This is who I was when my elders first marked me to be a teacher…

At this age, I wanted to be a builder—just like my dad, uncle, and grandfather.

My dad never shot down my desire to take on the family trade, but he reminded me of the hard work and sacrifices he was making so that my siblings and I wouldn’t have to do the back-breaking labor that his whole generation—and those who came before—had endured.

At this same age, my family began to notice my gifts: learning and helping others learn.

So at only 9 years old, they arranged my first paying client. She was an immigrant from China, too shy to practice with another adult.

I prepared weekly lessons for her. Her English progressed. And I settled into enjoying the fruits of my gifts, shared with others who needed them.

This is who I was at 22, when my students told me to never stop teaching...

I volunteered to teach in schools in Tanzania for three months through a grassroots organization founded by students at my university, in partnership with local educators and volunteers in Arusha.

This is where I got my initiation into the power of grassroots collaborative efforts. It taught me that any dream to meet collective needs can be actualized within reciprocal networks if the cooperation is there.

It was here, while I was teaching, that my high school students gave me the charge:

“Joey, don’t ever stop teaching. You’re meant to be a teacher.”

And I have been making good on that promise to them every day since.
​

This is who I was at 26, when my students told me to go teach the world...

I was teaching in the high schools of the community I grew up in (Anaheim, CA). My students in those spaces expanded my charge to teach.

In two short years together, we’d started a Black Student Union (in the face of lots of resistance), a spoken word poetry class and team, and an after-school restorative justice program.

Any need that arose from within the community sparked an unstoppable wave of creative power, generative power, courage, and tenacity to BUILD what the community needed and asked for.

Here, my students gave me a sober charge:

“Ms. Liu, you’re meant for more than what’s inside the four walls of this classroom. You’re meant to teach the world and make this world a better place.”

I resisted because I loved my little classroom home I had grown from the ground up with my students—this garden of love, laughter, and endless possibility.

But deep down, I sensed they were right. Still, I stalled.

This is who I was at 32, when my co-storyers taught me to ask: How can I become what movements need?

My co-storyers blessed me with their trust to share the insights I had gleaned from their outpouring of knowledge. To know what to keep sacred. To know what to pass on.

Over two years of walking together, we examined how people from the grassroots can grow and sustain radical learning spaces—infrastructure that contends with and replaces colonial systems of power.

The charge they gave me? Find sustainable funding. Find the windfalls of money that come without red tape.

But as I sat with it longer, a deeper question emerged:

“How can I BECOME the windfall of money that they need? That the land needs? That ministers of sacred knowledge need to keep doing their work unencumbered?”

And so my charge expanded: to invite others to ask the same questions for their lands and peoples.

How do we BECOME and sustain what our people need in ways that render oppressive systems obsolete?

How do we self-determine our own collective liberation—not waiting for a savior—but growing what we dream of from the ground up?

This is who I was when my ancestors reminded me I’ve always been both...

I received the ancestral reminder that I was marked out for this teaching work long before I was even born. My ancestors dreamed me into existence. A world-crosser and bridge-builder. A steward of home.

It took me a while, but finally I began to see that while living out the charge of my elders and community (and my own heart) to be a teacher, I’ve never stopped living out my dreams of being a builder either.

It’s funny… at least 10 years ago, I found myself saying: “I can make anything out of nothing.”

I believed this about myself when I made programs in schools. I believed this about myself when I was ready to fall in love and start a family. I believed this about myself when I started my business to be a liberatory learning space and windfall of money.

I just didn’t make the connection until now that someone who can make something out of nothing is… a builder.

And this is the truth about an ancestral assignment...

You don’t have to understand it to live it.

As long as you don’t fight it… it moves through you. It shows itself to you.

You are merely the vessel, the channel for gifts far more boundless than our human brains can fathom.

And yet it is our humanity that translates that infinity of possibility into light, sound, touch, love.

To exist as a prism for ancestral prayers is the most peaceful and powerful way I personally know to exist.

I am a teacher and a builder. This is how it has always been. This is what I came to do.

And this requires no convincing or proving for anyone to understand. If you’ve been in my presence, open to see the truth, I know you too have seen it.

So, I offer you here a mirror. A moment to look into your story, your landscapes, your lineage.

Who are you? Who have you always been? Who were you always here to become?

When you see this, you can’t unsee it. And the power and peace that follows is what we all need if we want to get free.

This journey of seeing yourself clearly—of recognizing your ancestral assignment—is both personal and collective work. It’s how we step into our power without apology. It’s how we build the world we’re dreaming of.

I’m feeling particularly squishy (but blessed) as I share this story of mine. I know I’m yearning for togetherness. I’d love for you to hit reply and tell me who you are (what you’re starting to understand of yourself at least)… what your assignment is (whatever has revealed itself to you so far, that feels ready to share).

I can’t wait to see the kaleidoscope of miraculous humanity. I’ll bet it looks a whole lot like… collective flourishing.

Oh, and if you want more support/guidance in exploring your ancestral assignment, Simone and I have poured so much of what’s helped *us* into Workbook 1 of the free course Building Post-Capitalist Wealth.

I love us. Rooting for us. Let’s keep going.