Since I’m from LA, it’s only right for me to start every intro by oversharing how much I love the beach. Ideally, it’s a sunny 78 degrees, and I’ve got a sandwich in hand. When I’m not there, you can probably find me watching reality TV — I’m not picky — or baking for anyone brave enough to try what I make (they’re not always perfect, but they’re made with love 🥲).

I grew up traveling between Taipei and suburban LA, spending much of my childhood in my parents’ home country, Taiwan. Raised by immigrants, I navigated life with English as my second language, which gave me a deep appreciation for the power of communication and storytelling.

I think of my parents a lot when I work—not just because their sacrifices got me here, but because, ironically, my work centers on a language they don’t speak. They moved across the world so I could have a chance to make something of my own. And while I might not be changing the world, I’ve realized that if one of the most universal tools we have—language—can’t reach everyone, then what’s the point?

And if my own parents can’t understand it, then seriously, what is the point?