



Glendale City Councilmembers Elen Asatryan, Ardy Kassakhian and Dan Brotman were in attendance

Supporters!

Nanta performance by Hwarang Youth Foundation

Performance by the Musical Dosan team

At the Peace Monument

I came to the Comfort Women issue in 2021 as a rising sophomore in high school in the second summer of the pandemic. At the time, the Asian and Asian American academic community was embroiled in a controversy about an article, written by a Harvard professor, claiming that the Comfort Women were lying, and that the widespread, government–sponsored system of sexual slavery in the occupied Japanese territories was a myth.
The article, and the history it represented, was to me both familiar and surprising. For the past three years, I had worked as a documentary filmmaker on short films telling the life stories of child survivors of the Holocaust, children who, like many of the Comfort Women, were uprooted from their daily lives into an unfathomable system of horror and destruction. But what really intrigued me was what happened after. When World War II ended in Europe, Germany’s crimes were revealed, its leaders were tried, and its government and education systems were reformed to educate the people on its past, to make sure nothing like it would ever happen again. But in Japan, denial of the Comfort Women issue is alive and well, not just on the fringes, but in the official narrative of the nation’s government. Not only has Japan never publicly acknowledged or apologized for its state-run system of forced sexual slavery, but they have actively gone after records, testaments, and monuments to its history, including the Peace Monument that stands just outside this building. It is only with the continuing strength and integrity of the City of Glendale that this monument continues to speak as a beacon of this issue in our community, and for that we are deeply thankful.
When I decided to make a short film of my own about the Comfort Women, I turned to Phyllis Kim, executive director of Comfort Women Action for Redress and Education, or CARE, an organization of students, activists, and community leaders in the U.S. and Korea dedicated to raising awareness for the Comfort Women issue and pressing for its resolution. When I began working with CARE that summer, I was introduced to a group that was uniquely passionate, resilient, and international. Through CARE, I was connected with Martin Suh at the Daegu Citizen’s Forum for the Comfort Women, where I was introduced to Lee Yong-soo, one of the defining survivors and activists in the Comfort Women movement. With the vital support of CARE and the Daegu Citizen’s Forum, I spent the next 18 months interviewing Lee Yong-soo over zoom and creating a short documentary about her life, told through stop-motion animation. Through CARE’s incredible network, the film was exhibited at this library and the Heeum Museum in Daegu, and has been shown to high-school and college students at film festivals across the country and the world, including at the Cannes Film Festival. Bringing Grandma Lee’s story to thousands of people, many of whom had never even heard of the Comfort Women issue before, was my most fulfilling experience as a young student artist.
Just last month, I visited Lee Yong-soo in-person for the first time at the Heeum Museum of Sexual Slavery in Daegu, and after years of seeing her through a screen, I was struck by how lively and energetic she was at the age of 96. We toured the city together by car, shared Jjajangmyun at a local restaurant, and ended with a walkthrough of the incredible three-story museum housed in a beautiful old Korean-style building in central Daegu. Experiencing the vibrant, detailed exhibitions of curated documents, stories, artifacts, and films, I was deeply moved by the incredible effort, vulnerability, and depth of scholarship that has been mobilized to keep this history alive. However, the museum also reminded me of the precarity of truth in the face of decades of government denial. The display that stuck with me the most was tucked into a tiny converted bomb shelter in the basement of the building. In the darkness, dozens of multi-colored neon signs covered the bare concrete walls, displaying phrases of doubt and discouragement that Comfort Women survivors have endured throughout the years. “This was all your fault.” “Nobody will care about a person like you.” The exhibit deeply drove home the continuing human cost of this issue, for every woman, and for every year it goes unresolved.
Despite years of action from survivors like Lee Yong-soo and activist-educators from organizations like CARE, Japan still has not apologized to the Comfort Women, and the few Grandmas that remain not just in Korea, but all across the world, are still waiting for justice. When I made my film, I joined CARE’s goal to bring the history of the Comfort Women to every classroom, in order to educate a generation that can stand up to the denial of the Japanese government. That work is not easy, and will demand courage, creativity, and resilience from our organizations and our students. However, that is the work that will truly lead to some measure of justice for hundreds of thousands of women who lived through that history, and the few that continue to fight.
Thank you.
Hello everyone,
My name is Lauren Whang, and for the past three years, I’ve had the privilege of working with CARE. Today, as we mark the 80th anniversary of the end of World War II, we also gather to remember the “comfort women” victims—women whose voices and pain still echo, because justice has not yet been served.
Sadly, the number of survivors in Korea and other countries in Asia Pacific grows smaller each year. Each Grandma we lose takes with her a piece of living history, and it becomes even more urgent for us to carry these stories forward. Justice delayed is justice denied—and we cannot let their courage be forgotten.
Every year, my family travels to Korea to pay a visit to Grandma Lee Yong-soo in Daegu. Every meeting with Grandma Lee is incredible, but it was even more meaningful this year because I also gifted the ceramic pieces I created to the “comfort women” museum there. I hope they could serve as a small tribute to the Grandmas’ resilience and dignity.
This cause is not just about history; it’s about humanity. It’s about ensuring that their voices are heard, not just here in Glendale, but all around the world. I am committed to continuing my work with CARE, and I will do everything I can to stand for truth, for justice, and for the dignity the Grandmas deserve.
Before I close, I want to thank the City of Glendale for continuing to honor the Grandmas by proclaiming “Comfort Women” Day every year, and ReflectSpace for hosting powerful exhibitions that help keep this painful history alive in our hearts and minds.
Thank you.