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Isaac Y. Takeu Is Giving Voice to a Generation

On Instagram and TikTok, short clips of the podcast Goldnrush (stylized as GOLDNRUSH) abound. They're immensely easy to get sucked into, and tend to include some (or all) of the following elements: a famous artist sharing a funny behind-the-scenes story, people who don't necessarily 'look Japanese' speaking in Japanese — their native tongue — and a steady stream of warm, disarming laughter from the Japanese-Cameroonian MC, Isaac Y. Takeu. The video podcast, which takes place mostly in Japanese with bilingual subtitles, serves as a platform for a wide range of fascinating figures in Japan who share one commonality: being multicultural. Past Goldnrush guests include F1 driver Yuki Tsunoda, who lives in Europe for his job; viral comedian Yurié Collins, who performs bilingual standup and often discusses her biracial background; and Ananya Donapati, an Indian-American content creator who taught herself Japanese to complete fluency. Several of its clips have racked up millions of views, and it's amassed a devoted audience of regular listeners, consistently ranking among the top five podcasts on Spotify in Japan. A big part of Goldnrush 's appeal is Takeu's laid-back, conversational interview style — he makes viewers feel like they're hanging out in his living room, casually listening as some of Japan's most talked-about international icons open up about identity, culture and their thoughts on Chicago-style pizza. Takeu usually takes on the role of interviewer, serving as a non-judgmental sounding board for his guests, but this time, the roles were reversed. In a long and thoughtful conversation, he opened up about the creation of Goldnrush , his experience growing up mixed-race and his passion for amplifying the voices of people who've grown up between cultures or identities. List of Contents: Finding His Light The Birth of Goldnrush Redefining 'Japanese' Related Posts Finding His Light Takeu has a Japanese mother and Cameroonian father; his parents met while his mother was in Africa as a missionary. They got married in Senegal, then moved to his mother's childhood home of Hokkaido. Takeu grew up with humble beginnings, raised in a danchi — government-operated public housing — and his parents didn't always have it easy. 'My dad has told me stories about some people tricking him. His Japanese wasn't that good, and people looked down on him because he's African,' Takeu says. From as early as elementary school, Takeu became aware that his appearance drew attention — often accompanied by assumptions. He recalls one incident when classmates tried to distract him during a lesson, but he was the one who got reprimanded. 'I was so frustrated,' he says. 'But when I told my mom, she said, 'You stand out even when you're not doing anything, so you have to be extra careful.' That's when I realized, Okay, yeah, I'm really different.' In high school, Takeu excelled academically and was elected student council president. He also began to notice a shift in how his peers treated him as he got older and Japanese society changed. 'It became a cool thing to be mixed,' Takeu recalls. 'People wanted to act like they were my friend even though we don't really know each other, because they want to be cool with the Black kid. I call it 'positive racism.'' Takeu is joking, but it's clear a lot of thought went into using the phrase. 'They put you on a pedestal just because you look different, right?' After graduating high school, Takeu moved to Los Angeles to pursue filmmaking, where he discovered his first love: hip-hop. He was particularly drawn to its social impact, the way it enabled artists to express themselves in a way that resonated and sparked broader revelations. 'Especially for African Americans who grew up going up the social ladder and struggled with poverty, hip-hop changed the whole perspective and is now a mainstream art form, known throughout the whole world.' America's culture of individualism — the way people feel driven to distinguish themselves and stand out — also struck a chord with Takeu. 'Everyone in the States wants to be different. It opened my eyes [and helped me realize] that it's cool to be myself, to do something different from other people, to stand out. That mindset helped me get to where I'm at.' The Birth of Goldnrush After working as a freelance photographer and videographer for a few years, Takeu returned to Japan and began to experiment with the medium of video podcasting, making use of his expertise with video and audio equipment and natural ease in front of the camera. At first, the show focused on film and hip-hop; he invited Japanese recording artists to chat and discussed his own experience of being a film director. Takeu knew early on that he had hit a gold mine: 'The second or third video I posted got, like, 1.5 million views on TikTok. I was like, 'Yo, this is it.'' Over time, though, Takeu began to feel that the aspects of American hip-hop that mattered most to him were less evident in the Japanese scene. 'I realized Japanese hip-hop is not really the hip-hop that I fell in love with,' he explains. 'In the Japanese hip-hop industry, there's not many minorities talking about their experience.' Wanting to do something meaningful with his new platform, Takeu realized the answer was right under his nose — or rather, within him — the entire time. 'When I thought about who's a minority in Japan, it was mixed people. Our channel evolved to more than just hip-hop — to focus on minorities in Japan and their voice, because mass media doesn't really cover it as much.' Redefining 'Japanese' Takeu welcomes a remarkably diverse range of guests to his show, with most interviews conducted primarily in Japanese. For many Japanese viewers, seeing people of all skin tones and hair textures speaking the same language as them offers a level of visibility that's still rare — and deeply impactful. When asked what his favorite interview has been, Takeu's answer is instant: one with the 26-year-old singer-songwriter Umi, who shares a similar background to him. She was raised by a Japanese mother and African American father in Seattle, and never felt quite like she belonged anywhere. 'She felt like she wasn't Black enough or Japanese enough. But she realized that she's Black, but also Japanese. And it's okay to be who she is. She talked about how we could be the bridge between different cultures, and I realized that's the core message of my podcast.' Giving a platform to diverse voices also means spotlighting a wide range of opinions, some of which Takeu may not necessarily agree with — and with which his viewers may take issue. When asked whether he stirs the pot on purpose sometimes, Takeu responds, 'I don't know if I'm intentionally trying to be controversial, but I do want to put controversial topics out there so that people can really think about it.' Take, for example, a recent viral clip from Takeu's interview with Valentine Hosokawa, a Nigerian-Japanese former pro boxer. In it, Hosokawa vents frustration at what he sees as a younger generation of mixed-race Japanese growing up 'spoiled.' He cites as an example young half-Japanese people who speak out about discrimination in the modeling industry. 'The kind of work they do is modeling — the kind of stuff where everyone showers them with attention,' he says. 'Back in our day, there was no way a half-Black kid would be featured in a major magazine.' When asked about the ensuing backlash, Takeu says there was more context to Hosokawa's comments; he had actually been thrilled to find a multicultural community in Tokyo and was amazed by how much had changed. His remarks were meant to be ironic — reflecting on how far things have come — but they came off as tone-deaf. The comment section for the interview clip, which is full of people vehemently disagreeing in Japanese, shows just how significant the podcast is. The very existence of a platform that can spark this kind of debate — where people can share their impressions and opinions about growing up multicultural or mixed-race in Japan, and others can push back with perspectives of their own — is huge. It's something Takeu couldn't have imagined back in middle school in Hokkaido. More than opening up a dialogue, though, Takeu wants to give hope and awareness to the next generation. He wants to share stories of success, of creativity and of self-acceptance.'The reason why I'm doing this podcast is so that 10-year-old me, or kids now, would listen, find these guests — or me — to be inspiring role models who can thrive in society.' To further expand the reach of his quickly growing platform, Takeu is taking on a new project: a podcast tour, where he will travel across Japan to host interviews and talks in front of a live audience. 'I think this podcast is really needed in society right now, and this felt like something I could do to bring it to people in different parts of Japan, especially the countryside, where mixed [kids] might not have a community or people they can look up to.' It's clear that Goldnrush offers more than just stories — it creates a space for people who have felt misunderstood or uncertain about their place in Japanese society. By allowing guests to speak openly, the podcast presents a new vision of what it means to be Japanese, one that embraces complexity, diversity and the many ways identity can be experienced and expressed. More Info Follow the podcast on Instagram at @ goldnrushpodcast , where you can also find more information about the show's upcoming tour. Related Posts The Making of a Japanese: A Moving, Heartfelt Exploration of Japanese Identity A Chat With Hyde, Japan's Biggest Rock Star The Infectious Absurdity of Atsuko Okatsuka