S2, E15: Comedian Youngmi Mayer Discusses Identity, Trauma, and the Humor of Difficult Travel

Youngmi Mayer gained recognition by sharing her traumatic childhood experiences and the complexities of growing up in Korea and Saipan. In this week’s episode of Unpacked, we sit down with Youngmi to discuss her recent visit to her childhood homes, now with her young son in tow, and the surprising beauty she found there. We also dive into conversations about Asian mothers, navigating biracial identity, and the complexities of being Asian American.

Transcript

Mae Hamilton, host: I’m Mae Hamilton, and this is Unpacked, the podcast where we unpack one tricky travel topic each week. This time, we’re chatting with comedian, activist, and podcast host Youngmi Mayer, based in New York City’s Chinatown. I first discovered Youngmi on Instagram.

I don’t recall exactly how—perhaps a friend shared her post on their story. What struck me was her message about not quite fitting into either Korean or American culture, which resonated deeply with me as a half Taiwanese, half white American. Soon after, I was hooked on her podcast Hairy Butthole and became a dedicated Youngmi fan.

In this episode, Youngmi and I discuss her recent visit to her childhood homes in Korea and Saipan, a small island near Guam. Youngmi’s childhood was filled with trauma, a theme that frequently appears in her standup. Returning to these places has always been complicated for her, but this time she brought her young son, Mino. We dive into what it’s like to revisit a place loaded with emotional baggage and how to still find moments of beauty amidst the pain.

We also touch on topics like Asian moms, the complexities of being biracial and Asian American, and why these identities can be so multifaceted.

Hey, Youngmi, I’ve been following you for a while and listening to Hairy Butthole. Thank you so much for joining me today.

Youngmi Mayer, comedian: Yeah, thanks for having me. I’m excited.

Mae: Me too. So, for those who may not be familiar with Hairy Butthole or Feeling Asian, could you share a bit about your journey into comedy? How did you get started?

Youngmi: I got into comedy in 2018. It was one of those moments when I realized I wasn’t living the life I truly wanted. I know it’s a cliché, and I almost feel embarrassed to share my story because it feels like there are a million similar ones out there. Women get married, have a kid, get divorced, and then end up doing standup comedy.

That’s my story too, but I think what’s a bit different is that I had this epiphany in therapy. I realized I had been living a life I thought I was supposed to live, and it was making me deeply unhappy. I was a married stay-at-home mom, and it just didn’t feel right.

I want to make it clear, though, that nobody forced me into that role—my ex-husband certainly didn’t. It was more about me thinking I had to do it. I was too embarrassed to admit to anyone, even myself, that I wanted to do comedy. But through therapy, I saw how miserable I was, and that realization sparked a big change for me.

Mae: Hmm, I see. I think I remember you mentioning that you used to be really shy and reserved before diving into comedy. What do you think changed? What helped you make that leap?

Youngmi: Yeah, a lot of people are surprised to hear that I was really shy. I was the type of person who dreaded speaking in front of others or being the center of attention. It’s funny—this is where it gets a little woo-woo, but I’m a Cancer rising with a Sagittarius sun. If you know astrology, it kind of makes sense. I’ve always felt like a classic Sagittarius in many ways, but I think it was my Cancer rising that made me more introverted in the first part of my life.

Mae: Ah, those water signs! I totally get it. Honestly, I think it's such a gift to the world that you went into comedy. For people who might not be familiar with your standup or podcast, what topics are you most passionate about? What do you like to explore?

Youngmi: I’d say most of my material focuses on my biracial Asian identity and being Korean. I approach it from a unique perspective as someone who is biracial, grew up in Korea, and moved to the States when I was 20. While I share a lot in common with Asian Americans, my experience also comes with its own set of differences. That’s probably the main theme I focus on.

But I also talk about being a single mom, the chaos that comes with it, and the journey of figuring it all out. I dive into feminism, social justice, and my core beliefs—especially around Asian identity politics, standing up for Asian people’s rights, and breaking stereotypes. I like to challenge what people expect from an Asian woman, so that others who live like I do can see that they have the freedom to be themselves.

Mae: Yes, I love that. You really get into the humanity and complexity of these topics. OK, for those who don’t know, I’m also mixed Asian American.

So, what’s your experience with it? What are the complexities of this identity? What does it feel like for you?

Youngmi: Well, first off, I knew right away. We always seem to spot each other, right? I could tell from a mile away. It’s one of those things. A lot of us mixed-race folks can be invisible. I’m sure you’ve experienced this too—people either assume you’re fully Asian, or other Asian people look at you and think, 'We’re not sure what you are, but you're definitely not one of us.'

And it’s true—people don’t automatically see us as biracial unless they are mixed themselves. It’s like we exist in this invisible space. And even though we share a lot of similar experiences, mixed-race people from any background have their own set of unique challenges.

But because we don’t really fit neatly into any group, we’re often on the sidelines—kind of attached to the Korean group, or the white group, or whatever race we’re closest to. But we’re never really grouped together as a whole. So, we’re always left out of the conversation, which means we can never unite and, I don’t know, overthrow the government together or something. I really think we could do it, you know?

Mae: Oh, absolutely. We totally could.

Youngmi: Right? It’s like we’re sitting on some untapped power here.

Mae: Yes.

Youngmi: I think they’re just too afraid of our potential power to put us all in the same room. That’s part of why I feel like mixed-race people, especially in America, are so invisible. I’m not sure, are you based in the U.S.?

Mae: Yes, I’m in L.A.

Youngmi: OK, I was just checking—didn’t know if you were a sneaky Canadian or something! Just kidding.

But yeah, especially in America, it feels even worse. In other parts of the world, there’s often a category for mixed people, or like in Korea, they even have a word for it. But here in the U.S., with the history of things like the 'one-drop rule' and race-mixing laws, it’s a whole different story. It’s either you're one thing or the other, and because of that, we’re pretty invisible here.

Mae: I agree. And what you mentioned about not quite fitting into either community—there’s a certain pain in that, but I think it makes us more powerful in the end.

Youngmi: Yeah, the suffering.

Mae: Exactly, it’s shaped us into stronger individuals, or at least I hope so.

Youngmi: Yeah, totally. And it’s kind of made us feel like we’re oddly special too. I went to this comedy show once, and at the time, I didn’t know, but it was specifically for mixed Asians.

The woman sitting next to me turned to me and said, 'I don’t really like being in this room. I prefer being the only one. It makes me feel special.'

I was like, 'What are you talking about?' And she said, 'Didn’t you know? This is a mixed Asian comedy show.' I looked around the room and suddenly realized, 'Oh my God, everyone here is so attractive.' I hadn’t even noticed before, because, you know, we’re often invisible. But then it hit me—'Wow, everyone here is mixed Asian.'

And I was like, 'Damn. I’m feeling a little uneasy. It’s like we’re all gonna fight to the death. Only one of us is making it out of here alive.'

Mae: That’s so true.

Youngmi: It’s gonna be a—

Mae: That’s so true. We’d just end up eating each other like hamsters.

Youngmi: —Henry Golding

Mae: —or something like that. Ugh, it’s so refreshing to chat with you about these things. You totally get it.

Youngmi: Yeah, over Zoom. Because if we were in the same room, we'd probably end up in a battle royale, and only one of us would make it out alive.

Mae: Exactly. And I’m guessing it would be you.

Youngmi: Sadly, yes. But you know, I have a feeling you're a sleeper fighter. It’s always the quiet ones. Just kidding.

Mae: Yes. So, one of the things I really loved that you started doing recently — I think over the past few months — is those travel vlogs. You've been sharing your experiences of being out and about, and I think it’s such a great new addition.

And one of the vlogs I remember was about your trip to Saipan and Korea. Can you share a bit more about that trip, like how long you were there and just the basics?

Youngmi: Sure. So that was actually my first time back in Korea and Saipan in a while. Saipan is this tiny island in the Marianas, part of Micronesia. I spent half of my childhood in Korea and the other half on Saipan. I used to visit Korea a lot since my parents live there, and of course, I would take my son with me. But I hadn't been back since the pandemic, so last summer was the first time in about three years.

It was also the first time I’d been back to Saipan since I was 18. The trip was a month long, and we stayed with my parents. I was kind of nervous because, you know, I’m very open about my childhood trauma, and there’s this stereotype that Asian families never talk about these things. But I’ve always been very honest about my complicated relationship with my parents.

But the trip actually went really well. There were a couple of small arguments, but nothing too serious — that’s expected. The Saipan part was amazing though. It was so special for my son to see it, and we had a blast.

Mae: Oh wow, there’s so much to unpack there. One thing I really admire about your work is how you handle your complicated relationship with your mom. You’ve shared how she’s hurt you a lot in the past, but despite all of that, you still love her and want to maintain that bond. That’s something I can really relate to with my own mom, and honestly, I don’t see that kind of portrayal anywhere else.

I appreciate how open you are about this with the Asian American community. We’re often given this very polished image of Asian American families, and it’s refreshing to see something more real. Like, take Fresh Off the Boat — that’s not how anyone’s family actually behaves, you know?

Youngmi: I’m so glad you brought that up. In the Asian community, there’s this expectation — a stereotype, really — that you must honor and respect your parents, and you can’t ever speak negatively about them, especially not in public. And a lot of us feel that pressure, even if it’s unspoken.

The reality is, though, that Asian people are just like everyone else. Many of us come from abusive households, but we often don’t even realize it. And some of us go through that trauma without ever processing it. Of course, abuse can take many forms, and it’s a spectrum, so not everyone’s experience is the same.

Some people — especially in the Asian community — choose to cut off ties with their parents because of past abuse. Others, like me, manage to work through it and maintain those relationships. Some don’t even recognize the abuse they experienced. But my goal in being so open about my own experiences is to let people know that wherever you fall on that spectrum, your feelings are valid. Whether you’re the perfect ‘Asian Harvard grad’ who still takes care of your mom despite her past abuse, or someone who’s processed it and moved forward — it’s all valid. Your experience is your truth, and that’s enough.

That’s your journey, and it’s amazing how forgiving you are. You really value your relationship with your mom, and that’s beautiful. But for others who aren’t speaking to their parents, especially within the Asian community, I know so many people who feel that way. They’re not just dealing with the pain of a fractured relationship, but also this overwhelming shame. They think, 'I don’t fit the image of the perfect family on Fresh Off the Boat,' or whatever other representation they’re comparing themselves to. And honestly, if you’re not talking to your parents, that’s perfectly valid too.

Exactly, they should never have hit you with that slipper. That’s just wrong and hurtful.

Mae: I couldn’t agree more.

Youngmi: Yeah, my relationship with my mom is fine now, but there were years when we didn’t talk. I used to feel so guilty about it, like I was doing something wrong, even though I was just processing my own emotions.

Mae: Exactly, exactly.

Youngmi: Yeah.

Mae: Yeah. And what you said about shame really hits home. Not to generalize too much, but in many Asian cultures, there’s this heavy emphasis on 'losing face.' It’s this fear of being ashamed because of something that happened, and it feels like it’s embedded in our very DNA. We’re almost programmed to carry this innate sense of shame, whether it’s about not meeting certain expectations or failing to keep up appearances, whatever those may be.

That’s why I believe the work you do is so crucial. You’re bringing everything into the open, and that’s so important.

Youngmi: Yeah, and thank you so much for the kind words. But honestly, I sometimes feel a bit odd because all I’m really doing is just being upfront. So when I get compliments like that, I think, 'I’m not really doing anything special.'

But then I realize that many people don’t want to speak out about these things, and I think that’s what they’re trying to say—they appreciate the honesty. I just feel a bit awkward because, you’re complimenting me, and I’m like, 'Ugh, stop it!'

Mae: Got it. You’re just doing your thing, staying true to yourself, and I totally respect that. You’re doing an amazing job. I won’t say anything more about it.

So, I believe you mentioned you were born in Korea, but spent most of your childhood in Saipan. How long were you in Korea, and how long in Saipan?

Youngmi: It’s a bit of a mix—born in Korea until I was six, then lived in Saipan from ages six to sixteen. After that, I went back to Korea from sixteen to twenty.

Mae: I see. Could you share a bit about your family dynamic?

Youngmi: Sure! So, like I mentioned, I’m biracial. My mom is Korean, and my dad is white and American. What’s a bit different about my parents compared to other mixed Korean-American families is that my dad wasn’t in the military. My parents actually met in Fairbanks, Alaska.

Mae: Really?

Youngmi: Yeah, it’s kind of an unusual story. My mom married someone in the U.S. military with the intention of leaving Korea, and they ended up in Fairbanks, Alaska, where she had my older half-sister. After their divorce, she met my dad, who was a pilot for small planes. I’m not sure what they’re called—those little seaplanes, I think.

Mae: Ah, yeah, seaplanes.

Youngmi: Small planes?

Mae: Yep.

Youngmi: Seaplanes. He’s going to be so annoyed if he ever hears this—like, ‘I’ve been talking about this for years every single day.’

Mae: It’s fine, you’re not the one flying them, Youngmi. Probably. You don’t have to know that stuff.

Youngmi: Don’t worry. I’m never going to become a pilot, so everyone is safe. Anyway, when my mom got pregnant, they decided to move back to Korea because she’d had a tough time raising my sister on her own as a single mom.

Mae: In Alaska, oh my gosh.

Youngmi: In Alaska. She worked at Baskin-Robbins. I was like, ‘Wow…’

Mae: Oh, wow.

Youngmi: —‘That sounds tough.’ And I was like, ‘You worked at Baskin-Robbins?’ Or she said, it was—

Mae: It’s like someone randomly selected your situation in America, and the result was: location: Fairbanks, Alaska, job: working at Baskin-Robbins.

Youngmi: It’s like America, but on expert level, extreme difficulty.

Mae: Yes, exactly.

Youngmi: She was like, 'This place is awful. What’s going on here?' But then she met my dad, and that’s when they decided to move.

I was born in Korea, specifically in Tsungtan, which is near Osan Air Base. We also lived on Jeju Island before moving to Saipan.

Mae: Got it. What made you all move to Saipan?

Youngmi: It’s a bit tricky to explain. A lot of people assume it’s because my dad was in the military, but actually, my parents just loved traveling. They never really had a set plan, and even now, they’re still like that.

Mae: That’s fascinating. Would you mind sharing more about your connection to Saipan?

Youngmi: I absolutely love Saipan. It's such a beautiful place, and I feel a deep sense of protectiveness toward it. Whenever I talk about Saipan and its people, I want the world to know more about it. The Chamorros, the Indigenous people of Saipan, have endured so much. Even though I’m East Asian, it’s important for me to acknowledge that Pacific Islanders were colonized by East Asians. We, as East Asians, are in many ways the 'colonizers' of the Pacific Islands. Sometimes I hesitate to talk about Saipan because I don’t feel like I’m the best representative of it—I'd rather hear a Chamorro person share their story. Does that make sense?

Mae: Yes.

Youngmi: That being said, I always try to emphasize that Saipan is a stunning island with an incredible culture and a rich history. There's significant Japanese influence, and the island’s World War II history is well-known. However, my primary focus is on making sure the people and culture of Saipan are respected.

However, when I talk about Saipan, I tend to focus on my own personal memories—my childhood, my story, and my family’s experiences. The travel videos I made were really just about my own perspective, and honestly, they reflect some of the sadder parts of my life there.

So when I created that video about how beautiful and paradisiacal Saipan is, I wasn’t just celebrating its beauty—I was reflecting on my own sadness. I’m sure many people can relate to that feeling when they return to their hometowns. There’s a comfort in the physical place that feels like home, but it also brings back memories, some of which can be painful.

It’s like the air and the water—they feel so familiar, yet the memories I have are tinged with sadness. It’s a strange mix of deep emotions, both comforting and sorrowful at the same time.

Mae: I completely understand. It makes sense.

Youngmi: Yeah.

Mae: Your mom also worked at a resort when you were living in Saipan, right? I think it was a hotel?

Youngmi: Mm-hmm.

Mae: Yeah. So, did you grow up around the resort as well? Since your mom worked there, did you spend a lot of time there too?

Youngmi: Yes, I did. I spent tons of time there. We were pretty much left to entertain ourselves, which was actually a lot of fun. I became close friends with another kid whose mom also worked there. We’d run around the beach or the water park all day. It was really a blast.

But, you know, like I mentioned before, even if your childhood was great or tough, it always has its two sides. There were definitely parts that were amazing, like getting to explore a beautiful tropical island, but then, on the other hand, it was pretty much neglectful parenting.

I mean, think about it: I was seven, running around with my friend, having these crazy adventures, and I’m like, ‘Where were our parents?’ It’s crazy when I look back on it. We were just left to do whatever.

Mae: Exactly. Yeah, that makes total sense.

Youngmi: Yeah, it's a bit bittersweet.

Mae: Yeah, it's not exactly the same, but my family ran a Chinese restaurant. So, my mom would be working, and I’d just be off doing my own thing too. I get it — the whole working mom, working Asian mom experience.

Youngmi: Yeah, I totally get that. I think a lot of Asian people, even those from Asia, not just Asian Americans, know that feeling. Your parents are busy, and you end up hanging out at their workplace, figuring out how to entertain yourself.

Mae: Exactly.

Youngmi: Yep, exactly.

Mae: So, how did it feel revisiting these places after such a long time? What emotions did it stir up for you?

Youngmi: You know what caught me off guard? The strongest emotions hit me when I returned to Saipan. They were these deep, hidden feelings that I didn’t even realize I still carried.

And then, there was this one night on my trip, day 28, when my mom and I finally had a big fight. We were on Saipan, and my friend, after hearing about the fight, said, "I’m coming to pick you up." He rolled up in his truck — totally different from the fancy taxis carrying all the East Asian tourists around. His truck was all muddy from living up in the mountains, he had flip-flops covered in dirt, and he was just in shorts, smoking a cigarette. He was like, 'Hey!'

He immediately opened the cooler in the back of his truck and tossed me a Bud Light. And I thought, 'This is exactly how it was when we lived here.' We'd pick up my mom from work, and everyone on Saipan was so laid-back. We’d be coming from the beach in flip-flops, wearing swimsuits, always with sand on us. It was such a contrast to the tourists staying at the resorts. I remembered how fun it was to just walk into the continental buffet in flip-flops like we owned the place.

In my memory of Saipan, it always felt so isolating and lonely. But then I had this realization: 'Oh wait, I did have a safety net, a friend who was always there.'

Mae: That’s such a beautiful and meaningful realization. It must have felt a bit lonely or isolating at the time, especially with that big argument with your mom, but then you were reminded that your support system was still there. I’m really glad you had that friend. But also, what was it like traveling to these places with your son?

Youngmi: It was incredible to see how he reacted to everything — what he liked and what he didn’t. He absolutely adored Saipan. We rented a Mustang, the cheapest one, and I thought, 'Sure, let's go with it.' We cruised around with the top down, and, you know, it’s such a small island.

I was a little concerned he might get bored, especially since back home in New York, he's always busy with a million activities. But he was completely into it. And of course, I thought, 'Why wouldn't he love it? It’s a beautiful beach. He gets to walk along the shore, check out crabs and little fish.'

He also loved the sea cucumbers, which totally grossed me out, but he was like, 'I love them!' He’d squish them, squeezing out all the water. He just enjoyed chilling in the convertible, cruising around the island, not doing much, and soaking it all in.

I thought, 'Of course he loves it, he’s a kid.' But honestly, I was surprised. I expected him to get bored, like, 'When are we going to do something?' But instead, he really enjoyed just being there. It was a pleasant surprise to see what he enjoyed.

Mae: I love that. It’s great to hear it was a positive experience for both of you. So, this trip had its share of ups and downs, but looking back, do you regret going, or do you feel like it helped you grow?

Youngmi: Oh, I absolutely don’t regret going. In fact, it was really meaningful. I remember going there before that trip, and it was a much more difficult experience. It was traumatizing, and I think it was because I hadn’t really processed a lot of my childhood stuff. But I feel like COVID changed me in a way — it made me more resilient. So many horrible things happened to so many people, and it impacted everyone.

Mae: Yes.

Youngmi: And then, somehow, I was okay. I processed so much without even realizing it because I was going through so much turmoil. And this time, when I was in Korea, I felt so much stronger than before. I thought, 'I can handle this. Why was I even worried before?'

It’s like when you grow, you know? Like practicing something and making gradual improvements — sorry, I know this is a piano analogy. Classic Asian moment, but it’s like, you’re practicing, and you’re seeing progress. What’s the term for that?

It's like you’re making progress without even realizing it. Then one day, you listen to a recording of yourself from five years ago and think, 'Wow, I’ve actually improved.' That’s how it felt for me. I didn’t realize how much I’d changed until I went back there.

Mae: You're a pro at the piano now, huh, Youngmi?

Youngmi: Oh, definitely not! I’m just joking. I couldn’t play like that at all. My mom tried to force me to take piano lessons when I was younger, but I just couldn’t do it. That was the one thing she couldn’t make me do. I did, however, end up learning the clarinet.

Mae: Really?

Youngmi: Yup, but it was totally against my will.

Mae: Wow.

Youngmi: I’m not great at it, though. I kind of struggled through, but if I picked up a clarinet now, I think I could still play it—though probably not very well.

Mae: That’s awesome. So, I hear you have a new book coming out. Do you want to share a bit about it?

Youngmi: Yeah, I’d love to! Now that it’s public, I can talk about it. The funny thing is, a lot of the chapters touch on what I mentioned today. But when I talk on podcasts—like my own, the Feeling Asian podcast, or Hairy Butthole—I tend to explore ideas in a more abstract way, you know, like, ‘This is what I think about this.’

But the book is more concrete. It's a memoir, so it’s full of real-life stories. I’ve got so many that I’ve never shared before. And of course, since I’m a comedian, they’re funny—but they’re also pretty heavy and sad.

I always forget the title of my own book, but it's called I’m Laughing Because I’m Crying. It’s about how comedians often turn trauma into humor. I talk about my own life and the funny yet painful moments, but I also delve into the generational aspect, explaining where this humor comes from. I trace it back to my family, particularly stories from my mom. There’s a part of the book where I explore the concept of laughing through the pain—because if you don’t laugh, you’ll end up crying. And that’s definitely something I learned from my family.

I also share funny anecdotes about growing up as an Asian person. Specifically, I talk about parts of Korean culture in a way that I don’t think has been seen before. I think it’s hilarious and, hopefully, relatable—but who knows?

Mae: I’m sure it will be. It’s going to be amazing.

Youngmi: Thank you.

Mae: I’m really excited to read it. I think it’s so powerful how you connect your mom’s behavior to the trauma she’s endured. That generation of East Asians, they’ve all been through so much pain.

Youngmi: They were so traumatized. Oh my God.

Mae: That’s on another level. I feel so bad for them. It’s tragic, really. But I get what you mean—while you can’t justify the behavior, it makes sense why they act the way they do.

Youngmi: Exactly. And I touch on that in the book early on. You know, the funny part is, I feel this strong urge to be funny because of all of that. My mom and I are very alike in terms of personality—she’s a Leo, so she takes up even more space than I do. But that larger-than-life persona of hers? It was a survival tactic, something she developed to cope with everything.

Mae: Right, totally makes sense.

Youngmi: And she passed that on to me as part of my survival toolkit. For Asian women, it’s like, you have to be pretty, stay silent, or, I guess, just be funny to get by.

Mae: Absolutely. It was such a pleasure chatting with you today, Youngmi. Thanks again for being here.

Youngmi: Thank you so much.

Mae: Huge thanks to Youngmi for taking the time to chat with me. And just to clarify, no, we didn’t fight to the death after the recording wrapped up! If you want more from her, you can find her on social media—Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok @YMMayer—and check out her podcast Hairy Butthole, available exclusively on Joy Sauce. Also, keep an eye out for her upcoming book, I’m Laughing Because I’m Crying, which is set to release in 2025.

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This has been Unpacked, a production of Dinogo Media. Produced by Aislyn Greene and Nikki Galteland. Music composed by Chris Colin.

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