Some People Inherit a Legacy. I’m Building One.

Why I applied for the $10,000 Amber Grant—and what I’d actually do with the money.

I never thought I’d be applying for free money again after college scholarships.

Yet here I am: older, allegedly wiser, and once again explaining why someone should give me money because I have potential.

This time, I applied for the $10,000 Amber Grant for women entrepreneurs. Obviously, $10,000 would be useful. I have yet to meet a startup founder who sees $10,000 and says, “No thanks, we’re good.” But writing the application forced me to answer a much bigger question:

What exactly am I trying to build with Legacy Launcher Labs—and who am I trying to build it for?

At 18, I Refused to Use My Mother’s Story

When I was applying to college, my mother repeatedly told me I should write about growing up with a single mom who had cancer.

From a college-admissions standpoint, this was probably excellent advice.

From the standpoint of an extremely stubborn 18-year-old?

Absolutely not.

I remember thinking:

That’s her story. I want to be judged on mine.

I didn’t want hardship to become the most interesting thing about me. I wanted my ideas and accomplishments to speak for themselves.

I got into UC Berkeley anyway, so teenage me would like that entered into the official record.

But with age—and an inconvenient amount of life experience—I understand what my mother was trying to teach me.

Context matters.

Where you begin matters.

It just doesn’t have to determine where you finish.

Some People Inherit a Trust Fund. Some of Us Inherit Google.

The word legacy has always fascinated me.

In college admissions, a legacy student traditionally has a parent who attended the same school.

But legacy advantages exist everywhere.

Some people grow up around entrepreneurs, lawyers, investors and executives. Their parents understand money, negotiation, investing, real estate and the invisible rules governing opportunity.

Their family probably “has a person” for everything.

Attorney?

They have a person.

CPA?

Person.

Investor?

Person.

Random billionaire who owns twelve car dealerships and a minor-league baseball team?

Probably also a person.

Some people inherit a trust fund.

Some inherit an alumni network.

Some inherit parents who know exactly which doors to knock on.

Some of us inherit a strong work ethic, survival skills and a Google search bar.

And that’s a huge reason I started Legacy Launcher Labs.

I don’t think the circumstances someone is born into should determine the size of the life they’re allowed to build.

You may not inherit a legacy advantage.

You can still build one.

Eleven Kids. Ten Businesses. Five Days.

This stopped being philosophical for me during the summer of 2026.

I helped run a five-day entrepreneurship camp for 11 kids.

In five days, those kids launched 10 businesses.

They worked on products, prototypes, brands, websites, marketing and pitches. Their ideas ranged across cybersecurity, apparel, gaming, technology and physical products.

And I kept thinking:

We spend so much time asking children:

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Maybe we should start asking:

“What can you build this week?”

Instead of only consuming clothes:

Can you design them?

Instead of only playing games:

Can you build one?

Instead of scrolling past somebody else’s startup:

Can you launch yours?

That experience became a blueprint for what I want Legacy Launcher Labs to become: a place where children—and adults—learn to become creators instead of consumers.

And Then AI Helped Eliminate My Job

Because apparently the universe enjoys aggressive branding consistency.

AI began changing the industries around me.

Eventually, a job I held was eliminated in part because of AI.

So naturally…

I started building an AI company.

Apparently, spite is not an official business model.

Reinvention is.

That experience changed how I think about AI.

I’m not particularly interested in convincing every business owner to become an AI engineer.

I’m interested in what happens when someone who has spent twenty years becoming excellent at something suddenly hears:

“AI can do part of your job now.”

Because their experience didn’t suddenly become worthless.

Maybe it becomes a business.

A book.

A website.

A service.

A product.

A class.

A completely different career they hadn’t imagined yet.

That’s the opportunity I see.

So What Would I Actually Buy With the Amber Grant?

First:

A 3D printer.

Yes, really.

Not because I desperately need more objects occupying every available horizontal surface.

I want a kid to be able to walk into a program and say:

“I have an idea.”

And instead of an adult responding:

“That’s cute.”

I want to say:

“Great. Let’s make it.”

Design it.

Print it.

Break it.

Improve it.

Brand it.

Build a website.

Figure out who would buy it.

Sell version two.

That one machine could become somebody’s first prototype.

The funding would also support low-cost or sponsored workshops, AI and vibe-coding education, website building, entrepreneurship, marketing, storytelling, software, equipment, workshop space, educational materials and scholarships. I also want programs for adults whose jobs are being disrupted by AI.

Because grant money is useful.

But what I actually want to buy is access.

A 3D printer can become someone’s first prototype.

An AI workshop can become someone’s first website.

A storytelling class can become someone’s first book.

A vibe-coding session can become someone’s first company.

That’s a much better return on investment than another branded tote bag.

I Don’t Want to Build an Innovation Program for People Who Already Have Every Advantage

I want the kid whose parents don’t work in technology.

The immigrant who is still figuring out how everything works.

The woman rebuilding after a career change.

The person who just lost a job.

The person who has a brilliant idea but has never once described themselves as a founder.

Because AI has the potential to become an extraordinary equalizer.

For possibly the first time, one person sitting with a laptop can access capabilities that previously required designers, programmers, marketers, copywriters, researchers and entire departments.

But there’s a catch.

The people who already have money, education and strong networks are usually very good at adopting powerful new tools first.

So AI can narrow the opportunity gap.

Or it can make the gap even bigger.

I know which one I want to work toward.

A Legacy Doesn’t Have to Be Inherited

A legacy doesn’t have to be:

A house.

A trust fund.

A famous last name.

Or your parents’ university sweatshirt.

A legacy can be knowledge.

Confidence.

Relationships.

A skill nobody can take away from you.

The ability to look at an idea and think:

I know how to build that.

It could be a 12-year-old starting her first company.

It could be the first entrepreneur in a family.

The first person to write a book.

Build software.

Invent a product.

Own an asset.

Employ somebody else.

At 18, I didn’t want my mother’s story to define me.

Today, I understand something more complicated.

Where we come from matters.

What happened to us matters.

What we inherited—or didn’t inherit—matters.

But none of it has to be the final chapter.

I want Legacy Launcher Labs to give people something even better than legacy admission:

the tools to create a legacy worth inheriting.

Because one of the saddest places for a great idea isn’t a failed startup.

It’s a graveyard.

So while we’re here?

Build the thing.

And if the Amber Grant wants to buy the first 3D printer…

I know exactly where to put it. 😂