Chased and called Jap in Detroit.

Joyce Fidler,
Toluca Lake, CA.

In 1956 I was in first grade, my mother was Japanese-Hawaiian, and I knew nothing about WWII.
I didn’t realize my mother was part Japanese, nor did I know why anyone should care.
Years later in high school I failed to grasp why students on my Indianapolis school bus would want to go downtown to, “yell at the N*****.” “Yell what?” I asked. I just never understood racism.