One of the most important scripts he wrote wasn’t for the stage.
February 25, 1940: Frank Chin was born in Berkeley, California. He would become a playwright, critic, and one of the fiercest voices in Asian American literature.
Frank Chin grew up in California, the grandson of a railroad worker. He studied at UC Berkeley and UC Santa Barbara, wrote for the California Pelican, and later worked in television and journalism.
He helped found the Asian American Theatre Workshop in San Francisco and co-edited the landmark anthology Aiiieeeee!, challenging stereotypes and demanding that Asian American stories be told on their own terms.
His plays — including The Chickencoop Chinaman — were among the first by an Asian American to reach major New York stages.
But his most lasting impact may not have been literary.
Courtesy of The Bancroft Library, UC Berkeley
Chinese railroad workers, c1867. Frank Chin’s grandfather was part of this generation of laborers whose work helped build the railroads but whose stories were largely erased.
Photography by Nancy Wong
Frank Chin on stage in “The Year of the Dragon,” 1978. His work challenged caricature and stereotype, helping establish Asian American theatre as a serious movement.
Courtesy of Densho / Frank Abe Collection
Seattle, November 25, 1978. The first large public Day of Remembrance. Participants gathered before forming a caravan to retrace the route to the Puyallup Assembly Center.
Courtesy of Densho / Frank Abe Collection
Frank Abe at the 1981 CWRIC hearings, holding the Day of Remembrance poster first organized in 1978. Chin sparked the idea. Abe helped mobilize it.
The Day of Remembrance
Frank Chin believed history and art were inseparable. If Asian Americans allowed their past to be erased or softened, their literature would become hollow.
So in 1978, when redress seemed stalled and political leaders dismissed reparations as “guilt mongering,” Chin pushed for something more visceral.
He told filmmaker Frank Abe: “If Japanese Americans lose their history, you can kiss Japanese American art goodbye.”
It wasn’t just about theater. It was about cultural survival.
Together with community leaders, veterans, churches, and civil rights groups, they organized the first Day of Remembrance in Seattle.
The Trigger Effect
Participants gathered with suitcases. They wore family tags. They boarded buses to the Puyallup Fairgrounds, retracing the route to the site where 7,000 Japanese Americans had been incarcerated.
For many survivors, it was the first time they publicly revisited that experience.
The event re-ignited the redress movement.
Other cities followed. Survivors began speaking publicly about their experiences. Emotional testimony later shaped the Commission on Wartime Relocation and Internment of Civilians (CWRIC).
Ten years later, the Civil Liberties Act of 1988 became law.
The script had changed.
Courtesy of Roy Nakano
Hundreds packed into the federal building for the first day of the CWRIC Hearings. Many were speaking publicly for the first time about their incarceration during WWII.
Courtesy of California State University Dominguez Hills
Surrounded by survivors and advocates, President Reagan signs the Civil Liberties Act — an apology 46 years in the making.
SF Chronicle Tearsheet, March 5, 2015
Throughout his career, Frank Chin challenged fellow writers, critics, and publishers, arguing that Asian American stories must be told on their own terms.
Photography by Nancy Wong
For playwright, critic, and provocateur Frank Chin, the fight was never only about Japanese American history. It was about American history, and the role of art in shaping it.
Complexity & Controversy
Frank Chin has never been a quiet figure. He criticized fellow Asian American writers, accused some of reinforcing stereotypes, and sparked debates about authenticity and folklore.
He won three American Book Awards. He made enemies. He made movements.
His passion for Asian American voice was uncompromising.
One of the most important scripts Frank Chin ever wrote wasn’t for the stage.
It was history — retold, reenacted, and reclaimed.