They Called Us Enemy by George Takei

“We were American. We were children. And we were seen as a threat.”

George Takei’s memoir doesn’t yell—it testifies.

With the quiet gravity of lived experience, They Called Us Enemy brings you inside the barbed wire of America’s wartime fear and cruelty. Through the eyes of a young boy, we watch the disorientation, the betrayal, and the slow, everyday erosion of dignity that comes when your country decides you are disposable.

But this isn't just a history lesson—it’s a reckoning.

The Power of a Child’s Perspective

Takei’s strength lies in the dual voice he uses: the innocent, curious child who doesn’t understand why trains are taking him away, and the older, wiser narrator who does. This tension between what is seen and what is understood is where the memoir gets its emotional weight.

He doesn’t dramatize the horror. He lets it exist—in the gray barracks, the dust, the guarded fences. It’s the kind of storytelling that trusts the reader to sit in discomfort.

Art That Honors Memory

Justin Eisinger, Steven Scott, and artist Harmony Becker bring the narrative to life with clean, expressive illustrations that don’t just show scenes—they carry emotion. The minimalism gives room for the words to breathe, and for the silences between panels to speak.

It’s a visual experience that feels intimate, reflective, and painfully direct.

Themes That Still Echo Today

• Citizenship and Conditional Belonging: What does it mean to be American when your country decides you're not?

• Inherited Silence: Takei speaks on how his parents protected him from the worst of the truth, and how that silence shaped his understanding of justice.

• Resistance in Small Moments: A father who answers “No” on a loyalty questionnaire. A family that chooses dignity in a system built to strip it.

• The Price of Forgetting: This memoir warns against the rewriting of history, and the danger of not remembering who paid the price for national fear.

Final Thoughts

They Called Us Enemy is a mirror and a warning. It’s about a family forced into silence, and a man who chose to speak. George Takei doesn’t just tell his story—he asks us to reflect on who we are now, and who we might become if we don't remain vigilant.

In a world where discrimination is still dressed in the language of “safety” and “security,” this book doesn’t just matter—it urgently matters.