Monkey Suit

           As a third-generation Japanese Canadian, Jayne was one of the younger members of the Nikkei Cultural Association in southern Alberta. Since she had some facility with technology, she had volunteered to be secretary and took the minutes for the meetings on her laptop. The main project of the organization was to collect, collate and edit personal and family histories for publication in a large book, to preserve the history of Japanese Canadians in southern Alberta. They had a unique history in Canada, which some scholars called one of the worst stories of racism in Canada, perhaps next to the atrocities committed on indigenous people through residential schools and land grabs. 

           Hundreds of Japanese people, particularly men, came to Canada in the early 1900’s--as well as to Hawaii and the United States--to seek their fortunes in what were considered countries of vast opportunity. They had big dreams, and were expected by family members to come back to Japan “clothed in gold.”  Contractors capitalized on the conditions of famine and overpopulation that limited opportunities for advancement in Japan at the time.  They would visit remote villages and present an enticing plan. Men could sign up to cross the immense ocean waters, with the promise of housing and jobs in the new country. What they didn’t know at the time was that this actually turned out to mean living in crowded boarding houses and working long hours, doing dangerous work in mines, logging camps, and the fishing industry in Canada. 

Most often, these men did not earn enough money to go back to Japan, and instead decided to send for a “picture bride” so that they could marry in Canada and settle down and raise families. Young women in Japan, who also had unrealistic views about opportunities in the new world, would be shown letters with photos of prospective husbands. They would eagerly respond with pictures of themselves, each one hopeful that the man would decide to choose her for a wife, to come to Canada and get married. More often than not, the man had depicted himself as a successful businessman, by renting a Western-styled suit and having a formal portrait taken at a studio. The women’s expectations were surely high, and after their rough voyage of many weeks over the Pacific Ocean, they might have been disappointed by what awaited them. They typically expected much more lavish and prosperous conditions than what they encountered. However, many Japanese families started this way in Canada.

           After the business of the history book was completed, the organization continued to exist, as a contact point about anything that pertained to the Japanese community. At one meeting, a request came from the Sir Alexander Galt Museum in Lethbridge.  They were seeking a volunteer from one of the members to become the “guest curator,” a cultural expert, to assist the museum to mount an exhibition about Japanese Canadians in Southern Alberta. Jayne was an academic, and she felt that she could contribute in this way, so she volunteered. This project brought with it wonderful new experiences, but also brought back many memories from her own past, some she would rather not remember.

           Jayne had a series of meetings and discussions with the official curator of the museum, to help him understand facts about the Japanese culture, and the experience of Japanese Canadians who had been removed from the west coast of Canada during the Second World War. These people had had their lives completely disrupted. The government had considered them as potential spies for their home country, and had invoked the War Measures Act, after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor in 1941. Whether they were Canadian-born or not, they were required to move hundreds of miles inland, over the Cascade Mountains. Over two thousand people—men, women, and children grouped in families—went to work on sugar beet farms in southern Alberta. Each adult was allowed only a hundred and fifty pounds of luggage to start their new lives. Young people had their educational plans terminated, and older people had their businesses and property taken from them.

           The museum creator decided to tell the story of Japanese Canadians, beginning from first immigration in the 1900’s, through the decades, to southern Alberta and present-day integration, in which Japanese people were being called a “model minority.” 

There were many different ways to demonstrate these events, including the construction of a full-sized railway platform, where the Japanese people would have disembarked after their train trip over the mountains. Then a traditional bathhouse typified the Japanese penchant for hot, steamy baths at the end of a hard workday. A replica of a “beet shack” showed the rustic dwellings provided for the farmworkers. Photographs and artifacts were gleaned from various sources, some from the museum collections, but the curator also asked Jayne for representative personal photographs and articles, which would demonstrate how her family had, in fact, lived lives similar to other Canadians of different ethnic groups.

           On the periphery of all the preparation, Jayne did not see, or hear about, all the exhibit items beforehand, but once everything was completed, she was allowed to take her first tour, before the public began visiting. So, she was alone when she followed along the dimly lit, winding pathways created for the storyline in the museum’s huge space.  Jayne marvelled at the way historic events had been represented, as a result of her discussions with the curator. Seemingly dry, forgotten history had been brought back to life. She became teary-eyed when she saw her mother’s white satin wedding dress on display. It had been preserved for over 50 years, and was now hanging on a mannequin and lit up by a spotlight, accompanied by her parents’ black-and-white wedding photo from 1947.

Deep in thought, realizing that it was the events of the war that had brought her parents together in Alberta, Jayne rounded a corner and was suddenly confronted with a life-sized full-colour cut-out of herself in her high school graduation gown.  Taken completely by surprise, she beheld her teen-aged self, hair piled high on her head, with ringlets framing her smiling face.  At seeing her image in the brightly-coloured formal gown, her mind immediately flew back to that time in her life--thirty-five years earlier--and the curious series of events that led up to that photo being taken. It actually made for an interesting story that wasn’t portrayed in the museum, but was certainly clear in Jayne’s memory.

Back then, Jayne had been dating Les, a fellow of Japanese extraction who had graduated the year before her, from a different high school in their small city. When it came time for her Grade 12 graduation prom, she thought it was natural that she would invite him to be her escort. Somewhat to her surprise, he said no, stating that he didn’t like such events, because he didn’t like having to “wear a monkey suit.” Jayne accepted this excuse as a kind of eccentricity, but as the date loomed, less than a month away, she wondered whether she would be going alone. Jayne had carefully planned for the event for months, as a culmination of her entire school career. She had purchased a length of bright pink floral material in soft cotton weave, on a recent family trip to the U.S. The sheer fabric required a pink underlay, and she had sewn a long gown with an “empire waist,” to be worn with dyed pink satin shoes, rose-coloured elbow length gloves, and matching evening bag.

           Through sheer luck, a few weeks before the prom, Jayne’s family was visiting her relatives who lived on the other side of the city, and her cousin—a year older than she—asked her if she wanted to take a ride in his newly acquired used car. They had always been friendly, sharing an interest in music, and she happily went with him, for a ride to a drive-in restaurant for a cold drink on a warm spring day. As they sat chatting, a knock came on the car window on her side. It was already rolled halfway down, and a handsome young man leaned in and asked if he might join them. He attended the same school as her cousin and introduced himself to Jayne as “Ken.” She knew him vaguely from the Japanese Canadian community, having worked with his sister the previous summer for a farmer, picking beans. She had also seen him at a church picnic, and at a theatre production in which his sister had had a starring role.  However, she had never actually met him.

Ken slid onto the car seat beside Jayne, and she shifted over to make room. He made casual conversation for a bit and then quite suddenly asked her if she would accompany him to his high school graduation dance coming up the next weekend. It came “out of the blue,” and Jayne hardly knew him, but she readily agreed. There was only one condition: only if Ken would take her to hers just a week afterward. The deal was sealed. He took Jayne’s phone number and promised to get in touch about arrangements.

           Once the plan was in place, Jayne immediately wondered what she would wear. She didn’t have the time or money to purchase another dressy outfit, and she didn’t want to wear the one she had prepared for her own special event. She consulted her best friend, who said Jayne could borrow one of her dresses. Although she wasn’t in the habit of borrowing clothes from friends, Jayne welcomed the offer, and when she tried one on, she was surprised that it fit perfectly. It was a style that she would never have picked out for herself, a white dress with narrow straps and silver threads sparkling throughout. It even had a scarf that came over her shoulders and hung down in front. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Jayne thought that it would do just fine for the occasion, and she could save her formal dress for the following week. On the day of the dance, Jayne drove over to her friend’s house and had her hair done in ringlets and a shiny barrette, completing the outfit with white shoes and a silver purse that she had, to match. 

           That evening, Ken picked her up, apologetically referring to his father’s old brown, clunky, station wagon as, “an outhouse on wheels.” But she felt comfortable enough, and they soon arrived at the school auditorium, which was gaily decorated for the occasion. Since it was a different high school from hers, Jayne didn’t know anyone there and felt a little out of place. The boys were all dressed up in suits or sports jackets, and although her dress was “dressy,” she noticed with dismay that all the other girls were in long gowns, while hers was only knee-length. There was, at that point, nothing she could do, but carry on. When they all lined up for the “grand march,” however, Jayne was completely shocked when she viewed the couple heading up the line. It was none other than her boyfriend, Les, with an attractive young woman on his arm, and of course, he was wearing a “monkey suit”!

           They avoided eye contact for the remainder of the evening, and the following weekend it was Jayne’s turn to be in the front row of the grand march, but this time at her own high school graduation, since she was on the student council there. Proudly wearing her bright pink, floor-length gown, she and Ken had their picture taken–the one that would later be turned into a full-sized cardboard statue of her--with her smiling from ear-to-ear.

After the graduation activities, Ken drifted out of the picture and somehow Jayne and Les repaired their relationship. He explained that he had been coerced into attending the event by schoolmates, since the female president of the student council did not have a date, and could not attend without one. To add insult to injury, her name was also Jane. But plain “Jane.” No flourish there! 

Upon reflection many years later, Jayne realized that she must be a very forgiving person because she married Les three years later. Ironically, in his career, he became a bank manager, and of course, wore a monkey suit to work every day.