This haunting portrait reveals the suppressed history of marriages long considered taboo
This haunting portrait reveals the suppressed – “`html
A Haunting Portrait of Love Across Borders
Underneath a delicate white veil, four generations of a remarkable family gather together on tan leather chairs. At the center sits a woman cradling a baby, while her siblings and a great-grandchild complete the composition. All gaze directly at the viewer with an intensity that speaks volumes about their shared history. These individuals, now in their sixties, represent a generation born from unions between Japanese soldiers and Vietnamese women during World War II—a period when such relationships carried profound social weight.
The siblings pictured belong to Lê Thị Xuân and Yoshiharu Shimizu, known in Vietnam as Nguyễn Văn Đức. Together they had two sons and one daughter, all captured in this poignant 2014 photograph by Vietnamese photographer Phan Quang. The image forms part of “Re/cover,” a comprehensive multiyear project that Phan dedicated to documenting these often-overlooked family narratives. The series reached completion approximately ten years ago, though its stories continue to resonate with contemporary audiences.
Uncovering Suppressed Histories
During Japan’s occupation of Vietnam, relationships between soldiers and local women faced considerable prejudice. This stigma was particularly acute given Japan’s military’s documented history of sexual slavery through “comfort women” systems. Such unions, even when founded on genuine affection and mutual consent, endured extraordinary social challenges. Both parties bore the burden of historical judgment.
“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.”
The children of these marriages occupied a liminal space—neither fully integrated into Vietnamese society nor able to visit their father’s homeland. This dual identity created legal complications and emotional burdens that persisted across decades. Their existence seemed suspended between two worlds, their stories largely absent from official historical records.
The Veil as Metaphor
Phan’s visual solution emerged during a 2013 visit to a traditional Japanese kimono workshop. He discovered that the same voile fabric used for bridal veils in Vietnam had been manufactured in Kyoto since 1955—the very year Japanese soldiers departed Vietnam. This serendipitous connection inspired him to drape each subject in white cloth, creating a powerful symbol that simultaneously represents matrimony and silence.
Bringing the Japanese fabric to Vietnam established what Phan described as “an invisible connection” between the two nations. The series masterfully blends staged photography with documentary techniques, allowing each portrait to function as both personal testimony and historical document.
A Love Story Enduring Separation
Shimizu’s decision to remain in Vietnam after World War II demonstrated extraordinary commitment. He joined the Việt Minh resistance movement, actively opposing French colonial reoccupation. The couple married in Hanoi and shared nine years of life together before circumstances forced their separation. Despite this, Xuân maintained deep pride in her husband, carefully preserving his belongings for decades.
“Their lives seemed entirely erased by history, and they themselves appeared trapped in a melancholic loop of the past, with no way out,” Phan added.
Without official recognition from Japan or immigration pathways for Shimizu’s Vietnamese family, reunion remained impossible. When Shimizu returned to Japan in 1955, financial hardship prevented him from supporting his family. It wasn’t until 1986—following Vietnam’s historic economic reforms that opened international travel—that he returned with his new Japanese wife to meet his adult children. Xuân welcomed both women with remarkable generosity.
Locating Forgotten Families
Phan’s journalistic background proved invaluable as he spent years tracking down these scattered families. He wrote more than 200 letters to Japanese consulates, historical institutions, and various organizations, yet received surprisingly few responses. The sensitivity of the topic likely contributed to this silence. Xuân, one of the few Vietnamese wives still living when Phan began his work, spoke about her love with unexpected warmth and devotion.
The “Re/cover” exhibition currently graces the Rencontres d’Arles photo festival in France during summer and fall. Curator Nadine Hounkpatin organized the broader presentation, bringing these intimate family stories to international attention. Through Phan’s lens, we witness not merely photographs, but living testaments to love that transcended war, borders, and time itself.
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