My name is Apolo Ohno. I grew up in Seattle Washington. I am the only child in my family.
My father was a Japanese immigrant who came to the US when he was 17 years old.
Couldn't speak English, didn't have any money, had a camera around his neck, A Nikon camera.
Sold the camera for, kind of like, living expenses and food,
and it began his kind of journey into the world.
And he tried every single job imaginable.
My dad ended up - and still does - cut hair in downtown Seattle.
You know, growing up in a single-parent household,
where your father is kind of like a tiger dad - he very much pushed me in every direction.
So whether it was academics, whether it was sports, whether it is music, he tried to make
me do as many activities as possible before I got home and the end of the day, so I would basically
be wiped out tired, and I wouldn't be crazy when I got home. Which never worked, by the way. I was
always out of control. I've come down a lot since. My biracial identity, me being a hapa, growing up
in Seattle, going to a junior high where I felt like it was predominantly Asian. I remembered
during lunch, all of the Asian kids ate together, all of the African-American kids ate together,
all of the white kids ate together - it was very strange - and I was kind of just floating around.
Partially because I was just a bad kid, who just had a ton of energy. I just want to be friends
with everybody. And also partially because I didn't know which side accepted me for who I was,
because I don't necessarily look Asian 100%. I look mixed of some descent, But
kind of ambiguous in some capacity. So I struggle with that at an early age, and as I grew older,
that pride like I said, I became more and more proud of my heritage and my background,
and I think probably the last - probably the last 15 years, it's really grown significantly more,
and I think it's been much more celebrated. The world has evolved and progressed so rapidly. I
think the average Asian-American voice is significantly louder, and brighter,
and prouder than ever before, which I think is a beautiful thing. So I got interested in
short-track speedskating when - the first time was when I watched the Olympics in 1982 with
my father, so we were watching the Olympics at home, it was the first time I'd ever seen
short-track speedskating, first time I ever heard of it. I always explained like this:
Guys were wearing these super aerodynamic tight racing suits, and when you're 12,
this looks very much like Superman, or like a superhero figure, and then they're
whipping around this hockey rink at like 40 miles an hour, leaning at these impossible angles. It
looked fake. I was like, I want to do that! I want to lean over these impossible angles with
that cool - that skin suit or that racing suit. The first time I went to the Winter Olympics
in 2002, I was 19 years old, I was kind of the reigning World Cup and I was supposed to win. I
was expected to win. I was the cover of Sports Illustrated. And as an athlete who's competing
in an Olympic sport, in between Olympics you're still competing, and competing at World Cups,
you're competing at local and domestic competitions, international competitions,
World Championships, etc. And I remember walking into the opening ceremonies. Now this
is post 9/11, so this was when security was at an all-time high - this was in February 2002 - and
we're sitting only a few rows in front of the President. And that's when it kind of hit me,
like, wow I'm competing - it's much different than just competing for yourself. There's a
lot of other expectations here that I couldn't quantify. I was like a 19 year old, but I was
really like 16 in my brain, and I just - it didn't hit me until that moment. And that's when I was -
that's when I was really telling myself: "Wow! This is unlike anything I could
have ever prepared for. And then obviously, standing on the podium in those games - I
won a gold medal in those games - it was my first gold medal. And I remember standing
on the podium - and granted, this was on home soil, so you've got the thousands and thousands
of fans in the stadium, all cheering, and chanting, and singing the national anthem,
and chanting your name. It was memorable in many different ways, but it was impactful
too. I just loved what I was doing. I loved, and I wanted to compete, I wanted to win,
and I wanted to display whatever the best version of myself was during those two weeks of the
games. My thoughts on Asian-Americans rising to perform at the highest levels in sports, I think,
is incredible. It does two things for me: One, it makes me smile; and two,
it makes me say like: "Damn it's about time." So I think it's amazing,
I think it speaks to a few things in our society. One, not only the acceptance,
but also the promotion of a diverse and biracial community that exists - that's always existed
here, that is strong, that's vibrant, and it's growing. And it showcases, I think,
some of these attributes that I've always felt were inherent within what makes this country,
the United States, what it is today. And that is -
People came here in search of a better life, and they did so with all of the hard work and the
efforts they brought from their native country. And that trickle-down philosophy is now into the
hearts and the minds - hopefully - of this next generation of athletes. And typically I think
in the past, Asian-Americans were never thought of being these superstar athletes. That's just
a reality. I think that's really changing, that paradigm, and that social flux of conversation is
there are no limits. It doesn't matter what type of background you have. And in fact,
if you have a diverse background, it's a massive attribute to you, because you can draw upon all of
these incredible experiences and psychological differences that make us as human beings,
but depending on where we're from geographically, what our parents went through, these can be - and
have - massive positive impacts in our life, as an athlete, as a performer, whatever there is.