When we think of female founders, we often picture those tied to beauty brands, wellness startups, or fashion ventures. Many of these women present themselves as creative directors, lifestyle curators, or advocates of emotional empowerment. Initially, I also ventured into beauty because I loved it and understood its consumers—women like myself. However, as I delved deeper into the industry, I realized I wasn’t aiming to create just another lifestyle brand.
At some point, I stopped seeing myself as fitting into the typical image of a female founder. In truth, I never really fit any mold to begin with. My unique upbringing places me beyond conventional categories; I don’t represent the classic immigrant story that easily conforms to familiar labels. Furthermore, my vision for a female-led venture is distinct. I’m not here to sell a lifestyle or curate aesthetics alone.
A life shapes my entrepreneurial vision, lived across different worlds, where identity is often reduced to meet societal expectations. It’s designed for those who aspire to live with awareness, freedom, and inner authority.
Unlike many Chinese immigrants of his generation who left China and never returned, my father made the uncommon choice to go back. After emigrating to Canada in the 1980s, he returned to China in the early ’90s during the reform era to build a business as a Chinese Canadian. This led to my childhood being divided between Toronto and Shanghai—two cities that influenced me in equal but contrasting ways. I wasn’t a typical international student, nor a typical Canadian of Chinese descent who seldom visited Asia.
I became fluent in both languages, attuned to both cultures, and never fully contained by either. Growing up across these worlds instilled in me a knack for quick adaptation—reading contexts, sensing subtexts, and shifting perspectives.
I later pursued my studies in Art History and World History at the University of Toronto, then entered banking in Toronto, and eventually joined a global financial firm in Hong Kong. However, I soon realized that the corporate path didn’t align with who I was or how I perceived the world. I spent less than a year in the corporate sector—just long enough to know it wasn’t the right fit for me.
What followed was a period of exploration, until an unexpected opportunity steered me towards entrepreneurship. It all began with a call from a friend in Canada, who informed me that luxury lashes were suddenly on the rise in Toronto, making a million dollars in their first year. I realized I was onto something.
At that time, I was in Shanghai. Within days, I began sourcing from Chinese lash factories. My father had once owned garment factories, so I had some insider knowledge of the supply chain—and more importantly, I quickly recognized what U.S. clients needed but weren’t getting from Chinese suppliers. That insight helped me land my first client, a Los Angeles-based lash brand that launched just as Instagram was gaining popularity.
My client’s brand quickly gained popularity in LA and became a global name by staying close to celebrities like Kylie Jenner and tapping into the first wave of influencer marketing. Seeing the real numbers behind the scenes convinced me that this business was structurally strong and had significant potential.
I wasn’t just trying to build a brand for LA; I wanted to introduce Hollywood beauty to the Chinese market. I had witnessed firsthand how aesthetics, celebrity culture, and digital strategy operated in Los Angeles. However, China was where I had a real advantage—deep cultural understanding, local insight, and the ability to move quickly.
China was also a market moving at unmatched speed and scale, hungry for new trends and open to global influences in ways that few outsiders fully understood. I quickly decided to launch my own beauty startup. My slogan at the time was, “To bring Hollywood glamour into China.”
Then the pandemic hit, and everything came to a halt. I had just launched the brand, but with borders closed and uncertainty everywhere, I had no choice but to pause and return to Canada. While stuck at home, I began casually sharing my thoughts and experiences as a bilingual female entrepreneur on Chinese social media. I reflected on identity, culture, and the challenges of navigating between two systems.
I hadn’t planned on building a channel; it was a complete fluke. The response was immediate and totally unexpected. Tens of thousands from China’s new generation began following me, not because I was promoting anything, but because my content introduced them to perspectives they hadn’t encountered before.
These were ideas that their parents, teachers, and schools had often not addressed—stories and reflections about growing up between two cultures, building a business from scratch, and discovering a stronger inner foundation. What drew them in wasn’t just the content itself, but the unique perspective from which I spoke. Unlike most local creators, I wasn’t commenting from the outside; I had lived within both cultures and systems. I offered insights that were unfamiliar to them—ways of thinking that weren’t part of their everyday environment.
For those who had never left China, my channel provided something different—an example of someone who had grown up between two worlds but wasn’t trapped by them. For those who had studied or lived abroad, it served as guidance. They saw in me someone who had successfully integrated both worlds—not just in language but in perspective, confidence, and how I carried myself.
For many of my followers, especially young women, I became a form of guidance—a living example that it was possible to think across boundaries without losing oneself and to navigate the world without adhering to conventional scripts.
That’s when I realized it was never just about content. What I was building was a form of connection that transcended background, geography, and life experience, tapping into something more profound.
In 2022, after the pandemic ended, I returned to Los Angeles from Canada and stopped posting altogether. However, my audience didn’t disappear. In fact, they began asking for more, even demanding it.
I wasn’t trying to build a following, nor did I have any interest in becoming internet-famous. Instead, I started offering my content as a paid subscription, not to monetize, but to maintain a sense of privacy for the readers who had been with me from the beginning.
I didn’t expect much to come of it, but to my surprise, it took off. The content ultimately generated over $1 million in revenue organically, with no ads, minimal marketing spend, and virtually no overhead.
I came to realize that the beauty brand was never my true calling. What I was meant to create had more to do with connecting and bridging cultures than selling a physical product. What excited me—and what resonated with others—wasn’t just the product, but the conversation surrounding identity, ambition, and how to navigate a changing world.
That’s when I understood: I wasn’t here to sell lipsticks. My real work was in culture—how people situate themselves, make sense of their paths, and choose who to become.
In a country that has experienced decades of rapid economic growth, a new generation was quietly shifting its focus from material success to something more profound. They were no longer just chasing careers or outcomes; they began asking more complex questions: What kind of life do I want? What does it mean to be confident, to be whole, to be seen?
That’s why they stayed—and that’s when I realized this was no longer just content. It was the early shape of something much bigger. I was no longer thinking in terms of influence; I was thinking in terms of infrastructure.
China has the highest number of self-made female billionaires in the world—not due to luck, but due to scale, speed, and timing. I recognized an opportunity—not just to build something influential, but to create something that could achieve that scale.
I began to see what was missing—not just in media, but in the spaces people had to think, connect, and grow. There was no genuine home for conversations or guidance that were intellectually ambitious, culturally inspiring, and emotionally grounded for the new generation of Chinese.
Not self-help. Not therapy. Not academic theory.
What I wanted to build was something different: a space where serious minds could engage with the questions that truly mattered to them—about culture, power, selfhood, and how to navigate the modern world without losing depth.
I knew this wasn’t just a niche; it was a generational opportunity. In a country moving at breakneck speed—where ambition is both accepted and expected—what if someone could channel that cultural and economic momentum into a space for thoughtful young minds to meet, grow, and redefine power itself?
I wasn’t just envisioning a community; I was seeing a business. A new kind of value network, positioned at the intersection of cultural demand and economic scale. That was the potential I saw, and I wasn’t afraid of it.
It had to come from someone who could move between worlds—not a content creator chasing attention, nor a therapist offering comfort. But rather, a cultural interpreter and curator, rooted enough to speak clearly and independent enough to express what others couldn’t.
I wouldn’t be the only voice; I would be the one curating the conversation, shaping its direction, and inviting the right minds in.
I’ve started shaping a vision—not of a personal brand, but of a platform. One that brings influential minds into cultural dialogue and offers a high-trust space for the next generation to grow, connect, and redefine what power looks like.
At Core Club in New York, I host private lunches and dinners with investors, founders, and cultural decision-makers. These gatherings serve a dual purpose: sharing my vision and offering rare insights into the emotional and generational shifts happening in China, while also seeking global players who not only understand business or culture but can grasp the scale of what I’m envisioning—and sense the magnitude of what’s at stake.
I’m not here to build another beauty brand or be an influencer. What compels me is the work of shaping cultural dialogue—and shifting who gets to define it.
For more on the cultural and commercial context behind this vision, see my piece: “Why Asian Billionaires Rely on Astrology—And How Divination Apps Became a Billion-Dollar Industry in China.”
Global players who resonate with my vision can reach me via direct message on Instagram at @THEROSELU.