The True Meaning of Liberation Day

What does Liberation Day on Guam make you think of? Does it remind you of parades? Beauty queens? Canopies? Columns of military marching? Does it remind you of rain? Fireworks? Playing games at the carnival? Spending time with family?

I think of all of these things and one thing that most might not: I think of people chastising me for not really knowing what Liberation Day is really about.

Today many people know me for writing a regular newspaper column. For the past 10 years I’ve had a column in the Pacific Daily News, and for around six years before that I wrote a column in the Marianas Variety (now known as the Guam Daily Post). But while I was a graduate student, I would sometimes write letters to the editor of the Pacific Daily News and occasionally they would get published.

One of the first of these letters was published in 2003 and at that time there was a discussion around the official naming of Marine Drive to Marine Corps Drive. While Guam’s central road was well-known as Marine Drive, and some associated it with Liberation Day and the Marines and World War II, others thought of its name “Marine Drive” as being associated with the ocean.

Most people came out in support of the naming of Marine Drive as Marine Corps Drive, citing patriotism of the people of Guam and the need to honor the sacrifices of those who had helped to retake the island from the Japanese. 

Some did not support the renaming. For some it was practical. It would cost money, it wasn’t an important issue. For others it was because they felt that too much of Guam’s landscape at the time, whether it be the Liberation Day Parade, to the streets in Hagåtña, to monuments and memorials was already focused on celebrating the US and its military, why add more? Why were there so many monuments for the US military on Guam and so few for Chamorus?

This was close to my own thinking. I argued in my letter to the editor that while Liberation Day reflected a liberation from war, and something that was meaningful to those who survived it and for those who had real memories attached to it, we should be cautious about eternally chaining ourselves to the US through a particular always essentially subordinated relationship, which made us the thing that must always be liberated by Uncle Sam and saved from something. Whether it be war, corruption, typhoons, poverty, or anything else. 

I acknowledged that the day would always have a powerful meaning for people like my grandparents who experienced it first hand, but that its lessons, what it symbolized must necessarily be different for the rest of us, especially given how Guam continued to remain a colony of the US after their return and continues to be one up until today. 

Two letters to the editor were submitted within a few weeks in response to my own, both of which admonished, in indirect or direct ways. Both of the letter writers have by now passed away. One was from Professor Dirk Ballendorf (I was on my Micronesian Studies Thesis Committee at UOG), the other from John Gerber, a Chamoru and Marine, who had demonstrated in support of the changing of Marine Drive's name by dragging a cart from one end of the road to the other. 

Both of them expressed that I had missed the point of Liberation Day. Ballendorf arguing that Chamorus had benefited from the US return. John Gerber arguing that it was clear I had never talked to a Chamoru who had been in the occupation or else I would never write or think the things that I had. Ballendorf to his credit, which critiquing some of my points did praise how I represented Chamorus speaking out more and more about our history and the issues affecting our islands. 

 Since that time in 2004, I have had so many more people tell me in similar and different ways that I continue to not understand Liberation Day, that I don't understand what our elders felt or what they believed. That I missed the point. 

20 years ago, these critiques concerned me or worried me, that I might be missing something or that I might need to do better. But even then, at the time I had written that letter to the editor in 2003, I had already interviewed more than 200 Chamoru war survivors. I had heard literally hundreds of Chamoru war survivors tell their stories. I have since heard three times that many talk about what they and their families experienced and heard some speak explicitly to what Liberation Day symbolizes to them.  

Over the years I've written quite a bit about Liberation Day. Trying to push beyond the typical, superficial narratives and themes that are often promoted. Here are some of columns where I've talked about it in the Pacific Daily News:

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“Listen to the Liberators”

Michael Lujan Bevacqua

Pacific Daily News

July 18, 2019

My columns these past few weeks have focused on thinking critically about our World War II history. It has been fascinating tracking comments on social media over my columns, some has been supportive, much has been negative.

Liberation Day is one of the largest local events. How we commemorate it directly affects not just how we see the past, but what we see as important or necessary for the future.

 The greater our understanding of the past, the greater our capacity to plan for the future. My arguments have focused on the idea that the way we commemorate the war in Guam can lead us to make certain inaccurate assumptions about the US and our relationship to it.

A regular refrain made against my columns was that I should listen to those liberated and their liberators. The assumption being that those who sacrificed and suffered in war on Guam would never say things like this.

But these truths aren’t mine alone. I have interviewed hundreds of CHamorus who survived the war and have read as much as I can about the war and written about its many impacts.

From the liberators themselves

In much of the patriotic noise that rises each July, there has always been a voice, sometimes quiet, that has tried to remind us that the American return didn’t fix our colonial status. They have tried to remind us that regardless of what passionate patriotism we feel to the US, the majority of Americans today, still do not know that Guam is a territory of the US.

We have even heard this over the years, from the liberators themselves. One of the most passionate in this regard was the late Darrell Doss, a US Marine, whose connection to Guam went beyond faded photographs and occasional return visits. Doss took up the cause of political status change for Guam and worked with other liberators to lobby their representatives stateside.

In 1995 he wrote that “[Chamoru] patriotism to America has never been questioned; but their reward has been a snub, and treated as inferior, second-class citizens. The United States has long preached the virtues of democracy, but still practices Colonialism, as evidenced by how we treat and control Guam.”

When he returned to Guam in 2003; he and other liberators made a statement that we should remember each Liberation Day, “Please remember, we men who landed on your shores July 21, 1944, shall never be fully satisfied until you are fully liberated."

We should listen to the liberators

To those who did not like my columns, because of what I am saying or implying about the US and its failure to live up to its ideals in how it has treated Guam or CHamorus, I agree that we should listen to the liberators.

I would remind you however of this simple truth; my statements are not preventing the US from living up to its ideals, about truly being a beacon of freedom. All our energy would be better spent by joining the decolonization conversation. Working like Doss, to make the US worthy of any labels of greatness.

As Doss notes, he sacrificed along with thousands of others in retaking Guam in the name of freedom. But the true testament of gratitude shouldn’t be platitudes protecting the status quo. It should be earnestly working towards a genuine liberation, through decolonization.

Michael Lujan Bevacqua is an author, artist, activist and assistant professor of CHamoru studies at the University of Guam.

 

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“Guam’s True Liberation Awaits”

Michael Lujan Bevacqua

Pacific Daily News

July 25, 2025

 

Another Liberation Day has passed and once again, I did not make it to the parade on Marine Corps Drive. But I did watch some of the festivities on YouTube from PBS Guam and also followed the posts of those who attended on social media.

I also followed the annual but critical discussion on the meaning of liberation day which, for many people, boils down to whether or not Guam was really “liberated.”

For this column, let’s turn to the writings of a CHamoru war survivor, a highly distinguished and decorated veteran and someone who served Guam as its non-voting delegate, the late Ben Garrido Blaz. In his book, “Bisita Guam: A Special Place in the Sun,” he recounts a very telling anecdote about Guam’s relationship to the United States.

It begins with Blaz as a young man on island after World War II, who is preparing to leave for his first assignment in the U.S. Marine Corps. The Organic Act had been signed recently, creating the Government of Guam and giving CHamorus U.S. citizenship.

Compared to the pre-World War II years, CHamorus could now feel closer to the United States and connected to their democracy, but at the same time, the Organic Act also formalized and froze Guam in an unincorporated territorial status.

While small changes such as Guam getting a little more funding here or included in this program there could be addressed, the fundamental issues of sovereignty, self-determination, borders, militarization, CHamoru rights, decolonization, even votes for president or a vote in Congress, these things have not been addressed 75 years later.

In Blaz’s anecdote, he is confronted by one such persisting division and inequality by his father:

“Not everyone was happy with the Organic Act. While most of the people on Guam were jubilant with its passing, some felt it did not go far enough. My father was one of those. He railed against it, saying it did nothing more than to make us second class citizens. He took me aside one day as I was about to leave for my first assignment in the Marine Corps and asked a question that has haunted me since. We were in the air terminal on Guam, in those days a mere Quonset hut. Looking at me directly he said, ‘Tell me, why are we equal in war, but not in peace?’ I could not answer him then, and now having served 30 years in the US Marine Corps and eight years in the US Congress I still cannot.”

A very important moment, and an inkling of truth in the situation of Guam that Blaz also builds upon in his article, “Chamorros Yearn for Freedom.” An interesting piece which was published in the 1994 Guam Liberation Day booklet. This piece is insightful and could be called radical in some ways, for how it is willing to ask tough questions about our history, present and future in relation to the United States.

As someone who survived the Japanese occupation and suffered for the United States, as someone who served in the U.S. military with honor, the questions nagged at him and should nag at more of us. While Guam was liberated from Japanese occupation, it was not liberated in a political sense. And because of that, given our continuing colonial status, can we say we are really free?

In the final few paragraphs of this article, he acknowledges the sacrifices of the liberators of Guam in World War II, and then goes on to remind us that “true self-determination and equality still evade our people. Thus, the quest (for self-determination) endures.”

Guam’s true liberation awaits through decolonization, through the ending of our colonial status and achieving a status that is genuinely self-governing. I look forward to attending the parade on that day.

Michael Lujan Bevacqua is an author, artist, activist and the curator for the Guam Museum.

 

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“Quest for Guam’s Full Liberation Continues”

Michael Lujan Bevacqua

Pacific Daily News

July 30, 2020

Another Liberation Day has passed for Guam. This one comes without a parade or carnival, although the rain was still very much present. In the absence of the usual festivities, I maga’hågan Guåhan encouraged the island to use this time to remember and reflect on our island’s wartime history and the experiences of our war survivors. 

Last year, for the group Independent Guåhan, I compiled a list of quotes for precisely this purpose — “Reflections from those who fought in, survived and inherited the tragedies of World War II in Guam.” It featured quotes from war survivors, their children and also a U.S. soldier who helped retake the island.

We passed them out at the parade. This year, we were content to share it on social media.

As we reflect on what the meaning of this day might be 76 years later, there is still a persistent, but sometimes difficult, question to unpack. Was the American retaking of Guam in 1944 a liberation? In some ways, it most definitely was. It was a liberation from Japanese oppression and occupation.

But beyond that, things become problematic. Guam wasn’t liberated politically, in the way the U.S. liberated France in the same war. Guam was instead returned to U.S. control and it remains a territory up until today, subject to second-class treatment and unable to determine its own destiny within the U.S. and in the world. 

Questions to ask

As we recall the suffering of our elders during the Japanese occupation or even the sacrifices of those who retook the island from the Japanese, we should ask ourselves: Did they suffer and sacrifice so that Guam should remain a territory? An often-forgotten footnote to the U.S.? Is that all the island and its people are worth?

There are three basic future political status options for Guam: statehood; free association; and independence. Each would allow Guam to be genuinely self-governing and join the U.S. or the world on a more equal footing. Beyond being a territory, each of these statuses would offer more dignity to the island, its history and to those who sacrificed to take it from the Japanese.

This time of remembrance should be filled with reflection, not only on the past, but on what happens next for Guam, especially in terms of its political future.

This was something that even many liberators themselves recognized. When they would return to the island years later and find that people on Guam have no representation in the federal government and that thousands had lands taken from them after the war, they felt strongly that the process they had started when they hit the beaches in Asan had not been finished. 

Quest continues

One of the quotes I collected came from the late Darrell Doss, who for years organized his fellow Guam liberators to speak out on behalf of the people of Guam, especially in support of Guam’s potential commonwealth status.

He argued that by not supporting Guam in decolonizing and by keeping it a territory, the U.S. had failed both the people of Guam and also those who had sacrificed and died to take the island from the Japanese. 

As the words of this Guam liberator remind us, the quest for Guam’s liberation continues and it will be most truly be realized through the decolonizing of the island and it achieving a new political status.

Michael Lujan Bevacqua is an author, artist and activist who works for Sen. Kelly Marsh.

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“Guam’s Liberation Didn’t Set Us Free”

Michael Lujan Bevacqua

Pacific Daily News

July 4, 2019

 

On July 21, 1985, the group Organization of People for Indigenous Rights took out an ad in this newspaper asking: “Kao magåhet na manlibre hit?”

While the text would be translated by most to mean “Are We Truly Free?” because it came out on that year’s Liberation Day, it also was indirectly posing the question of “Were We Truly Liberated?”

Was July 21, 1944, a liberation or not?

How Guam decides to answer and reflect on this is critical not so much for our past, but our future. What we call that day and how we choose to remember it will impact what we feel and what we see as possible in terms of our relationship to the United States and the world.

Idea of liberation 

First and foremost, the idea of liberation is something that came after the war. The assault on Guam was part of Operation Forager, which including retaking Guam and taking islands in the Northern Marianas and Palau. The idea of liberating the CHamoru people was a minute consideration.

The accounts of men who participated in Guam’s retaking attest to this. Comments such as “We didn’t know anyone lived here!” or “You guys speak English?” when encountering CHamorus provide crucial anecdotal evidence.

There are other ways we can still consider it to be a liberation. In the context of manåmko’ memories, we can refer to it as a liberation. They were liberated from the trauma of the occupation when the Japanese were at their most brutal. We shouldn’t deprive that generation of the power of their emotional relief and joy at such a terrifying time coming to an end.

You could even call it a liberation in a more tactical sense in that territory once held by the U.S. was liberated from an opponent.

Basis for connection, not inclusion

We run into problems when we start to think about liberation in a political sense and start to infuse into Guam’s re-taking a lot of emotions and even provide Uncle Sam with the disposition or personality liberator. When we start to think about the liberation of Guam as being the basis for our connection to the U.S., that is where we start to run into problems. It’s a basis for our connection, but not inclusion.

That is what OPIR was getting at. If we say we were liberated, we might assume we are free in the same way that billions of people today live free in their countries. Regardless of how many American flags we wave on July 21, as a colony that freedom, that liberation, still awaits us through decolonization.

That’s a prime reason why we tend to drastically misunderstand our relationship to the U.S. We may see them in the vibrant memories of elders saved from oppression. We proclaim they liberated us and saved us, and America is great because of this.

They look at us in return and, with confused eyes, ask: “Who are you again? Guam? What’s that?”

Michael Lujan Bevacqua is an author, artist, activist and assistant professor of CHamoru studies at the University of Guam.

 

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“Retaking of Guam Wasn’t a True Liberation”

Michael Lujan Bevacqua

Pacific Daily News

July 27, 2017

Another Liberation Day has come and gone, and with each passing year, more and more questions emerge about the meaning of this important event and our relationship to it.

More people seem willing to question whether the U.S. return to Guam in 1944 was a liberation, but for each person who earnestly asks that question, there’s usually another who raises their voice in indignant defense, demanding that it not be questioned. For them, it's a sacred event for our elders and should require our patriotism and gratitude.

One of the misconceptions that people have is the notion that something sacred shouldn’t be questioned or analyzed. Something sacred holds such depth and power that its meaning can sustain questioning or scrutiny. If people shout down those who have earnest questions about Liberation Day in the name of it being sacred, more likely they are scared of how the concept will fall apart once interrogated.

I have documented several hundred Liberation Day stories from Chamorro elders, and I can say for certain that it was a type of liberation, but it wasn’t a liberation in the way it has come to be conceived in the decades since.

The emotional liberation was real. It should be commemorated. The bonds between our elders and American soldiers were powerful. But to extend beyond that means to turn a beautiful and enriching experience into raw materials to justify Guam’s colonial status quo.

Not political liberation

What most people seem to celebrate each July, with talk of freedom and liberty, isn’t what took place in 1944. That would be a political liberation.

To be considered a political liberation, we have to delve into the intent of what took place and also what happened afterward. For the U.S. return to be this type of liberation, the safety of the Chamorro people had to be the priority; any interests of the U.S. had to be minor or non-existent. The benefits Chamorros received can’t simply be collateral, they had to be the goal.

This also means understanding what happened afterwards. This tends to indicate a great deal about what the intent was, even if rhetoric may mystify it. Did the U.S. return lead to an end to Guam’s colonial status and the development of a relationship with it, and the rest of the world, predicated on principles of democracy, liberty and freedom? This only happened to a marginal extent.

The U.S. took advantage of the feelings of gratitude by Chamorros to illegally seize their land. You might argue the land was worth the price for their lives, but that isn’t liberation — not even close. To make that argument cheapens what real liberation is supposed to be.

Unfinished process

With so many members of the Greatest Generation passing away, we should take seriously their sacrifices and struggles. We should take seriously the legacy of that liberation by acknowledging what did happen, what didn’t happen and what should still happen.

This means we shouldn’t refer to the American retaking of the island in 1944 as a liberation, but see it as a potential start of that journey — a process that remains decades later unfinished.

In the name of all those who suffered and sacrificed, the U.S. should allow the work started to be finished, and allow a true liberation — the decolonization of the island — of Guam to take place.

Michael Lujan Bevacqua is an author, artist, activist and assistant professor of Chamorro studies at the University of Guam.