I am a dog
I live in a kennel
I walk around on leash
I sense hatred of my supervisors
I smell the lost love in this camp
I bond with people I have never known in my life
I worked before the clock struck and declared my time up as a “draft exempt farmer”
I thrived in my life before my leash was put on
I thought I had it all, until Maruju Inoshita was taken away
I felt like a domino, where whence I would fall after so many had before. After my father was whisked away.
I turned naught the other cheek, I turned not the other side. I remained man’s best friend—America’s best friend.
I volunteered to work military intelligence, and felt both the forward luck and backward—my family felt the pain in which I instigated.
I left the kennel to work in the army against the Japanese, but was still considered a threat. I will never bite unless pushed into a corner. So why am I thought to have the venom?
I absorbed that poison, and used it. I absorbed those bites, even though I was pushed into a corner.
I hardened with anger, but softened at the thought of release.
I believe “incarcerating our family during the war was wrong, but it opened up opportunities for all of us in all parts of this country.”
I know what goes around comes around. They forced us all into a corner. Many died trying to live, many lived because they died. For “those of us who were alive in 1988 received an apology letter and a reparations payment of twenty thousand dollars.”
I exercised my bite. I used my education to show the leash, to show the watchers, and to show myself that I was more than their illusions of betrayal. I showed them I am more than just a dog.
I am Mas Inoshita, Family #8574 Camp: Gila River, AZ Address: 45-8-5