A Blasian’s Happiness
Natasha Shanta Reid (Tasha), or better known as Yoon Mi-rae, was born on May 31, 1981 in Texas to a South Korean mother and an African-American father. Because her father served in the U.S. military, their family often moved and lived in several different countries including Germany. It wasn’t until she turned 10 years old when she relocated to Korea for the first time ever, barely knowing any Korean. In a society that was, especially at the time, reluctant to accept those who are racially different due to the dominant ideology of a “pureblood” Korean race, Tasha struggled to fit in and experienced much discrimination growing up. She recollects how she had no friends, was called inappropriate names like ‘negro,’ and was told to go back to her country. Historically, and still today, Koreans’ beauty standards are idealized with whiter, lighter skin. There is a prejudice against dark skin because it has long been associated with poverty — poor, lower class laborers who worked the fields were often suntanned, whereas the rich, upper class stayed shaded indoors, away from the sun. Because of Tasha’s darker complexion and inability to speak Korean during her youth, she was constantly stared at and greatly ridiculed and alienated.
In “The Souls of Black Folk,” W.E.B. Bois describes double-consciousness as “this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others.” He further asserts that the individual has difficulty in claiming one whole identity because it feels like his/her identity is split into several parts. This is relevant to Tasha as her biracial ethnicity tore apart her traditional heritage and new civilization, allowing her to be fully aware of the many cultural differences while assimilating into a new country. She admits how she has always felt confused about her identity since she was neither considered Korean nor African-American, and discusses how she faced discrimination from both sides recalling that,
“In the U.S., I wasn’t Black enough. In Korea, they called me “Yankee.”
Despite the horrors she faced, Tasha found refuge in music from the culture her African-American father exposed to her as a child. Music, most particularly hip-hop (as well as R&B, pop, and jazz), had always been apart of her life from a young age thanks to her dad, who was also a DJ in his free time. At a young age, Tasha was fortuitous enough to have the opportunity to engage activity within the Korean music industry. However, her early road to success was not an easy one — her substantial musical talent was undermined at first by her multicultural background, different hair and skin tone. When Tasha’s singing/rapping career began, her first agency attempted to style her appearance to look “more Korean” and even advised her to hide her father’s African-American descent from the public, in which she actually did. She later came to regret this decision and, when Korean society finally began to be more accepting of mixed races, expressed her frustration in one of my favorite songs, “검은 행복,” which directly translates into “Black Happiness.”
In this single, Tasha conveys her difficult journey in accepting and loving herself lyrically, some of the lines translating into how she always hated her dark skin and how people would say her dad’s race was not okay. Yet she continues to passionately sing, in fluent English and Korean, that her connection to music is in regards to her dad and that music has gotten her through everything as she held on to her father’s words to be strong and believe in herself. Tasha turned to music as her solace and released her pent-up anger through her inspirational lyrics, emphasizing and ultimately embracing her interracial origin. I am happy and proud for her that she was able to truly find beauty in herself even if others were slow to seeing it.
Today, at the age of 35, Tasha is recognized as South Korea’s first female emcee and greatest female rapper; she is even often compared to renowned Western artist Lauryn Hill because of her ability to switch from hardcore rapper to soulful R&B with ease. Tasha is also considered to be one of the first pioneers of Korean hip-hop, creating herself an affluential legacy. I absolutely love and respect Tasha because her music represents who she is and depicts stories of how she fought and overcame her struggles. Despite the fact that things have gotten better since before, Tasha affirms that racism still exists in America and Korea. She ceases to amaze me as she is an ambassador for a multi-cultural youth organization as well as a child abuse prevention campaign in Korea. I hope and believe that Tasha inspires others to advocate fighting for equality of all Korean citizens, regardless of racial background.
