This is a book about Japanese-American incarceration camps, told in 14 (!) different teen perspectives, from 1942-1945. 14 different perspectives sounds overwhelming, but they're all in the same loose group of friends (and siblings) who were living in Japantown in San Francisco before their forced removal. It's also told completely chronologically, so each perspective hands off to the next, which makes it easy to follow (even if I did keep track of some characters better than others). This group is a kind of found family, made up of boys and girls, different ages, and very different perspectives. There's the scrappy kid sister who wants to tag along to everything, the shy younger brother who sits in a corner and draws, the model citizen older brother trying to keep everyone in line--and always-looking-for-a-fight Frankie, optimistic and lofty Bette, and more. Each chapter has its own arc, while the story as a whole is more of an exploration of Japanese-American incarceration camps.
Note: I'm going to discuss some of the broad events of the book, which is history, and not a spoiler. I'm not spoiling any of the particular plot points or anything that happens to a particular character.
This book made me realize how little I know about this period of history. I read A Child in Prison Camp by Shizuye Takashima as a kid, which is about Japanese-Canadian incarceration camps--and yes, it happened in Canada, too, and Japanese-Canadians weren’t all free to be on the BC coast until 1949, which is years after the US stopped! That book left a big impression on me as a kid, but I didn't follow it up as an adult. We are Not Free really shows how recent this was, and what a huge impact it had. Chee weaves in details from her own family's history, and she explains in the afterword how personal this story is.
One of the strengths of this book is the chilling details: "storm-colored flowers rising from the rooftops, dispersing ash like seeds on the wind" as people in Japantown burn anything that might make them appear to be "loyal" to Japan, including family heirlooms. A group of Chinese-Americans wearing "I am Chinese" pins so they would stop getting targeted for harassment. A uniformed First World War veteran being arrested. Japanese-Americans having to sell everything they couldn't fit into a suitcase or two, with bargain hunters crowing about buying an entire life's work for almost nothing, including whole businesses, equipment and all. The humiliation and trauma of that alone.
I realized that I was more familiar with the temporary detention centers converted from horse stalls, where they lived for weeks. I didn't grasp the huge time span of living in the incarceration camps (where they were then sent) for years. The feeling is surreal: they go to school and even have school dances, all while surrounded by barbed wire fences and guards. In some moments, it almost seems normal--but it never is. It's an imitation of a home, with shoddy infrastructure, no running water, food shortages, and humiliation and harassment (and possible murder) by guards.
Each narrator deals with this their own way. They are all teenagers, or barely out of their teens, and we see them rebelling against their parents, experimenting with their identities, and having teen romances. But they also are struggling with how to survive and retain their humanity while imprisoned. There are no good answers, only choices. Shig struggles with the concept of "gaman." Mas tries to be perfect, making him brittle. Amy wants to rebel from who she was before. Bette imagines herself as a (white) celebrity. Frankie wants to fist-fight the world and tear everything down. Kiyoshi, already traumatized, is frozen in fear.
One choice they all have to make is their answer to the "loyalty questionnaire," which forces Japanese-Americans in incarceration camps to answer yes or no to renouncing their loyalty to the emperor (which assumes they have that allegiance), pledge allegiance to the U.S., and agree to serve if conscripted. Their community is divided into Yes-Yeses and No-Nos: some still loyal to the U.S., some loyal to Japan, and most caught between--angry at their treatment and not wanting to fight in U.S. wars, but also wanting to stay. The older boys also have to decide whether to volunteer to go into battle for a country who has wrongfully imprisoned them and "prove" their loyalty, also hoping to end the war keeping their families and communities imprisoned.
Even after they are "free," they have to deal with a country just as--if not more--racist towards them than before they were imprisoned, and fighting to start over. Their communities and even families are scattered--some able to leave the camps earlier by pledging their allegiance to the U.S., some fighting overseas, some in high-security camps, some repatriated.
As much as this is historical fiction, Chee points out in the afterword that much of it is still relevant today. Not just in the legacy of these incarceration camps, but in similar policies being enacted right now. (Like the detention camps at the U.S. border.) I was also struck by the white apathy and fragility we see. (There are also moments in the book where we see how Black soldiers are treated, and the ongoing segregation in the "free" U.S.) Guards exercise power and violence with impunity, terrorizing innocent people or protesters in the camps--another image that felt eerily familiar.
This was an educational and chilling read, skillfully told. I highly, highly recommend it, and it belongs in every high school library.