I Am Full of $hit But I’m Cool With That XOXO

Honestly? I get it. I really do. Being hated is nothing new to me—it’s practically a personality trait at this point. And you know what? There are probably plenty of reasons someone might dislike a person like me. And I’m totally fine with that. I actually respect the haters. It takes guts to hate someone who’s done nothing but survive out loud.

I’ve been a loner since day one. No friends. New school every six months because my dad was a policeman who kept getting promoted—yay for him, nightmare for me. I was the “new kid” on repeat, always standing in front of a classroom introducing myself like some broken record. Eventually I just accepted I was weird. And when I hit 13? Boom—boarding school. Surprise! It was all math and science. Guess what? I hate math. I love art. I love movies. I was the second dumbest student in class every single year, and I’m weirdly proud of that. Because even when they laughed at me, I survived. Thank God for Britney Spears—that woman gave me life when I didn’t know who I was.

All I wanted was to study in the U.S., see Britney live, and escape a country obsessed with grades and shame. Spoiler alert: I got a scholarship… and they sent me to MONTANA. I didn’t even know what that was. Thought it had something to do with Miley Cyrus. Turns out it didn’t, and there I was—an Asian weirdo surrounded by people who thought I rode elephants to school. Yes, seriously.

Culture shock? Try cultural earthquake. I didn’t understand anything Americans were saying. Someone asked me “What’s up?” and I literally looked at the ceiling. My English was survival-mode level. Even “How are you doing?” sounded like a spiritual question.

And the discrimination? Real. People asked if my dad was a rice farmer or if I had an elephant in my backyard. This was 2007, y’all. I even got publicly shamed for eating pizza with ketchup. They almost threw up. Traumatized me so bad I never did it again. And now? I’m the one calling people out when they dip Pad Thai in ketchup—don’t worry, I say it with love.

But adapting to another culture broke me a little. It took time. It hurt. But I made it through. Maybe because I’ve been building emotional armor since I was a kid. Still, when I came back to Thailand and started speaking out politically, the hate followed me home. Even from my own family. My cousin publicly shamed me for supporting democracy, said I shouldn’t even use my last name. Like, excuse me? Supporting elections is embarrassing now?

And now I’m a filmmaker. Let’s be honest—directors are built for hate. We have to say what we want. We have to lead. And I’m not the soft, over-explaining type. I don’t have the patience to repeat myself a hundred times just to make people feel comfy. If I can, I speak English on set—not to be bougie, but because Thai has way too many “respect layers” that make it hard to be direct. I don’t have time for performative politeness when I’m trying to bring a story to life.
Yes, I’m selfish when I direct. I want my vision. I don’t like changing my scripts. And yes—people hate me for that too. But here’s the truth: I don’t mind being the villain in your story, because I’m still the main character. And most of those people talking? They’re behind me. I’m not chasing their approval—I’m too busy doing the damn thing.

Being hated—even by your own blood—hurts. But after a while, it just gets funny. Like, you made up that story about me? You should write fiction for a living. Turn your bitterness into a book deal.

So yeah, when people hate me, I do ask myself: “Did I do something wrong?” And every time I look in the mirror, I just see a bitch with a dream. And if that makes you uncomfortable? That’s a you problem. Hate me if it helps you sleep—I might hate me too if I wasn’t me. I can do almost everything by myself. I don’t beg. I barely ask for help.

The truth is, when you’re unapologetically yourself, it triggers people. And that’s okay. Jealousy? Totally normal. I get jealous all the time. But I use it to fuel myself—not to drag others down.

If more people thought like that, the world would be a better place. Trust me.

PS. And if you’re still reading this and hating me? Congrats, babe—I’m living rent-free in your mind. And maybe that says more about you than it does about me. XOXO.