During my first year of university, I felt deeply lost. I was dissatisfied with my situation, yet I had no clear idea of what I could do to change it. I did not have a concrete plan or direction—only a persistent feeling that something was missing.

By chance, I encountered a project on VR for children’s education. That experience opened an entirely new world to me. For the first time, I learned about a field called Human–Computer Interaction (HCI)—a discipline that extends cold technology toward real people, with real emotions and real needs. It showed me that technology does not have to remain distant or abstract; it can be human, and it can carry warmth.

Along the way, I received help from many people. Gradually, I realized that I wanted to give something back—to use what I learn to support others, just as I had been supported.

A major turning point came when I learned that CHI, the top conference in HCI, would be held in Japan. I spent all of my personal savings to register and travel there on my own. At CHI, I was exposed to a wide range of research and met researchers from all over the world. For the first time, research stopped being something distant—it became alive, grounded in real problems and real lives.

At the conference, I met Prof Yue Jiang, whose experience and persistence deeply moved me. More importantly, I met Daniel Killough, whose work in Accessibility left a lasting impression on me. Through conversations with him and by learning about his research, I began to see accessibility not as a niche topic, but as a fundamental question of equity and human dignity. His work made it clear that accessibility research is not about adding features for a small group of users, but about rethinking how technology is designed in the first place—and who it is truly designed for.

Around the same time, I read Prof Zhicong Lu’s work on the BLV (Blind and Low Vision) community, which explored how BLV users interact with smartphones to enrich their inner world. I was also influenced by the fact that one of my seniors (a student of Professor Mingming Fan) had a paper accepted at CHI 2024, focusing on helping BLV individuals retrieve their packages independently.

Seeing these projects together made something very clear to me: research does not have to stay abstract or distant. It can offer practical, respectful support to underserved communities and genuinely improve people’s everyday lives. I found this kind of work deeply meaningful. From that moment on, I knew I wanted to pursue accessibility research.

That summer, I wanted to deepen my understanding of HCI research methods, even if I could not yet find a direct path into accessibility work. By chance, I was admitted to the HCI+ program—a program with an acceptance rate even lower than CHI. Honestly, as someone with almost no background at the time, I believe I was accepted largely because the PI was my senior.

The work during HCI+ was not directly related to accessibility, but the experience taught me something essential: how collaborative research actually works, and how meaningful contribution often begins with small, unglamorous tasks. We eventually built a database of considerable scale, and I came to understand that research is not just about ideas—it is about patience, teamwork, and steady effort.

Later that summer, I attended Professor Shengdong Zhao’s HCI Research Camp, where I met researchers such as Aochen Jiao. These encounters confirmed what I already felt: HCI was the path I wanted to pursue long-term. At the same time, I realized something else—if I truly wanted to focus on accessibility, I would need to look beyond where I was.

At that point, I faced a difficult question: What should I do when the research direction I care about has almost no resources around me?

In China, accessibility research remains a relatively neglected area. Public awareness is limited, funding is scarce, and few research groups focus on this field. At the time, I only knew of Professor Mingming Fan at HKUST (Guangzhou) working in this area, and she had clearly stated that she was no longer accepting interns. Later, I learned that Rachel, a former student of Jacob O. Wobbrock, had joined there—but by then, I had already missed the opportunity.

Meanwhile, the United States has a long-established and well-supported accessibility research community. Universities such as the University of Washington have dedicated labs, strong collaborations with disability communities, and a culture that treats accessibility as a core concern rather than an afterthought. If I wanted to pursue this path seriously, staying where I was would mean waiting indefinitely for opportunities that might never come.

Eventually, I decided to apply for transfer to universities in the United States. Although I had considered this idea early on, I hesitated for a long time due to political and personal concerns. As the deadline approached, I finally made up my mind. In just three days, I prepared my English test scores (which is why my spoken English is still far from fluent), requested recommendation letters, and submitted my applications. In the end, I was admitted to several universities, including UIUC and UW–Madison.

There is no doubt that the University of Washington, Seattle has one of the strongest accessibility research environments in the world. Unfortunately, it does not admit international students for January enrollment. I plan to apply again for September entry, but I also wanted to gain experience in the United States as soon as possible—both in research and in life.

That was when I learned about the UC Berkeley visiting program. I applied, and very fortunately, I was admitted and awarded a scholarship.

To be honest, I was not fully prepared for studying and living in the United States. Even now, I still cannot communicate freely in English. But for a larger goal and a long-term vision, I chose to move forward anyway. Some things, I believe, do not require perfect preparation before you begin.

Looking back, my freshman year was almost wasted. But I still have time. I still have belief and confidence to pursue my ideals and goals.

Now, I am in the United States, seeking opportunities.

My English writing is still far from good, and there are many thoughts I cannot fully express in words—whether in Chinese or in English. Thank you to every visitor who has taken the time to read this.