Asian+American Stories: Matt Kamibayashi

Where did you grow up, and how did you identify when you were younger? Has that changed at all?
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Growing up in Northern California, it took me a long time to embrace the fact that I was Asian (specifically Japanese) American. Because much of my family was Northern European, and most of the books and movies I watched featured white characters, I think I tried to see myself as white for most of my childhood. I struggled to make sense of my Japanese family history, which contained a lot of generational trauma that wasn’t reflected in my friends’ families or even on the other side of my own family. It wasn’t until young adulthood, after my grandparents passed away, that I realized I needed to take ownership of my Asian American identity—or I’d eventually lose it. Today, I’m deeply proud of my identity as a fourth-generation Japanese American and that identity has become central to my sense of purpose in my community and career.

Did you ever feel caught between cultures in any way? If so, how?
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Yes. As a biracial Asian American, the feeling of being caught between cultures was a very concrete, embodied reality I had to confront every time I looked in a mirror. Growing up, on my dad’s side of the family people would bring sushi to Thanksgiving dinner; on my mom’s side, we’d have turkey and mashed potatoes. That’s confusing for a kid, especially when most of the books and movies you consume tell you that Thanksgiving is about turkey. Faced with this kind of dissonance, it can feel easiest to gravitate towards what seems most legible to other people. But over time, I’ve realized I don’t have to choose or segment off portions of my identity. I don’t have to be Japanese or Irish, or part Japanese and part Irish. I’m fully Japanese and fully Irish. I can eat sushi and turkey for Thanksgiving (though personally, I now prefer sushi!).

Would you say the way you see yourself differs from how others have perceived/tried to define you?

Because I’m somewhat ethnically ambiguous, I don’t know how people perceive me most of the time. In certain spaces, I’ve encountered a kind of erasure of the fact that I’m Asian. In others, I’ve encountered a kind of exotification, a fascination with the fact that I’m not white, and an attempt to categorize what I am. There’s something dehumanizing about both impulses, so I resist them both equally. In the end, I’m the only one who knows what it feels like to live inside my skin.

Is there anything you wish you could say to your younger self about being Asian American?

Sometimes I feel sad that I spent so many years wrestling with what it meant to be Asian American. I wish I’d been able to embrace that part of myself earlier, that I’d spent more time asking my grandparents to record their stories and recipes. But if I could say something to my younger self, I’d tell him it’s okay to struggle with his identity. Because in the long run, I feel that struggle has made my sense of identity as an Asian American fuller, stronger, and more meaningful.

What does being Asian+American mean to you?

On its face, “Asian+American” is such a large label. It encompasses so many distinct cultures, each with their own histories, traditions, and experiences in the US and in other parts of the world. But to me, it’s less about what the label means and more about what it does. To identify as Asian+American is a gesture of solidarity with all the other communities and generations of people whose experiences have overlapped in some ways with my own. To embrace that label is a decision to be in community with others, and to participate in a shared fate. That’s why I’m proud to say that I’m Asian+American.

Learn more about our Asian+American campaign and how you can get involved here.

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