Curtiss Takada Rooks oral history - November 16, 2023

I am Leon Gurel, and I'm interviewing Dr. Curtiss Takada Rooks for the Inclusive History and Images Project, a project which seeks to recover the histories and the diverse members of the LMU family.

We are on the LMU campus in the Creative Space Studios and today is the 15th of November 2023. Now I must ask the permission. Do you give me permission to interview you for the

Inclusive History and Images Project? And do you allow the recording to be used in accordance with the stated goals of the project? Yes, I do.

Okay, now we can move on to the biological question. Fantastic. What is your name? My name is Curtiss Takada Rooks. What is the significance of the each of your names?

Well—actually, I was born and originally named Curtiss James Rooks Jr., um, and that is my legal name. Um but my mother's maiden name is Takahashi, she’s native Japanese. And so when I was in graduate school and working on

my dissertation, um, my father had passed away already, and— and so my mom had been a really important part of my life, and in sort of Western notions of— of knowledge and who exists and doesn't exist, if it’s in

writing, it existed, right? And so, um, I wrote to her and asked if I could use her name professionally as my middle name

and that— so I go professional by Curtiss Takada Rooks. And that way when I write articles or any other things that she's not forgotten to history, I didn't, you

know, she had been such an important part. I wanted to make sure that, um, history would record her. Lovely.

Um when and where were you born? I was born at Camp Zama, Japan, in 1957. I'm in Kami Hotta. Um my father was stationed in Japan.

Um I have an older brother, and so, um, he met my mother while she was working there as a translator at Camp Zama, and he was working at Camp Zama. And the rest is history [laughs], as they say.

And have you been back? Um I've been able to go back to Japan several times after being born there. We came to the United States and, uh, originally in

Manhattan, Kansas, but during my middle school years, um, we were stationed on Okinawa. Um at that time, it was still a U.S. territory, um, it reverted back right as we left.

Um and then again in college during 1978, I went to Sophia University in Tokyo, um, for about a year, um, as part of—a part of going back home and sort of re—re—um, acquainting myself with Japan,

or with my roots, as I would say. Actually, it was about the time the movie—the miniseries ”Roots” came out. So, um, getting the, uh—my university to agree to

that, and—and working that out was pretty easy, it was sort of the trend at the time. Um and then, um, since 2004, when I was a

member of the Japanese American Leadership Delegation, um, which is a program with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Japan, uh, in which they bring back—brought—bring a group of Japanese American leaders to Japan.

And you go through a series of little dip—diplomatic, uh, events and some other things. Um I've been engaged in U.S.-Japan relations, um, leading up to this past year, where I was at Sophia

University again for an entire year as a teaching fellow. Um and between that—between the 2004 and this past year—I've taken three different student groups from LMU to Japan. Two on the Tomodachi Inouye Scholars program and one on

the BCLA [Bellarmine College of Liberal Arts], um, Global Immersions program. So when you first moved to the United States, what was it like? Well, I was an infant toddler.

So, you know, there's—there's not much that I could talk about in that sense. Um I know, um, for my mom, it was a slight challenge,

um, as you can imagine. Um being in a place in which languages—even though she spoke English, it still was unfamiliar in other things. But we, um, originally, uh, moved to Junction City, Kansas,

um, which is right adjacent to Fort Riley. Um my mom wasn't completely happy with the situation there. She had learned at that time from other Japanese wives, I imagine, or through some of the military folks, that

there was a—another town about 20 miles away called Manhattan, which was a university town. And so she told my dad that, uh, he needed to move she and her boys to the college town

or she was going to go back to Japan. So we ended up living in Manhattan, Kansas, where, um— which is what I would call my hometown. That's where I started elementary school, and that's where I

graduated from high school. And both my parents are buried at Fort Riley, Kansas. So Manhattan is as much of a hometown as I have.

Where did you work before LMU? Wow. Um, so I came to the LMU for the first time in the 1990s.

So, previous to that, um, after graduation, I coached football at Penn State University as a defensive back coach. Left there to get my master's and to coach at Trinity College in Hartford, Connecticut,

and I coached football, um, then track at Trinity. I began to work in Student Affairs and the Dean of Students office, working with students who were on academic probation, then eventually went into some other areas of Student

Affairs. And I came to California in 1982 to Pomona College, where I was, uh, became associate Dean of Students at Dean of Residential Life.

Um wanted my bosses job. So I knew I needed a PhD or some other terminal degree, and I applied and was, uh, admitted to the Comparative Culture program at University of California at Irvine, and, um,

at UC Irvine— I sort of completed my PhD there. While working on my PhD there—finishing it up— I worked for a civil rights law firm, um, and

we worked on consent decrees, and I was a diversity specialist for the civil rights law firm. Um following that, I worked with a group called the Moshe Group, um, with Dr. Cheryl Grills here at LMU,

and Dr. Jennifer Abe, um, and I've been working with them since in different projects that we work on, um, and taught at LMU during the—during the mid 90s.

Um, uh, right after the 1992 rebellion in Los Angeles, we began the American Cultures program here. And so I came in to teach in that program for a couple of years before going to San Jose

State University in a tenure track position where I was granted tenure there, and then returned to LMU in 2006— 2005 really, um, as a special assistant to Dean Mike Engh in

the College of Liberal Arts here, BCLA. And I've been here since. Okay. How do you identify yourself?

Well, I mean, in terms of, uh, the way in which sort of we identify ourselves in the United States around race I would say I'm Black-Japanese. Um and, uh, there's lots of different ways in which

one can refer to that multiracial, mixed race, you know, biracial, um, hafu and Japanese and Hawaii. I would be hapa. Um but being, uh, somewhat of mixed—mixed race ancestry

is an important part of my identity. Um, I'm a critical mixed-race scholar. Um and so it certainly has—has led my scholarship in a lot of the work I do, and outside

the campus as well. Um I'm—you know, I grew up in the, uh, African American church, um, uh, I am United Methodist, you know, by the church that I belong to now.

Um but my family is also—my—my wife is Buddhist. And so I go back and forth between, uh, both of the—both of the churches and, uh,

participating in both. So, um—and the other identity I would say is I'm an ex-jock. So being an athlete has always been a very important

part of who I am and how I see myself and was key to my success, um, even in academia. Being someone with a multi—multicultural background, have you found it hard identifying yourself?

Not really. Um oftentimes, people like to think that just because someone's mixed, they’re mixed up. Um that's not to say that there haven't been challenges,

and they're not to say that there has been moments of alienation. Um when I was in, uh, middle school and I was living on Okinawa.

So this is around 1968, ‘69, ‘70. So in the United States at the time, um—long before you were born—um, there was a time of lots of protests, turmoil.

There was, you know, the—there were riots and other things going on, as many things were being challenged, right? And so, um, one of the things that came out

of the civil rights movement that was really important was that those of us who had been in the margins, right—the Black, Latino, Asian American, etcetera—began to name ourselves.

Right. And so, even the notion of—of Black prior to the 1960s was considered derogatory, right?

Because, you know, my dad's a—we were Negro, um, which was the, you know, the preferred term at the time, but sort of Black was a defiant sort of identity.

Um and so, in naming ourselves, you know, it was important. So, you know, we were, you know, we're 12 and 13 sitting around on Okinawa, um, aware of what was

going on in the world and—and the like. The Vietnam War was—was still, uh, very much a part of all of our lives. And so we were all sitting around one day and

I said, you know, because Afro-American came out, other things were coming out. And I said, I wonder what I am? And, uh, a friend of mine from Hawaii, um, who had

grown up there, uh, he said, I know what you are. And I said, Okay, what am I? He goes, You’re hapa-afro.

And with that, I had a name, you know, and at 12, 13, having a name is important. And so that sort of solidified my identity. There were other things that happened in my life that

had done that, too, but this sort of solidified my identity in terms of, um, being able to understand myself. Have you ever wanted to identify with one group rather than the other?

Not really. I mean, I think you can't— you can't separate it like, This— this finger is Black and this finger is Japanese.

It's always been—been both. I mean, the way in which we sort of worked within our household and. And when you look at sort of Black Japanese or

people think of Black and Asians, that they're really, wildly different. And I was argued—perhaps, maybe an expression. Japanese tend to be very—much more quiet and reserved.

And African American culture is much—much more lively in a lot of different ways. But when we—when you look at it from the sort of the [inaudible] perspective both, you know, acutely value family

and sort of and—and—and parts of family and— and what family means as well as, um, both have sort of vertical structure. They're not horizontal. Sort of elders and seniors have value,

and you—and you—and those are things that are important. And so in many respects, the two cultures, right, fit very well together.

Now, um, again, expression at times would be different, but sort of the values that that are underneath each of those, did. And when they—they didn't, uh, um, when they would

have conflicted, um, they were more like—sort of they're also complements. Like in Black culture, um, for males, the mother is very important. Mom is a very important person.

So my dad taught us to respect our mom in many different respects. And from the patriarchal culture of Japan, the father is important.

My mom did the same with my dad. So, um, I just never saw the two as either conflicting. And, um—and, you know, in America, when you are

a double-minoritized minority, the issue isn't about which one you want to choose of those, it's the—you— if you have any internalization, it's that you want to be White, right?

Because that's the way in which sort of our society works. And so I never really, um— I never really thought I wanted to or needed to

choose. I mean, again, at times people may have sort of pushed that on me, but I never—I never gave up being understanding myself as being Japanese and never gave

up or misunderstood myself as being Black. Um and so, um, I wish I—you know, I wish I could give you the, the controversy that some people have.

And not to say that other folks who have struggles with that, but that's, you know, necessarily problematic. I was just lucky that I had parents who taught us to value both of who we are.

That concludes our bio—biographical questions. We're now going to go on to the questions about the Equality History Images Project [Inclusive History and Images Project]. How did you learn about the Inclusive History and Images

Project? Well, I was part of the task force that started talking about sort of the Inclusive History Project and looking at sort of, um, you know, when you take—when

you take a family portrait, who's in it? And, you know, what— what does it comprise of? And if you don't particularly care for that—that particular

picture at any moment in time, then you can make, um, uh, intentional decisions to change that. And I think the Inclusive History Project—the Inclusive Project— is part of that, recognizing that there were stories that—

at LMU that were sort of lost, that weren't captured in the way that we—we—we probably could have—or should have. Now on to the questions about the faculty experience. We

already covered when you were first hired at LMU, but what made you decide to come back to LMU? Well, I think, um, a couple of things, you know. One, the initial hiring at LMU was to—to teach in

American Cultures, and the American Cultures program was designed to answer, um, as an academic, uh, institution, sort of the turmoil and the chaos that happened with the LA rebellion. How can we sort of keep that from happening again?

You know, sort of—you know, what role can education play? And one was to educate each other about, you know, sort of the histories of one another, the sort of

contemporary issues of one another, and American Cultures was able to do that. Um and it's still a part of our—our core curriculum and the, you know—the—the diversity requirement,

right? Um coming back to LMU, um, when Father Engh reached out to me, um, to work with him on a couple of projects, um, while I was at San Jose, um,

I thought a—I thought a little bit about it, and— and I think it's, um—in some ways—the mission here. And, uh— sort of education, the whole person, lifelong learning.

But also this notion of—of—of social justice—faith and social justice was important. Um it was a place where, um, in working toward those things, I didn't have to leave any of myself at the

door. You know, I taught in the state system, there's certain things you have to leave at the door. I didn't have to leave those at the door.

It's not that they weren't a part of who I was when I taught in the state system, but teaching here, um—again, I didn't have to leave anything at the door, and so that was important for me.

Um but, you know, uh, Father Engh brought me back for a specific set—skillset that had to do with diversity. Um had to do with, uh, recruitment of faculty and some other things.

And so, um, the other reason I, you know, it's nice to be wanted. So, as you said, LMU’s mission is committed to the encouragement of learning, the education of the whole person, and to

the service of faith and the promotion of justice. Have you sensed the importance of these principles during your time at LMU? Yes.

Um. Those have always been an important part of how—what I've understood LMU to be. And having gone through two or three—maybe three or

four strategic planning processes and sort of, uh, curriculum, uh, redevelopment, as in when we redid the core and other things, you know, those three things were always central to how I thought about, um, both how I teach what

it is that we do, um, and how we pursue them. Now, they're very lofty and—and—and—and difficult missions to achieve.

And we fall short. Um. But we're striving, right? We're striving toward them.

And there are times when, you know, I can honestly say that I'm disappointed, and other times when I’m wildly excited. Um but it's a struggle, and it will always be

a struggle. Um at least in my lifetime. Perhaps in your lifetime as well. But, you know, as Martin Luther King says, you know,

That arc bends towards justice. It doesn't mean we get there quickly and that there aren't even pullbacks. So since your return to LMU, has the emphasis of

these pillars of LMU’s mission changed since your return to LMU? I don't think they've changed. I think, you know, um, these three pillars, um, are

pillars because—we call them pillars exactly. for that. They—at its core, they don't.

It's sort of how do we express them, in what ways, right? And so, when we talk about encouragement and learning,

the American Cultures program said, We want to encourage you to learn not only about yourself, not only about mainstream history, but we want you to learn about people who were at the—who were considered at the margins, who

were underserved. And we don't want any of our students to leave this—this campus without having had at least the knowledge of where to look to find answers, right?

I mean, critical—critical thinking and a liberal arts education is about—isn't about necessarily giving you the answers, but giving you the skills to—and—skills and processes you need to go look for answers, so that you can—

you can tell the whole story as opposed to a single story. Um and so in that way, sort of as the city burned in 1992.

And, uh, uh, Fernando Guerra—Professor Guerra—watched the city burn with and sitting in with the president, he said, We've got to do something.

And at that time they—they passed the American Culture requirement, whether you were a senior or a first year— fourth year or first year—you had to take that class.

And so when I taught—first started teaching here, I had a lot of fourth years who weren't excited about having to change their schedules, because, in order to graduate, they had to take it.

There was no grandparenting in, um, and so there were challenges like, Why are we having to do this? And so my—my comment back to them oftentimes was, I'm not trying to tell you what to think, just

that you need to think. Right? And so giving you again, students are not a blank slate when they get here.

They have their whole life experience, all the different things around their lives. So how do you contextualize it? How do you sort of broaden that?

How do you sort of make sense of those experiences? And that's what we try to do. And that encouragement of learning, not just encouraging to learn what you already believe.

Um the whole person is a, you know—it's— in our teaching here, we're allowed to—to take that into consideration, right? There’s—

there's so much of us—so much to each one of us—that's rich and deep. Not just our brains. We want you to sort of, you know, physically stay

healthy, but we want you to be emotionally healthy. We want you to—to—to, um, thrive in so many different ways. And so, um, I think being able to as a—

as a faculty member, as—as a teacher, knowing that that's something that's valued by the institution, allows you to think about the work that you ask your students to do.

There's a whole series of—I asked, uh, uh, my journaling in my classes generally— in all the classes— there's three journal questions that they always have.

Who am I? Whose am I? And what is my relationship to the world, given who I am and whose I am? And certainly they're—they may be tweaked just a little

bit to the theme of the course, but it's always about exploring oneself, right? And the wholeness oneself, um, in that process. And then finally the service of faith, um, and justice.

It's like for me, you know, the faith is—doesn't necessarily have to be looked at in a sort of religious context, but it's this faith that—for the most part—most people want to do good for others.

I have a heartfelt faith. It's not that, you know, that human nature is one of simply competitive, rip each other apart,

take whatever you can, but that we really like to see each other thrive. Um and so, for me, it just—it sort of being able to teach in such a way that says,

Hey, every person you meet, every person you come in contact with. If you can let them know in some way that they matter, right?

That they actually matter, whether that's someone who is the most important person in that environment, or the person who is the most invisible. Right?

And so, you know, I think it's important for us to recognize that. So someone, you know—oftentimes at a place like this— the people who are most invisible are custodians.

They're there all the time. They're always doing their work. And—and, um, having done those jobs myself before.

I know they’re not easy. And people are feeding their families or their, you know— and so I make sure to say hello to them. I say—I thank them for the work that they

do. If we met every person we meet matter—let them know that they matter, I think the rest of the things would take care

of itself. I think the problem is that that's not the way most people are— that's not the way we're often taught to walk through

the world. Right? Um and particularly in American politics today, that certainly is not the case.

Um and that's unfortunate. Um and it's antithetical to all that we believe, um, as a—as a Jesuit institution and synthetic to all that, I believe as Christian it’s antithetical, to all that all

the Buddhists I know believe it's antithetical to most of human, uh, history and in many different ways. Right? Um that's—there are bad actors out there, and those

bad actors sort of will, um— will really sort of— well, the bad actors do what they do. Um, but, you know, I think, uh, LMU does a,

um—LMU is a place where we can talk about those things in our classes. A place where I hope that students, on occasion, when they're having coffee together or sitting, on the lawn, can

have those conversations because it's encouraged. Um and so the—the work and service that the students do here, I think is—is crucial to that.