‘Wasians’ are embracing the spotlight. Not everyone feels seen

‘Wasians’ are embracing the spotlight. Not everyone feels seen

Wasians are embracing the spotlight Not everyone – Last month, Icelandic-Chinese artist Laufey released her newest music video, which featured a diverse cast of white and Asian celebrities. The clip sparked a flurry of online reactions, with fans joking about the phenomenon as if it were a modern-day superhero saga. “Laufey collecting wasians like pokemon,” one social media user remarked, while another celebrated the moment with the hashtag “WASIAN AVENGERS.” The term, though coined in the early 2000s, has recently surged in popularity, thanks to the visibility of several high-profile figures. Among them are Olympic figure skater Alysa Liu, actor Hudson Williams, and actress Lola Tung, all of whom appeared in the video and have since amplified its cultural resonance.

The term “Wasian” — a blend of “White” and “Asian” — has become a shorthand for those of mixed heritage, capturing a growing movement of self-identification. While similar terms like “mestizo” in the Philippines or “hapa haole” in Hawaii are used to describe biracial identities more broadly, “Wasian” has carved out a unique niche in American pop culture. Its rise reflects a broader trend of Asian influence in Western entertainment, from the global success of K-pop to the popularity of Korean skincare routines and the rise of figures like Labubus. As the visibility of Wasians grows, so does their presence in both digital spaces and real-world gatherings.

Laufey’s video for “Madwoman” was a cultural tapestry, weaving 1960s mod fashion with nods to her heritage. Attendees at the recent San Francisco and New York meetups were treated to a vibrant celebration of this identity, complete with music, lookalike contests, and cutout posters of notable Wasian stars such as Olivia Rodrigo and Henry Golding. For many, the events were more than just a party — they were a moment of recognition. Annabelle Oaklie, a stand-up comedian who joined the New York gathering, described the experience as “almost like a family reunion of sorts.” Born in Texas to a white father and a Korean mother, she recounted how her siblings and she often felt out of place in school, where their appearance differed from their cousins on both sides of the family. “It felt very validating — I felt very visible for the first time in my life,” she said, reflecting on the emotional impact of the event.

Laufey, too, has spoken openly about the importance of the term. She shared how, growing up, she struggled to find representation in music and media that mirrored her appearance. “Madwoman” was “what younger Laufey would have loved to see,” she explained. The video’s aesthetic, combining Chinese-American culture with Western influences, resonated deeply with its audience. Alysa Liu, who appeared in the clip, posted a photo from the shoot with a caption that read, “Shoutout Wasiaaaa,” a playful nod to the growing community. Laufey responded in kind, writing, “long live wasia long live alysa liu,” a gesture that underscored the mutual support among these individuals.

Hudson Williams, another prominent Wasian, has also used his platform to discuss his mixed-race identity. In an interview with audio app Quinn, he mentioned how his Korean mother often worried about his ability to secure roles in Hollywood, fearing he might be overshadowed by his white heritage. “I wanna represent my Wasians out there,” he said, proudly declaring himself “the princess or prince of Wasia.” His words highlight the personal stakes behind the term, as it becomes a tool for both visibility and empowerment.

However, the surge in attention has not been without controversy. Critics have pointed out that the Wasian meetups — and the broader representation of mixed-race figures in pop culture — often focus on a specific demographic. The majority of highlighted individuals, like those with Chinese, Korean, or Japanese ancestry, seem to dominate the narrative, leaving other Wasians, such as those with South Asian heritage, feeling underrepresented. “As a wasian who is half SOUTH Asian I also have no idea where I fit in this,” one TikTok user lamented. Another added, “That’s something that frustrates me as a South Asian Wasian… I’ve always had to clarify, ‘Yeah, I’m Wasian but you know my mom’s brown so I actually don’t fu**ing count!’” These comments reveal a tension within the community, questioning whether the term truly encompasses all mixed-race experiences or if it favors certain combinations.

Despite these concerns, the Wasian meetups have become a symbol of solidarity and celebration. For attendees, they offered a rare opportunity to see themselves reflected in media and culture. Yet, the events also sparked a deeper conversation about race and identity in America. As the term gains traction, it challenges traditional categories of ethnicity and highlights the complexity of biracial experiences. Laufey’s music video, the meetups, and the voices of those who identify as Wasians all point to a growing desire to claim space in the cultural spotlight. However, the debate continues, as some argue that the term’s popularity overlooks the diversity within its own group.

The cultural phenomenon surrounding Wasians is part of a larger shift in how identity is perceived and expressed. As Asian influence expands across global media, the narrative around mixed heritage is evolving. The term, once a niche identifier, now carries the weight of a collective movement, one that seeks to redefine representation in an increasingly interconnected world. Yet, its rise also invites scrutiny, as it becomes a lens through which to examine who gets seen, and who is left in the shadows. Whether it’s a unifying force or a selective one, the discussion around Wasians is far from over — and it’s shaping the way people think about race, identity, and belonging in the United States.