Asian diasporic artists are finding their voices in R&B
In a genre deeply rooted in Black expression, they are acknowledging Black culture while staying true to themselves
From left, Sailorr, Raveena, Thủy, and Keshi.
Photo illustration by Ryan Quan
Words by Tyra Douyon
I don’t remember the last time I laughed out loud at a song lyric. Not an obligatory snort or a little nose exhale—an actual loud, uncontrollable belly laugh. But Sailorr’s hit single “Pookie’s Requiem” had me cracking up within the first 20 seconds. Maybe it was her ex’s cringey pet name for her or her unhinged scream-cries at the end of the track but I’m convinced this is the funny, chaotic breakup song everyone needs in their playlist. I haven’t found a track this playfully petty since Mariah Carey sang, “Them chickens is ash and I’m lotion,” nearly two decades ago.
But it wasn’t just Sailorr’s sense of humor and quirky personality that caught my attention. Her songwriting is sarcastic, but vulnerable, delivered through delicate falsetto vocals reminiscent of early SZA. And she doesn’t stop at the music. She reps her Vietnamese culture proudly—wearing black grills as a nod to the tradition of nhuộm răng đen (teeth blackening) and performing in an áo dài, the traditional Vietnamese dress. Her everyday look leans more into coquette-core fashion: floor-length Dutch braids tied with bows, ruffled mini dresses, and lace-trimmed socks or tights. It’s hyper-feminine and curated to stand out, but none of it feels forced.
With her debut album, From Florida’s Finest, charting as the top R&B album by a female artist on Apple Music and her first U.S. tour launching this summer, Sailorr is claiming her spot, not just as a newcomer on the music scene, but as a force in modern R&B. However, this shift isn’t happening in a vacuum. Asian American artists like Thủy, Keshi, and Raveena are also reshaping what R&B looks and sounds like in 2025.
They’re part of a growing wave of Asian and Asian American musicians who are stepping into a genre deeply rooted in Black expression, not to co-opt it, but to contribute to it with their own emotional truth and cultural influences. In doing so, they’re not just building fanbases—they’re expanding what’s possible within R&B. Asian American artists of multi-racial descent like H.E.R., Jhene Aiko, Hayley Kiyoko, and Kehlani have already helped lay the groundwork for this exchange throughout the last decade.
Thủy is another Vietnamese American singer whose breathy vocals and dreamy production pair perfectly with lyrics that cut deep. She embodies what R&B has always been about: softness with edge, vulnerability without shame. Then there’s Keshi, who’s basically the patron saint of post-breakup anthems. He layers his falsetto voice over lo-fi beats, making heartbreak sound beautiful. Raveena’s jazzy vocals are easily distinguishable on a track. Like Thủy, she’s another trailblazer making history as the first woman of Indian descent to headline Coachella as a solo act, proving authenticity resonates with those who want to listen.
All of these artists are emotionally tapped in and that works to connect them to their fans, but it’s their cultural perspectives and the stories, sounds, and visuals they bring with them that expand what R&B can be. What makes this moment exciting is how natural it feels. That’s largely thanks to platforms like TikTok and COLORS, as well as Spotify’s curated playlists, which have blown open the gates of the music industry. Artists are now more able to be themselves, without their labels’ permission. They don’t need to fit into neat genre boxes or appeal to one specific audience. Fans are responding to those who choose to be mavericks and go against the mainstream. But as the genre evolves, we have to pause and give flowers to those who built it.
R&B emerged from the Black American experience. In the 1940s and 1950s, legends like Louis Jordan, Ray Charles, and Sam Cooke turned gospel and blues into music that told stories about heartbreak and self-discovery. By the time the 1990s and early 2000s hit, artists like Mary J. Blige, Aaliyah, Brandy, Usher, and Destiny’s Child had taken the genre global. Today’s stars—SZA, Summer Walker, Brent Faiyaz, Jazmine Sullivan, The Weeknd, and more—continue to shape what R&B means in this generation. It’s a genre built on vulnerability, yes—but also Black cultural innovation.
So what does it mean for non-Black artists to enter that space? It depends. The line between appreciation and appropriation is real and worth talking about. For Asian Americans who live in the overlap—who grew up on TLC and Alicia Keys, but saw themselves erased from popular media—this moment probably feels earned. Still, there are questions: How do you pay homage to a genre born from another culture’s struggle without diluting or disrespecting it? What does authenticity look like when emotion, not ethnicity, is the genre’s currency? These are questions I wrestle with as a lifelong R&B fan, a Black woman, and someone deeply invested in the ways music connects us.
What I see in Sailorr, Thủy, Keshi, Raveena, and other Asian American R&B artists isn’t erasure. They aren’t trying to be Black or borrow Black culture for clout. They have nods to Black culture in their music and are influenced by Black artists, but who they are and how they showcase their Asian cultures is still very prominent. They’re connecting threads between their own identity and the music and artists they grew up loving. Sailorr said it best in an interview with Fader: “I respect the space that I'm in and I pay homage to the people that came before me because at the end of the day, without all these amazing artists, music would not exist.”
I also see it in the way she pays homage to her Vietnamese culture through style, while referencing Black culture in her music. Her track, “Belly,” is a tribute to the iconic 1998 Hype Williams film, and she mentions fictional characters Jody and Yvette from Baby Boy in the opening. In an interview with Paper, Thủy acknowledges that R&B was created by Black musicians while explaining why Asian American representation is important as the genre continues to evolve. “People tend to want to put Asian culture and people in a box. I think it's about breaking down those barriers and showing people that there are other sides to quote-unquote Asian music,” she says in the interview. “It inspires me when people reach out to me and say, ‘Wow I didn't know there were Asian artists making R&B music.’”
That’s the beauty of this cultural exchange. R&B, at its best, has always been about saying the quiet part out loud. It’s music that makes you feel seen and tells the truth, no matter who you are. The future of the genre should always center on cultural respect and authenticity and right now, Asian American artists are showing us that it’s possible to honor the genre’s Black roots while adding their own honest, soulful perspective.
Published on May 30, 2025
Words by Tyra Douyon
Tyra Douyon is an Atlanta-based arts & entertainment journalist and editor. She’s a graduate of Kennesaw State University, where she earned her Bachelor’s degree in English Education and Master’s in Professional Writing. Along with freelance writing, she is a published poet and staff editor for a literary arts magazine. Visit her website tyradouyon.com to read more of her published work.
Art by Ryan Quan
Ryan Quan is the Social Media Editor for JoySauce. This queer, half-Chinese, half-Filipino writer and graphic designer loves everything related to music, creative nonfiction, and art. Based in Brooklyn, he spends most of his time dancing to hyperpop and accidentally falling asleep on the subway. Follow him on Instagram at @ryanquans.