the rich become richer while the poor suffer hardship. Growing up in Hawaii, a racially and economically diverse state, I witness the unequal opportunities minorities face, a problem often ignored. Homeless children live on Waikiki’s streets, a block from lavish penthouses. Despite the inequality, I still believe that with unity, we can create change.

Michelle Thurber, California:
My favorite part about being American is that when I think of the word “American,” no particular race or religion comes to mind. I feel connected to my ethnic background (half-Chinese), while still considering myself entirely American. However, I realize that my perspective may come partly from the fact that I live in the San Francisco Bay Area, where there is always someone around who looks like me. Hateful rhetoric in American politics frustrates me because I experience firsthand the richness that comes from diversity and open-mindedness. What brings me hope is being part of a generation of young people willing to take a stand in favor of diversity—on social media now, and on the political stage in the future.

Over the past few years, I have heard concerns from teachers about how divided they feel the United States has become. Many have also echoed the same civil liberties-related concerns that their students have expressed. My hope is that the free educational website—“What Does It Mean to Be an American?”—will help students reflect upon their civil liberties during this challenging time. The lessons were authored by SPICE’s Rylan Sekiguchi for use at the high school and college levels, and the website was developed by the Mineta Legacy Project in partnership with SPICE. Inspired by the life and career of Secretary Norman Y. Mineta, the six themed lessons are: Immigration, Civil Liberties & Equity, Civic Engagement, Justice & Reconciliation, Leadership, and U.S.–Japan Relations.

Since the website launched in September, I have invited high school and college students to review and share their reflections on the lessons. Below are the reflections of eight students. These reflections do not necessarily reflect those of the SPICE staff. One of the students, Shintaro Aoi, is a Japanese student who was enrolled in SPICE’s Stanford e-Japan course, which introduces U.S. society and culture and U.S.–Japan relations to high school students in Japan. The other seven students are living in the United States.

Shintaro Aoi, Tokyo, Japan:
I was shocked to learn that during World War II, U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt issued an executive order that was applied to approximately 120,000 people of Japanese descent in the United States, most of whom were U.S. citizens. I came to understand that people of Japanese descent were specifically targeted and labeled as an enemy race. This was very surprising for me because President Roosevelt and General John DeWitt attacked people from their own country. This means they were not only engaging in war with Japan, but also dividing the United States at the same time. The lesson of Japanese American incarceration informed me of the danger of discrimination and political division, and it prompted me to think about the divisions in the United States today.

Kogen Brown, Oregon:
When people around the world hear the word “American,” I imagine they envision a range of different characteristics. However mixed the worldwide perceptions of the United States may be, I believe that there is a certain unique good woven into the American identity. For better or worse, many Americans feel the need to be very loud and outspoken about their ideals. I think, in many cases, that this is a good thing. Positive change doesn’t come quickly from people being passive. Americans, when petitioning for goals aimed to bring about what they believe is right, have never been passive. I believe that this American value has set the standard for much of the world and, for the most part, encouraged positive change across the globe.

Syerra Cabantac, California:
Typically, when you think of being an American, you’d think of freedom, liberty, and equality. However, from what I’ve seen recently, the “equality” part hasn’t been held up. Being African American and Filipino, I’ve seen that despite it being 2020, there are still people who have issues with my color. Although I haven’t personally experienced any discrimination, this is not the case for others. As a teenager today, I recognize that my incredibly diverse generation is the future. The presidential election of 2020 was huge for us, especially now that we will have a powerful Black and Asian woman as our vice president. I do believe that if people would just listen and think about my generation, we can do way better to come together as a nation.

Ilse Cruz, Florida:
What makes me an American is a set of ideals insisting that all of us are created equal and that we all share the freedom and an obligation to speak out and secure our most cherished values for the next generation. I am today a proud warrior with my handmade crown that was earned, not given. I raise my voice loud and proud for those whose families have migrated, for the minority, and for those in the margins who were discarded as another dismal statistic. I aspire to continue to fight for my hard-won American dream, yet to be fully realized. I am today a proud warrior in the American tradition. My handmade crown—like Liberty’s—was earned through tenacious struggle, not a birthright.

Kheira Sage Keams, Arizona:
I am a Navajo born and raised in Chandler, Arizona. Throughout my schooling, I have been identified as a Mexican, Hawaiian, or Filipino. I would correct them, and they are usually amazed. Teachers would normally question me and ask for clarification on lessons regarding Native Americans in Arizona, even though I had no clue about other tribes and knew little about my Navajo tribe. I would share what I learned from my father and Cheii (grandfather) with my teachers and fellow students. Being raised off the reservation gives me a far greater opportunity to learn about our multi-culturally diverse world. I share that with my cousins who live in the Navajo Nation and in return they share and teach me what they experience on the reservation.

Kalia Lai, California:
My identity as an Asian American has always felt complicated and isolating. When I was younger, it was the little things, like how hair chalk wouldn’t work in my black hair because it was designed with a white audience in mind. Now, after learning about discrimination against Chinese Americans in the past and how anti-Asian racism has surged during the COVID-19 pandemic, embracing my Americanness comes with the understanding that there’s still a lot of progress to make. I cannot and would not change my ethnicity, but being an Asian American woman certainly influences the way I live my life. Given the racism and inequity that still exist today, I think being an American means advocating for everyone to be treated justly.

Andrew Lamb, Oregon:
As Americans, it is really easy to ignore our privilege and forget how lucky we are to be born and raised in such a great country. Millions from all over the world have immigrated to America. Just imagine leaving your country, family, and home just for a shot at the American dream. That is what my great, great grandfather George Lambropoulous did. In 1946, during the Civil War in Greece, George, who was only 19 at the time, took only a suitcase and $600 dollars and made his voyage to Ellis Island where his last name was shortened to Lamb. He ended up in Salt Lake City, Utah with only $20. He started his own restaurant that still stands to this day, Lamb’s Grill.

Masako Yang, California:
Born in the San Francisco Bay Area, I fortunately grew up free of any outright racism and took my civil liberties for granted my whole life. When COVID-19 hit the United States in March, however, I became self-conscious of my black hair, dark eyes, and even my name. My Asian heritage, a constant source of pride, suddenly became a recipe for confusion, embarrassment, and guilt. If I walk down the street, would people judge or fear me for my appearance? I felt an inexplicable need to apologize for my family origin. However, I soon realized that the guilt was self-imposed and self-perpetuated. I will break away from my internally perceived racism. After all, I am a proud first generation Asian American in the land of equality.

Additional reflections will be shared in the months ahead.

Just over ten years after becoming the first U.S. ambassador to Japan to participate in the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Ceremony in 2010, Ambassador John Roos spoke about his experiences with 26 high school students in Stanford e-Japan from throughout Japan. In his October 16, 2020 online talk, Ambassador John Roos noted that his tenure in Japan—2009 to 2013—was defined by three major issues: (1) the 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake or 3/11; (2) Operation Tomodachi (“friend” in Japanese) during which the U.S. Armed Forces helped in disaster relief following the 3/11 crisis; and (3) the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Ceremony on August 6, 2010.

Regarding the first and second issues, Ambassador Roos recalled, “I was proud that the United States was there to help the people in Japan who obviously faced one of the biggest crises in your history… Vice President Biden came to Japan and the two of us traveled up to the Tohoku region because he wanted to see firsthand how he could help and how the United States could help, and I saw him interacting with not only the leaders but the people of the Tohoku region.” In addition to Operation Tomodachi, the youth-focused Tomodachi Initiative—a public-private partnership between the U.S.-Japan Council and the U.S. Embassy in Tokyo, with support from the Government of Japan—was born out of support for Japan’s recovery from the 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake. Regarding the third issue, Ambassador Roos shared, “I was the first United States ambassador to go to the Hiroshima commemoration ceremony. And I did that because I felt it was important to show respect for all of the victims of World War II and particularly obviously the victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I did it because I felt that it was helping to promote President Obama’s agenda of the elimination of all nuclear weapons.”

During his talk, Ambassador Roos coupled his sharing of specific personal recollections with general insights on being the U.S. ambassador to Japan. For example, he explained that the role of the U.S. ambassador to Japan is twofold. First, the U.S. ambassador’s responsibility is to protect and look after the health and safety of the Americans that live in Japan—about 150,000 of them—including another 50,000 U.S. military personnel and their dependents. Second, nurturing and looking after the relationship between Japan and the United States, of course, is critical. He not only touched upon economic, political, and security relations but also emphasized the importance of student-to-student exchange. Concerning the latter, he is concerned that students from the United States are not spending enough time in Japan, and students in Japan are not spending enough time in the United States.

His insights profoundly connected to a student from Kyoto who commented, “When I am older, I hope to become a diplomat and maybe even an ambassador, so I’m really excited to get to talk to you today.” She continued, “What do you think makes a successful ambassador?” Ambassador Roos replied, “I hope you become the ambassador to the United States… Obviously, an ambassador needs to deal with all of the different policy issues and many difficult issues, but I think the most important thing is—and you may not expect this—but it is to listen… and to learn and to hear all sides of the equation… to show empathy.”

The current fall 2020 session of Stanford e-Japan is the 12th offering of the course since 2015. Stanford e-Japan is made possible by Mr. Tadashi Yanai, Chairman, President, and CEO of Fast Retailing Co., Ltd. Mr. Yanai and Ambassador Roos share a mutual concern for the need for students in Japan and the United States to spend more time in each other’s countries.

As a closing question, Stanford e-Japan Instructor Meiko Kotani asked Ambassador Roos what he expects from Japanese high school students and what role he thinks they should play to foster the U.S.–Japan relationship. Roos responded, “Well, first of all, let me tell you how impressed I am by this group of students. The reason I am doing this session at 9:00pm on a Friday night is because I think you are the future of the relationship. So I encourage you to find ways to connect with the younger generation of [the United States] because in the end, we need you. We need the best and brightest minds, not only in the United States but in Japan and the rest of the world to confront some pretty big challenges we have in the world right now… When I listen to you, it gives me a tremendous amount of hope, and so I’m just honored to have had the opportunity to talk with you.”

After Ambassador Roos signed off, the students shared some points that especially resonated with them. Among these were the deep respect that Ambassador Roos has for Japan and his visit to all 47 prefectures; the importance he placed upon the need for high school students in Japan to communicate with high school students in the United States; the importance he placed upon the leadership of the United States to be humble despite its power; and the importance of empathy. And since 2020 marks the 75th anniversary of the end of World War II, the following words that Roos stated seemed to especially resonate with the students: “President Obama said that we may not eliminate nuclear weapons in his lifetime or my lifetime. I hope in your lifetime.”