West-coast Japanese Americans were seen as the enemy and incarcerated in “relocation centers” = “concentration camps” after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor in 1941. When my parents met and were married after World War II, they, like many of their Japanese American peers focused on being seen as ALL AMERICAN; when they had kids, our names reflected this desire: Joyce Lynn, Susan Jean, John Douglass, Sheila Jan Okamoto. (More about this in future posts.)

When I married Tom Lane, it didn’t occur to me that I could/would do anything other than take my husband’s last name, so I became Susan Jean Lane. For years after, when I saw my full name, I wondered, “Who is that?”. It felt like an important part of me had been erased.

I contemplated changing my name, practicing writing out different versions, and began informally going by Susan Okamoto Lane, but there’s a big difference between informal usage and legally changing one’s name (even just one’s middle name!).

**Daunting**

Think about the myriad of cards you might have in your wallet: Driver’s License, school or work ID, Social Security card, charge cards, library card, medical insurance, PLUS changing one’s name with your employer/school and all your medical providers (I have a lot!).

Finally as a gift to myself for my 60th birthday (see title of previous post), I gave myself a legal name change: Susan Okamoto Lane.

Sundee Tucker Frazier expressed what my name change meant to me in her book, “Check All That Apply: Finding Wholeness as a Multiracial Person”:

“You can’t change your identity, but you can change how you identify.

Accept who you are and then be who you want to be.”

2014 was when I first created this blog, and it’s now 2022. The voices to use my voice, speak out, “stick up” have penetrated my reluctance and insecurity, so I’m making a commitment to a daily practice of “Coming Out”.

By way of introduction, I am a third-generation Japanese American, “Sansei”, whose parents, grandparents and their community were incarcerated by the U.S. government during World War II. I’m retired from working full-time, 36 years at Seattle Pacific University, and I love staying in touch with the hundreds of young alumni I had the privilege of mentoring when they were students, largely from underrepresented backgrounds.

Growing up as one of four siblings, a mantra that kept going through my head was “I’m not the oldest, not the youngest, not the only boy, plus I caused enough trouble because I was premature, so I have to tow the line and not stick out”. I’m working on reframing that narrative, that I had freedom from expectations that my older sister and brother didn’t have, that I have the privilege of being the nail that sticks up.

Stay tuned for more. I promise it won’t be eight years before my next post ;-).