It was the fifth grade, and my nose was nestled deep within a book. I was so enraptured, my eyes dancing along the word, delighting in the worlds the author was creating—as it seemed—just for me. Although it seemed as though the lights had all dimmed, I kept reading along. It wasn't until my teacher burst through the door that I realized I was all alone in the classroom, and that she had accidentally left me while taking all my classmates to P.E. That moment captured what reading has always been for me: both my greatest passion and my favorite escape.

But as I grew older, I realized that many of the children’s books I loved to read didn’t showcase kids like me—multiracial, bicultural—and I rarely felt truly seen. We now understand that representation matters, yet in our current climate, stories that embrace diversity and nuance are increasingly under threat. This gap in the stories around me made me question where, or even if, I belonged. I don’t want other kids to feel that same sense of invisibility. I want children who feel unseen to recognize themselves in the pages they turn, to know that their mixed identities, languages, and cultures are not only valid but worth celebrating.

My commitment to service grew out of my family. Community service is deeply ingrained in how I was raised; it was never framed as a requirement, but as a responsibility and a privilege. Whether it was helping patients or attending long, non-profit board meetings when I got home from school, my mother has always been the force that most compelled me to serve. Yet seeing her constant dedication also made me want to do something more enduring, something that could exist beyond a single act of service. That desire led me to create a non-profit rather than simply write a book, so I could create something that wouldn’t stop with me and could continue my goal of empowering children far into the future.