artistic statement

I believe theatre is where memory and imagination meet long enough to change us.

I learned storytelling where life was happening: poetry slams, family dinner tables, community organizing spaces, and queer dance floors. Growing up, my maternal grandmother, an acupuncturist, showed me the body as a site of knowledge and connection. My paternal grandmother taught me the courage to live whole. When I came out, she showed me a love that did not ask me to fracture myself. From them, I experienced how care, story, grief, and humor are passed down.

I always return to the question of inheritance: what we carry, what we redefine, and what we sometimes break so we do not have to break ourselves. As a queer/trans child of immigrants, I know diaspora as an inheritance of rupture and reinvention. We carry this knot of time in our bodies, our memories, our dreams.

As a writer, I am drawn to poetry, magical realism, and heightened theatricality. I love characters who are beautiful, messy, flawed, and deeply human. My writing often moves through dreamscapes and memory palaces, where family histories become folklore, queer bedrooms become altars, and the intimate becomes mythic.

As a director, I believe care and rigor are inseparable. Care creates the conditions for rigor and risk, and rigor honors the care and trust people bring into the room. I strive to build rehearsal rooms of joy, precision, and daring where we can discover the truest version of the story that only this group of people, at this moment, can make together.

I make theatre because I believe in storytelling as both refuge and blueprint. My transness and cultural heritage remind me that futures are not fixed. They are built from what we transform and what we dare to imagine together.

For every world lost, we can build another.