Most people often overlook long-term care until they are older or faced with no other choice. Unfortunately, by that point, it may already be too late. Lily Vittayarukskul was pursuing a degree in aerospace engineering when she witnessed both her oldest brother and mother battle with an illness that required extensive long-term care. The situation became even more challenging when her aunt was later diagnosed with terminal colon cancer. The seek for quality care became daunting, even for those fortunate enough to have some form of insurance.

As a member of a Cambodian immigrant family, Lily experienced the challenges of caregiving firsthand, but the financial burden became unbearable. In a recent interview with TechCrunch, she exclaimed,  “It wiped us out financially.” The profound emotional and financial impact of the experience ultimately led her to shift her focus to genetic and data science.

Finally, in December 2021, she decided to take action by founding Waterlily, a San Francisco-based startup aimed at helping individuals and financial advisors navigate long-term care planning through cost modeling and funding strategies. Using artificial intelligence (AI) to forecast a family’s future long-term care needs and expenses, Waterlily predicts a family’s future long-term care needs and expenses, guides them in creating a care plan, and identifies the most suitable ways to finance it. Options may include purchasing life insurance with a long-term care rider, investing in a dedicated LTC policy, utilizing annuities, or self-funding.

Lily explains, “Most people begin thinking about long-term care between the ages of 65 and 70, or only when they need it, but by then, it can be too late.”

Leveraging more than 500 million data points and machine learning algorithms, Waterlily delivers highly personalized care and cost predictions. The platform forecasts when long-term care may be required, how it will unfold, and the potential expenses involved. Lily proudly states, “We have formal data-sharing agreements with long-term care providers, government databases, academic research studies, and individual users.”

Waterlily’s vision is undeniably compelling, and Lily isn’t the only one who sees its potential. She initially launched the company as a solo founder, but it soon caught the attention of angel investor Evan Ehrenberg, the former founder of Clara Health. Evan became intrigued by Waterlily’s early research and the industry’s reaction. Curious, he tested the platform himself and was stunned by its long-term care predictions—so much so that he hired a personal trainer, adjusted his diet, and revised his financial plans. Impressed by its impact, Evan, who became MIT’s youngest neuroscience PhD, officially joined Waterlily as a co-founder.

Evan Ehrenberg [left] and Lily Vittayarukskul [right] together (Image Source: Evan Ehrenberg)

Lily believes Waterlily differentiates itself from competitors by providing a more personalized experience through deep predictive modeling integrated into a user-friendly platform. Although it only launched in March 2024, the company’s monthly recurring revenue (MRR) has already grown to more than 22 times its initial level. Waterlily now serves eight major clients, including several Fortune 100 insurance carriers and Prudential.

Looking ahead, Waterlily aims to expand its services to include disability, critical illness, hospital indemnity, and Medicare planning, enabling families to make more informed health coverage decisions. Additionally, the company is exploring opportunities for international growth, with plans to enter markets in Asia, Canada, and the U.K.

John Kim, former president of New York Life and investor of Waterlily, sees the platform as the first AI-native guidance tool addressing one of the most pressing challenges of an aging American population.

Kim concluded, “Long-term care insurance is a growing and largely underserved need among trusted advisors today. Waterlily’s guidance tool stands alone in its ability to provide customized, personalized recommendations for long-term care needs. I believe it will be a game changer for the LTC insurance marketplace.”

In San Fernando, the Philippines, thousands of locals and foreigners flock to the streets to celebrate Christmas. The town, adorned with giant and intricate star lanterns, symbolizes hope and the victory of light over darkness. 

Star Lanterns in San Fernando, the Philippines (Image Source: Dico Calingal)

But how did a holiday rooted in Western tradition become celebrated in an Asian country, and what about the reverse? This raises an intriguing question about hybrid holidays and their influence on a nation’s cultural identity, particularly in Asian countries. Truth be told, nothing is perplexing about an Asian country celebrating a Western holiday and vice versa—who doesn’t want more holidays to celebrate? However, hybrid holidays allow for the exploration of whether these celebrations diversify the identity of Asian countries or act as a catalyst for eroding their traditions and heritage.

As one of the largest diaspora populations on Earth, the Filipino diasporic communities provide a valuable lens through which to examine the rise of hybrid holidays and their impact on national cultural identity. According to Dr. Anthony C. Ocampo’s interview with NBC, the Philippines underwent a dramatic transformation during its three-and-a-half-century Spanish colonial period. Similar to the Philippines, many Asian nations also endured decades of colonization, imperialism, and the imposition of Orientalist ideologies. For example, countries like Vietnam have adopted numerous terms from Latin, such as Noel, festival, flan, and vin (the Vietnamese term for wine, rượu vang, is pronounced vin). Scholars widely acknowledge that colonizers employed various tools—religion, education, and language—to assert control. Thus, it’s debatable whether exposure to foreign holidays and customs serves as another subtle form of maintaining dominance.

Yet, both nations, like many other Asian countries, have become uniquely distinct. More interestingly, many countries under foreign rule experienced a period of hesitation in adapting to these foreign changes. Only in the modern era did we see these holidays being adopted. Globalization and social media have accelerated cultural exposure and sparked a desire to assimilate among individuals. As a result, we see holidays becoming more homogeneous and embraced regardless of ethnicity. For instance, Vietnam celebrates both New Year and Lunar New Year with fireworks and live events aimed at captivating both international and local audiences. In contrast, states like California in the U.S. not only celebrate the Lunar New Year but declare it a state holiday to promote diversity and honor the traditions of its Asian community.

People celebrating Lunar New Year at Santa Monica, California (Image Source: Santa Monica)

For many, globalization represents homogeneity and modernization, but the challenge of rapid development lies in balancing it with cultural identity. On this precipice, an argument emerges that cultural hybridity is unattainable without conflict. While the topic of immigration might seem like a digression from the discussion of hybrid holidays, it provides insight into why such holidays may disadvantage Asian communities. The upcoming article on The Broken Dream delves deeper into the harsh realities faced by Asian immigrants, addressing the barriers to cultural assimilation. Upon arriving in a new country, many immigrants face language barriers that hinder their ability to engage in daily life. Additionally, being in a foreign land creates a disconnect from cultural practices once shared back home. This amalgamation has contributed to the erosion of cultural identity within the Asian diasporic community and, ultimately, a lack of representation and recognition of Asian holidays in Western nations. Thus, despite both Western and Asian countries experiencing globalization, the lack of representation and centuries of influence have made Asian communities more likely to accept Western holidays rather than maintain their own.

Understanding the significance of hybrid holidays on a nation’s cultural identity requires accepting that not all nations are the same. Globalization offers vast development, but it also poses the risk of diluting cultural identity, particularly for Asian communities across the globe. However, the growth opportunities outweigh the risks, as seen in the increasing recognition of holidays like Diwali and the growing acknowledgment of the Lunar New Year by international brands seeking to connect with consumers. Hybrid holidays provide an intriguing perspective on how Asian cultural identities have evolved, influenced, and grown. Through globalization, the world has come to recognize and appreciate the profound impact of the Asian community. This opportunity to celebrate and embrace holidays from diverse backgrounds has enriched Asian cultures, making them more accessible to people from different parts of the world. 

The implications of this insight are vast. As members of the Asian community, we must understand that representation matters. The holidays we celebrate reflect our individual and collective identity, showing that we are adaptable to change while remaining true to our roots. This adaptability is one of the reasons why the cultural identity of Asian countries is so idiosyncratic. Now, the only question for us as readers is how we can represent our identity in a way that makes us proud while staying true to our heritage.

Japan has an old proverb: “The nail that sticks up gets hammered down.” 

While in China, there is a saying, “The higher the tree, the stronger the wind.”

In a critical lens, both idioms illustrate harmony and unity – a vital essence of Asian culture and heritage. Nevertheless, the proverbs also shed light on a contrasting school of thought: conformity and crab mentality. 

Crab mentality refers to the situation one can explore by placing a crab or a collective of crabs in a bucket. A lone crab can inevitably crawl out of the bucket, however, a peculiar scenario would arise if one situates a group of crabs in a bucket. As a crab tries to crawl out, the other crabs will pull it back down. If it tries again, the others will rip its claws off to ensure it can never do so again. Ultimately, no crabs can go anywhere besides the stew pot you are brewing. 

Crab in a bucket scenario (Image source: Microsoft Designer)

It is naivety to assume human beings are a unified collective group. History, wars, and jealous conflicts are testaments to human being’s selfishness. Hence, it is arguable that we are inclined to place ourselves above others, even if it means at the expense of our peers. Despite being a precarious thought, this insight opens new dimensions to understanding crab mentality in the human context. 

“Remember your cousin Timmy in China? He has 15 years of experience. He’s nine!” 

Steven He’s dad (played by Steven He) exclaimed.

Terms like “Asian-level difficulty,” “Tiger Moms,” and “Asian parents” have become widely recognized through memes, movies, and other mainstream media, serving as a lens for global audiences to understand and appreciate aspects of Asian culture. Yet, one community still paints a negative view of the Asian community, even discriminating against its individuals – and the answer is ironically the Asian community itself.

The purpose of this work is not to discriminate or criticize any peculiar group but to foster intellectual discourse and encourage reflection on societal dynamics and individual perspectives. The chosen quote embodies this intention, capturing four intertwined facets.

Understanding the concept of face is crucial when discussing Asian culture and heritage. Face serves as a societal construct that governs social interactions and determines one’s standing within a social hierarchy. It is a dynamic measure that can be given, earned, taken away, or lost, often extending beyond the individual to include family and friends. For those unfamiliar with this concept, here’s a simplified explanation:

• A wife who earns a promotion gains face for herself in front of her boss, while also bringing face to her husband and parents through her achievement. 
• Conversely, a student who performs poorly on an exam loses face among peers, and their parents, in turn, lose face within their social and familial circles.

Despite being debatable, visualizing face as a form of currency provides an interesting lens through which to examine crab mentality in Asian communities. Much like any valuable asset, currency must be earned, safeguarded, and strategically utilized. Losses, even those meant for long-term gains, are approached with caution and calculation. Consequently, individuals strive to enhance their reputation while using criticism to diminish the face of others.

The concept of face is deeply tied to education and parenting, playing a role in fostering crab mentality. Asian children are often raised to prioritize self-achievement above personal aspirations, adhering to predetermined paths for the “greater good” of the family. This emphasis on collective reputation often comes at the cost of individual dreams, reinforcing a mindset where personal success is weighed against familial expectations.

Parenting can affect mindsets, a reflection on Tiger Moms (Image source: Mims On The Move)

Indeed this is a generalized claim that leaves certain minorities for speculation, but the interplay between face and sacrifice is crucial in understanding the environment Asian children grow up. Literary works like Truyện Kiều (Tales of Kieu), a renowned Vietnamese poem, highlight traditional ideals through terms like cầm-kỳ-thi-họa—the four virtues defining a successful woman. Similarly, the stereotype of Asian children being expected to become doctors or lawyers has become a familiar cultural reference in contemporary discourse.

No parents want their children to grow up as bad people. Hence, it would be injudicious to blame parents and the system for a negative societal mentality. Yet, there are certain repercussions to sacrificing a child’s dream in return for a destined path to greatness. This leads to the third facet of crab mentality in Asian communities: A ramification for every child following the same success path means comparison and competition. 

Let’s revisit Steven He’s joke: Timmy is used as a benchmark for comparison. The only way for Steven to save face is by climbing the same ladder and offering Timmy a similar spiteful insult. This vicious cycle of comparison fuels crab mentality within families, peers, and the broader community. True to reality, Asian students often spend countless hours in extra classes and clubs to meet rigorous expectations. Tiger moms push their children to excel in every class as if their lives depend on it. There is no middle ground—you’re either a winner or a failure.

This brings us to the final facet: the absence of praise and apologies. Ironically, according to BBC and Vocal Media, Asia is home to some of the politest people in the world, with countries like Japan and Thailand leading the way. Despite this, hierarchy plays a pivotal role in relationship dynamics. To save face, many Asian parents rarely offer praise to their children. Astonishingly, when it comes to apologies, parents often go to great lengths to defend their actions rather than acknowledge their mistakes. 

A similar response can be seen in Asian workplaces, where higher-ups are more inclined to criticize and are far out of reach from their team members. Individuals will praise their peers and colleagues in hopes of receiving similar treatment instead of actual commemoration. Workers often segregate themselves into teams of interest to promote one another instead of collaborating as a group. These groups create outcasts who, despite their talents, are looked down upon and have their accomplishments taken or snuffed out by negative criticisms. This reluctance to give praise and apologize reinforces a mindset of self-achievement above all else. At first glance, mentality such as these are not wrong, but they leave cracks for detrimental thoughts of arrogance and selfishness – ultimately sustaining the crab mentality.

While this article explores the crab mentality within the Asian community, it is important to recognize that this negative mindset is not exclusive to any one group—it exists everywhere. The concepts of face, self-achievement, competitiveness, community, and sacrifice are what make Asian heritage unique and beautiful. This work argues that these cultural elements are not the root cause of the crab mentality, but rather, insights into why such a mindset may emerge. 

Credits: Patricia Ratulangi Vice President, Global Communications Nielsen

In recent years, food shows featuring Asian chefs and cuisines have seen a surge in popularity, capturing the attention of diverse audiences around the globe. This trend highlights the growing appetite for cultural representation and inclusivity in entertainment. As we celebrate Lunar New Year—a holiday deeply rooted in food traditions—it’s the perfect time to reflect on how Asian representation in food media resonates with viewers and drives mass viewership.

Food shows stand out as a medium where culture, tradition, and storytelling intersect seamlessly. Programs like Top Chef, which has featured contestants such as Melissa King and Hung Huynh, and The Great American Recipe, where home cooks celebrate diverse culinary heritages, showcase the rich variety of Asian cuisines and the personal narratives behind them. These stories invite viewers to connect with the cultural roots and contemporary adaptations of dishes they may have never experienced before.

Lunar New Year exemplifies the central role food plays in cultural celebration. From dumplings symbolizing wealth to fish representing prosperity, the holiday is a sensory feast steeped in meaning. By spotlighting Asian chefs and their innovative approaches to dishes that represent their heritage, food shows bridge the gap between cultural nuance and modern audiences. 

The success of Asian-centered food programming aligns with broader audience preferences for authenticity. Nielsen data reveals that 63% of viewers are more likely to support brands and content creators that authentically represent diverse communities. For mass audiences, this means a greater willingness to engage with shows that go beyond superficial portrayals and offer genuine insights into Asian culinary arts.

The viewership data highlights the significant appeal of food shows among both Asian audiences and the broader U.S. audience, underscroring the growing đemand for authentic, inclusive food shows that celebrate diverse cultures.

As Lunar New Year festivities fill homes with the aroma of traditional dishes, the increasing visibility of Asian representation in food shows reminds us of the universal power of food to connect people across cultures—one dish, one story at a time.