A failed PhD application that became a learning app

“Tomorrow the app that could have – or perhaps should have – been my PhD dissertation will go live.” Those are words that I never thought I would say out loud – yet here we are.

For the sake of good storytelling, let’s start at the beginning:

I grew up as a little girl in Northern California in the early 2000s. That was a time and a place where the tech sector was booming and there was this solid belief that there was no challenge too big or too complex for innovation and technology to solve. That was also a time when my dad (who is an electrical engineer) and I started repairing broken electronics together. We built my first computer out of spare parts in the basement as a shared pastime. I got to do and help with everything, but soldering – because my dad did not want me inhaling the toxic fumes.

Over the next few years:

Repairing broken or faulty electronics has become increasingly more difficult. The way they are constructed feels nonsensical: “Why are there more and more plastic exteriors that seem impossible to get open without ending up with a pile of plastic scraps? Why is there glue that needs to be meticulously scrapped away by hand? Why are there bolts that need to be carefully drilled open because they cannot be opened with any tool? And, why are there parts that are just welded shut?” . By now, it feels like my dad and I spend more time planning how to open up devices than we do actually repairing what is broken inside of them.

Flash forward to the early 2010s:

It is late afternoon, and I am scrolling on my phone. A photo pops up. It is of children and pretty young-looking adults standing in the midst of scraps of broken electronic devices and fumes. They are not wearing masks. I hold my breath and cannot fully wrap my head around what I am seeing: “Who would let children inhale the fumes of burning e-waste? Where is this, and what is the scope of this?”.

A year or two later:

Those questions become the basis of my bachelor’s thesis – for a degree in public international law. Finding a supervisor and getting the topic approved become their own “little adventures”. Soon after, I first encounter a lot of the problems I continue to meet until today: “Why is there so little written about the legal, policy, and social dimensions of e-waste? Why is there so little peer-reviewed literature that is up to date? Why does e-waste get so much less attention and funding than other waste streams? Why are there not more scholars and policymakers working on e-waste? Why does all the literature seem to exist in silos? Why is the broader life cycle of electronics – and especially the design of electronics – so often overlooked?”. After months of research and a literature list that is almost longer than the thesis itself, the answers I have found seem unsatisfactory and disappointing.

It is 2021 and 2022:

After getting stuck doing other work for a few years, I submit my application to write a PhD in law about regulating the life cycle of electronics. I am denied funding, and I cannot find a supervisor. It feels like a personal failure. At this point, I have spent years going to so-called “elite” schools and university programs (sourcing scholarships and funding like it was the hobby you really wanted to have), working at a top-tier law firm (with too many sleepless nights), and building an inventory of literature that I could use to write this PhD – all to prove that I and this research are worth funding. As the rejection e-mails come in, it somehow feels like I am looking into a void, but I also cannot just let it go. So, I do what I have always been best at. I pick up my pen, ask questions, and start to tell stories.

From 2022 to 2025:

My stories are about everyone and everything in e-waste and the electronics lifecycle. All of this work is self-funded through a compliance-focused company I started myself. Things work well enough until early 2025, when the EU Green Deal is largely dismantled. It looks like we are pretty much out of business. The question then quickly becomes: “How am I funding this work on e-waste now? We are not ready to launch our solution yet, but I am also not ready to give up – so what next?”. I feel like I am looking into the same void I was three years ago. Yet, my consultancy work over the years has taught me just how much of a business issue the lack of knowledge, knowledge gaps, silos, failure to see the bigger picture (or the whole supply chain and life cycle of electronics), and the absence of education on critical raw materials and e-waste designed for laypeople are.

And now, we have reached today:

What could have become a PhD and the start of a university teaching career, instead became a learning app. This app is built on collaboration, trial-and-error, and finding creative ways to move forward. What I know now too is that the failure to secure PhD funding was never a personal failure, but instead because of something much larger and far more systemic. After years of working and talking with female and minority entrepreneurs, I have learned that if the value of your work is overseen although it has both a social and market value, there typically is a funding and recognition issue at hand.

I believe that innovation and technology (which of course includes EdTech and apps) are only as good solutions as we make them, and what we are doing now is sadly still largely not as good as it could be – particularly when it comes to e-waste. What I have been pushing for over the past 10 years has been to break down the boxes, look over the fence, and find better ways forward. Along the way, this has taught me that I do not need permission to start and that my voice matters “even if I do not enjoy the spotlight and have a tendency to muddle up the words in my sentences when I am on stage”. It has also taught me that talking about funding gaps “does not make me a whiny and incompetent woman”. I am just looking to leave the world behind a teeny bit better in my own way, the same way as I was when I first started out studying law – but creating meaningful change requires funding and support.

It has not always been pretty, fun, or easy, but I believe that building in response to failure has helped me build a better and more impactful solution. My approach has gotten a lot bigger, louder, and far more multifaceted along the way than I could have ever originally envisioned. Perhaps without all the unexpected bumps and setbacks in the road – from the wave of PhD rejections in 2021 and 2022 to my company nearly going out of business in early 2025 (and several other failures along the way that I am not yet ready to publicly unpack), I would have also never known to build a solution that is so deeply rooted in interaction and dialogue, connecting the dots, and breaking down silos – all while trying to build community and bridge our differences, even as the world continues to become a more polarized place.

By building The E-Waste Learning Hub, I have learned that patience and purpose are more than half of the journey – and that more often than not, we fail our way to success.

If you believe in our work and want to support our mission, you will find meaningful ways to do this here and you can download our app here.

This photo is from where this story begins. This is California in the summer of 2000 – and that very happy looking kid is a very young version of me.