This haunting portrait reveals the suppressed history of marriages long considered taboo
Haunting Portrait Reveals Suppressed History of Taboo Marriages
This haunting portrait reveals the suppressed history of marriages long considered taboo, capturing a poignant moment of quiet resilience among four family members seated in a tan leather chair, their faces etched with solemnity beneath a delicate white veil. The image, part of Phan Quang’s *Re/cover* series, highlights the legacy of a union between a Japanese soldier and a Vietnamese wife during World War II. These children, now in their 60s, grew up navigating a world that viewed their origins with suspicion, their lives shaped by a cultural divide that cast their identities in shadow.
The Wartime Union and Cultural Divide
The family, including Lê Thị Xuân and Yoshiharu Shimizu (known as Nguyễn Văn Đức in Vietnam), endured profound challenges. Born from a relationship deemed taboo by both cultures, they faced social stigma and the absence of their father for much of their lives. While some Japanese soldiers remained in Vietnam after the war, most were required to return by the mid-1950s, leaving families to grapple with a fractured past. For these individuals, love was a quiet rebellion against the rigid boundaries of nationality and tradition.
"Japanese soldiers who married local women were often looked down upon by their peers, as these women came from what was then seen as a 'lesser' country," Phan said. "On the other hand, their Vietnamese wives and children were stigmatized for carrying the bloodline of a former occupying force."
Symbolism in the Veil: Bridging Two Worlds
The photograph’s symbolic veil—a traditional bridal accessory in Vietnam—echoes Japan’s history of wartime sexual enslavement through "comfort women." For these families, the veil represents both union and silence, a visual metaphor for their hidden struggles. Phan’s work aims to reclaim their stories, spotlighting love that defied societal norms. The seamless integration of cultural elements, such as the shared fabric traditions between Japan and Vietnam, underscores how personal histories are often intertwined with broader historical narratives.
Phan Quang’s *Re/cover* series continues to explore the suppressed history of marriages long considered taboo, weaving together the challenges faced by these families with moments of warmth and connection. The image captures not only the physical presence of the subjects but also the emotional weight of their legacy, a testament to the resilience of those whose love was both celebrated and condemned. By centering the veil as a unifying symbol, Phan transforms a single photograph into a powerful narrative of cultural exchange and personal sacrifice.
The Creative Process: Overcoming Obstacles
Phan’s journey to document these lives was fraught with obstacles. He spent years tracking down families, often writing over 200 letters to Japanese consulates and historical institutions. The sensitive nature of the topic, he noted, led to few responses. Yet, the inspiration for the veil came unexpectedly during a visit to a kimono workshop in 2013. The fabric used for kimonos in Kyoto also found its way into Vietnamese bridal traditions, linking two cultures through a shared material. This discovery deepened the metaphor, anchoring the series in tangible historical connections.
The series *Re/cover* blends staged photography with documentary realism, creating a layered exploration of the suppressed history of marriages long considered taboo. It will be featured at the Rencontres d’Arles photo festival in France this summer and fall, offering a platform for these stories to be seen and heard. For Xuân, one of the last surviving Vietnamese wives, the memory of her marriage to Shimizu was filled with warmth. "She spoke about her love with surprising devotion," Phan recalled. Shimizu, who stayed in Vietnam post-war to join the Việt Minh resistance, eventually reunited with his family in 1986 after Vietnam’s economic reforms opened the country to travel.
Xuân welcomed her adult children with generosity, though their dual heritage left them caught between identities. They could not fully belong to Vietnamese society nor visit their father’s homeland without feeling alienated. "Their lives seemed entirely erased by history, trapped in a melancholic loop of the past," Phan observed. The photograph, then, is more than a portrait—it is a testament to resilience and the quiet strength of those whose stories were buried for decades. By bringing these narratives to light, Phan ensures that the suppressed history of taboo marriages is no longer forgotten, but instead becomes a part of the collective memory of both nations.