Interview 001: Brittany Woo

Brittany Woo (she/her) is a fashion editor in Seattle. We talked about going from a predominantly white school to one of the most Asian school districts in America, developing a sense of permission to claim an Asian American identity without speaking a language or knowing all the answers, where she feels most at home, and more.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

I would love to start at the beginning: When and where did you grow up? And what was it like for you to be multiracial Asian in that context?

I was born in 1994 in Glendale, which is on the east side of LA. My family consists of my mom and my dad, who are both monoracial – my dad is Chinese and my mom is German – and I have a sister who’s two years older than me. We both grew up going to Pasadena Christian School. The demographics were predominantly white, and there was a sprinkle of Latinx, Chinese, and Black. I was one of the few people of color. And then we moved and I started fifth grade in the Arcadia school district, and that was a night-and-day difference. To give you context for what that change looked like, I looked up the demographics of Arcadia High around 2015 – I graduated in 2012 – and it was 68% Asian, 16% white, 13% Latinx, and 3% black. So it was very different.

Like a pendulum swing.

Yeah, it was wild. That's when I learned that people were speaking Mandarin and Cantonese at home, or they brought a stir fry or something Asian for lunch while mine was peanut butter and jelly. I just didn't feel Asian enough.

That must have been such a dramatic change – to go from being one of the only people of color to a context where you're like, “Oh, maybe I'm not POC enough.”  How did that feel for you?

There’s a TED talk by a person of color, Olivia Vinckier, called “The Form.” She talked about the question that gets asked on all the standardized test forms: What is your racial identity? And the answers they give you just never suffice. It's like, “Select one of the following.” That was such a great explanation of how I felt going into Arcadia High – I can't just select one because I’m not this primary color, I'm not just red or blue. I’m a mixture, a combination of things. But that form never let me select that. And if it did let me select something, it was “other.” So I really related to what Olivia said – I felt like I would never be able to select a box that really resonated with who I am.

That makes a lot of sense. I love the analogy you used of the primary color – you're not red and you're not blue, and to identify as either would be erasing another vital part of you. But there's no option for purple or orange or the only option is “other,” which is something nobody wants to be. That's such a good analogy.

Which Olivia said in her talk, so I want to give her credit for that. But it felt so relatable – it summed up my experience at Arcadia. When I was with my Asian friends, they would say things, or they would speak in Mandarin or Cantonese, and it would make me feel like I'm not quite this. When I was with my white friends, I wouldn't feel quite that either. So growing up, the question was, “Then who am I? Who am I as a multiracial person, and how do I explain that?” Even on forms, I can't mark who I am.

Were there any spaces where you felt like you could just be yourself and not the one who was “other?” Or was that something that never really materialized for you at the time?

Not during high school. But in college, a couple of my friends were multiracial too, and that really helped. For instance, my friend is Japanese and she's also white, but she didn't speak Japanese, so a lot of those experiences were reaffirming to me as multiracial person. Something that you and I have talked about before is being able to claim “I am a person of color” even if I don't speak a language. So it was really helpful to be surrounded by other friends who also didn't speak Japanese or Chinese but were still able to be like, “I am Japanese and white, I am a multiracial person, and that is something I can claim.”

That makes so much sense to me. You and I have talked in the past about how because so many Asians in America are either immigrants or children of immigrants, the ability to speak the language sometimes feels like it's a prerequisite to claim an Asian identity. But then my own children, for example, they can't speak Mandarin. The realization that that's not a requirement – what does it mean, then, to claim an Asian American identity? I think it's such an important question, and maybe a lifelong journey.

I get asked the question, “What is your racial identity?” and the person will get really excited, like “Oh, you’re Chinese? Do you speak Mandarin?” And then I'm like “No,” and I can see them deflate a little bit. In those moments I’m like, “Ooh, dang, I’m bummed. I don't speak the language, so I don't know if I can claim this identity.” Even though that probably wasn’t their intention.

That makes so much sense. And it makes so much sense that seeing other people who were also multiracial and also didn't speak the language gave you permission or an example of what it looked like to claim an Asian American identity, even though you didn't speak the language.

So these friends in college were really formative for you in terms of feeling like you could be yourself, feeling at home, feeling like you could claim this Asian identity. Are there places now in your life where you feel like you’re at home?

My friends from college that I spoke about – we’re still really tight. They’ve been on this journey with me and we talk about this. And on Instagram and TikTok, people have been able to voice similar things. I feel more empowered to claim that I’m a person of color because of them. They’re able to speak to things that I’ve experienced over the years – like, no, I don't speak the language or no, my parents don't speak the language either or no, I don't know everything about Lunar New Year. Things like that have really helped me. My friends and I speak about impostor syndrome – you feel like an impostor in a space because you feel like you don't know enough. So my friends and the people I see on TikTok, even though I don't know them – it's helpful to hear similar verbiage, like “I don't speak the language, but I am still Asian and I'm still learning.”

That makes so much sense, and I relate to that too. As a monoracial Asian person, if I had grown up in an era of TikTok and Instagram – even if I didn't see any Asians around me in real life, being able to see folks on the internet who were living their lives and giving me language for my experience would’ve changed my life.  So it makes a lot of sense to me that just being able to see that reflected back to you on the internet makes a huge difference.

You've mentioned a few key turning points for you, in terms of going from Pasadena Christian to Arcadia schools, and then the friends you made in college, and then the slow advent of Instagram and TikTok. Were there any other formative events that shaped how you think about your multiracial identity?

I’ve been so privileged that my grandparents on my mom's side have taken me to Germany, and my grandma on my dad’s side took me to China. My grandma who took us to China didn't really have any connections there – it was my great-grandma who travelled over to Los Angeles – but wanted to explore for herself with us. So that trip was different from my trip to Germany, where my grandma still had roots because she was the one who immigrated to the US. In both of those experiences, watching both of them interact with a place that had vital importance to who they are -- it was a beautiful thing. They were two very unique trips, but both connected me to a story about where I came from.

I love that and I love that when you went to China, your grandmother was on a similar journey as you, where she was learning and exploring and you were all figuring it out together. That must have been a powerful experience – and maybe given you permission in some way to not have the answers and also be figuring it out.

Yeah, absolutely. Permission is an accurate word. Sometimes you need to allow yourself to be like, “Hey, I'm still learning and that's okay” or “Hey, I am a multiracial person and I don't speak and that is also okay.”

I love that. Shifting gears just a little bit: When you have total freedom to identify however you want, how do you identify racially? And has this changed over the course of your life?

Right now, I would say I’m a multiracial person, but in the past, I used the verbiage of “I am half Asian” or “I am hapa,” which is a mixture of white and Asian. That verbiage made me feel like parts -- like little pieces, halves of something instead of one complete person. But it did reflect how I felt at that time – not being able to claim something, feeling only partially this. I’m not saying that was an accurate representation, but it did accurately speak to how I felt at the time. It wasn't that I was Asian or white – it was like, “What am I? If I'm not either of those things, am I American? Am I a mixture of these two? Am I ‘other,’” like that form we talked about? It took me a lot of time to get to a place of identifying as a multiracial person in America.  And sometimes even trying to claim to “person of color” is hard. I am one, and we've talked about this idea of proximity to whiteness – sometimes, depending on your facial features or your skin tone, you can be given more privilege if you look more white. That’s happened to me multiple times.

So I would say that is how I identify: I am a multiracial person, but it's taken some time to get there.

I love how you articulated the nuances and the complexity of being a multiracial person, and being a person of color who also benefits in some ways from proximity to whiteness, and holding that tension.

Another thing I wanted to ask you about is if you feel like having an Asian dad versus an Asian mom has impacted your experience of being multiracial Asian at all.

No, because these formative events have usually been from my grandmas. They’re the ones who have wanted to feed me these little nuggets of information. My parents grew up in an era of “I am going to assimilate and be American,” whatever that that meant at the time. But parts were lost – like my mom spoke German up until five years old, but they stopped speaking at home because they were trying to speak English. A lot of pressure was put on my parents to assimilate and kind of forget – forget about where you came from and where your parents came from and be American. So to answer your question, if it was reversed and my dad was German and my mom was Chinese, I think that wouldn't have mattered. Both of them had a similar experience.

I relate so hard to being from an era where assimilation was really pushed, and I also love that you had grandmothers who were so intentional about making sure that you knew where you came from. That's a real gift, because in the assimilation era, that opportunity could have totally missed you. So I love that they were so intentional about it with you.

Me too, and I feel grateful because now, going home, every time I'm with them, they just drop these little nuggets that I'm collecting in a bag. You realize the time with your grandparents and your family is really precious. When you're a kid, you're like, “Cool, I get money on Lunar New Year.” But now, I'm like, “What is the significance? How did this start?” I'm asking all of these questions. I do want to be transparent: I’m 28 years old, still trying to figure this out, and I don't think I’m ever going to arrive. When do you ever figure out everything we’re talking about? But I am curious and I do want to know.

To follow up – do you feel like having an Asian last name has impacted your experience of being multiracial Asian at all?

Yes, absolutely. If anything, that’s where people would have this moment of “Oh, you aren't fully white.” They didn't really know where to place me in their mind and the last name was a clue. 

I'm curious if you've experienced being multiracial as an asset to you in any specific ways in your personal or professional life.

Yeah, I have. One of my strengths is seeing a situation from multiple perspectives, and I do think that's because I’m multiracial and I grew up with two sides of my family that are run very differently.  When there are situations that arise in my personal life or my professional life and somebody's flippantly making a comment about somebody who might not have all the information about the situation, there's a large part of me that’s like, “But we don't know what's happening.” I always err on the side of assuming positive intent because if you don't let somebody speak about what happened, you really can't assume anything. I think it’s helped me be able to see situations from different perspectives and have an understanding of “Oh, this person might have been coming at it from this angle” or “This person might be doing it this way.”

That makes so much sense. Because for your whole life you've grown up between these two families that did things very differently and you've always seen these as two valid experiences and valid ways of doing things, so now, it’s natural for you to look at a situation and see different perspectives and acknowledge them as valid. It feels like it makes it easier for you to be empathetic, because you can see that these different ways of doing things are fine. They're good. They're just different.

Exactly. You hit on a word I was thinking about: empathy. I think it's a strength of mine. You can never fully be empathetic 100% of the time, but I think it’s a large part of growing up when things look different in your household and both of your grandparents’ homes.

It makes a lot of sense. Because a lot of people, if they grow up with a family where everybody is culturally the same, they don't realize that things are ever done differently until later in life. But because you’ve had these two experiences since you were very young, you got that empathy lesson early.

I'm curious, on the flip side, if you’ve ever experienced being multiracial as a challenge personally or professionally.

Yeah. Going back to the form question, it's like, “Where do I belong?” When you're growing up, a lot of people are going through that same thing – “Where do I belong? Who am I?” But I think being multiracial exacerbates that – like I don't even feel one or the other and society pressures you to select one. This is me guessing, but it might have been easier for me to be like, “I am monoracial, I am Asian, this is who I am” – there wouldn't be a lot of questioning. That comes with difficulties too, but mine was more around “Who do I say that I am? What do I put on the form?”

How do I explain myself in a world that wants me to fit into one category?

Right, exactly. And then taking it a step further, you can get existential – “Well, if I don't fit here, then where do I fit?” There are moments where you don't know, and then it makes you think, “Who am I and who can explain this to me?”

During the time I was growing up, it wasn't assimilation culture, but there was still negativity around not being white. A large part of me as a kid was like, “I would love to be white.” I think that comes from white supremacy – “This is the best thing, and we all need to be this.” It would have been helpful for someone to be like, “Hey, you are a multiracial person. You are a person of color.” Like an adult saying this to me, or my parents saying this to me as a monoracial parent, being like, “Hey, I'm German. I love being German,” or “I'm Chinese and I love being Chinese and these are the things I love doing. I know it might not be cool to other people, but these things are really cool to me and it's also really cool to be who you are.”

I relate so much to that, and it's striking for me to hear you say that because you grew up in Southern California, one of the most diverse places in the country. I grew up in Michigan, and I desperately wanted to be white because everyone around me was white. And also it was the ‘80s and ‘90s, when diversity hadn’t yet entered the mainstream conversation. And I don't know if the Abercrombie aesthetic impacted you at all, but I was in high school during that time and it was the open veneration of this white, all-American ideal. So it's striking to me that even growing up in SoCal, even in a school that was majority Asian, you still internalized the same messaging around “being white is the best.” Your answer makes me think about how insidious white supremacy is when even a kid who lives in Southern California and goes to a majority POC school is still like, “No, I would rather be white.”

Exactly. It’s a weighty thing to sit with sometimes, because I had such a moment to lean in. But during that time, the messaging was still really strong, like you said. The Abercrombie aesthetic was still predominant. Even my perception of coolness at my school – it was people in band and the people who were playing sports, who were white. There was still something around whiteness at that time where I was like, “I really would rather be this,” which was really unfortunate. I wish at that time, my parents and teachers and celebrities weren’t pushing all of these white ideals, but saying “Hey, get to know your personal ancestry. That’s cool.” But that wasn't the message at all.

I'm curious to hear your take on this, but I feel like now among Gen Z, for example, it's cool to be different, and that was never cool when I was growing up. So at least from my perception of Gen Z, it seems like you don't want to fit in – you want to stand out in some way – and that’s awesome. I also love that they can find people on the internet that match the specific identities they hold, even if they don't see that in real life. Like what you just said: Having someone – anyone – tell you that they loved their ethnicity or being different would’ve made a huge difference. Because if you don't say it, then people internalize the status quo. Kids will just internalize that white is better without somebody explicitly saying otherwise.

Yeah, exactly. And at that time, all of the magazines and all of the TV shows and everything had predominantly white cast members. You didn't really see people of color in those spaces yet. So your mind then goes, “This is the ideal.” Which is unfortunate. I wish there was a moment when somebody was like, “Hey, this is really cool. I love that you are German and you are Chinese and what does that mean to you?”

Along those lines, I'm curious:  What advice do you have for kids or teenagers now who are growing up multiracial Asian?

I would say, feel super-empowered to claim your racial identity and your ethnicity. And even if you’re “25%” of something, or even less than that, you’re still a person of color. You don't need to speak the language. You don't need to know everything. You're able to claim it from your birth. That is something you don't need to earn. Feel empowered to claim it. 

The biggest overarching theme for me is feeling that I had to achieve something to claim my racial identity, that I’m a person of color, that I’m a multiracial person. I had a different experience from monoracial Asians growing up, so what do I say when I haven't had the same experiences? I'm hoping that piece gets easier as we have more platforms and more people sharing their experiences.

I like how you said that – what do you say when your experiences aren't the same as somebody else’s? How do you then claim the same identity? So much of what I think has been good about Instagram and TikTok is helping people see the range of Asian American experiences. When people think of Asian Americans, they tend to think monoracial, East Asian, cisgender, heterosexual, child of immigrants. But in reality, being Asian American looks like so many different things. And collectively, we need a broader understanding of Asian American experiences. Multiracial Asians are Asian and queer Asians are Asian and black Asians are Asian and Asian adoptees are Asian. Both inside and outside of our community, we need to open the umbrella and see that Asian American experiences are so much more diverse than we've been told, both internally and externally. So I really appreciate you sharing your Asian American story, and I’m so grateful for the way that it will be hopeful and validating for people who hear it. Thank you so much for making the time and for being so generous with your experiences.

 Thank you, Liz. I appreciated it.