Ever since I was born, I’ve always noticed the difference with how people treated boys and how they treated girls. In China, this was very normal in society, so growing up in that environment made it normal to me, in my world. Chinese culture thinks having a baby boy is like having gold, since they can continue the family line and do all the things girls can’t do. Growing up, I have encountered a lot of people, including my own family members, who have always treated my little brother better than me. I didn’t really notice as much when I was little, but the more I grow up, the more I can see the difference in treatments and it really bothered me. It was difficult for me to fathom that someone so close to me, my own family member, could really view me and my brother so differently without even trying to hide it, and give my brother all the love there is. After all, aren’t my brother and I both equally as related to them and all share the same familial blood? How could it be so normalized for there to be such an unfair mindset that is built on no basis other than the gender we are born with when we enter this world? Then, after moving to the United States, I was introduced to a whole new perspective of equality. People actually advocated for fairness in treatment for both boys and girls and there wasn’t an overarching cultural norm to follow. How you are viewed is more dependent on who you are as a person rather than just your assigned gender. From these moments of realization in my childhood, I decided to not let my upbringing hold me down and take action to make a change. I realized that change starts from me and I want to do my part in creating a fair world for everyone, regardless of gender. I want to encourage all other girls and women to feel empowered as well. Us females go through a lot in society, especially with sexism. We work hard to fight everyone who is negative in our lives. We do our best to seek equal opportunities and provide for ourselves and our family.

One memory that is forever engraved in my mind is when I was taking a course at my local community college (Pasadena City College) in 8th grade. There were a lot of students in my class, all from different walks of life, both teens and adults. One of them stood out to me because of how hardworking and smart she is. At that time, I wondered why she is still going to community college when she is so intelligent and has so much potential to succeed in life. Later on, I found out it was because she was financially unable to attend a better college, and she has to work really hard to earn scholarships to hopefully be able to attend. One time, we were turning in a project in class that was due, but she told the teacher that she needs an extension. Her reasoning was that it was almost Chinese New Year, and she was working three different jobs, so she did not have time to complete the whole project. She can’t just quit the job or not show up to the job because she has a family to support, since her mom is a single mother and she also has a little sister. At that time, I felt really bad since she was trying her best to still support her family while being in college, working really hard and trying to transfer. I wanted to help her, but I didn’t know how.

Since then, that memory has been stuck in my mind, and now with this foundation, I can help not only her, but all the other females that are struggling as well. Hers foundation is my way of taking action and doing my part in the world. I hope that together we can build a strong community of women who can build up more strength together than we can on our own. I want everyone to feel encouraged, supported, and empowered so that they can not only chase their dreams, but also give back to the community in the future and continue the chain reaction. It all starts with you, but you are not alone, so let’s embark on this journey together.

Growing up, I was taught to be the “good girl.” In my family, that meant being quiet, obedient, and graceful — never questioning, never challenging. My parents signed me up for piano, art, and traditional dance. Not because I asked, but because these were the things girls were expected to do. I didn’t hate those activities. What I hated was the message behind them: that my value came from how well I fit into a mold I never chose.

Like many girls raised in patriarchal households, I grew up believing that authority flowed downward and outward — from fathers to children, from men to women. At home, my father made the decisions, and everyone else followed. I was told that children should listen, and girls should behave. For a long time, I did.

It wasn’t until I moved abroad that I began to question those beliefs. I met women who weren’t afraid to speak, to lead, to take up space. They weren’t “delicate,” and they didn’t try to be. And for the first time, I saw a different way to be: one that didn’t demand silence, but celebrated strength.

That shift in mindset led me to redefine more than just my place in the world — it led me to reclaim my body on my own terms. I started weightlifting. Not to become more “toned” or to fit a beauty standard, but to build strength — real, visible, unapologetic strength. In many cultures, muscular women are told they’re too much: too big, too loud, too masculine. I’ve heard the comments:
“You look like a she-Hulk.”
“Don’t get bulky, that’s not attractive.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to look more delicate?”

But what they call “too much,” I now call power.

At Northeastern, I joined the Empower Lifting Club — a space created by and for women who are tired of shrinking themselves. We lift for strength. We lift for confidence. We lift to say: we belong here.

This is why I stand with the Hers Foundation. I know what it means to live in a world that tries to define girls before they can define themselves. I’ve experienced what it’s like to internalize the rules, and what it takes to break them. I believe in building a future where women are not shaped by stereotypes, but empowered to rewrite them — in our names, our bodies, our stories, and our futures.