I was recently at the Smithsonian, which hosts the annual National Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day.
The Pearl Harbor observance is held on July 4, and it’s always a highlight of my annual holiday trip to the Smithsonian.
I’m sure many people have wondered what exactly it means to celebrate Pearl Harbor on July 5th.
In fact, many people will wonder what Pearl Harbor means to me.
It means that I’m not only a Pearl Harbor survivor, but a person of color.
It also means that my culture is not only my own, but my community’s.
It meant that I have lived through oppression.
It is not the only thing that makes me a Pearl Harbinger.
As I look around at the people I see and hear in the streets and on the sidewalks, I see the people who have survived, the people with no past or present to hide, who live in a community and are still struggling to make sense of our own history and how it affects us.
To be Pearl Harbingers means that there is something more to us than our individual stories.
I believe Pearl Harbor is the reason why we are who we are, that we have the power to shape our futures and our communities.
And I believe that we must fight for it.
So what is Pearl Harbor?
How did it happen?
And how do we honor those who have died in the war?
Let’s start with the history, the story, and the people.
I grew up in San Francisco, the oldest city in the country.
As a child, I spent most of my time with my family in Chinatown.
It’s easy to forget that in the early 1900s, San Francisco was one of the most segregated cities in the United States.
It was not until the 1960s that there were segregated public schools.
In those early days, I was able to attend both schools.
I loved going to Chinatown because there were so many different ethnic groups and cultures.
I felt like I belonged there.
It made me feel like I was in the world.
I liked the Chinese people who lived there.
I didn’t really know anyone from the outside.
I just knew Chinatown.
But in the 1970s, there were several issues with the Asian community.
I remember one particular incident that was quite interesting.
It happened in Chinatown in 1977.
At that time, I lived in San Jose, which was the largest Chinese American city in America.
There were many different types of Chinese, Chinese-American, and black Chinese communities.
So I felt very welcome.
But one day in the middle of the day, I started to feel unsafe.
There was a young man with a backpack who was walking the streets.
It wasn’t a crime at the time, but it was very unsafe.
It didn’t feel safe to be out and about, so I decided to go home.
As I walked home, I noticed a young woman standing in front of me.
She was wearing a traditional Chinese dress, and she was speaking Chinese.
She said to me, “Oh, I don’t have any problems with you, Mr. Zhang.”
The young woman said, “Mr. Zhang, I’m sorry, I just want to apologize.
I was upset that you’re walking down the street.
She asked if I had a problem with the man walking by and he replied, “No, I can tell you that you don’t need to apologize.”
She said, “Well, I guess I don’ have any right to be here.
I know you’re a white guy, but I don'”t know why I’m walking down there and you can’t help me.”
I didn’t have a response for that.
So she continued to ask if I needed anything, and I continued to walk.
When I got home, my parents asked me, and they said, Mr, Zhang, we’re very upset because you’re white and we’re Asian.
We know you have problems with the young girl, but you just don’t know why you’re here.
The next day, when I got to school, I saw that this woman had been beaten by her attacker.
It had all happened so quickly, and this young woman was the one who had been attacked.
It just made me realize that this young Asian woman, I think she was in her 20s at the moment.
That’s when I learned about my heritage.
When my parents moved from San Francisco to Los Angeles, my mother moved to an apartment in Hollywood.
I moved in with my mom, and my dad, who was white, moved in to a house in Inglewood.
They moved into an apartment complex.
My parents had no idea what was going on in Chinatown and they didn’t know how to interact with their children.
It’s so weird for them to see me walking down Chinatown.
And so, when my mother and I got married, I came to the