By Guest Expert Liesl Chang

Liesl is Head of Operations for Circle Street Inc., a venture-backed tech startup based in LA and NY, and the co-founder of Baus, a digital services company for the SMB market. During her 14 year career, she has led strategy and product development teams in both startup environments and Fortune 500 companies. Her passion is developing practical solutions from emerging technologies and innovations, helping companies tap new, high-growth markets and create value.

Liesl graduated from the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. In addition to being a Chapter Officer for 85 Broads/LA, Liesl is also an active member of Step Up Women's Network and the women in tech community of Los Angeles.

I always thought I was missing the Kid Gene. I never wanted to be a mom and, frankly, I didn't particularly care for kids. My interactions with anyone under 16 could best be described as bemused detachment - I saw their curious innocence as immaturity; pestering questions as cluelessness.
 
Then I found myself an Aunt, quite suddenly. There was no warning or time to prepare. My brother had been dating a woman with two sons from a previous marriage, aged 6 and 14. They decided to get married late 2009. I was Insta-Aunt.
 
Danny was the younger of the two, full of energy (too much!) and really into monsters and cars and guns and soccer. I felt like I had encountered this Kid Type a million times before - an attention-deficited persona that needed constant appeasement with a well-chosen toy or silly distraction.
 
Zach was the 14 year old, quieter and in some ways more difficult to engage. There seemed to be something going on underneath the tousled hair and flannel shirt he always seemed to be sporting. But he was 14 - how deep could his thoughts be? I chalked up his reticence to typical pre-teen angst.
 
About a month after my brother announced their engagement, I procured an extra ticket to the Pageant of the Masters, a live art show in Laguna Beach, CA. I couldn't find a friend to go with me so I asked Zach; he had expressed an interest in art and I thought it would be good for us to get to know each other better. My brother dropped him off at my place, and I remember him sitting gingerly on my couch, looking at me with a curious expression. I was just as foreign to him.
 
We had light conversation over a burger and then headed to the outdoor theater. By the show's second half it was dark, and a gentle cloud began drifting across the moon, creating a wonderfully diffused spotlight across the theater. Zach looked up, those curious eyes now locked on the sky, calmly and with quiet appreciation. For several minutes, despite the rambunctious activity on stage, I watched Zach watch the moon.
 
Gradually afterwards, Zach began showing me his pictures ... lots of pictures. Photos of his Vans shoes, friends' bikes, sleeping dogs, awake dogs, home fixtures, staged candids at school, views from the car's backseat window and, yes, the moon. Things I never really thought of or paid much attention to. But they were things that were important to him. And his photos were strikingly beautiful in their clarity and perspective.
 
Being an entrepreneur is often about taking what is deeply important to you and manifesting them into reality, showing the world how you see things. It's not always understood, or even acknowledged. And it's easy to feel like an outsider. I've spent my career fighting for these alternative points of view - showing companies why questioning the status quo is good thing, why asking "why not?" is great for business.
 
But only after time with my nephews did I begin to realize how myopic I myself was. I foolishly believed adults were the only ones with the answers, that adult perspectives were the only ones with any insight or depth. I saw Kid-dom as frivolous compared to Adult-ville, the latter being only where real, important stuff happens. I was immature and clueless.
 
This past Christmas Eve I helped Danny, now 8, place cookies by the fireplace for Santa. He was thoughtful and contemplative, carefully arranging cookies on a holiday plate along with a handwritten note. This was deeply important to him, and rightly so. I helped him moved the coffee table so Santa would have room coming down the chimney.
 
After Danny went to bed, Zach showed me his thesis for his Advanced Photography class. He told me he had to explain why he took photos.

"Oh yeah?" I asked. "And what did you say?"

"I told them I wanted to show people how I see the world."

Contact the author: liesl.chang@gmail.com or follow her on Twitter @lieslchang

Published: January 25, 2012