I'm an American who moved to China. After 7 years, I run a profitable startup and make friends through badminton.
I've always liked building real, physical products. When I was 8, I took pottery classes and made small sculptures of superheroes.
When I was 14, I learned that a Hong Kong company had bought a significant stake in Legendary Entertainment, the studio behind "Inception" — a favorite movie at the time. It sparked my curiosity about China.
Both influenced my studies at MIT, where I majored in mechanical engineering and minored in Mandarin.
I thought being fluent in Chinese and able to build products could be a killer combination.
Rethinking China, firsthand
In the middle of my third year at MIT, one of my professors invited me to Shanghai for a two-week Peking opera program. There, I learned the physical movements and enough Mandarin to perform.
I expected a poor, communist country, but instead, I found one of the most capitalist and consumerist places on earth. I kept thinking: What policies built this infrastructure?
In 2018, during my final year at MIT, I was accepted into the Schwarzman Scholars program — a fully funded, one-year master's in global affairs at Tsinghua University in Beijing. A few months after graduation, I moved to China and have continued living here for the past seven years.
From MIT to Tsinghua
My time at Tsinghua was different from my experience at MIT. I had fewer hours of class and more opportunities to hear from special speakers — including John Kerry. One day, I visited Xiongan, an experimental city near Beijing, where I surveyed development projects and met with government officials.
That year, I gained a foundation in how China works, from governance to history, and a master's degree.
After graduation, I moved to Shenzhen — about 1,200 miles south of Beijing — to join a small product design firm as a project manager and mechanical engineer.
Ninety percent of the engineering team only spoke Chinese, so I had to learn Mandarin in an engineering capacity. I met up with a Mandarin teacher once or twice a week. I carried a notebook for industry-specific words, like "screw," "injection," and "molding."
Then in 2021, after nine interviews, I joined Apple's camera R&D team as an engineering program manager. I worked there for close to four years.
But I knew that there, reaching leadership would take another 10 to 15 years. That would have been fine if I wanted to live in Shenzhen forever, but if I were risk-averse, I'd have gone to Silicon Valley. Instead, I developed a unique skill set by staying here.
Adjusting to life in China
I grew up in a working-class Chicago neighborhood — my mom's a nurse, my dad's a laborer. Back home, long stares could mean danger. In China, they usually mean curiosity. I had to adjust.
Once, on the Communist Party's birthday in 2019, a drunk man demanded my passport and accused me of stealing jobs. Police escorted him away.
Now, Shenzhen feels like a second home. Life is more comfortable, my money goes further, and I've built a solid network.
I have my network. I play badminton. It's what all young people here do and a great way to make friends.
Doing my own thing
This year, Susan Su — a Chinese American MIT grad — and I started The Sparrows, a manufacturing consultancy.
We realized that some companies need help managing production and factories but can't afford a full China-based team. Our goal was to fill that gap. We don't do engineering but handle everything else.
We're a team of four: the two of us plus a supply chain expert and a lawyer.
In the US, you sign a contract, and it's done. In China, it's about trust and relationships — with the factory and its managers — driving production and efficiency.
There's a local phrase, shuangying, meaning "double win." It's about building genuine relationships with vendors, growing together as partners.
We were in the black from day one. I pay myself $2,500 a month from profits. I split a 969-square-foot apartment with a friend, and we each pay $600 a month.
Trade policy, meet real life
Tariffs do affect my work at Sparrows.
It feels like America is trying to be God now. But iPhones, medical consumables, and products for Google, Amazon, and Sam's Club are still made in China.
Unless someone figures out how to move 40 years of supply chain development — the human resources, skilled workforce — and address the fact that most immigrants to Shenzhen are willing to work 60- or 70-hour weeks to send money back home, this is all noise.
There are legal tariff workarounds. We're talking to a partner in Colombia to split production.
Once the company can run more independently, I'd like to be closer to family and drive US business development.
At first, my parents thought leaving Chicago for MIT was far. Moving to China was even harder for them. But as long as I call often, we've found our rhythm and stay connected.
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Forbes
29 minutes ago
- Forbes
How Sau Lee Became Fashion's Coveted Cool-Girl Heritage Label
Cheryl Leung, founder of Sau Lee wearing a design from the brand's FW25 collection Courtesy of Sau Lee It's been a busy 12 months for Sau Lee. The brand, founded by Cheryl Leung in 2014 with an aim to fill a gap in the market, has taken over both sides of the Atlantic and caused quite a stir in the industry. Following a string of successful collection launches and seamlessly executed events, the cult-favorite label has catapulted from beloved insider secret to bona-fide industry darling. Despite her experience at Bloomberg and Lane Crawford, Leung — a psychology major at UCLA — had zero formal design training under her belt when she founded the brand. But she knew instinctively there was a blank space for what she had in mind. 'Where the intricate beauty of Chinese craftsmanship could exist in harmony with contemporary design,' recalls Leung of those early days now over a decade ago. What seemed like an audacious leap has transformed into a global fashion phenomenon that dressed countless A-listers (think Gemma Chan, Jamie Chung and Winnie Harlow) and amassed a fanbase devoted to the label's unique take on East-meets-West. Gemma Chan in Sau Lee Courtesy of Sau Lee jamie Chung in Sau Lee Courtesy of Sau Lee Growing up between the United States and Hong Kong gave Leung an edge in understanding both sides of the world. She watched women around her struggle to find sophisticated pieces that celebrated Eastern heritage without falling into costume territory. The cheongsam, or Qipao, was her inspiration and unique selling point: a garment that embodies everything she loved and sought to achieve. 'I grew up seeing my mother wearing Cheongsams to special occasions and celebrations, and I always thought they were so sophisticated and romantic,' says Leung, referring to the traditional silhouette that anchors every collection. 'I love that it balances the modesty of a high mandarin collar, with the sensuality of a thigh high slit, and a figure skimming shape that both flatters and honors the female form.' 'It's about honoring tradition while making it wearable and empowering in a modern context.' Combining her ultra chic, signature silhouettes with innovative fabrics, Leung effortlessly put the fun back in dressing up. Unlike other brands attempting to sell Chinese elements as a 'ritual' or 'tradition,' Sau Lee's approach is refreshingly unserious — in the best way possible. Cheryl Leung has crafted a unique aesthetic identify for Sau Lee, one that's authentic to her own heritage yet incredibly appealing to the new generation of style-conscious shoppers Courtesy of Sau Lee Embracing cultural references and traditional techniques, Sau Lee's range of occasion wear is the definition of glamor, playfulness, and female empowerment. The distinctive identity was born from something deeply personal — the women who shaped Leung's world — and the name itself tells the story: Sau is from the Chinese middle name she shares with her sister, and Lee from her mother's maiden name. 'The women in my family are deep sources of inspiration to me, along with my heritage, which I wanted to represent in my brand name instead of using my English name Cheryl,' she explains. The journey as a fashion entrepreneur wasn't without its battles. Leung admits that navigating an industry that often fetishizes Eastern aesthetics or overlooks them entirely was one of the greatest challenges she has faced. Building a brand that proudly showcases Chinese design elements while ensuring universal appeal is an art for walking a cultural thin line, which Leung has perfected after a decade — proving that Chinese-inspired fashion could be contemporary, sophisticated, and globally relevant rather than merely exotic. Ming Lee and Cheryl Leung (center) attending the Fashion Awards 2024 in Sau Lee with industry opinion leaders Courtesy of Sau Lee As the barrier to entry in the fashion landscape lowers and the appeal of 'solopreneurship' rises, I ask Leung on her strategy in sustaining and accelerating Sau Lee's growth. 'The fashion industry has become more democratized and digitally driven, but also more volatile and over-saturated,' Leung says, 'Brand loyalty now hinges on transparency, values, and emotional resonance.' 'If I had to name one crucial element for thriving today, it would be authentic storytelling,' she declares. 'In a crowded market, consumers gravitate toward brands that feel personal, that speak to identity and aspiration.' Having recently launched the brand's first summer shoe staple, Sau Lee continues to expand beyond signature occasion wear and now includes categories like separates, outerwear, and a hugely successful handbag line — those adorned with the brand's signature dainty pipa knots are particularly coveted. 'We are committed to evolving while staying rooted in our identity,' Leung explains, expressing particular excitement about exploring artisanal techniques from various regions in China and reinterpreting them for global audiences. For her, success isn't just measured in revenue or red carpet moments — it's about building a cultural bridge that allows women worldwide to experience the 'romance and opulence of Chinese culture' while feeling 'confident, sensual, and effortlessly captivating.'
Yahoo
43 minutes ago
- Yahoo
‘Ne Zha 2,' explained: How it became the biggest animated film ever and is recruiting Oscar talent for the U.S. release
At 2025's halfway point, A Minecraft Movie, Lilo & Stitch, and Sinners are the year's three biggest box-office success stories — on U.S. screens anyway. Internationally, though, those chicken jockeys, aliens, and vampires have been left in the dust by a rambunctious sprite named Ne Zha, the star of a Chinese-language animated sequel that's been a headlining attraction at multiplexes around the world for six months and counting. Since opening in China in January, Ne Zha 2 has broken the $2 billion barrier at the global box office, joining such rarefied company as James Cameron's Avatar movies and the one-two punch of Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame. While the bulk of those grosses have come from its native land — where it has earned an estimated $1.8 billion and counting — the movie has traveled to other markets, including a limited U.S. run in February that brought in an additional $20 million per the box office tracking site The Numbers. More from Gold Derby Everything to know about 'Too Much,' Lena Dunham's Netflix TV show starring Megan Stalter that's kinda, sorta 'based on a true story' 'Severance' leads Television Critics Association Awards nominations with 5 That domestic number is about to get a boost courtesy of A24, which just announced an English-language version featuring Best Actress winner Michelle Yeoh among the vocal cast. Here's what you need to know about Ne Zha 2 ahead of its wide stateside release on Aug. 22. Deeply rooted in Chinese mythology, the Ne Zha movies follow the exploits of the titular child warrior, based on a Shang Dynasty-era legend. The original 2019 film recounted Ne Zha's origin story — a demon spirit who is reincarnated as a flesh-and-blood youth seeks to defy a fatal curse and fights an array of gods and monsters as part of that quest. That story ended with both Ne Zha and his friend and fellow spirit Ao Bing both returning to the spirit realm. As Ne Zha 2 begins, Ne Zha is gifted with a new human body, but Ao Bing's return is more... complicated. While figuring out a way to bring him back for good, Ne Zha invites his friend to share his physical form as they work together to triumph in a series of tasks created by their duplicitous antagonist, Wuliang. As an additional handicap, Ne Zha has to mask his own demon identity during this fresh round of tussles with others of his kind. After a series of trials and tribulations, Ao Bing and Ne Zha are separate entities once more and a mid-credits scenes teases their next adventure — a rematch with Wuliang. So far, Yeoh is the only announced member of the vocal cast that A24 is assembling for its dubbed release. The Malaysian actress — who made history as the first Asian women to win the Best Actress Oscar for her star turn in 2022's Everything Everywhere All at Once — has recently lent her voice to such animated productions as The Tiger's Apprentice, Minions: The Rise of Gru and Paws of Fury. "I'm honored to be part of Ne Zha 2, a landmark in Chinese animation and a powerful reminder of how universal our stories can be," Yeoh remarked in a statement. "Sharing this with audiences in English is such a joy, and I can't wait for everyone to experience the wonder, heart, spectacular artistry, and magic of this film on the big screen." A24 is certainly treating Ne Zha 2 as a major contender, awarding it premium theatrical treatment across North America, including IMAX, 3D and large format screens. The Academy's enhanced roster of international members are likely to respond to the movie's outsized success with global audiences as well. And then there's the fact that the current crops of American-made animated features have been on the weaker side commercially. So far, the year's highest-grossing animated U.S. title at the domestic box office is Dog Man, trailed by Pixar's Elio — which so far hasn't seen an Elemental-style comeback. Upcoming feature-length cartoons include Smurfs, The Bad Guys 2 and a new SpongeBob Squarepants movie, none of which are likely to reach the billion-dollar mark, let alone $2 billion. The only serious challenger to Ne Zha 2's dominance will likely be another sequel — Disney's Zootopia 2, which is set for a Thanksgiving bow. The 2016 original banked over $1 billion worldwide and anticipation for the follow-up is swelling to Moana 2 levels. If Zootopia 2 exceeds its creative and commercial expectations, Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde may just outfox Ne Zha and Ao Bing with voters. Best of Gold Derby Everything to know about 'The Batman 2': Returning cast, script finalized Tom Cruise movies: 17 greatest films ranked worst to best 'It was wonderful to be on that ride': Christian Slater talks his beloved roles, from cult classics ('Heathers,' 'True Romance') to TV hits ('Mr. Robot,' 'Dexter: Original Sin') Click here to read the full article.


Buzz Feed
an hour ago
- Buzz Feed
Love Island USA Contestant's Racial Slur Sparks Controversy
Earlier this week on Love Island USA ― Peacock's popular dating reality show ― a bombshell was dropped, but you wouldn't have known it by how it was announced: As the cast of 20-somethings lounged around the villa in swimsuits, Iain Stirling, the puckish Scottish narrator of the show, announced that one contestant ― Cierra Ortega ― had left the show for a 'personal situation.' Because no further details were provided, a casual viewer may have been confused by the narrated reveal: Had someone in Ortega's family died? Did she have a particularly bad case of the stomach flu? More invested fans of the reality show ― the ones who religiously track the subreddits and watch TikTok commentary ― knew the full story: For about a week prior, fans had heavily campaigned to get Ortega kicked off the show after posts resurfaced where the reality star appeared to use the word 'chink' ― a racial slur against Chinese people and those of East Asian descent ― not once but twice. what is with cierra and saying the c slur oh my god? — hawa🪞 (@diorbabe66) July 2, 2025 @diorbabe66 / Via In one Instagram story reportedly from February 2023, the 25-year-old content creator from Los Angeles explained her reasoning for getting Botox and let the word slip: 'I can also be a little chinky when I laugh/smile so I love getting a mini brow lift to open up my eyes and get that snatched look,' she wrote in the story. In a 2015 post from Instagram, a much younger Ortega smiles on a hill in a selfie with the caption: 'Still chinkin' even at the top.' Awkward. It was the casualness of Ortega's usage of the word that struck many, as if it were a neutral descriptor of her appearance. (Granted, one she didn't like and was going to get Botox to fix.) The influencer used it with the same ease as someone describing their eyes as deep-set or calling a supermodel 'doe-eyed.' Back in July 2020, rapper Cardi B caught similar heat for remarking that her toddler Kulture had 'chinky eyes' like the little girl's father, the rapper Offset, and Cardi's sister, Hennessy. In a tweet she quickly deleted, Cardi addressed the backlash, though rather ineffectually, 'I don't know fuckin' everything. We don't even use that as (an) insult and I don't use it as (an) insult. I'm sick of the internet.' In Ortega's case, she started losing social media followers en masse. (The reality star was on the island up until recently and has yet to issue a formal response, but her family has said on Instagram that she and they have received 'threats' and 'attacks,' which obviously isn't fair.) What was most interesting about this scandal, though, was how others online came out and admitted they had no idea the word was so racially loaded. 'What happened to Cierra was definitely a learning opportunity for me because I did not grow up knowing that 'ch*nky' was a slur,' another woman wrote on X. 'Not to sound ignorant but am I the only one who didn't know that word was a 'racial slur?'' one woman wrote on Threads. (We're not linking to protect their privacy.) Some chalked their innocence up to how commonly the word is used in rap. It is used outright in 'Get Right Witcha,' a 2017 song by Migos, whose members include the aforementioned Offset. Inevitably, there were some bad-faith efforts to stoke animosity between Black and Asian Americans, with some claiming that C-word was nowhere near as offensive as the N-word ― a slur that got another contestant, Yulissa Escobar, kicked off the show earlier in the the season, after fans dug up a podcast appearance where she'd said the word. Meanwhile, some Asian American viewers wondered why producers of the show were slow to address the Ortega mess while Escobar was summarily booted. (Both incidents beg the question: Does Peacock and its parent company NBCUniversal have a screening process when it comes to social media or not so much?) But thinking about racial injury in such a comparative framework is never really helpful, said Julia H. Lee, a professor of Asian American studies at the University of California, Irvine. It just winds up pitting minority groups against each other, she said. 'For me, the important question isn't 'Why is anti-Asian racism downplayed compared to other groups' but rather 'Why does anti-Asian racism take the form that it does and what does that say about how Asian Americans are perceived?' she said. 'The pandemic was an acute reminder of the depths and particularities of this country's long history of overlooked anti-Asian racism.' The ugly history of the word Most Asian Americans are all too familiar with the word, thanks to their personal experience with it. Most know its ugly history and its weird current-day uses online. The term first gained traction as a pejorative in the late 1800s, as Chinese migrant workers arrived to the Pacific Coast of North America largely to work on building the Transcontinental Railroad. They weren't particularly welcome. Asian immigrants were seen as 'human oddities in the minds of whites,' communications professor Chiung Hwang Chen wrote in 1996, and xenophobic immigration laws like the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 were passed. The word 'chink' only further othered the newly arrived Asian Americans. In recent years, young people ― not just Gen Z but millennials in their younger years, as BuzzFeed reported in 2016 ― have used the word to describe their eyes in selfies: 'I look so chinky here!' ― that sort of thing. 'The use of 'ch*nky eye' like it's a neutral descriptor shows how deeply anti-Asian racism has been normalized ― especially when it's disguised as flattery,' said Joey S. Kim, an assistant professor of English at the University of Toledo in Ohio. 'Yes, Ortega used it in a clearly negative way, but even when people like Cardi B use it more neutrally or even affectionately, it's still rooted in a long history of dehumanizing and exoticizing Asian features, separating the word from the people it harms.' she told HuffPost. (We're reminded of the 'fox eye trend' in 2020, where women were having non-surgical procedures or pulling the skin around their eyes back in photos to get a more exaggerated 'slanted' look.) When I was a kid ppl used to pull their eyes to the side to make fun of Asian eyes. Now I see white girls doing "fox eye" as a trend by pulling their eyes to do the same exact look. I dunno it kinda makes me feel shitty. — Princess Bad Bitch (@GeekRemix) July 14, 2020 @GeekRemix Like many slurs, the C-words flatten East and Southeast Asians into a racial caricature associated with particularly 'Asian' features such as black hair and smaller, almond-shaped and or upturned eye, the professor said. 'In essence, these racial slurs keep circulating under the guise of aesthetic language,' she said. 'That's how racial violence keeps circulating: through language that pretends to admire even as it dehumanizes.' Why the racial slur is so easily dismissed John Lamparski / Getty Images What's been most upsetting to Asian American viewers of Love Island USA is how disregarded their experience with the word has been by other viewers. While some are taking it as a teachable moment, others are ranking the slur as one that's 'not that bad.' 'I have a theory that the people trying to justify Cierra saying a slur against Asian people that I've been called many times growing up, absolutely used it many times and are trying to make themselves feel better and seek assurance from others that it's OK. It's not and it's disappointing,' wrote Korean beauty influencer Kim Horne on Threads. Russell Jeung, a professor of Asian American studies at San Francisco State University, thinks some are comfortable using the term because they don't know any Asian Americans. A study conducted by the Asian American Foundation this year found that 1 in 4 Americans report having no primary relationship with an Asian American, highlighting the invisibility of the community. Jeung also thinks people may be more comfortable using racist language now that President Donald Trump has normalized mocking and deriding people of color and immigrants. 'Research has shown that his use of the term 'Chinese virus' exacerbated anti-Asian hate during the pandemic,' Jeung told HuffPost. In spite of the ugliness the Love Island USA controversy exposed ― sending a reality TV star's family death threats for a years-old Instagram post is beyond the pale ― Kim is glad people are at least talking about the wrongness of words like 'chink.' 'As someone who grew up hearing these slurs without anyone acknowledging they were wrong, I find it significant that Ortega and Escobar are being held accountable,' she said. 'The more we educate ourselves and one another, the better equipped we are to unlearn the racist language we've inherited.' HuffPost.