On Sunday, July 27, 2025, at San Diego Comic-Con, legendary Star Trek actor and civil rights activist George Takei wowed attendees with an emotional panel, which was moderated by Leigh Walton, the actor’s graphic memoir editor at IDW/Top Shelf Productions. The panel was a celebration of Takei’s work as a civil rights activist and the actor’s new graphic memoir, It Rhymes with Takei, which was released on June 10, 2025.
The panel was legendary. It included so many snippets from the actor’s life that I think fans will be excited to read, so I have transcribed most of it for your reading pleasure.
Let’s fly, Trekkies!
Team Beat with George Takei. Photo Credit: Comics BeatThe panel write-up has been slightly condensed for clarity (and for what I think readers would be interested in). This write-up also includes Takei’s account of being subjected to slurs and other offensive language targeted at the queer community. The use of these slurs is still common today, and I feel it’s important to call them out, as someone who has frequently been the target of similar harassment.
GEORGE TAKEI: I became an activist on almost all issues—civil rights, the anti-Vietnam War peace movement—except for the one that was so personal to me. I spent most of my life in the closet, showing the world a character that was almost like myself, but not quite. I lived life as a survivor. However, when selfish politicians threatened the rights of my community, I finally decided that enough was enough. And that moment changed everything.
It’s great being in this beautiful part of the world—California—and in one of the most beautiful parts of California: San Diego. How many of you are natives of San Diego? I’m a native of Los Angeles, and we will have an engaging one-hour talk about me. This is my editor, Leigh Walton. Believe me, he’s a charming guy; look at how he’s dressed. He’s sparkling.
Photo Credit: Ollie Kaplan/PhotojoinerLEIGH WALTON: George, you stole my first question: what in the world are we wearing?
TAKEI: You’re wearing a sparkly, glittery outfit from your shoulders to your ankles that fits your glittering personality. I’m wearing something we found in Honolulu, Hawaii: a very popular designer named Anne Namba. She had a showroom, so Brad, my husband, and I strolled in when we were in the area to celebrate a fundraiser for the Japanese American National Museum, of which I’m a trustee. We started looking around the store and said, “Why not wear Anne Namba to the dinner?” So, we looked and found something, and today, I am wearing the one I chose. Brad chose something more aggressively spectacular, except today, he didn’t feel too aggressive, so he dressed normally. But, Leigh and I decided to shine for this occasion, because you’re here so that we can talk about a part of my life that I had kept hidden for most of my adult life.
WALTON: My other question is, let’s address the elephant in the room. You’re in a wheelchair, and it is a recent thing that we’ve both been dealing with on this book tour for you. I understand you have a foot injury that is an old running injury.
TAKEI: I have had two surgeries for an old running injury, both of which failed utterly. They wanted to try it a third time, and at first, I said, “No way. We tried it twice and failed, and I won’t go through that again.” However, it’s so inconvenient, and in particular, my second toe on my left foot has decided to act up. It’s very, very painful. So, I said, “I can’t live life like this,” and I will try for the third time, despite the doctor saying he can’t guarantee success. I’m boldly going for the third time.
WALTON: In the meantime, you get to be the helmsman of this wheelchair.
TAKEI: Actually, I need assistance with my wheelchair.
WALTON: So, I’m the engine room, and you’re the helmsman. How about that?
TAKEI: You’re the engine. You make it move.
WALTON: This running connection brings me to one of the book’s big themes. You did running very early on, and there are scenes of you in junior high school in a track and field club, and it comes up again. Can you tell us a little bit about joining the Front Runners?
TAKEI: I suspect some of you know about the Front Runners and might even be members. There is a chapter in almost every city in the United States. The Front Runners is a running club made up of people who love running. However, the other important quality about the members of the Front Runners is that they’re gay guys and gals who love running and love each other.
So, I was closeted most of my adult life because, at the beginning of it, I was passionately in love with acting and wanted to be an actor. I knew that producers would not hire an actor if it were known that they were gay, and that was very strongly emphasized to me through the story of one of my heartthrobs, Tab Hunter, who the fan magazines had dating Natalie Wood. I loved him on screen and went to see every one of his movies. He was good-looking, personable, and always the hero. He somehow managed to take his shirt off in every movie, at least for one scene. Even with his shirt on, I was in love with him. He was an outstanding actor, even with his clothes on, and even better without. There was a movie titled Island of Desire, where he survived on an island with just raggedy trunks.
However, when he was exposed as being gay, he suddenly disappeared. Warner Bros. didn’t use him in any more leading roles. He had also been the lead in Damn Yankees, where he was a baseball player, and Battle Cry, where he was a handsome soldier, off to war. But suddenly, he disappeared. I knew he had a contract with Warner Bros., but they just let the contract run out, which was an object lesson for me: If you are gay, or known as gay, they’re not going to use you. And I desperately wanted to have a career, hopefully like Tap Hunters. I’d be willing to take my shirt off. As a matter of fact, I did on television. Plus, my fencing prowess.
WALTON: Give it up for “The Naked Time.”
TAKEI: That episode was titled correctly, except I kept my pants on. It was the ’60s. I don’t think I would have taken it off, even in the ’70s.
Photo Credit: CBSWALTON: We’ll get there, we’ll get there.
TAKEI: So, the fact that Warner Bros. let the contract run out, without using him, when he was making a lot of money for them, let me know that you wouldn’t be cast in a movie, for the big screen or television. If it were known that you were gay, no producer would hire you for television because it’s an advertising medium. No advertiser wants to risk losing customers because of a gay actor in an episode, so I decided that if I wanted to be an actor, I would not be able to let the public know how I felt.
The other thing that troubled me was the word difference. I was different when I was a child because, well, visibly, you can see, I’m Asian, specifically Japanese American, and we were at war with Japan. Although I looked like the people who bombed Pearl Harbor, we are Americans, Japanese Americans, and we had nothing to do with Pearl Harbor… other than look like this.
However, the country went into war hysteria. Even the President of the United States went into hysterics because he realized that the West Coast was like Pearl Harbor. People who look Japanese live in the densest parts of the West Coast. And so, he signed Executive Order 9066, which ordered all Japanese Americans—more than 125,000 of us—to be summarily rounded up and imprisoned in barbed wire prison camps, located in some of the most desolate, isolated places in the world, in the country, like Arizona. Can you imagine the blistering hot desert of Arizona? There were two camps there. Can you imagine being in the swamps of Arkansas? With those swampland infested with water moccasins and other poisonous creatures. And, there were two camps in the swamps of Arkansas. There were also camps in the windswept high plains of Wyoming, Idaho, Utah, and Colorado. And so, we were forced out of our homes at gunpoint.
I remember that morning when the soldiers came. It was a terrifying morning. They had bayonets on their rifles. When my father answered their pounding on the front door, one of them pointed his bayonet at my father. And, we were just inches from him and were paralyzed. I will never forget the terror of that morning. From there, we were taken to Santa Anita Waste Track and housed in stinky horse stalls—pungent with the stink of horse manure, insects skittering around on the ground, and flies buzzing in the air. And my baby sister immediately got sick. That was to be our home, a horse stall. All up and down the West Coast, people were sent to the county fairgrounds and forced to sleep where livestock was kept. They said it was a temporary home. For us, it was four months in that stinky horse stall, and then they sent us to the swamps, and the farthest east of all the camps. A camp called Rohwer. And, I still have memories of those four years that we were incarcerated. It was unjust, and it happened only because we looked like this. The American government knew very little about us.
The United States Navy, before Pearl Harbor, did a study of Japanese Americans in the United States. They found in this study that, if anything, the Japanese Americans were probably the most patriotic minority group in the United States. They didn’t pay attention to that report because they wanted to believe what they wanted. And, we were all imprisoned during the Second World War. Unfortunately, that has some eerie echoes of what’s happening today.
Photo Credit: IDW/WEBTOONWALTON: Indeed, George, you wrote so powerfully about your childhood experience behind barbed wire fences in your first graphic memoir, They Called Us Enemy. Do we have some readers in the house today?
TAKEI: That book has become such a phenomenon, adopted into school curricula and used by community reading programs. We’re so grateful to everyone getting out there and sharing that book with a friend or a child. My biggest thrill was that the United States Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colorado, took it up. It was a big, big buy of the book—I think 4,000 copies. I walked into that huge auditorium, and the book was piled mountain high on a table almost as long as this, an immense collection of They Called Us Enemy. And then they ushered me to their stadium filled with the cadets. And, on the ground floor, the upper echelon officers were seated there.
It was awe-inspiring. My book was used to educate our future Air Force on a chapter of American history that many Americans knew too little about. I think they’re learning more about what the government did. In fact, the horrible thing is that things go in cycles. I recognize words like “enemy” and “alien.” I recognize the behavior of a hysterical president. It’s happening again in our time. We did not learn the lesson.
WALTON: The same military force that pointed a bayonet at your father and marched you into concentration camps, where you lived for your entire childhood, that same U.S. military made your book required reading at their National Character and Leadership Symposium. That’s the power of comics.
TAKEI: Comic books are something that I discovered as a child when we were released from camp, and a whole world opened up. It was like Dorothy walking into Oz because we had no radio, no newspapers, nothing. We were literally in prison, cut off from the outside world. When the war was over and we were released, my father bought us a comic book—my brother and baby sister, and we shared the comic book. He also bought us a portable radio, and, audially, different worlds opened up to us. I was exposed to stories set in Manhattan, New York City, the greatest city in the world, with the baddest criminals and the best crime fighters, like Superman, Batman, and Captain Marvel. But the world suddenly exploded on me. All these things were in color, and I love that my gay book can tell the story in full color.
WALTON: It’s a great opportunity to shout out the wonderful artistic team and the entire team that made this book: Steven Scott, Justin Eisinger, artist Harmony Becker, and, newly on this book, colorist Jose Villarrubia, who brought these memories of yours to this vivid new life. You’ve talked about transitioning from the camps to the wider world, from black and white into color. So, we’re thrilled that the second book can make that leap with you. We now know about the barbed wire fences you grew up inside, but in this new book, you talk about a different kind of barbed wire fence. Tell us about that.
TAKEI: As I say, we were confined behind those barbed wire fences, cut off from everything. We were freed, and I went to school. Then I went into middle school and made a lot of friends. I met a lot of people, and I also met something of myself. I made a discovery about myself. I was attracted to Bobby, who had the sweetest smile. Or, this athletic kid who came from a poor family because his mother didn’t buy him new clothes to fit his growing body. And, he was a growing boy, very athletic. He was good at basketball. And I enjoyed watching him. His T-shirts, however, exposed a little bit of his tummy because they were too short. When he made those baskets, the T-shirt came up, and I saw more of his body, which was exciting. Richard had a fantastic build. But when I looked around, I thought none of the other boys felt how I felt. They took it all in stride, but I wished for him to reach up and get that basket because he excited me so.
I discovered I was different again. I was visibly different when I was a kid, and that’s why we were in prison. But this time, my difference was inside me. I felt attracted and excited by other boys, and none of the other boys seemed to feel that way. I didn’t want to be subjected to any harassment or anything like we Japanese Americans did, so I decided to keep it to myself.
As I grew older, I developed a passion for acting and an aspiration to become an actor. I realized I had to keep that feeling inside me, not let everybody know. So, when the other boys started dating in their teens, I dated other girls who were friends. But, no great passion of mine. I double-dated with my friends and got a female friend to go with me.
I was living a secret life, which I call living in an invisible barbed wire fence camp, a new internment. I was interned as a child because I looked this way. Then, I was interned with this invisible barbed wire fence that kept me from being truly who I was, and I hid it for most of my life, through college and adult life. And, it wasn’t until I was 68 years old that I came out. That’s very late.
WALTON: I want to stay in this moment because it’s the core of the book, and the most painful part is that the first camp was built by the United States military to trap you inside, and the second camp was built by society. Society made you build that wire yourself. They made you imprison yourself in your heart, and I know that was very painful for you.
TAKEI: I called it silent harassment because my difference as an adult was not visible, so people felt at liberty to talk about gays. The words they used were “faggot” and “freaks,” and all those kinds of words in my presence. On the movie set, the crew members were sitting around chit-chatting, and one of them would say, “I think there’s a faggot bar right by the studio.” And, the other would say, “No, that couldn’t be, not right by the studio.” And, he says, “Well, I saw two guys holding hands going in there.” And, so they felt at liberty to use words like “faggot,” when it made me bristle. And because they felt at liberty being who they were, they didn’t think I would be sensitive to what they said. So it became what I call silent harassment.
My whole body felt like electric goosebumps were going through it. It was a combination of rage, humiliation, and discomfort, and I had to be silent to be accepted. That was part of the prison in my invisible barbed wire fence camp. When I reached 68 years old, something happened that brought me out. Here, the issue was inside me. And outside, beyond my fence, things were happening. There were activists, LGBTQ activists, who were advocating, demonstrating and talking to congresspeople about recognizing the injustices being perpetrated on LGBTQ people. And here I was, silent, standing by the sidelines, but their activism was making progress.
In 2003, the Massachusetts Supreme Court ruled in favor of marriage equality, and this was due to the activism of LGBTQ people who were sacrificing all, while here, I was protecting my career employability and staying silent. And well, because of them, Massachusetts got marriage equality, and two years later, California’s elected representatives, the state senate and the state legislature, passed the marriage equality bill, just like they did in Massachusetts. Although Massachusetts got it through the courts, this was a real achievement. It was an exciting, thrilling thing that was happening, and I was not a part of it.
However, the marriage equality bill in California needed one more signature to make it the law of the state—that of the governor of California, who was also a movie star. You know who? Arnold Schwarzenegger. When he ran for governor, he ran by saying, “I’m from Hollywood. I’ve worked with gays and lesbians, and some of my friends are gay and lesbian. He gave and created the impression that he supported LGBTQ people and that LGBTQ people liked him, so many assumed that he would sign the marriage equality bill. But I was suspicious because of the way he voted on so many other issues, that he was against equality for LGBTQ people. So, when the bill landed on his desk, he acted as I suspected he would. He vetoed it. And, I was raging angry. The people’s elected representatives passed this bill, and this is a democracy. The people who voted for the bill were in the assembly and the senate, and it was an expression of the voters of California. And yet, this lying governor said he disagreed with it and vetoed it.
When the press challenged him and peppered him with questions, all he kept saying was one sentence over and over again, “I have no problem with it, but I vetoed it.” Well, why? “I have no problem with it, but I vetoed it.” That’s the only thing he kept saying. He had no rational reason after having created the impression that he was a friend of LGBTQ people. It was outrageous. Then, it was revealed that he was having a relationship with his housekeeper, under his wife’s nose, Maria Shriver. That’s the sanctity of marriage. And, so, he was lying as a husband and as the governor of California. There is no place for liars and hypocrites in a democratic form of government.
Photo Credit: Ollie KaplanWALTON: So, is that what finally pushed you over the edge?
TAKEI: It made me rage, but I hadn’t made that decision yet. Brad, who wasn’t my husband then, because we couldn’t legally get married because the governor vetoed it. But Brad cautioned me. He said, “You’ve got to be careful. You’ve got a career to worry about.” But, I said, “No, I’m determined. I’m going to go ahead and come out.” But I wanted to talk to a few other people. I was rehearsing for a play that we were doing at the East West Players, a wonderful, dramatic play that I loved getting my teeth into—red meat.
WALTON: Shout out to the play, “Equus.”
TAKEI: One thing I have to add, and this way we can bring Star Trek into it. My Star Trek friend, Leonard Nimoy, also played the same role on Broadway. When I was doing Dr. Dysart at East West Players, Leonard and his wife came to see me, and the ushers came backstage to tell me, “Leonard Nimoy is here.” He played it after Richard Burton, Anthony Perkins, and other actors on Broadway. So, he was in the audience, and I was girded about that. After the performance, Leonard came back. And, I said, “Leonard, you did it on Broadway. How did I do at East West Players?” And Leonard smiled that Leonard Nimoy smile, and he said, “You are better.” Now, he’s a liar. He was a good friend, a lying friend.
WALTON: But we were talking about you telling your truth. You were doing “Equus,” and you talked to the show’s director.
TAKEI: I did. Tim Dang was the director. He was well-connected with other leaders in the LGBTQ community and suggested that I consider it. He urged me to do it, but to do it in a way that would protect my interests as an actor. He gave me good guidance. He suggested that I talk to a gay newspaper publisher. And so, I spoke to him. I invited him over to our home, and we talked. He gave me good advice and said I should speak to the editor of this newspaper. And so, I spoke with him. He gave me various other thoughts to think about before I made that decision, and I decided to make that decision. And so, I spoke to the press for the first time as a gay actor, and I blasted Schwarzenegger’s veto. I mean, the hypocrite. I can’t stand hypocrites in everyday life. However, as an elected official who is responsible for the idea of democracy, hypocrisy is anti-democratic.
WALTON: That’s one of the great takeaways of the book, which is how all the energy from keeping this secret so tightly inside you had to come out somehow. It came out as activism for all these other issues. You were in a musical in Los Angeles called “Fly Blackbird!,” which I need people to understand was written at the cutting edge of the Civil Rights Movement. It premiered on the first anniversary of the Greensboro sit-ins, so we’re talking about the very early ’60s.
TAKEI: We became a hit show in Los Angeles. We played for nine months, which is a long run in LA. We were also invited to sing at each of the rallies in Los Angeles County, both in the hinterlands and in the heart of the city. It was an exciting time to be engaged in an issue at the edge of our society, and we sang at some of the biggest rallies. The biggest was at the sports arena in Exposition Park in Los Angeles. And, it was such a thrill marching into that vast arena filled, crammed, with people and applause. We sang our hearts out as we marched in with Dr. Martin Luther King. And, when he spoke, his ringing eloquence made the rafters rattle. I mean, he was tremendous. And, we were awe-inspired entirely and excited by his eloquence. Then, we got invited to meet Dr. King in the sports arena’s dressing room. So, we were ushered downstairs. I met him, shook his sweaty hands, and had a little sweat on my palm. I chatted with him for what felt like an hour, but it was only a few minutes. It was a great thrill. This hand didn’t get washed for about three days.
Photo Credit: Top Shelf ProductionsWALTON: Working on this book with you helped me understand that when Star Trek comes into your life, you already have this context of understanding the power of diversity. And so, when the role of Sulu is offered to you, it’s already in line with the life you’re trying to build and the world you’re trying to create.
TAKEI: Hollywood doesn’t work that way. They don’t immediately offer that role; instead, you get interviewed. Gene Roddenberry, the creator-producer, discussed it, and the decision took forever and a day. It felt like it had been over a month, but only 10 days. And, I got the result. It was a fascinating interview. He said he felt that the 60s were an exciting time in the world and the United States. He said that the Civil Rights Movement was going on, the Vietnam War was going on in Southeast Asia, and all these fermentations were happening. None of it was being reflected on television. Great drama, power, essential issues, war and peace. And, it’s all game shows, comedy, and westerns. He said, “How do I deal with all this rich, dramatic potential as a dramatist and put it on television?”
So, he said he thought he’d use a metaphor and put it in space, in the future. And, his metaphor would be this round starship made up of people that was the strength of this planet, and the strength, he felt, came from the diversity. And, he came up with an acronym, IDIC, I-D-I-C, Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. The vast North America and South America, Europe, Africa, and Asia—all working together in concert, each playing its part, providing different perspectives, information, knowledge, and experience, and trying to solve the same challenge. That’s the strength—diversity coming together and working as a team.
And so, the captain was a North American. However, he was cast not with an American but a Canadian from French-speaking Montreal, William Shatner. We even had a half-human and half-alien species, pointy-eared, green-blooded, brilliant mind, totally absent of a sense of humor, a character called Spock. He became a fascinating character, but he had galactic diversity in one. We had Europe represented by a Scottish engineer with a heavy Scottish brogue, which in the 23rd century would be an anachronism because we wouldn’t have accents; we’d all speak alike. But, to emphasize diversity, he had a heavy Scottish brogue. That was done very well by an actor named James Doohan, who became a very good friend of mine.
And, Jimmy’s fans, as you all know, he was a great drinker, and I learned a lot from him, sitting with him in a bar after work at the studio. And, he shared secrets with me in the bar. He said, “I’m getting famous playing a Scotsman, but I’m Irish. And, not just Irish, but a Canadian.” He was an Irish-Canadian who was born in Vancouver, British Columbia. He was a great guy, a wonderful friend, a wonderful storyteller, and a great drinker. I learned a lot about drinking and fine wines from Jimmy.
WALTON: There are so many excellent Star Trek secrets in the book. My favorites are the ones about Nichelle Nichols, one of your dearest friends. Give it up for Nichelle; we miss her.
TAKEI: Nichelle represented Africa and women because we needed women.
I represented that vast area called Asia, but Roddenberry was absolutely lost on the right name for this Asian character because every Asian surname is nationally specific. Tanaka is Japanese, Wong is Chinese, and Kim is Korean. 20th-century Asia was rife with warfare, colonization, and rebellion. He didn’t want to bring in all that, so he was looking for something that suggested all the diversity of Asia, and he found, off the coast of the Philippines, a sea called the Sulu Sea. And, he said, “The waters of a sea touch all shores, hence my name.”
WALTON: George, I wish we could spend all day telling these stories, but that’s why you made the book.
Stay tuned to The Beat for more coverage from SDCC ’25.
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