Interview 005: Hana Carmona

Dr. Hana Carmona (she/her) is a clinical psychologist in Riverside, California. We talked about growing up Korean and Mexican in Southern California in the ‘80s, how her identity journey helps her in her work as a therapist with college students, her realization that she’s 100% Korean and 100% Mexican, 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 this context? 

I grew up in the Inland Empire of Southern California, which is an hour-plus outside of LA. And this was in the ‘80s – I was born in ‘78. During that time, a lot of families, mostly Black and brown, were moving to suburbs away from Los Angeles to give their kids opportunities to grow up in a more suburban life, with new schools and things like that. My dad's family moved from Compton to Norco. So my dad followed that same pattern and moved our family to a city called Moreno Valley, which at the time was a lot of undeveloped land, horse properties, and orange groves. I grew up watching this city be built before my eyes. At that time, it was multicultural in terms of Black and brown families and then white families that came out probably for other reasons or had lived out here for generations. And less Asian families. So being Latino out here felt more common.

Being Korean out here felt less common and more difficult at times, because there was definitely some racism and xenophobia that either developed here or was carried over here from communities that had come from LA. Being multiracial Asian here was almost unheard of. So weirdly, I don't know if that was protective because I was less easily identified as Asian, which would have probably made it tougher. I did witness my mom, who is fully Korean and immigrated here from Korea, and my uncles and their kids, who also immigrated, take more of a brunt of racism and discrimination. So I feel like being multiracial Asian either helped me fly under the radar or put me in a category that was hard for people to know what to do with. In a way, that allowed me more social flexibility. But as we all know, the double-edged sword of being multiracial is that you also struggle with belongingness and things like that. So I think it was protective in some regards, but it was also difficult in its own way. And I also developed some of the toughness that my uncles and mom had to develop here, because you can't help but relate to what your family's going through, even if you’re not directly the recipient all the time.

That was perfectly articulated – the way in which being multiracial was protective because people didn't really know how to categorize you, so you were spared the brunt of some of the anti-Asian racism that you saw your family members experience. And it also came with the challenge of knowing where you fit in specifically.

Growing up in a place where your Latinx side was more represented and you “passed,” where people may have read you as Latinx, and at the same time seeing things like anti-Asian racism – do you feel like that impacted how you identified or which side you identified with more? Was it always a both/and for you? I'm curious how that shaped your experience.

It has always been a both/and for me, but I didn't realize that it was not always the case for biracial folks to feel bicultural until later. When I was in college and I participated in more large group discussions and seminars and conferences, I started to realize the real diversity of experience that folks have with being multiracial. At that point, I came to an awareness that because I was raised by both parents and had extended family from both sides of my family in my life for my whole life, that for me, it has been a more balanced development of multiple identities. Of course, there's aspects of my identity that feel more salient at times situationally. But I do feel like it was balanced, and that's the pro and the con of witnessing some of your family members be targeted more than others. You don't get to choose away from that. If you have a strong sense of identity in that regard, it hurts you – you don't get to choose to make it hurt less.

But I also think that to outsiders, it didn't always appear that I was biracial. Honestly, there are probably people to this day who think I'm Filipina. So I'm experiencing my identities as maybe more salient at times than others, but always ever-present. How I'm being experienced, though, is sometimes one or the other or both or neither.

I appreciate you naming that – how your internal experience is one thing and can change from context to context, and different parts will be more salient in different contexts. And other people's experience of you is completely different from that, and in some ways has nothing to do with you.

I'm curious if there were any formative events that shaped how you think about your multiracial identity.

I feel like the chapters in my life are like - pre-college was a lot of foundational work in developing the different parts of my identity, in terms of being Korean American and first-generation on my mom's side, and then being Mexican American and third-generation on my dad's side. And coming to terms with those types of themes - the new immigration story, and also immigration from a faraway place versus immigration from a place that is connected to this country by land. So there was a lot of that kind of exploration, and I did that through summer camps and other experiences.

College was the chapter where I, first of all, had many more Asian friends to bolster that sense of being Asian American. But that's also when I had access to more conferences, guest speakers, seminars. A lot of that was through belonging to Intervarsity, which is an on-campus Christian organization. Even though I wouldn't say they were great in every aspect, it was really great for me in terms of speaking plainly and exploring non-judgmentally the dynamics of race and culture. And hearing guest speakers that were slightly older than me – it was rare for me to find a person older than me who was biracial or multiracial because my parents were an interracial couple in the ‘70s, which was unusual. So I got to hear people talk about their experiences, and I think I read one of their books. And being in small group discussions with other folks, even if they are not the same, even if we don't share any racial or ethnic identities, talking to another person who's multiracial helped me so much to feel the points of relatability – like I too have internalized differing value systems, and I too felt the push and pull or the tug of war of loyalty, being more than one, having more than one tribe. So that happened for me in college.

Also, doing all that reflection and exploration and collaboration bled into my personal prayer life. I finally got to come to terms with the sense of loss that I don't have a biracial parent to show me how to do this and I didn't feel a sense of understanding in my home – that all came to the surface at that time in my life. And I remember feeling more peaceful after that in terms of like, “Okay, as a biracial person, I have monoracial parents.” And at the same time, I felt a sense that God is not going to give me an experience that he cannot understand. So I felt the safety net of “If God is everything, your mom and your dad and all the things you might need, then he is also my multiracial parent.”

Wow, that's profound. I love how you described that trajectory too, where pre-college, you got the foundational pieces and developed both identities, and college was the time when you integrated the two and grieved the losses and also felt a sense of redemption or restoration in having God as a multiracial parent. That's really profound.

I'm curious how you feel like your identity as a multiracial person has evolved since college, as an adult.

It continues, maybe not in leaps and bounds, but in complexity and the meaning I make of things. Because I'm a psychologist that works with college-age students, helping another generation do some of what I was doing also changes me. I can't help but be changed, because my daily work is to be like a sherpa for folks who are wandering in the wilderness of these things. It's not that I have the perfect roadmap of where we're headed, but I have walked this path before. So my familiarity with it is helpful for them, but also, I feel more and more a sense of knowing the way and knowing the landscape for myself as well.

That's profound. That sherpa analogy is perfect - you have been on the journey, and every journey you take thereafter impacts you and shapes you and gives you more familiarity with the terrain.

Yeah. And it might even come up unexpectedly – maybe I'm talking to a client regarding the cultural or gender roles they’re navigating related to their upbringing. And I will feel a point of relatability in one regard because of one of my racial identities, but I will also feel the co-occurring set of values in me that are different from that. The sense of relatability happens very organically in therapy, and the sense of “I don't know everything about this, let me be curious” also happens. And sometimes I feel both of those things at the same time.

That's fascinating. I love that you have a profession that, when that co-occurring set of values comes up that makes you feel connected and unfamiliar at the same time, gives you an opportunity in that moment to dig deeper and ask more questions and be more curious.

Yes. I feel like that is the continuation of the redemptive work that you alluded to in college – the arc of redemption, for me, includes the fact that I still figure these things out as I go and while I'm trying to be helpful to another person. But it's definitely not fully figured out. I don't know if that's ever a point that we get to, but it gives me more ease, more ability to talk plainly about it, more ability to be attuned, even when I don't know everything, and to feel more comfortable saying “I don't know.” Those are all things that make me better at my job and also further along as a person.

Dr. Carmona's parents

That's beautiful. Shifting gears: When you have complete freedom to identify however you want, how do you identify yourself? Racially, ethnically, what's your preferred way to describe yourself? And has this changed over the course of your life?

I refer to myself as biracial, Korean-Mexican American. I didn't know that's what I preferred because when you're younger, people are telling you what you are. So for a long time, I would use words like “Hispanic.” Now I don't feel the need to use terms that are used on the census, because on the census, there's no Latino race – there's “Caucasian Hispanic,” like Hispanic is a subset of Caucasian. And I don't really feel that way. I feel more tied to the fact that I have a Mexican American family and I have a Korean American family and both of those families make me who I am. So that's what I call myself. I also use the broader terms of Asian and Latino.

Going back to what we said earlier: Given the situation, different aspects of my identity come forward, so there are moments where different identities feel more salient. It's not that I would call myself something different, but I would feel more in my Latino culture or I would feel more Asian in that moment.

That makes a lot of sense. You were one of the first people to clearly articulate to me why the language of “half” didn’t resonate with you. And you were one of the first people I knew to be like, “I'm fully Korean and I'm fully Mexican, 100% of each.” And if people are like, “Well, that's 200%,” you're like, “Yep.” I admired the complete ease with which you owned that. You've always been fully both. And I've always really appreciated that about you.

Thank you. At one point, probably during college, I suddenly realized how bizarre it is for people to try to do math in terms of quantifying a person's identity and for some reason needing things to add up to 100%. I don't know what they're trying to reconcile it with, but that became the most absurd thought to me, the more I came to terms with exactly what you just said. I cannot pick and choose which aspects of being Korean I will bring into my life. Or I can't pick and choose to leave my Latino identity at the door when I walk into a certain space. So the fact that at no given moment can I stop being anything that I am, and at no given moment is any aspect of the, let's say, Asian American identity not applying to me, then really 100% of those things are happening to me all the time. So if somebody needs that to have a number, then I guess it would be 300%, because I am 100% biracial all the time and I am 100% Latino and 100% Korean.

I love that so much. I love the way you articulated how odd it is that when it comes to matters of identity, people are like, “We have to quantify this. Gotta put a percentage on it.” It's a very strange thing when you put it like that.

It is. And the more I learn about the old ways of categorizing people as minorities, like how much blood of that other race they have in them or how much blood it requires for a person to, let's say, identify with a Native or Indigenous tribe – the more I learn about those things, the more I realize that this whole effort at quantifying people's identity, as if it would imply their belongingness to something, has probably never been healthy for us.

Oh yeah. It’s mainly used to exclude. At the core of it, the need to quantify was racist, from the one-drop rule on, right?

Yes.

You've already touched on this somewhat, but I'm curious how being multiracial been a challenge for you in your personal and/or professional life.

Personally, there were hard times. When you're young, you don't have the complexity of mind to develop your social bonds based on deep things, so a lot of social belongingness is based on what race you are or how old you are. That was hard at times, to feel like I was standing in between groups and not truly belonging without doubting or questioning myself. So that was tough early on, and it got easier when people started to choose their friendships based on like-mindedness and things like that. Developmentally, that was just going to be a harder time for me as somebody who was more than one thing.

As I got older, there are times where it feels like more work to have to explain who you are to people, because people aren't using a shorthand to understand you. My name is Korean. My last name is Latino. And from the jump, introducing myself to a person has sometimes had to come with a conversation about my identities. And I don't think that's true for everyone else, to introduce themselves and then have a person question, “Oh, your name is so interesting. Tell me about that.” You usually don't have to immediately start talking about your parentage as soon as you meet someone.

With the receptionist at your dentist's office.

Just literally anyone, somebody you'll never see again. So it's more work. It's not bad work. I think it's good. Sometimes I was probably the first biracial Latino-Asian person that person had met. So looking back, I don't regret that I had to do that at times. But in the moment, I'm sure there were times where I wished I could be moving on to the next thing.

So there was the effort to help people understand me. Of course, if I didn't feel like it and I just gave half answers, whatever they came up with probably didn't affect me. But helping people know what to do with you mentally feels like a little bit of a responsibility. And again, going back to the double-edged sword, sometimes it's to our advantage that people do not quickly categorize us, because it gives us some flexibility and maybe some opportunity to catch people off guard or be disarming in a way before they categorize us. So it's got its upside. As I got older, it felt like more of an asset because it matters less to me now when people don't know what to do with me. So I'm doing less concerned thinking about that, because I have the people I belong to in life and I feel that sense of attachment and like everything's going to be okay. It's less scary, less alienating, less work and I can enjoy more of the asset that it is.

That makes a lot of sense. And it's a perfect segue into my next question for you: How has it been an asset for you in your personal and professional life?

Professionally, we touched on me as a psychologist, having done a lot of reflection and teasing out and navigating issues of identity around this. Again, it's not like I have the answers for another person, but I’m not scared of going there with my clients. And if I have clients who can't put their finger on something, I can let them know that it’s okay to have that feeling – it won't always feel that way. So in that way, it's an asset. It really brings down my anxiety about the fact that sometimes the answers are not at our fingertips and this is supposed to be a developmental process.

Personally, like most people probably feel about their cultural identities, it adds richness to my life. I'm just enjoying becoming a little old Asian lady and a little old Latino lady and loving those parts of myself. It brings a flavor to life. And through food and music and fun times, I think having multiple cultures is great. Things can bring us joy even from outside of our own culture, but to feel like I hold things close to my heart because they're part of my culture and that is doubled or tripled – that is also cool.

All these things belong to you.

Right.

That's beautiful. And I also love what you said – you talked about this as a professional asset, but I feel like it's an asset in all of life – this idea that we might not have the answer right away. It might not be clear and maybe it's a process or a journey. Knowing that from a younger age seems like a real asset. It's something we all have to learn at some point, and it seems like it's something you’ve had to develop more fluency with, and earlier, because of your identity.

Potentially earlier, but it's funny – no matter at what age you internalize that, you always wish you had it earlier. I wish somebody would have imparted that to me when I was a middle schooler, you know what I mean? Luckily, a lot of us get that at some point in our development. And for me, the redemption is to pay it forward. I cannot give it to myself when I was in middle school, but I could give it to the families I was working with as a therapist. Or now that I work at a university counseling center, I can pay it forward to these 18-year-old students that are living on their own for the very first time.

I love that. If you didn't have it at 18, then maybe you can help them get there when they're 18. That's lovely. And another good segue into our last question: What advice do you have for kids or teenagers who are growing up multiracial Asian?

I have two thoughts about this. One is regarding the internal process of being multiracial Asian: Don't worry too much about the sense of disloyalty that can sometimes happen when you’re investing more in one aspect of your identity over others, because the nature of development is to be herky-jerky at times. There were times where I was, let's say, going to summer camps and learning about the history of Latino folks and learning the songs and the dances and loving those things. At no time do I stop being Korean when I'm doing those things. Just try to keep your eyes open for the next season of life where other aspects will grow. Don't worry too much about the fact that it doesn't all happen all at once or evenly. At some point, you’re gonna get to a place where you feel a strong sense of self in all these regards. Don't be too concerned about the fact that that happens in an uneven way.

And then in regard to living in the world as a multiracial person: Going back to what we said, if anyone ever tries to quantify who you are, or they’re saying things that feel diminishing to you because it's trying to categorize or box in your experience as a person, you don't have to believe that person. You don't have to adopt a worldview that doesn't feel natural to you just because other people feel like this is how we understand people. You don't have to choose to be understood that way. And if anyone ever tries to quantify you or be an accountant regarding your identity, you do not have to fall in line with that because our experience can't be quantified. We are so much more than that.