When I first moved from Beijing to Palo Alto when I was seven, my classmates treated me like a pariah for being Chinese. Clearly, this was all because of the narcissism of small differences that humans create to mask their inferiority, but as a child, you don’t know why you’re an outcast. You just know you are.
I tried to fit in by changing the way I dressed, what I ate, and how I spoke. None of it worked. Over time, I became scared of people, but isolating myself made me extremely lonely. Drawing became a way to express myself when words felt too heavy. When I draw, I forget the pain — it’s like the world goes quiet, and I can finally breathe. I hope when people see my film, they realize that even when it feels like you’re stuck, invisible, and unheard, creating something can still give you hope.