The kindness behind the legend: A memory of Cary Hiroyuki Tagawa

By some remarkable stroke of luck, our diplomats managed to invite this iconic actor to the event, which gathered much of the Kazakh diaspora living in the city.

After the celebration, he traveled to Kazakhstan to take part in a karate tournament. He visited the country often, drawn by a genuine interest in our culture and the traditions of the steppe. His curiosity and absence of prejudice were among his finest qualities. Even though I spoke with him only briefly that day, it was clear he was a kind, sincere and grounded person, despite the ease with which he transformed into the villains he portrayed on screen.

As a young student, I had been included in the list of performers at the Nauryz event. The hall was packed, and I decided to perform a breakdance routine with elements of capoeira, which I had practiced before. It was a chilly day in Brooklyn, so I didn’t have time to change my shoes, and I ended up dancing in heavy Timberland boots. What I did not consider was that doing acrobatics in them would feel like moving with weights tied to my legs.

Halfway through the routine, I was exhausted, and after somehow finishing it, I slipped away to the lobby, convinced the performance had been awful.

While I was catching my breath, someone tapped me on the shoulder. No one knew that Cary Tagawa was attending, since he had arrived unexpectedly. I turned around and froze. Standing in front of me was the very man who had played the fearsome Shang Tsung in Mortal Kombat. For a second, I thought he might jokingly deliver his famous line “Your soul is mine!....for that horrible performance.”

But instead he introduced himself and said, “You danced really well, and I liked how you combined martial arts with dance. It was beautiful!”

Trying to collect myself, I explained how difficult it had been with the boots and the nerves of performing alone. He nodded and said he had noticed all of it, adding that what I had done required courage. He repeated his support, and his words meant more than he could have imagined. I still remember that moment as vividly as if it happened yesterday.

Why would a world renowned actor take the time to comfort a young student after an imperfect performance at an event he could easily have passed through without a second thought? Many in his position would have stayed at their table, talking to guests of higher status. But not Cary Tagawa. He stepped away from the formalities simply to support someone who needed it, and that gesture speaks louder than any role or public appearance.

Only later did I learn that beyond his acting career, Tagawa devoted great attention to volunteer work and spiritual development. He spoke to young people, held discussions and emphasized a philosophy of harmony and respect. The wise mentor he sometimes portrayed on screen reflected his real life principles.

In the end, we all walk our own paths and carry our own stories, but in the rush of daily life we often forget how little effort it really takes to be kind, to notice someone, to offer a word of support. For the one who receives it, a simple gesture can mean far more than we realize, just as Mr. Tagawa’s kindness once did for me.

Mr. Tagawa, you will be deeply missed in this world!