“It took too long for me to admire my mother’s common sense and practical knowledge…to accept and appreciate my mother’s English. Her simplicity and directness.”

These words set the stage for Elizabeth Miki Brina’s SPEAK, OKINAWA, the memoir of the daughter of an Okinawan woman and a Vietnam War veteran. Brina’s parents met while her father was stationed in Okinawa. Neither of them spoke the other’s language; when they wrote each other letters, they had to find translators for them. The language barrier didn’t hinder their marriage, and Brina’s mother left her life of poverty to be an American soldier’s wife and live a comfortable life.

"Brina’s awareness of her faults is as refreshing as it is hard to read. It can feel like we are reading about our own mistakes, but she does this to show that it is not too late to turn back and correct our wrongs."

Brina’s father pushed his wife to learn English, and, spending more than half her life in America, she wound up doing so, but it would never be her native tongue. Brina voices her struggle growing up with a mother with whom she didn’t share a language, one who pronounced her name differently than native English speakers would. She atones for her shame in her writing and acknowledges the practicality of using words so effectively like her mother. Anyone can see this while reading SPEAK, OKINAWA. Brina uses simple, direct language, often in the subject-verb-object format, to her advantage in order to paint blunt pictures, which reminds readers of her mother. While she may give Brina seemingly curt advice on breakups --- telling her to just move on because a boy does not love her --- the words are direct and true.

This is the approach that Brina has taken to her memoir, which is not just about her life, but also about Okinawa. As its title suggests, this is her attempt at giving Okinawa the voice it has needed throughout history. Between chapters, she switches narratives from her perspective and the Okinawans --- there is even a chapter from the point of view of Americans serving under Commodore Perry in the 1850s. Each setting Brina paints is honest and, at times, brutal, whether it be a depiction of the Battle of Okinawa or an analysis of her parents’ marriage.

It is important to remember why Okinawa’s story is relevant to Brina’s personal one. Of course, there is the simple answer: Her mother is Okinawan. Then the more complex answer: There is a lesson in the memoir and its themes, whether it is that Brina wants to make up for her internalized racism and ingratitude growing up, or that she wants to give her voice to a people who are deemed voiceless. Just as Brina mourns her inability to fully connect with her mother because of their language barrier, Brina decides to share the pains and joys of Okinawa to her western audience, the same West that helped Japan silence the island chain. We begin to understand a history that was unshared to us before, as well as its present issues.

Brina’s awareness of her faults is as refreshing as it is hard to read. It can feel like we are reading about our own mistakes, but she does this to show that it is not too late to turn back and correct our wrongs. SPEAK, OKINAWA is a beautiful request, from the prodigal daughter of an oppressed land, to take the time to listen to one another.