‘Asian Russian’ Woman Expresses Frustration Towards People Who Often Mistook Her Ethnicity

Burat, a young woman from Siberia, grew tired of explaining why she looks Asian but carries a Russian passport. Each time she travels, strangers assume she must be Korean, Chinese, or Japanese. Her frustration echoes a growing movement of Asian Russians who are speaking out about a cultural identity that rarely appears in Western media or public conversation.

In a viral YouTube short, Burat recalls being questioned at immigration in Taiwan because officials did not believe her Russian passport. During interviews, she was told she “was no Russian” because she did not match the stereotype of a blonde, blue-eyed Slavic woman. Even when traveling with her American boyfriend, people addressed him in English and spoke to her in Chinese, assuming she could not be Russian.

The Disconnect Between Russia and Western Perceptions

Many Westerners imagine Russians as a single ethnic group, but Russia is the largest country in the world and spans two continents. Roughly 77% of its landmass lies in Asia, even though most of the population lives in the European portion of the country. The divide has fueled debates among Russians over whether their national identity is European, Asian, or a mix of both.

The Russian characters seen in Western films are often portrayed as tall, pale-skinned, and Slavic, reinforcing a narrow image of what a Russian should look like. Asian Russian creator Veronika Petrova has addressed this repeatedly on TikTok since the pandemic, using her platform to unpack misconceptions. In an interview with HuffPost, she noted that Hollywood has conditioned viewers to assume that a “real” Russian must be white with light features. As a Yakut woman whose family has lived in Russia for generations, she counters that stereotype through humor and everyday storytelling.

Asian Identity Inside Russia

Russia has more than 190 ethnic groups, some with Turkic, Tungusic, or Mongol roots. Communities from Buryatia, Yakutia, Tuva, Kalmykia, and other regions include millions of citizens who identify culturally, linguistically, or historically as Asian. Researchers note three common definitions of “Asian” in the Russian context: geographic location, cultural identity, or Mongoloid ancestry, each creating different ways people understand themselves.

The Buryat are one of the largest Mongolic groups in Russia, living south and east of Lake Baikal. Their land was ceded by China to the Russian Empire in 1689, and their culture blends pastoral traditions, clan structures, and shamanic and Buddhist beliefs. Today, more than 440,000 Buryat live in Russia, maintaining language and heritage despite centuries of assimilation pressure.

Russian society has long been shaped by coexistence among Slavic majorities and dozens of minority populations. More than 120 ethnic groups live within Russia’s borders, from Tatars and Bashkirs to Evenks, Tuvans, and Kalmyks. Many of these groups have their own territories, languages, and religious traditions, creating a mosaic that is far removed from the simplistic “European Russian” image.

Burat describes being told at a job interview that she could not work as a “Russian waitress” because the employer expected a blonde candidate. Others assumed she was adopted, as if her ethnicity invalidated her nationality. These moments illustrate how ignorance becomes exclusion, pushing many Asian Russians to defend identities they should not have to justify.

A Call to Recognize the Full Reality of Russia

Creators like Burat and Petrova use social media to challenge misconceptions and show what Asian Russians actually look and live like. Their videos mix everyday experiences with cultural context, from Yakut traditions to life in Buryatia, helping viewers understand that Asian identity has been part of Russia for centuries. Their approaches have encouraged other creators from Central Asian, Buryat, and Tatar communities to speak openly about their backgrounds and share their own stories.

For Burat and others, the goal is not to claim special status but to widen global awareness. They want strangers to know that Russia includes Buddhist Buryats, Turkic Tatars, Yakuts who speak their own languages, and countless other communities. Their frustration reflects a deeper question: what does it take for the world to accept that Russianness comes in more than one face?