Tsuru means crane in Japanese.

Photo by: Alysha Kawamoto

Transforming Trauma into Action: Tsuru for Solidarity’s Mission to End Detention

Mike Ishii, the co-founder of Tsuru for Solidarity spoke with Kimberly Swetland from the Weekly Volcano. This is part of the narrative from Mike Ishii that was collected during that interview.

March 19, 2024

“Tsuru for Solidarity is a predominantly Japanese American organization that formed in 2019 as a result of the increasing targeting of immigrant families and children. “Particularly the zero-tolerance policy of the Trump Administration sort of was the last straw. It had actually begun under Obama – these large tent-like massive detention centers. One of our members is Carl Takei, and at that time he was working for the ACLU, and he was working in immigration. In 2016, the Obama Administration had invited the ACLU to come down to Karnes, which was their new congregate tent-facility that would really lean into both the Trump Administration and the Obama Administration.

“You saw those pictures in 2018 of children standing in line outside. Those were in Texas. The detention facilities were built like giant tents – circus tents almost – out in the middle of nowhere. The first one was Karnes. The Obama Administration wanted to show it off. They felt proud of it.

“And Carl went there, and they were giving a tour and they showed him into this large room and they opened up the doors and there were thousands of pairs of infant and toddler shoes.

“And he realized, ‘Oh God, this is going to be like a concentration camp for children.’

“And his family was incarcerated just like mine during World War II and so as a community we are acutely aware of what a concentration camp is, and so he raised the red flag. He brought Dr. Satsuki Ina – he called her up. She was born in the Tule Lake Segregation Center.

“Tule Lake was one of the ten large Concentration camps for Japanese Americans during World War II. They fractured our community by creating questionnaires that would split people on questions about loyalty and one was – Do you forswear allegiance to the Emperor of Japan? Well, for people like our immigrant grandparents, who were denied naturalization here – they couldn’t become citizens. They’d been here sometimes for like 40 or 50 years and they couldn’t become citizens and so they were asking them to give up their only citizenship. That would make them stateless people with no rights, and so that’s a bind.

“Other people said – ‘Oh if I answer that I’m willing to forswear allegiance, does that mean I have allegiance?’ So, they felt like it was a trick question. So that was one of the questions that was very controversial. And another one was – Will you serve in the Armed Forces of the United States? And, what a question to ask people that you’ve thrown into a concentration camp. So, people said – ‘If you release me I’ll serve,’ or ‘If you let my parents go I will serve, or ‘End this concentration camp and I will serve.’ It didn’t matter if you offered a qualified answer – it was either yes or no, so a qualified answer was counted as no. Anybody who answered no to those questions was then removed from other camps and taken to Tule Lake – that was upgraded to a maximum security segregation center. It was worse than the other concentration camps – more barbed wire, more guard towers, more soldiers, more machine guns and tanks pointed inwards. And inside of that concentration camp [there was a place] called the stockade – it was basically a jail within the concentration camp. And the government labeled everyone that was brought to the camp as disloyal – a threat to national security. These are families, right? And once they’re inside there, they start targeting and culling them. And if you spoke out and said this is wrong or if you attended meetings about ‘why are they doing this to us?’ – you got rounded up. So, there were over 100 men that were taken into the stockade jail. It was only built to hold about 20 people. It was just jammed, just jammed full of men. And they were held there for a long time, often beaten, tortured, and at some point, they finally resisted because they were being fed one spoon of rice per day.

“Kyoko Oda is a survivor; she was born there – her father kept a diary. He was a Judo Sensei, Tatsuo Inouye – and he was a very spiritually revered leader of the community. He was an internally cultivated person. He was an artist. He kept a diary – and in his diary he decides ‘they’re starving us to death, so we are going to refuse to cooperate with them and he led a hunger strike.’ And they beat him with baseball bats. There are so many stories like that from Tule Lake and from the other camps as well, but Tule Lake in particular there was incredible violence. If you saw the pictures here – we rearranged the camp today – there are posters that show Japanese American men being dragged by soldiers because they’re going to be beaten and tortured – those are from Tule Lake.

“And the reason we bring up Tule Lake here is because there are parallels to this site. We understand why people go on hunger strikes. The Tule Lake community in particular can speak with moral authority about this because they’ve lived that experience.

“When people attempt suicide and go on hunger strikes it’s because you’ve tried to strip them of their humanity. You’ve tried to take away their dignity. You’ve given them no other option to assert their humanity than these choices.

“And if you stop to think – why would you do that? It’s because someone feels they have no recourse at this point. People inside have families. They’ve been separated from their family. They’ve been exposed to toxins and starved and beaten. They’ve been exposed to chemical agents. It’s unbelievable the level of violence that people are experiencing inside. And my community experienced similar treatment during WW2. So, the long answer to your question – why we’re here – is because during WW2 in 1942 when they disappeared us from our jobs, our homes, our schools, our farms, our communities – nobody came to the fences. There were very few people. No one organized protests. There was no La Resistencia. La Resistencia are the allies that we wish we had at that time.  Maru and the other leaders of La Resistencia are showing up the way that everyone needs to show up when violence happens, and people are targeted. There’s an intersectional history in this country targeting immigrant, indigenous and communities of color – and it’s forced removals, separation of families, deportations, stealing of children, and State violence. It happens over and over again to every community.

“And in this day, they are using former Japanese American concentration camps for detainees. In fact, often, for children. Tsuru for Solidarity is one of the national leaders fighting the detention of unaccompanied migrant children. Under the Trump Administration that came to light. We were sort of thrust into the spotlight because of that issue – we started as a protest group. The three of us said ‘Look what they’re doing, we can’t let them do that,’ and so we took people to Texas to the Dilley Family Detention Center as part of a Japanese American pilgrimage back to Crystal City which was a concentration camp for our people in Texas during WW2. Dilley is just 40 miles down the same highway. So, we went there – 50 of us, and we protested at the fences because we wanted the families inside to understand that we were going to fight for them. We’re going to be the allies that we needed during WW2. And we folded the cranes – the Tsuru, because it’s a creature of transformation. And in our tradition if you fold a thousand of them your wish will come true. So, we put out a call to our community and we said we’re going to Dilley and we want you to fold cranes and our tradition is to hang them.

“And we said – we want you to fold ten thousand to hang on the fences so that people can see them and know that we are here and we’re going to fight for you. In East Asian culture ten thousand meant an infinite number. The ten thousand things meant more than you can count. And so, we said bring ten thousand. In maybe two weeks they folded thirty thousand. And they sent them to Texas to our partner in grassroots leadership who were inundated – and when they met us, they drove up in vans full of boxes. There were cranes from all over the United States that our people had folded. And often families did it together, children, schools, temples, community centers – and beautifully folded. And then – there were messages written on the wings, like prayers or messages of faith for people. And so, you can think of the Tsuru as a talisman. It’s a container – it contains what we refer to as kimochi. Kimochi is like feeling of community, belonging, or care. Kimochi was folded into the wings of the Tsuru and they become vessels of the ki – the energy of transformation and healing and love of our community. Wherever we go we bring the Tsuru and we hang them on the fences at the sites. Often, there will be many here. We never leave them, because they’re sacred objects. So, we don’t leave them for ICE to tear down, throw away, or stomp on.

“We are a national organization, and our members are all across the United States, some in Canada and even Japan. Our staff is also spread out across the U.S. and some of us are from New York and so we came here to support the work. The local Tsuru people here are also deeply in partnership with La Resistencia – so we’re just all working together.”

Tsuru has four national campaigns. Their first campaign is their largest – it is their original campaign and that is to end the detention of children and families. “Our second campaign quickly evolved because we got involved here with La Resistencia – that fights adult detention and police and prisons. And that’s how we got involved with La Resistencia here. Our third campaign is supporting Black-led efforts for reparations. We are one of two existing groups that have received reparation payments from the U.S. Government. I personally don’t feel it was enough. The trauma and the wounds of that experience are multi-generational for us. We’re still trying to heal from the fractures and the trauma – and part of our work to do that is to show up. One of the things that we had not anticipated in showing up to stand side by side with people fighting detention is it’s been a very powerful way for our people to sort of transform the ending of that story.

“We’re one of two groups that have received reparations – the others were white slavers, who received reparations during reconstruction. We would not have accomplished the passage of HR 442 in 1988 without the support of a cross-community coalition. It’s important for us to show up. Like for instance they haven’t been able to get a commission bill passed – that’s how we got ours passed. They can’t even get a commission to study it at the federal level. It’s been like over thirty years, and they can’t get it out of the committee.  The racism to keep that bill from passing just to create a study commission is just unbelievable, right? It’s just a demonstration of the deep racism in our institutions. The lack of will to actually repair the hard stuff.

“The use of people here – profiting off of their bodies that are being held hostage. They’re making massive amounts of money, and that’s why they don’t want to release people – because every day they’re here they’re getting money, and they justify the contracts because they get a certain amount of beds per day anyway even if they’re not filled so it’s all a racket.

“There needs to be moral leadership over this issue. This country is headed into an abyss of darkness and violence, and someone must stand up and do the right thing. Right now, both parties are willing to execute incredible violence upon communities of color and the most vulnerable people in society who often have the least ability to speak out for themselves and to protect themselves.

“Where’s the outreach? There should be thousands of people down here at the gate saying ‘We don’t want this, close it down.’ They should have done that at Auschwitz too. They should have done it at Manzanar or Tule Lake as well. But that’s why we’re here – someone has to say no. We have to do better.

“We’re trying to wake people up to look with eyes wide open and face the unbearable feelings they have to feel if they decide to come here and take stock of what’s happening – because it’s happening on their watch.

“This country encourages people to consume and shop and numb themselves rather than face reality of violence. And what we’re witnessing is violence in different forms – physical, psychological, emotional, spiritual, economic, sexual violence – all the time. And then we’re supposed to numb ourselves. And so, that’s what people do. It’s a lot of work to politically educate people to wake themselves up. And when they do, they’re really angry and upset but also prone to manipulation if they don’t have the correct political education.

“In social change there are windows that open and close – opportunities. John D’Emilio the famous gay activist writer wrote, “change comes in leaps and creeps.” So, you have incredibly repressive moments when nothing seems like it’s changing, and then all the sudden there’s an opening – a window opens, and you leap through in that moment, and you take advantage, and you try to transform everything you can. That was Occupy, that was Standing Rock, that was December of 2020, and those windows don’t stay open. In an oppressive society, forces try to crush them down, and to quell any sense of solidarity, or outrage. And so, people go back to sleep. They get lulled back into their sort of drowsiness or numbness. And it’s our work then during the creeping period to assess, to plan, to educate and to build base, so that when the next opportunity arises, we can take advantage of it. That’s community organizing. That’s what we do. It’s hard work. It’s knuckle-breaking. I have a deep love for organizing.”

Mike has been with Tsuru for 5 years, but he’s been a community organizer since he was a child. He grew up in SeaTac. His parents worked at the St. Martin De Porres Center on the waterfront in Seattle as advocates for houseless, homeless senior citizen men. And they just devoted their lives to that.

 “And my oldest brother, at one point ran three homeless shelters in Kent, and this is all volunteer work. It’s just kind of the advocation of the family. But I was an anti-war activist, I was in Greenpeace when I was 10 years old when it first started. And that was how I got involved. And you start as an activist but then you become an organizer. You start to understand the importance of relationship building for change, and not just protesting but actually trying to organize people – to empower communities for change.

“My mother and her entire family were incarcerated at Puyallup during WW2. As I told you, I grew up in SeaTac and my whole family is from Seattle on both sides. The Puyallup Assembly Center located on the Puyallup fairgrounds was euphemistically called Camp Harmony and my mother was there as a child. So, this has a very personal meaning for me – to show up here. It’s so close to where she was incarcerated. And she suffered her whole life for it. In fact, we still carry the trauma in our family. So, when we show up whether it’s Dilley or Fort Sill in Oklahoma and when we shut them down and stop them from bringing 1600 children in, or the Berks County Detention Center in Pennsylvania that we helped close or NWDC which we intend to close, I’m showing up for my mom. When I come here, she is always with me. And I call my ancestors – when I go to the fences, I’m thinking – my whole family is with me.

You can follow Tsuru for Solidarity on IG: @tsuruforsolidarity

The organization’s website is: https://tsuruforsolidarity.org/