Interview 004: Kat Coleman

Kat Coleman (they/she) is a high school science teacher in Houston. We talked about growing up around Houston with and without an Asian American community and how their multiracial Asian identity intersects with their other identities - and gives them opportunities to support their students. (A note: Kat and I met through an organization called Progressive Asian American Christians - PAAC for short - which they referenced in our conversation.)

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

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

I grew up in various towns in the Houston area. I was born in Houston proper, and my parents were married but physically separated due to work. I spent my first few years living with my mom, who is Taiwanese – she was born and raised there – and her parents. I was fluent in Taiwanese – my mom said it was better than her own, which is wild to me because now I'm only fluent in English. After a few years, we moved with my dad to a small town that’s home to a Taiwanese chemical plant, and I lived there until first grade. I found out as an adult that part of the reason we left was because people were trashing-talking us for being a mixed Asian household. So we moved to an even smaller town, where my dad’s side of the family was located at the time, where we were the only people of Asian descent. In 2000, the census had only 411 reported for this town, four of which were my immediate family. I lived there through elementary school – some really formative years. Being the only Asian person around, I felt a lot of pressure to “be Asian,” whatever that means. But now I can see how far from that part of my identity I was – I didn't really know what it meant to be Asian, but I felt a lot of pressure to perform aspects of it. Even at that age, people knew that Asians were supposed to be great at school, things like that.

In middle school, we moved to a suburb right outside of Houston, the Sugar Land area. Going from that tiny little town of 411 people to Houston was a huge shock, because I was suddenly surrounded by a bunch of other Asian American people. I was going to an Asian American church. I was in extracurricular activities where there were a lot of other Asian American people. So in a sense, I was really connected with the community, but also being mixed, it felt like I was the token “white” person in some cases where it was convenient or the token Asian person in other places. It felt like people were deciding my identity for me. That was pretty much my secondary education experience – I was constantly frustrated. There were still a lot of expectations put on me, but not the same ones as before. Those different experiences gave me a fuller picture of who I was and who I was expected to be – and who I didn't want to be.

Going from a context where you felt pressure to perform some kind of Asian-ness and then being thrown into a context where you were the “white” person on a regular basis – what was that like?

It was difficult. I went to the same church from middle school through the early years of my adulthood, and it still felt like people were not inclusive. Even on my last day, when I knew I was leaving, somebody made a snide comment about how I couldn't read Chinese and I’m at a Chinese church. It was weird, not looking like a part of a community that I felt I should belong to. And that was my experience growing up, even through college.

Not looking like the community that you felt like you should be a part of.

Yeah, so I felt like I was always on the margins, like “Am I allowed to belong or am I not?” Even when I applied for the PAAC Fellowship, on my application I said something like, “If this is not a space that belongs to me, I totally understand and that's fine. I don't want to take up space from people who are fully Asian.” I wasn't sure those spaces were meant for me, even though I felt some sense of connection, that I was supposed to be there. But people didn't necessarily always agree.

Now that you mention that, I remember it. And I remember feeling a little heartbroken that you weren’t sure if you had the right to be there. I'm wondering – where do you think you internalized the message that you needed to ask permission to take up space in Asian American spaces?

I think it came from the culture of those spaces. I don't necessarily identify as a woman now, but there are aspects of East Asian culture that say you shouldn’t speak unless spoken to or you don't want to make a scene. You don't want to make things inconvenient for anybody else. So I think that played into it. Also, unfortunately, my mom has this outdated belief that you’re whatever race your father is. Even a couple years ago, she said, “I don't know why you're so hung up on being so Asian, you're white. I see you – you look like you're white.” That was some of the messaging I got as a kid.

Wow. How did that feel for you?

Not great, obviously. Because also, on the other side, I never felt like I had access to or was allowed to be a part of the white family either. I avoid going to what I call White Family Thanksgiving for a few reasons, one of which is just a few years ago, one of the guys that married into our family was talking about “those damn Orientals” right in front of me as if I wasn’t there. I felt like such an outsider, and that felt even stronger on that side of the family.

I really resonate with what you said about Asian Americans, and women especially, always getting the message that our job is to not make anybody uncomfortable and to make sure we're not stepping on anybody's toes. It's a terrible confluence of things – people intentionally or unintentionally messaging that you don't belong, plus this socialization that says you're not supposed to offend anybody or take up too much space. All this to say that I’m really sorry on behalf of monoracial Asian people, because we can be real jerks about this. It's so violent to tell members of our own community that they don't fully belong. I hate that so much, and I hate that you experienced that.

I hate that too. Although I’m fully aware that as horrifying as all of this sounds, I know that because my non-Asian half is white, it did grant me some privileges that people who are mixed Black or mixed Hispanic probably would not have. They probably would’ve had a harder time in the environment I was in.

Which is even worse – it was a terrible situation, and also it may have been better for you than for other multiracial folks in the same situation because you benefited from proximity to whiteness.

Do you still feel the need to ask permission to take up space in Asian American spaces?

No, and I have my adulthood and PAAC Fellowship experiences to thank for that. At this point, I don't feel like I have to ask for permission to learn the aspects of culture I didn't have access to when I was growing up. I recently started looking into how feasible it would be to relearn Taiwanese. And I see “being mixed-race” as just another dimension of my Asianness.

I mentioned how I don't feel like I belong in my white family at all, and at this point, I don't really want to. I recognize, like you said, how proximity to whiteness can benefit me in some ways and I keep that in mind – like I do my best to not speak over people who don't have that same proximity to whiteness as I do. But also I feel like I shouldn't have to ask for permission, because this is a culture that belongs to me.

I love how you phrased that, that being mixed-race is part of your Asian identity – that this is one facet of your Asian identity and they're intertwined.

On top of the things we've talked about, are there any other specific events that were formative for you in terms of how you think about your multiracial identity?

Being in the classroom for seven years. I started out at a school that was almost 100% minority, mostly Black and Hispanic students, not very many Asian ones. That was weird in that I was assumed to be Asian more often than I was used to. While I was there, another Asian American coworker and I started an Asian culture club at the request of some of our students that were lacking representation. That was a lot of fun to put on – a lot of work, but work I enjoyed.

Now that I'm working at a school in the district I grew up in, I'm teaching a lot of Asian American students. It's the opposite experience, but it's interesting to me that they still see me as Asian. Maybe it's just because I’ve been vocal about my identity, but it was nice to have a little bit of validation from outside of my family that other people do see me as Asian enough or as part of the community.

It sounds almost like – so I'm a parent now and I feel like a lot of parenting is re-parenting myself. My older kid is seven and I feel like I have opportunities now to heal from some of the things I experienced at every age he's been through. I don't know if this makes any sense, but part of me wonders if this is almost a corrective high school experience for you. It sounds like such a contrast to the one you had – I wonder if it feels redemptive or corrective in some way. Does that make sense at all?

It does. I hadn’t thought of it as such, but I think you're right. It has been healing to be a part of the community and – I guess it sounds cheesy to say – to be the teacher I didn't have. But I guess I am that.

You are! You totally are. Sorry to project my experience onto you, but I feel like so much of the healing work of being a parent for me has been being the parent I needed and didn't have and being able to stand up for my kid in ways that I needed. And I feel like in the same way, you’re getting to be that for your students – and also healing high-school you in the process.

You’re right. My favorite moment where I got to use that proximity to whiteness in my favor with this white teacher who no longer works with me. She was known for being racist. I don't think she knew I’m Asian, because in my experience, white people who are racist sometimes cannot tell that I’m anything other than white because they don't know to look for it. She was saying something horrible about some kids. I let her continue on with her rant and when she came to a pause, I was like, “Hey, you know I'm Chinese, right?” And the way she backpedaled and all the floundering she did to take it back. I just let her go through all of that, just let her feel all the awkwardness. By the end of that conversation, she was apologizing profusely to me. I don't think that solved racism or anything, but it gave her something to think about. She wouldn’t have felt the same entitlement to say those things about “those people” if she had known that I was anything other than white. I wouldn’t be able to do that if I wasn’t multiracial, I don't think.

I love that. I have another multiracial Asian friend who is white-passing, he would say, and he's like, “Sometimes I feel like a spy with white people who don't realize I'm Asian. I'm like an undercover Asian and I get to hear what they actually think,” which is tough, but it also provides an opportunity. And you were given such an opportunity and you seized it.

I'm curious – when you have complete freedom to identify however you want, how do you identify yourself, and has this changed or evolved over the course of your life?

It definitely has changed. Right now – because there is room for me to change as time goes by, and maybe in ten years I won't say the same – I identify as mixed-race Asian American or mixed-race Taiwanese American. Earlier I said to that one co-worker “I'm Chinese” – I don't identify necessarily as Chinese other than being part of the diaspora, but I also don't identify as white. Not to use the one-drop rule or anything, but in my own experience, being mixed with white has never meant that I was white. I was never treated as such, and I never felt like I belonged to it.

Growing up, though, I felt pressure to be “half” - that was the language provided to me, and people would call me a halfie. It's language I don't like to use anymore. It was also weird because I have some Native American ancestry. I'm so far removed from it. My great-grandmother was probably so traumatized that she didn't pass anything on. But there was a lot of talking about these pie pieces or fractions of my identity. Now I know it didn't make any sense to put these pieces together. That's just not how identity works. I’m sure other people use that terminology and it works for them, and that's great. Any multiracial person is entitled to use whatever language is helpful for them. But for me, it was more helpful to realize that these parts add dimension to my identity rather than take away from it.

Not every Asian American person will have an Asian father. Growing up, I felt because I didn't have that, I didn't have a complete Asian experience. But that's absolutely untrue.

I love the language you used about how every piece of your identity is additive, as opposed to fractioning yourself off into these different pieces.

I'm curious – you specifically use the term “mixed-race” and I’d love to hear why that term feels resonant to you.

I know I don't have to, but I use that terminology because it adds this dimension. It's an important descriptor because being mixed has affected so many parts of my life, the way that I understand people. All the weird experiences I had growing up made me very aware of other people on the margins or who was allowed in or out because I experienced that. So I include that because it’s such an important descriptor for my own experience, although just saying that I’m Asian American is not incorrect.

Does “mixed-race” have more resonance than “biracial” or “multiracial?” Is there something about that term that seems to fit better for you?

If I were more in tune with or more connected with my dad's side of the family, “biracial” might be something I would feel more comfortable using. Multiracial is just a long word, honestly.

That makes sense. So “mixed-race” is a modifier of “Asian American,” whereas biracial would suggest a connection to both races that you don't necessarily feel. I really appreciate you breaking that down.

Yeah, of course. Also, I prefer “being mixed” as opposed to using this language of fractions or numbers. Even if I'm biracial, something about using the numbers feels a little less holistic, if that makes sense.

Yeah, it's still quantifying the parts. Whereas it sounds like what you're trying to do is say “No, they're not two separate parts. It's all one whole.”

I'm curious if being multiracial has impacted how you experience other identities you hold, whether that's your sex or sexual orientation, ability, status, nationality, anything.

I'm the oldest of all my siblings, and as I mentioned before, I don't necessarily identify as a woman. Growing up, I hated this feeling of having to be the older sister and the eldest daughter. Those felt like unfair expectations that were put on me, things I didn't ask for, things that didn't quite fit. But my next youngest sister has taken on some of those eldest-daughter roles. And as I started to understand gender and how I don't particularly relate to it, when I started thinking back into my childhood and reframing some of those roles I had, it felt better to say I'm the oldest kid rather than the oldest daughter, the oldest sibling instead of the oldest sister. I wish I had access to this language when I was growing up. It probably would have saved a lot of grief and conflict. There's a lot to not being on the gender binary.

Do you feel like not being on the racial binary made the idea of not being on the gender binary more accessible for you?

That's really interesting. It probably helps - not feeling like I had to be anything in particular or fit into these boxes. Being asexual was probably the first step in the whole gender thing for me. I’m also thankful that it saved me from some of the weird, fetishy comments from men my siblings have gotten. But I think you're right – I wouldn't say it was a direct relationship, but it primed the way I think and allowed me to see outside of these boxes.

I appreciate you helping me understand that in terms of being asexual, too. And it sounds like because you weren’t on dating apps, you were shielded from a lot of the fetishism that many multiracial Asian women experience. Did I get that right?

Yeah. My sister has shared about some of these things - the most horrifying comment I've heard from her is “You're half the race my parents want me to date and half the race that I want to date.”

Gross. Jesus.

Yeah, I heard that and I was like, “Okay, I'm good.” She has a whole list of horrible shit that men have said to her.

I appreciate you articulating that. Sometimes people think fetishization is a privilege, and I appreciate you providing this very tangible example of how fetishization is actually something no one wants.

We’ve touched on this here and there, but I'm curious how being multiracial has been a challenge for you in your personal and/or professional life.

I don't think it’s been much of a challenge in my professional life. I don't know how much of this has to do with me being an Asian science teacher – my friend who’s an English teacher has gotten a lot of wrong assumptions made about her. The challenges were much more internal and at home, in my personal life. All the ways I felt pressured to be Asian but didn't have the resources to learn the language or whatever it was I felt I needed to do to “be more Asian,” which you don't need. You don't have to speak Chinese to be Chinese.

Also, my dad is one of those well-meaning white men who doesn’t see color. I got into some arguments with him in my early 20s, when I was coming into my realization that I can be Asian and I have full access to the community if I want it. I would talk about white people and he would get mad any time I talked about “this is a white-people aspect of culture” or “this is a white-people thing.” It was like, “How come your things get to be the normal things, but my things don’t?” We had an argument about tea – we had different kinds of tea at home. We would make sweet tea because we live in the South, but we would also have Chinese green tea and jasmine tea. And I always felt like it was weird that the non-Asian stuff got to be the normal stuff – like it would usually be called “normal tea.” But how come my stuff has to have the modifier?

That makes sense. We're used to having to deal with white normativity out in the world, and it must be exhausting to also have to deal with it in your own home - to have to explain to someone that it's messed up that their stuff gets to be normal and yours is the deviation from that.

You've also alluded to this already as well, but I'm curious how being multiracial has been an asset to you in your personal and professional life.

For one, it's been helpful having access to whiteness in the sense that I don't have to fear being harassed on the street, especially after COVID started and all the hate-criming started happening. I was very aware that I didn’t need to fear for my physical safety. And like I said with my coworker experiences - even though I'm hearing things I wish I didn't have to hear, I’m able to speak to these things, and I know people wouldn’t listen to me the same way if they didn't perceive me as they do. So because I have this proximity to whiteness, I feel a responsibility to protect my community in a way that I have this special ability to do.

You have a point of access that a lot of people in our community don't have, and I love the intentionality with which you choose to use that privilege. Any other ways you feel like it's been an asset to you?

I appreciate that my students feel safe enough to talk to me. They see me as part of the community, and high-school Kat wouldn’t believe that adult Kat is experiencing this. They'll come to me with the racism they experience. And like I said earlier, all the stuff I went through as a kid really prepared me. It shaped the way I think. I can see different perspectives. I'm very aware of people who are in or out of a group or on the edge, on the margins. I was always aware of who I could invite or bring into the circle – even physically, if we were having a conversation and some people were not in the circle.

Because you've had the experience of not feeling like you belonged, you have a sensitivity to others who might not feel like they belong. And you leverage that to bring them in. That's beautiful.

Speaking of youths, what advice do you have for kids or teenagers who are growing up multiracial Asian?

Number one, there's no right or wrong way to identify or to be yourself. You can identify as half or mixed or both or whatever. Even among my siblings, none of us identify the exact same way, and we have the same parents and grew up in the same places. For me personally, like I said, not talking about myself in terms of fractions and numbers and things that feel impersonal and inhuman, and seeing the different aspects of my identity, like my disabilities, my gender and sexual orientation – all these things are additive. So talking about myself in a way that's multi-dimensional feels better because humans are multi-dimensional. And I prefer using language that treats people as if they're complete.

It's never too late to start reconnecting with parts of your heritage you thought you've lost. At the age of 29, I'm starting to relearn a language that is considered endangered. I realized that once I started hearing things in Taiwanese rather than Mandarin, I was like, “Oh, this feels better.” It feels much closer to home. This is what I grew up hearing, even though I didn't realize it until I was an adult.

There’s a bill of rights for mixed people that was helpful for me – to know I have the ability to identify the way I want to and I have the right to change as I see fit, as things change and shape me, as my environment changes. 

These are dynamite pieces of advice, Kat. As we come to a close, I'm curious if there's anything I haven't asked about that you would like to share.

This inner turmoil about being multiracial or mixed-race isn’t closed forever. Things are always going to change and I'm still relatively young. This chapter will inevitably open itself back up. But I feel really fortunate that I've come to a place where I'm at peace about my identity, the spaces I'm allowed to take up, and the ways I can use my privilege to speak up. I’m fortunate that I now feel like I can look into these other aspects of my identity and see the mixed-race portion of me as a modifier and just one aspect of myself. So now I can look into disability and the complexities of being asexual and aromantic - all through the lens I have of being multiracial, because all these things affect each other intersectionally.