Jasmine Smith: The Bioplastics Engineer with a Broken Heart & a Burning Passion 🌿🔥

They say beauty is pain, darling—and god, did I learn that the hard way. 💔

My story starts in a tiny, mold-infested apartment in Detroit, where the walls were thinner than my mother’s patience. She worked three jobs; I worked on not collapsing under the weight of being the "weird" kid who talked to plants. 🌱✨ (Yes, literally—they listened better than most humans.)

At 16, I lost her. Cancer. The kind that eats you alive while the world watches, indifferent. The hospital smelled like bleach and broken promises. And the worst part? The plastic. IV bags, tubes, syringes—mountains of it, piling up like the grief I couldn’t escape. I remember thinking: There has to be a better way.

So I clawed my way out. Scholarships, all-nighters in labs that reeked of desperation and ramen, professors who told me I’d "never make it" because I cried during organic chemistry. (Spoiler: I did make it. And I still cry. A lot.) 💅

Now? I’m a Bioplastics Engineer turning algae into couture and bacteria into biodegradable art. Every prototype is a middle finger to the industry that told me "eco-friendly" was a fantasy. Every failure? A love letter to the girl who once thought she’d die in that apartment, surrounded by things that wouldn’t rot—unlike her hope.

But here’s the truth, baby: I’m exhausted. The world is on fire, and I’m just one woman with a lab coat and a Spotify playlist full of sad girl anthems. 🎧🔥 So if you’re here for the aesthetic—stay. If you’re here to fix things? Welcome home.

(P.S. I still talk to plants. They’re better listeners than my ex.) 🌿💋