Joni Nakayama Kimoto-Reeves is a proud Sansei–a third generation Japanese-American. Seeking opportunities for a better life, her ancestors immigrated from Okayama, Japan, to Portland nearly 120 years ago.
“Japan was going through a lot of political changes. There was some drought going on. So they heard about this wonderful place in Oregon, and they worked in the lumber mills, the forest industries, and they cut trees and they made railroad ties,” Kimoto said.
At the time, the Pacific Northwest was building connections–and also railroads. The Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, which banned immigration of Chinese laborers, made it possible for Japanese immigrants, such as Kimoto’s great-grandfather, to find work. He earned enough money to send for his wife and their two daughters to join him in Oregon in the early 1900s.
“It was wonderful for my great-grandmother to come over, because at that time, my understanding is women could not just come over unless they were picture brides or had been previously married,” Kimoto said.
Reunited, the pair opened a hotel called The Mikado, or “Emperor of Greatness” in Nihonmachi, or “Japantown.” The hotel housed Japanese immigrants flooding into Portland when there were no homes to accommodate them.
“Nihonmachi provided homes to all of these newly arriving immigrants,” Kimoto said. “This was a hub for all new people coming from Japan. It was a place where people felt safe after they landed here.”
As an entrepreneurial family, they all worked: Kimoto’s great-grandfather, great-grandmother, grandmother and great-aunt. They even lived at the hotel. Later, they expanded their services for Japanese immigrants, offering laundry service, a bathhouse in the basement and opening a restaurant.
The Mikado became a vibrant home for Japanese immigrants in a district of 4,000 people. In the process, the hotel became part of Kimoto’s family lineage. Kimoto’s mother was born in The Mikado by midwife, along with her three siblings.
“The Japanese were not allowed to move out of their district,” Kimoto said. “There was a lot of racism going on. They couldn’t even apply for citizenship.”
Her mother, Keo Inoue, and father, Cats Nakayama, were married in 1937 in Nihonmachi in Portland. Since they were American-born citizens, Kimoto’s grandparents were able to move out of Nihonmachi with their parents and purchase a home together.
The family started a grocery store in Southeast Portland. With the family moving in many directions, The Mikado was turned into a pool hall and a hotel.
Kimoto was born Nov. 19, 1938, at Portland’s Emmanuel Hospital. She was just 3 ½ years old when World War II broke out, launching a nationwide wave of anti-Japanese sentiment. Kimoto was so young that she remembers little of the family’s displacement–only that her family lost “everything” and had to move.
“I remember nothing,” she confessed. “My memories are just snippets of things and especially, there were stories that my mother and father would tell me.”
The morning of December 7, 1941, when Pearl Harbor was bombed by Japan, Kimoto’s grandparents, mother, father and uncle were sitting at the table having breakfast. The radio news sent them into a state of shock.
“They were concerned about what was happening,” said Kimoto. “My grandfather and grandmother had family in Japan and America. Being at war with Japan was very terrifying for them, but they didn’t know immediately what would happen to them.”
Shortly after, President Franklin Rooseveelt signed the Alien Enemies Act, allowing the government to forcibly relocate and incarcerate Japanese Americans into internment camps.
“(My father) went to the government, our city government, with some other businessmen, pleading for their friends who were whisked away to these ‘justice sites’,” Kimoto said. “Little did he know that we would soon have to go, but orders had been issued almost daily to the Japanese American community.”
But the bias against Japanese-Americans predated the bombing at Pearl Harbor, Kimoto said. “It’s because we look different,” she said. “It was racial profiling. We were considered the ‘yellow peril.’ ”
When Kimoto’s family was told they would be incarcerated, they were given 10 days to give their life away: get rid of their house, business, and all personal belongings. They could only take what they could carry to the Portland Detention Center, which previously had held livestock.
“So they herded us there like cattle,” says Kimoto. “When we were there, they gave us tags to identify us.”
Kimoto has only a few of her family’s belongings from that time, saved by white family friends in the area who kept a few trunks safe. A silk purple Kimono top, which belonged to her great-grandmother, is one of those items. Now, she only wears it for special occasions.
The first summer they were at the Portland Assembly Center, the heat was so intense that people were fainting. The authorities sprayed down the building with water that seeped through the walls and plywood floor. Beneath the floors were animal waste and dirt, which attracted thousands of flies. Later the area was sprayed with insecticide, making it even more difficult to breathe.
“They hung thousands of (pieces of) fly paper on the rafters of the building, and that’s what I remember–all the fly papers were hanging from the top,” Kimoto said. “I would remember looking up at the ceiling and seeing the yellow turn black within just seconds from all the flights. So that was an awful experience, that kind of environment.”
Then they were transported to Minidoka internment camp in Idaho, where they lived for 2 1/2 years. Still, Kimoto remained positive, “a pretty happy little girl.” As a child, she noted, “You don’t know the hardships your parents are going through. You don’t know anything better than standing in line to go eat, to use the bathrooms, to take cold showers. You just accept it.”
Before the war ended, Kimoto’s father studied to be an electrician in the camp’s library and was offered a job as an electrician. That’s what ultimately got them out.
They moved to Chicago, where Kimoto faced racism and bullying in grade school. Kids blasted her with racial slurs, chased her, threw rocks, and one girl even bit her. Her parents, realizing the anguish she was experiencing, sent her to live with her great-aunt and uncle in Netarts, Oregon.
At the end of grade school, Kimoto’s parents picked her up and they returned to Nihonmachi, in Portland. She went to Gregory Heights and later Grant High School.
Kimoto had a group of Japanese-American friends and was active in different groups in school. After high school, she enrolled at Multnomah Junior College, but her real dream was to attend the University of Oregon.
One of her professors at Multnomah Junior College assigned her to interview her parents about their experience at the Portland Detention Center. She researched propaganda, news articles and other documents. Her professor asked her to present her paper at a Black church, and she instantly felt a connection.
“I had no idea that my words would be a connection to others,” says Kimoto. “It was such a perfect time, because all of a sudden I’m aware of what’s going on in our world.”
She fell in love with another Japanese-American, Jim Kimoto, and was married in 1959, living for a short while in Hawaii. Although she he never finished college, Kimoto has worked many jobs, including investigative work, engineering, tax preparation, all while raising two daughters.
Jim Kimoto died in 2012. They were married for 50 years and had seven grandchildren: four great granddaughters and three great grandsons. Over the years, the couple made three trips to Japan.
Five years later, she married a man named Rod Reeves. Inspired by Reeves’ volunteer work, she began speaking about Japanese-American history in the U.S.
“I got engaged in activism at that time,” she said. “We were in our 70s, and we were out marching against the racism that was happening in our city, for women’s rights.”
Kimoto’s mission is still to lift others up from marginalized groups. She continues to volunteer for the Japanese-American Museum of Oregon and recounts her family’s stories.