Lily H.’s Post

The power of community has been on my mind. In recent weeks I’ve been grateful for the supportive community created by my colleagues, allowing me to bring my whole self to work. It’s reminded me of the continuous need for human connection and understanding. When a community comes together, its voice is clearer and louder than any one individual, whether it be medical advocacy, women’s issues, or current events. Building Community. In September, I returned to Cornell to receive the Young Alumni Achievement Award from the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences (CALS) Alumni Association. To stand alongside the other award recipients was itself an honor. (https://lnkd.in/eNUK967m) (https://lnkd.in/eN_rthP8) During the award ceremony, the emcee shared a photo from my freshman year. In the picture, I was chalking an announcement for the campus’ first Sephardi Persian Night. My first year on campus, I created a group for Sephardi Mizrachi Jews to share awareness of their unique culture while bridging relationships with other student organizations. It was one of the greatest joys to cohost the award-winning program “Sephardi Persian Night” with the Iranian Students Organization, bringing together hundreds of students and faculty for an evening of food, music, dancing, and celebration. Two weeks ago, I met the Cornell student responsible for currently leading the group and was deeply moved to know the Sephardi Mizrachi Association still thrives. He said it has allowed students to find mutual understanding and emotional strength while away from family. His role as a student leader has taken on much more meaning given recent events with his work going beyond what should ever be asked of a college student. The Importance of Community. As part of my recent campus visit, a beloved professor, Pedro Perez, asked me to speak to his Intro to Business Management class, the same one I took as freshman and TA-ed as a senior. The students were three weeks into their time at Cornell. After sharing my career story, I welcomed questions. It was surprising to hear what students had most on their mind. “How did you make connections in college?” “Did you struggle with homesickness?” “What did you do to meet people?” The class of 2027, one of the most resilient our world has seen, exhibited the same anxieties I had sitting in those very same seats. My response: Community. I asked students to look around the room and know that their fellow students craved the same desire for connection. Community provides a home away from home and where there is a vacuum, we must create our own. The Power of Community. As part of a collective voice, I’ve found a reignited momentum for change, the same I had in college. It’s a drive to create a difference by supporting others who deserve to be heard. In a world of increasing noise susceptible to drowning out voices, I encourage others to create space and community for themselves and others, and embracing them when they do.

Standard of care. These are some of the toughest words I encountered during decades of doctor’s appointments for alopecia areata (AA). Don’t give me the standard, give me the best.   In 2014, my brother sent me an article about a groundbreaking paper published by Drs. Brett King and Britt Craiglow, describing a novel treatment for AA with successful results. It offered a glimmer of hope, something I’d forgotten how to have.   I met Brett a few years later, 25 years after being diagnosed. He’d likely tell you that my face did a poor job of hiding my skepticism in response to his optimistic outlook. But I still agreed to his plan because he did something no one ever did; he gave me his undivided attention. Similarly, Britt is a tireless advocate treating children in whose eyes I see my six-year old self.   Drs. Brett King and Britt Craiglow have done more than move the needle. They've shattered the mold for how AA patients are treated. Their work is a bold reminder that we owe the advancement of science to those willing to go beyond the norm. #alopeciaareata

I recently had to snap myself back into the present as I listened to an interview candidate's response to, “Describe a recent failure or something that didn’t go as planned.” My mind searched for its own reply and reminded me of my experience last year returning to my graduate school at the University of Virginia. Destigmatizing failure became the unintended theme of my talk as the 2022 Beverly Cobble Rodriguez Lecturer. It was supposed to be a career journey discussion, and when I met with organizers I told them I wanted it to be more than another résumé recital. That’s when they proposed I also share my "failure" résumé. The same career chronology, but peppered with commentary on the cringeworthy moments I had been conditioned to gloss over, smile through, and be creative in addressing throughout the years. All the things that went wrong, the pains and frustrations that made me readjust, reassess, and replan the unplannable. Event organizers said that this is what the audience would want, vulnerability and candor. Candor I could do. But vulnerability? In a professional and public setting? It hadn't been apparent until prepping for the talk that many pivotal moments in my career (and where I decided to go to college) were in part due to a perceived "failure". Forks that were seemingly thrust from the sky into the road before me. I consider myself a detail-oriented accountant who likes order and planning, who finds solace in the inherent balance of a balance sheet (and who recently told a colleague she loves the confines of graph paper). Pivoting from thoroughly developed plans has forced me to live more in the moment and embrace new opportunities. Like the one that brought me to UVA in the first place, to satisfy CPA requirements when an accounting degree wasn't yet offered at my undergraduate university. It stood to reason that the “failure” part of the conversation would be what I most dreaded. Surprisingly, it received the most laughs and oddly, gave me a sense of peace. Many of my plans, both personal and professional, have been thrown by the wayside in the years since graduate school. This isn't the life I once imagined, but I’m grateful for where it’s taken me. I'd do it again. At least I'd plan to, until a fork falls from the sky. (My gratitude to the Maxine Platzer Lynn Women's Center at the University of Virginia for hosting and the UVA McIntire School of Commerce for cosponsoring the event. And of course to Beverly Cobble Rodriguez and Joe V. Rodriguez, Jr. for their generous endowment.)

This past New Year’s Eve, like many others, I found myself at an open window whispering prayers for health and happiness. And prayers of gratitude amidst change.   - In a year of Ernst & Young’s iconic Times Square NYC sign coming down, I am grateful my career began in that very office, and for each stage of my career thereafter. (Pictured: With Pfizer’s CEO at the “Moonshot” book launch, March 2022)   - In a year of heroic voices in my family’s ancestral homeland, I am grateful for empathy realized around the world.   - In a year of my father no longer recalling my name, I am grateful he still, relentlessly, says “I love you” and for the grace of my mother.   At the intersection of milestones professional and personal, and celebrations public and private, is the gratitude I have for those I am surrounded by. Cheers to a Happy and Healthy 2023, with much gratitude.

At six, Lily had written off the pains and frustrations of alopecia as being part of an ignored minority. At eight, she wore hats like the one below to mask a bare scalp, missing lashes and brows. And a massive smile hid the sadness. In her lifetime, she never expected science to consider alopecia serious enough to tackle.   Decades later, she’s at a company leading the conversation and pursuing a solution. It’s nothing less than poetic. She still has the smile, less sadness. See the conversation here: https://lnkd.in/eQ8qJMiT #pfecolleague #alopeciaareata

Culture has always been a special part of my identity. Growing up in a Persian Jewish home, my ears were filled with Farsi, my senses overwhelmed by artfully prepared “chai”, and on Friday nights I enjoyed home-cooked dishes dripping in saffron and sumac. As the 27th of 28 grandchildren, I was the first born in America after my family left the country they called home for over a thousand years. Today, Persian food is one way I stay connected to a place I can only hope to visit -- and “Ash Adas”, a delicious lentil soup, is a family favorite. Join me on February 9th, 7:30PM EST, as I prepare this traditional recipe. Hosted by my dear friend Julia Levy founder of Tradition Kitchens.

Humanities meets history in this upcoming symposium organized and moderated by my cousin, Mahnaz Yousefzadeh, Professor of Global Liberal Studies at New York University, Affiliate Professor of Art History and Italian at New York University Abu Dhabi and New York University, respectively. (Hosted by New York University Abu Dhabi in collaboration with BIBLIOTHEQUE NATIONALE DE FRANCE and Louvre Abu Dhabi)

My alopecia journey on the latest episode of Very Nearly Almost

Humbled to have my story in Pfizer’s 2020 Annual Review. #pfizercolleague