Mayumi Lashbrook: navigating enemy lines

“As I worked on Enemy Lines, it was always a surprise the moments that would bring tears to my eyes. Seeing the address of the farm my family was forcibly removed from House No. 1394 Horrol Rd. New Westminster BC. Recognizing my great aunt’s foresight at age 16 to bring a shorthand typing book to the camps in order to advance her career options. The kindness of a neighbouring farmer who brought over carrots and potatoes for my family’s first dinner on their uncultivated Manitoba sugar beet farm. My great grandmother’s goal to return and reclaim her belongings. How she would tie chopsticks to her wrists to be able to keep chopping sugar beets to support her family. I couldn’t have predicted when or how these hardships would affect me. I kept reading, listening and looking for those moments as guideposts. I am grateful for each and every unexpected swell of emotions over the past four years of research.” – Mayumi Lashbrook, from the program guide for Enemy Lines

In Enemy Lines, a new work by Aeris Korper Dance Theatre, choreographer and dancer Mayumi Lashbrook explores her family’s history and possibilities for the future in this contemporary, multi-disciplinary work. Through dance, projections, sound and video, Lashbrook transports audiences to the actions taken against her family during World War Two when over 22,000 Canadians of Japanese descent were forcibly removed from the coastline of British Columbia. The show has two separate runs – in Toronto at The Theatre Centre from May 12-14, and in Hamilton at LR Wilson Hall from May 26-28. 

I talked to Mayumi Lashbrook by email.

Bulletin Interview | Mayumi Lashbrook 

Why don’t we start from the beginning . . . tell me a bit about the journey of the maternal side of the family from Japan to Strawberry Hill in Surrey, to Blackdale Manitoba, and then to Toronto, Ontario.
My great grandmother and grandfather on my maternal side came to Canada in 1926 and settled on a farm in Strawberry Hill. They had three children who were still quite young when my great grandfather died suddenly of a heart attack. This meant they were deemed low threat and had the option to band together with extended family to move to Blackdale, Manitoba in 1942. They opted for voluntary repatriation in 1945 in hopes of an easier life in Japan. Instead, they were met with further difficulties and gradually made their way back to Canada between 1950 – 1961. My grandfather, the first one to come back, went where there was the possibility of work and a friendly face – which happened to be Toronto. My family has stayed close to his landing spot, still residing across the GTA to this day. 

In many post-war Japanese Canadian families, there comes a moment when a younger person digs a little deeper into their family’s past and goes, “wait, what happened?”. Was this a story you grew up hearing about, or did you come to it later in life?
I recall my mother telling me several times as a child about our family history but I couldn’t grasp the implications of the events. As an adult, a friend was shocked when I told them and flippantly said I should make a dance piece about it. That stuck with me and I chose to pursue the idea as a means to connect more deeply to my family, and specifically my grandfather. 

Was your family open about what happened? When I put it like that, it sounds so matter of fact. “What happened.”  
My mother was fairly vocal about what happened, even though my grandfather would fall silent if the topic came up. At the start of the research, I interviewed him on my own. He offered some answers but very much deferred to his older sister, urging me to interview her instead. He was right that she had held onto more of the memories and was openly talkative. At another casual meet up, I shared with him the documents I found in his mother’s file in the Landscapes of Injustice database; this was the opening of the dam. The next time I interviewed him, he offered up more information and was much more (in his own reserved way) actively excited to share. Now he brings it up of his own accord and has asked my partner about his own Japanese Canadian internment history with great curiosity. 

My research for Enemy Lines has brought richness to my relationships with my family on both sides; an unexpected gift I am eternally grateful for.  

What was the impetus behind Enemy Lines? What set you off down this path?
My grandfather, now 92 years old, has always been reserved and shied away from social interactions. Observing him gave me curiosity for my own social exchanges and noticing when I too back away. When I realized these characteristics are common to internment survivors, I surrendered to my curiosity and dove into research. I had an inkling that it would lead me to understanding my grandfather better and in turn, myself. 

Tell me about your dance life. Have you always used movement as a way to express yourself? 
I began dancing when I was four years old. It was a recreational activity I was very passionate about, but was hesitant to engage with as a profession. I spent many years believing a multitude of reasons I couldn’t persevere, and yet I kept dancing. In recent years, I have stepped more into my role as a choreographer, desiring to tell stories through the body. It has been a great challenge to figure out how to express an idea in movement. 

You’re working with Denise Fujiwara, who is serving as dramaturg for the piece. Denise is a legend in Japanese Canadian dance, although maybe not so well known on the west coast. How did you get to know her, and has she served a mentorship role for you?
Denise’s reputation preceded our interactions, so I knew she was well respected and notable in the dance community when I approached her to be the dramaturg for an early iteration of Enemy Lines. She declined and recommended I come to her workshops to better understand her artistry. I took that small window of offering, and showed up to everything I could that she was doing. Over time we got to know each other and I received a grant to shadow her for a year. The grant has since finished but our commitment to each other is ongoing. We read books, go to shows, attend events together as well as professional interactions of dramaturging my choreography and dancing in her company. I owe to her the way I choreograph, dance and am; her influence has been monumental and I’ve cherished every second. I urge others to find a mentor, especially within the Japanese Canadian community. Working with Denise has revealed to me, myself – a vital gift to every artist.

Was there anything that surprised you, working on Enemy Lines, either about yourself or the story itself?
I was surprised to discover the parallels between the climate of fear during WWII and the global pandemic. It gave me a reference point to see the polarizing nature of fear and its ability to pit groups against each other. A historic family story became a global perspective of our contemporary way of living. Based on Denise’s recommendation, I read Pema Chödrön’s When Things Fall Apart. It illuminated what I was living through and my own ability to release myself from the cycles of divisive thinking. 

What kind of feelings surfaced for you, not only researching the story, but inserting yourself into it?
I felt a spectrum of emotions through the creation process: fear, anger, shame, confusion, disbelief, hope, shock, joy. Of them, anger was often the easiest to slip into. But anger begets anger.  

I have the gift/misfortune of having choreographed a piece where I embody my great grandmother as she experiences the internment. Understanding her life on a physical level is intense. The ensemble and I noticed this for each of our roles early in the process. Collectively we created a ritual that we do together at the beginning and end of each run to signal to our bodies of the entry and exit of the piece. 

What do you hope audiences take away from the show?
I hope audiences are curious about their own emotions and their ability to shape connections or disconnection. The Japanese Canadian internment can feel far away from our contemporary living. I hope Enemy Lines narrows the gap, bringing forward questions of how we want to be in our collective future. We have the privilege of choice; how do we choose to be? 

For those interested in attending this show and are curious about your work, how would you describe it?
I would categorize Enemy Lines and my choreography as dance theatre. It has a strong narrative backbone and is rooted in storytelling – but in the medium of the body. I utilize text sparingly, only recruiting it when it is a message I cannot say in movement. 

Thank you, Mayumi, I hope we have the opportunity to see Enemy Lines on the west coast one of these days!