Credit:
Courtesy of the American Chemical Society
In the summer of 2015, I found myself in Baku, Azerbaijan, sitting at a mahogany table in a room full of professors of chemistry from around 75 countries. I was in my second semester as a PhD student and still grappling with the complexities of my own research, yet I had been elected to the steering committee of the International Chemistry Olympiad (IChO) a year earlier. I was the youngest person and only the third Asian in the IChO’s history to be elected to the seat.
At the time, my world was small, defined by the walls of my lab and the looming pressure of qualifying exams. To me, the American Chemical Society was an acronym found on the masthead of the journals I cited. I was not an ACS member; I was a student trying to find my footing. I certainly did not imagine that a decade later I would be a principal investigator at a leading university in Europe, a Fulbright Scholar, or the founding chair of an ACS International Chemical Sciences Chapter. That seat in Baku wasn’t just a position of leadership—it was the start of a journey that would span continents, disciplines, and the very definition of what it means to be a chemist.
My transition from a student in Singapore to a global researcher was a whirlwind of firsts. I recall the surreal experience of being selected for a prestigious science diplomat program and visiting Palais des Nations of the United Nations—a first for a Singaporean and chemist. Discussing quantum technology at the European Organization for Nuclear Research, I realized that the problem-solving skills we learn at the bench are the same ones needed to tackle global policy. The journey also led me to the National Academy of Sciences, where I spoke as a member of the Global Young Academy. The student who was once intimidated by a steering committee meeting in Baku was now speaking to an international audience about the history of ACS and the future of our profession.
One of the most striking changes over the past decade has been the medium through which we share our passion. In 2015, my YouTube channel was a fledgling project, a way to help a few students understand complex concepts. It had fewer than 1,000 subscribers. At the time, “digital scientific outreach” was often seen as a distraction from “real” research.
By 2025, that channel had grown to over 27,000-plus subscribers. It has become a global classroom, allowing me to teach students in parts of the world I may never visit. This shift toward digital education became a cornerstone of my work and led me to a Fulbright Scholarship at Stanford University. There, I traded my traditional lab coat for a virtual reality headset, exploring how immersive technology can revolutionize chemistry education.
Perhaps the most humbling part of the past decade has been the shift in my proximity to leadership. Nobel laureates went from being names in textbooks to my having the privilege of learning leadership lessons from them over meals. They taught me that true scientific greatness isn’t measured by an h-index but by the decisions to lift others as you ascend. This realization catalyzed my movement from mentee to mentor. Today, I am the one navigating the challenges of mentorship, helping PhD students find their voice, just as my mentors helped me.
Ten years later, my heart is full. I have gone from a student who didn’t know what ACS was to a leader who speaks about its history with reverence. The technologies have changed, but the core mission remains. We are here to solve problems, to share knowledge, and to ensure that the next person sitting at that mahogany table feels they belong.
Views expressed are those of the author and not necessarily those of C&EN or the American Chemical Society.
2026 American Chemical Society
