Name: Tokyo Michelle "Einstein" Johnson-Tanaka

Tokyo was her father’s idea. It was where her parents met. Her father was a tailor in the city and her mother was a pilot at the Yokota Airbase. At a party of mutual acquaintances, their eyes met from across the room and couldn’t stay off each other ever since. The words that they wanted to say to each other didn’t always exist in their tongues, but they could always find them in each other’s eyes. Pain. Doubt. Joy. And truth. It was how he knew long before she told him that she would eventually be leaving Tokyo. Her eyes showed how much it pained her to leave him and how reluctant she was to bring it up. On the night of her departure, she was nowhere in sight but he waited for her on the tarmac with a suitcase in one hand and a ring in the other. And as the engines started, she ran towards him from across the airfield with a surprise of her own. On the flight to their new home, he asked if they could name her Tokyo. It was his way of always having the city with them.

Michelle was her mother’s idea. Tokyo was born on January 25th, 2009 - days after the presidential inauguration. As her mother watched the First Lady return to the White House, she was enamored with the idea of having the same family that she saw on the television screen. Two daughters in pink and purple coats, and their mother fervently beside them. When she held Tokyo in her arms for the first time, she felt like that dream had started to come into fruition. She looked down and imagined all the wonderful things that Tokyo would do and all the colorful coats that she would put her in. And so, she named her Michelle.

Her last name was not one by choice. It’s a reminder of her family’s ancestry - one of suffering, resilience, and hope. Though her mother’s bloodline runs much deeper than the pages of American history, they start in the written records with Johnson. To her family, it’s a painful reminder of the monsters who share their last name - a lingering thread from the masters who withheld their body and spirit for centuries. But, to Tokyo, it was also a reminder of her grandmother who always told her how important being a Johnson was. After all, had it not been for Johnsons, we would have never made it to the moon.

Tanaka, on the other hand, was a connection to a world that she had never truly known. Her father did his best to show her the customs and traditions but they could never fully capture the culture that came with her last name. As she got older, one-by-one, she began to meet her relatives and cousins. In a lot of ways, they weren’t so different from her. They enjoyed the same food and shared similar clothing styles. But, when Tokyo would play with her cousins in particular, she began to notice one key difference between them - their hair. She liked their hair more. It was soft and shined against the light with a glossy reflection.

It didn’t bother Tokyo too much but it would come to mind on the Sunday nights before school when she and her mother would wash their hair. Her mother would sit her on the bathroom sink and start by breaking the tangles all the way to her nape. She would run a comb gently against her scalp and spray shampoo at the roots of her follicles. Tokyo could always see how excited her mother was to do creative things with her hair. On some nights, the parts above her eyes would be sectioned first into geometric shapes. And on others, her mother would make braids that fell to the sides of her head.

By the start of fourth grade, Tokyo wanted to wear her hair more naturally and let it fall from her head like her cousins. Her mother did her best to neatly comb and prepare it, but as she looked in the mirror and at the curls on the floor, it never quite looked the way she hoped it would.

On most school days, her mother would leave early for work and so her father would drive her to school. He would pack her backpack and paint her bento box in food from every color. He made sure that all the pencils in her pencil case were sharp. And that the erasers, highlighters, and safety scissors were all in their proper places. On some days, he would even leave a note for her to find later in the day.

During the drive, Tokyo would normally talk to her father or sing to the radio. But on one December morning, she was noticeably more quiet.

“Tokyo-chan, are you okay?”

“I’m just tired.”

“Hmm. Even when you’re tired, you still sing Fifth Harmony. What’s wrong?”

“I’m just thinking… about my hair.”

“What happened with your hair?”

“It’s just messy,” she sighed. “Like all the time.”

“Well, I like that about your hair. I think it’s beautiful. It’s your mother’s hair… And I like that it’s a little messy.”

A long silence filled the space between them. A silence familiar to most fathers that could only be filled with something wise or foolish.

“You know who actually had hair like yours?

“Who?”

“Albert Einstein.”

“Who’s that?”

“He was the smartest person in the world... All because of his hair.”

“Hair makes you smart?”

“Aye! You didn’t know that, Tokyo-chan? That’s why you’re going to be the smartest scientist doctor movie star.”

He could hear Tokyo’s laugh from the backseat and as he peered through the rearview mirror, he could see her smiling out the window.

“Hey… You know what we could do for your birthday this year? What if we did a science-themed birthday party with your fourth grade classmates. We could do some big fun experiments outside and have science-themed foods.

“That sounds fun!” she laughed. “And I could be Albert Einstein.”

“Of course… We can’t have a science party without Einstein.”

Tokyo didn’t know it yet, but her 8th birthday left a lasting impression on her. If you asked her now, she could probably tell you about the foam experiments and the beaker-shaped crockery. The slimey souvenirs that her friends took home and falling asleep that night in her lab coat. It was the beginning of her love for science and as the year went on, this would only continue to grow. She would go through science videos online and share them with her father on the trips to school. She would beg that their family vacations be spent at the museums and science centers. And most importantly, the name Einstein began to stick. In fact, it was how she introduced herself to her fifth grade teacher that Fall.

-

“Attention, fifth grade scholars. Can I have everyone’s eyes and ears please? This afternoon, we’re going to continue our Math lesson because we’re going to take a Science test tomorrow morning. We’re also going to move ELA from tomorrow morning to tomorrow afternoon and finish both days with Social Studies. The Science test will not be a grade. It’s a placement test for a new after-school program starting soon.”

Although it had only been a month into fifth grade, Einstein enjoyed being in Ms. Saromi’s class. Ms. Saromi was the first black teacher that Einstein ever had and she felt an inexplicable kinship with her. Ms. Saromi wore long colorful dresses that fell to her ankles and her hair in braids that reached her middle of her back. She spoke in a way that blended care and rigorousness, and she would often check on Einstein more often than any teacher she had before.

Ms. Saromi was aware of Einstein’s affinity for science. On the days that they did labs, Einstein would often be the first to ask when the next labs were. And during science lessons, Einstein would always drive the conversation in curious directions with something that she read or saw prior. She would veer lessons on the basics of weather to museum exhibits on El Nino and discussions on fossils to how scientists predicted the colors of dinosaurs. Although Ms. Saromi was seldom equipped to have these conversations, there was something about Einstein’s enthusiasm that she admired.

“Ms. Saromi, is there anything we can do to prepare for the test?”

“That’s a great question, Einstein. I think that it’s going to cover math, writing, and some basic skills for the program.”

That afternoon, Einstein asked her father if they could stop by the library to see what might be on the test. She found her way to the children’s section and as she sat in the aisle of books, she began to take them off the shelves. They were decorated with wild animals and distant planets, with questions that she enjoyed reading about like what each part of the brain did or why the Earth and the Moon both needed each other. But, she couldn’t find any of the things that Ms. Saromi mentioned. Hardly any of the books had math except for numbers and there were very few places in the books where you could write.

The next morning, her father packed her things. Her mother wished her luck. And when she arrived at Ms. Saromi’s room, a laptop sat ready on her desk.

“Good morning, fifth grade. You’re going to need your full name and birthday to login to the test. So, if anyone needs help with that information, I’ll be coming around.”

When the test began, Einstein saw places to enter her Date of Birth, First, Middle and Last Name. She first entered 01/25/2009. Then, Tokyo. Michelle. And Johnson-Tanaka. But as she looked at the screen, an odd feeling came over her - the kind of feeling you get when a familiar word looks misspelled or when you feel like a stranger in your own body.

It didn’t help that the test was nothing like she had ever seen before. There was math in the form of tables and charts, and writing in the form of paragraphs and texts. But it looked nothing like the science that she was used to. It didn’t have any of the wild animals or distant planets from those library books. The diagrams and displays didn’t amaze her like they did in the museums. And the experiments didn’t have the wonder that she was accustomed to seeing.

When the fifth grade class returned from lunch that day, students were instructed to find a quiet place to read independently. Einstein grabbed her book and found a spot by the door. Although the room was quiet, she could hardly focus on any of the pages in front of her. All she could think about was the test.

Eventually, someone stopped by the door and handed an envelope to Ms. Saromi.

“Ms. Saromi?” she whispered as she watched Ms. Saromi open the envelope. “Are those for the Science program?”

She hesitated, “They’re just the first few. Some students still need to make up the test.”

“But for the ones who took the test?”

She nodded. “Keep reading. I’ll start passing these out.”

Einstein did her best to focus, but would continue to look over at Ms. Saromi from time to time. And as each pass from the envelope was left on a different desk, the thought of not making it into the science program began to sink in.

“Alright, fifth grade readers, we’re going to shift into Social Studies now. Please finish your last page and update your DEAR logs. Then, take out a highlighter and your Social Studies books.”

All the students returned to their seats and some were met with passes to the science program. But as Einstein looked around and under her desk, she couldn’t find her pass.

“Ms. Saromi, did I not get into the Science program?”

“I’m sorry, Einstein.”

A guilt began to fill Ms. Saromi. She was at a loss for words and didn’t know if saying more would do more harm than saying nothing at all.

“You know what though?” she added. “I’m going to talk to the principal and see if there’s anything we can do.”

“But I didn’t pass the test,” Einstein replied.

“Maybe the test is just to figure out who might like the program and we already know you like Science. I’ll talk to the principal tomorrow and see if we can work on something. After all, how can we have a science program at our school without Einstein?”

Something about the name, Einstein, no longer sat well with her anymore. It was a name that she felt like she didn’t deserve. As she took out the highlighter from her pencil case for Social Studies, she found the note that her father must have left her from this morning.

Good luck, Einstein. You’re a superstar scientist doctor movie star!

Tears began to well in Einstein’s eyes. And when Ms. Saromi turned away, Einstein ran out to the bathroom with her safety scissors in hand. She bursted through the doors and stood in front of the sink. Her hair had covered the edges of her eyes and spread past the width of her shoulders. And as she looked at her frustration in the mirror, she raised the scissors to her head and began to cut away at her hair. Some of the curls fell down quickly. And others, she would gnaw at until they were severed off. Her hair continued to fall until her thumbs pained and could no longer press her scissors together anymore. The last breaths of anguish left her lungs and only a deep shame remained within her.

As she made her way back to the classroom through the empty hallways, the last pieces of her hair fell. She turned the corner and stood in the doorway of Ms. Saromi’s room as the eyes of everyone in the class shifted towards her. A sadness overwhelmed her and her eyes began to overflow onto the carpet floor.

“Alright everyone,” as Ms. Saromi ran to her desk. “Create a vocabulary list for this chapter. Put the words from Page 26 under your Do Now.”

Ms. Saromi grabbed the silk bonnet from her handbag and joined Einstein in the hallway.

“Would you like me to cover your hair?” she asked.

“Yes please,” Einstein said tearfully.

Ms. Saromi delicately placed her hair in and wrapped the ribbon around her eyes and forehead. Einstein kept the bonnet on for the remainder of the day and after her father picked her up, he brought her to the bathroom and sat her on the sink to take it off. He combed out her hair and did his best to even it out on both sides.

“Tokyo-chan,” he asked. “Did someone bully you?”

“No. I just wasn’t happy with my hair today.”

He nodded, and began to moisturize and roll her hair to her head. When he finished, Einstein went off to her room and pretended to sleep. Through the night, she could hear her mother downstairs and her mother’s footsteps walk towards her room, but she kept still to escape the shame of talking to her.

The next day, her mother took work off to take her to school. She found a spot around the corner of the school entrance and turned the car engine off.

“Are you okay, Einstein?” her mother asked.

“I don’t think I want to be called Einstein anymore.”

“Why’s that, baby?”

“I’m not smart enough.”

“Just because you didn’t get into the Science program doesn’t mean that you’re not smart, Tokyo Michelle. You are one of the brightest, most enthusiastic students at your school. And I know it. Your father knows it. And Ms. Saromi, who called yesterday, knows it.”

A long silence filled the space between them. A silence familiar to most mothers that could only be filled with something wise or foolish.

“You know, sweetie, the funny thing about Einstein… is that most of the things he said, no one believed. And most of the things he thought, no one could comprehend. And I bet that if he didn’t do well on that same test you took, he wouldn’t have let that stop him either… And that’s what makes you a real Einstein, Tokyo Michelle. Because if you want to do Science, no test should convince you otherwise.”

“Thanks, mom.” as she gave a slight smile.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.”

She made her way through the hallways and greeted Ms. Saromi as she arrived at her room. And when she looked at her desk, she saw it - a pass to the science program with her name on it. 

Tokyo Johnson-Tanaka, please meet Dr. Jackson in the auditorium during lunch today for an orientation to the after-school program.

“Greetings, young scientists! It’s great to meet you all. I’m Dr. Jackson, the coordinator for the after-school Science program. We’re just going to get started with a quick attendance check. And when I call your name, let me know if you have a nickname or another name that you prefer.”

As she sat there in front of Dr. Jackson, she wondered what she would say. She thought about her mother and her father. About Ms. Saromi, her cousins, and her grandmother. And everything that had happened in the last few days and year.

“Tokyo?” Dr. Jackson asked. “Tokyo Johnson?”

She raised her hand.

“Hi, Tokyo. It’s great to meet you... Is Tokyo what you like to go by?”

She smiled at Dr. Jackson, uncertain of what she was supposed to say but more certain of who she was now. She was Tokyo Michelle “Einstein” Johnson-Tanaka, and she was the parts that she was proud of and the parts that she was still growing to love, all living harmoniously within her.