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48 pages 1 hour read

Winifred Conkling

Sylvia And Aki

Fiction | Novel | Middle Grade | Published in 2011

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Themes

Endurance

Endurance is a key theme in the novel for Sylvia, Aki, and their families during the trials they face. Aki and Sylvia both endure racism and discrimination in general and the incarceration camps (Aki) and school segregation (Sylvia) specifically.

Aki’s family must endure the racism of wartime America, which brings to the forefront prejudice and discrimination that had been simmering under the surface even before the attack on Pearl Harbor. Aki unconsciously noticed it before, choosing to say “Mom” and “Pop” instead of okaasan and otousan (Japanese equivalents) in order to assimilate. After the attack, she becomes more conscious of anti-Japanese sentiment: Stores refuse Japanese employees and customers, racist signs are posted, and declarations distinguish Chinese people from Japanese, presumably to avoid the backlash from white people. Ultimately, Aki must endure unjust incarceration, including a complete lack of privacy (e.g., latrines), for years despite not doing anything criminal to warrant this response. The size and breadth of Poston (three camps holding Japanese Americans from all over California) and the implication that some camps were worse demonstrate that the need to endure was a large-scale issue, affecting not just the Munemitsus but the entire West Coast Japanese American population. Aki’s father and brother also undergo their specific trials of endurance: not being able to own land due to citizenship technicalities and being forcibly taken from his family out of unfounded suspicion of sedition (Aki’s father) and answering impossible, Catch-22-style questions just to leave Poston (Seiko). Aki’s mother, meanwhile, struggles just to hold both herself and her fractured family together: “The continuing is hard” (74). In this way, the Munemitsus endure, if only so they can return home when—or if—the war ever ends. As a final injustice, everyone at the camp must also endure the devastating news of the atomic bombs—the price for peace is not just their suffering but also the destruction of their ancestral homeland and the radiation poisoning or death of their loved ones left in Japan. These are consequences that resonate through generations.

On the other hand, Sylvia and her family must endure both literal and figurative trials at home—prejudice and discrimination toward their Latinx heritage that manifests as school segregation, particularly based on skin tone. While Sylvia’s entire family is Latinx, she and her brothers are darker than her cousins; as a result, the predominantly white Westminster school deigns to accept Sylvia’s cousins but not her and her siblings. Thus, Sylvia must first endure the humiliation of not just racist signage but also the long walk from Westminster to Hoover School by the barrio, further emphasizing the difference and inequality between her family and the white society around them. This figurative trial eventually escalates into a real one when Gonzalo Mendez sues the school district for discrimination. Now, not only must Sylvia and her family endure the legal fight before them and hope for a favorable outcome, but they also must endure unfounded racist comments from white superintendents about Latinx language, culture, education, society, and hygiene. In this tense, formal atmosphere, Sylvia becomes aware of the racism leveled at her even in elementary school and learns how to endure it publicly, a fact her parents are very much aware of. Although the case ends in her favor (and precedes the subsequent Brown v. Board of Education in 1954), Sylvia is forever changed by this experience.

In this way, although Sylvia and Aki’s trials manifested differently, they centered on a similar theme: how to endure when white American society rejects one’s genetics and heritage just for being different.

Family

Family is another theme integral to the novel, specifically familial support and familial separation/reunion. For Sylvia and Aki, as children, without family, their endurance trials would be exponentially harder.

Sylvia’s family advocates for her and her brothers from the beginning. When Westminster accepts Sylvia’s cousins but not her and her siblings based purely on the color of their skin, Sylvia’s aunt immediately refuses to register any of the children. Hearing about this, Gonzalo not only meets with the school administration to demand inclusion but also petitions other Latinx families to join the cause, thereby expanding the fight beyond his family to all Latinx children. Without Gonzalo, there would be no trial. More importantly for Sylvia, without her family’s advocacy and support, she might not have realized her and her family’s dream of attaining a quality education and breaking through the cycles of poverty and oppression that encapsulated the barrio, achieving the degrees that her parents could not. As Sylvia notes, Gonzalo was very “brave” to fight like he did, and she was incredibly proud of him.

Family is also important to Aki, especially during this period of forced incarceration. However, her family’s goal is merely to stay together. The Munemitsus are a close family, dependent on each other for even their livelihood—as they sort family photographs in preparation for forced removal, Aki’s mother reminisces about Seiko’s birth in the United States. As an American citizen, Seiko can own land, but their father cannot; even though Pop works the farmland, the deed is in Seiko’s name. This technicality indicates the tenuous legal ties they have with their life in the United States. Pop is also the first to be taken away—to a separate, harsher camp—thereby creating the first fracture in the family. Aki is separated from her mother and brother when she gets sick and is forced to travel to Poston on her own despite her young age. Later, Seiko leaves Poston for work in Denver, further fracturing their family structure. The long separations from family—broken only by censored letters—take their toll: By the time Aki reunites with Pop, she wonders if he will recognize her (she, in fact, almost doesn’t recognize him). It is not until after the war ends that Aki’s family is finally fully reunited. While her family would also make important contributions to their community, like Gonzalo, their main importance in the novel is to stay together and help each other endure the hardships and humiliations of unjust incarceration.

In this way, although they played different roles in the story, Sylvia and Aki’s families were integral to the events of the book, whether as advocates or solid support, despite the forces attempting to tear them apart.

Friendship

Like Family, friendship is another key theme of the book—titular, in fact. Sylvia and Aki’s friendship, while unlikely given the circumstances, pushes back against the “separate but equal” justification for white racism and perceived superiority depicted in the novel. It also pushes back against the covert “hierarchy” this racism creates, with whites on top, Asians the “model minority” (a myth) as a buffer in the middle, and BIPOC ethnicities (e.g., Latinx) at the bottom. This is reflected in Aki’s Westminster class photo, indicating that although she is not white, Westminster accepted her but not Sylvia. Sylvia’s family also rents the house and farmland from Aki’s family during their incarceration, indicating that while Aki might be able to return home one day, doing so will require Sylvia’s family to leave, further widening the social divide between them.

However, just as Gonzalo pushed for integration in schools, so, too, does Sylvia look past both the “model minority” myth and skin color to find and celebrate her commonalities with Aki: their love of traditional dolls, their farming families, and their unjust encirclement by deadly fences. Sylvia is curious about Aki from the beginning, finding Aki’s belongings and caring for her doll. She sympathizes with Aki when they meet in Poston and initiates their friendship through letters. By the time Aki returns home after the war, the girls are fast friends despite the real-life frictions that are meant to pull them apart, exchanging dolls when Sylvia moves back to Santa Ana.

During the time they spend together, their friendship is unmarred by any racial tension. When Sylvia says that Keiko likes empanadas, Aki’s reply is, “I like that” (124). That acceptance reflects the openness and welcome the two girls demonstrate to each other. Sylvia also helps Aki find some of the good that came out of her incarceration, saying, “[…] If you hadn’t been forced to leave, I wouldn’t have been able to come here. And I never would have met you” (126). While Aki rightly feels that being sent to Poston was bad and nothing would ever change that, she adds, “But, yes, I can still see how some good came from it” (126).

Sylvia and Aki remain friends even now, proving that unity and diversity are more powerful than racism and segregation. Like family, their friendship has the power to break boundaries and provide stalwart support, helping each other endure some of the most difficult times in their lives. Just by being friends, these women fight back against the white-centric racism, prejudice, and discrimination leveled at them and emerge victorious.

Segregation/Incarceration Versus Freedom

The final key theme of this book is that of segregation/incarceration versus freedom. Freedom, espoused in American national slogans as an integral birthright to its citizens (e.g., “land of the free, home of the brave”), is revealed hypocritically to be a privilege granted only to those in power and their favorites. In this way, the theme of freedom is explored in the hypocrisy of its loss and the celebration of reacquisition.

Although Sylvia and her family are American citizens (naturalized or born into it), they do not receive the same freedoms that other citizens do. Despite being bilingual, hardworking residents of Westminster, they are refused the freedom to attend Westminster school and must take drastic legal action to advocate for the right to integrate. In this way, although Sylvia is “free” to roam the land and live and work where she likes, in reality, segregation is its own type of prison: Hoover School, the separate and unequal school by the barrio, is dirty and surrounded by electric fences, which can and do harm children. Their textbooks are used, their teachers are overworked, and the environment perpetuates the cycle of poverty and second-class citizenship affecting the Latinx communities. Although their prison walls are figurative, they still exist. It is not until the Mendez, et al. v. Westminster School District of Orange County, et al. lawsuit and Brown v. Board of Education that at least some freedoms were restored to them—the legal freedom to integrate: “Equality in education is the first step toward equality in opportunity” (133).

Although Sylvia’s story describes how freedoms can be won, Aki’s depicts how quickly they can be lost, even if one previously received them. Aki had attended Westminster School as an ethnic minority but an accepted one. Her family could own land through her brother’s citizenship. They had an ally (the banker, Mr. Monroe) who helped them keep their belongings and property when they were incarcerated. However, their incarceration, by definition, proves how tenuous these freedoms can be—Aki’s family was separated by illness and suspicion despite no crime having been committed. They were forced to destroy precious belongings, photos, and heirlooms because they were “too Japanese.” The incarceration camps were on undesirable land and sparsely furnished, with little space and no privacy, surrounded by armed guards and barbed wire. As Seiko discovered, in order to leave, one had to fill out a Leave Clearance Application with impossible questions like questions 27 and 28; depending on one’s answers, one had to accept the possibility of fighting and killing family in Japan or admitting loyalty to Japan or even losing citizenship to any country at all. Saying “no” to any of these could also brand one as “disloyal.” Thus, despite their citizenship, Aki, Seiko, and others began to question not just their ethnic/national status but whether they wanted what was offered. Sylvia’s questioning of the July 4 celebrations is, therefore logical, given what both she and Aki experience. Aki herself doesn’t feel free until she leaves Poston at the end of the war, but that freedom is tainted both by her disillusionment and the devastating price of peace—the atomic bombs. After Poston, Hiroshima, and Nagasaki, what was once supposed to be a birthright may feel like a blood price instead.

In this way, Winifred Conkling explores the theme of freedom through its loss via segregation and incarceration, as well as the heavy price to regain it.

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