"In exposing my very real, imperfect self, I put a target on my back. I face comments that cut deep—vicious reminders that as a woman, as a person of colour, and as a creator in the social justice space, I’m held to impossible standards: ones that demand I sacrifice my authenticity and my journey of learning to serve others' ideals."​

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Before you become a content creator, you dream of the day your work is seen and your voice finally matters. Virality seems essential for your growth, a lifeline that promises your message can reach someone who feels less alone. Sure, you know there are risks—exposure, vulnerability, even trolls—but you convince yourself that blocking a few haters is a price worth paying. Until you’re on the other side.

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I wish someone had warned me about the all-consuming nature of emotions that come with every comment, like, DM, or email—each one digging into the raw parts of you, both positive and pointed. Here I am, sharing the very human chaos I’m navigating as I show up online.

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The niche I’m in is as unique as it is challenging. It’s where health and wellness intersect with social justice, science collides with mothering, and a woman in her 20s—still figuring out her career path, lays bare her journey. I share everything: daily vlogs, think pieces, accessible science that leaves you with more questions than answers. I’m an able-bodied, Asian woman in a cis-partnership; a mother, a first generation phd student, a “healthy food nut” who lives to eat, cook, write, and learn; someone healing her relationship with her cultural roots. I’m a realist aware of systemic barriers yet fiercely believing in resilience. I am a human of multitudes. 

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I believe in science and hold strong faith. I’m an ally to Black, Indigenous, and other people of colour, even as I live in a long-term partnership with a white man. I advocate for underconsumption even as I wrestle with impulsive spending and student debt. I drink matcha and love a matching workout set and also dedicate my life’s work to challenging systemic injustice and capitalism. I show up online with all these contradictions—in the grey areas, the messy overlaps of life.

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In exposing my very real, imperfect self, I put a target on my back. I face comments that cut deep—vicious reminders that as a woman, as a person of colour, and as a creator in the social justice space, I’m held to impossible standards: ones that demand I sacrifice my authenticity and my journey of learning to serve others' ideals.

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Anonymous commenters demand, I shouldn’t use “PhDc” behind my name, that I can’t uplift cultural pride if I’m “married” to a white guy, that my decolonizing efforts are nullified by my relationship. They write, “I swear Asian women be social justice warriors for profit.” And it’s not just about opinions on my choices; it’s about an endless checklist: don’t wear the wrong thing, say the wrong thing, follow the wrong person, like or share the wrong post. No matter how hard I try, I’m expected to be flawless—and when I inevitably falter, the fall is brutal.

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What would happen if I stripped away every part of me that’s meant to appease your narrow expectations? If I ditched the white guy from my narrative, stopped plastering “distracting stickers” on my face, erased the hard-won letters from my display name, and stopped worrying about whether my “advice is irresponsible”? 

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I wouldn’t be human anymore—I’d be the version you want, the perfect activist that validates your own lived experiences. But perfection doesn’t exist. And chasing it only leaves me feeling like a martyr, sacrificing my authenticity on the altar of validation.

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I’m not here to be “the one with the answers” or the saviour who fixes your life. I’m not going to morph into the idealized version you expect just to earn your approval. Because if I bend to every version of who you want me to be, I lose what makes me, me and what makes my journey mine. And that loss is the price of perfection—a pedestal that, once you fall, leaves a bruise that never fully heals.

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I’m committed to doing better, to learning, to evolving—as a creator, as a human being. And with that commitment, I need something from you. I need you to engage with me in ways that are compassionate and rooted in care. 

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Before calling me out, think about how to call me in. Before making a snap judgment on a three-second video clip, remind yourself to stay curious. We will not always agree, but that’s the beauty of being exposed to diversity of thought—it opens space for dialogue, growth, and genuine connection. 

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I want this space to be one where we challenge each other with compassion rather than criticism, and celebrate the messy, raw, and ever-evolving journey of being human. In our shared vulnerabilities lies the power to build a community where authenticity isn’t just accepted—it’s revered.

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