Today we’d like to introduce you to Sutichai Savathasuk
Hi Sutichai, can you start by introducing yourself? We’d love to learn more about how you got to where you are today?
I grew up as the middle child between two brothers as an Asian-American, raised under the weight of high expectations and the unspoken rules of survival that came with being part of an immigrant household. My grandparents, who had fought their own battles to give us a future in America, saw success in rigid terms—doctor, lawyer, engineer. There was no room for uncertainty, no space for art, and certainly no tolerance for weakness. From the outside, I was the quiet, well-behaved child, following the path laid out for me. But inside, I was drowning.
Autism, before I even had the language for it, shaped every part of my childhood. I was the kid who never quite fit in, who struggled to read the room, who was constantly spoken over, interrupted, or ignored altogether. If I tried to join a conversation, I was shut out. If I voiced an opinion, it was dismissed. The world around me didn’t feel made for me, and over time, I started to believe that maybe I just wasn’t meant to be heard.
School was another battlefield. I was often picked on, forced into fights I never wanted, my personal boundaries trampled on by people who saw my quietness as an invitation to push me further. I was too weird, too awkward, too much or too little at the same time. And in my household, mental health wasn’t a conversation—it was an inconvenience. If I was struggling, I had to keep it to myself. If I was breaking, I had to put myself back together in silence. Masking became second nature. I learned to perform the version of myself that made other people comfortable, at the cost of never truly feeling like myself.
By the time I reached college at California State University, Northridge, I had finally gained some independence. I started hiking, getting into rock climbing—anything that made me feel in control of my own body, my own choices. But even then, after graduating in 2019 with an engineering degree, I found myself standing at the edge of a future that felt empty. I had done everything right, followed the “correct” path, yet I was more lost than ever.
And then I found the mic.
In November 2019, I took a risk and went to an open mic for the first time to pursue a crush. I stepped onto the stage, heart pounding, hands shaking, and for the first time in my life, I spoke my truth into a microphone. I was heard. I was seen. And it changed everything.
That night marked the beginning of my journey as an artist. I kept going to the mic, kept sharing, and kept unraveling years of silence. In January 2021, I took a comedy class at Tao Comedy Studio, where I learned the art of public speaking—not just to be funny but to embrace the pause, own my voice, and command a room. It was no longer just about expression; it was about connection. I honed my craft, leaning into my raw, unfiltered self.
Then, in August 2021, I made a leap of faith: I quit my stable engineering job to write my first book. I joined the Community Literature Initiative’s Season 9 cohort, dedicating myself to crafting How Chai Tea is Made, a collection of poetry that laid bare my struggles with identity, family, mental health, and self-worth.
Today, I live between two worlds—the structured, logical mind of an engineer and the boundless creativity of an artist. I am a typewriter poet, capturing people’s stories in real time. I am a comedian, turning pain into laughter. I am an artist, an A/V tech, and a storyteller. I thrive in the spotlight and in the shadows, working behind the scenes to help others bring their visions to life.
Most importantly, I am no longer silent. I am no longer waiting for someone to permit me to exist. I have fought for my voice, for my place in the world, and I will continue to carve out space—not just for myself but for those who have ever felt unseen, unheard, and unworthy of taking up space. Because we do. And we always have.
I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
Not at all. The road has been cracked, uneven, and full of obstacles I never asked for. But I’ve walked it anyway.
I spent most of my life struggling with self-worth and self-confidence. When you grow up without validation, without affirmation, you start to believe that maybe you don’t deserve it. That maybe you are only worth as much as what you can produce, what you can achieve—never for simply existing. I carried that weight with me for years.
Children remember the wounds that parents don’t even realize they’re inflicting. The words left unsaid. The love that was never fully expressed. The way mistakes were met with silence or scolding instead of guidance. I grew up feeling like I was never enough, like whatever I did had to be perfect. And if I wasn’t enough, then why even try?
CPTSD has a way of distorting reality. It tells you that you are unworthy, that you are a burden, that love is conditional. It makes you replay moments over and over again, wondering what you could have done differently, even when you were just a child trying to survive. That fear of abandonment, of rejection, of not measuring up—it clung to me like a shadow.
For a long time, I believed that no matter what I did, it would never be enough. And I wanted to change that perspective. I wanted to redefine what “enough” meant for myself.
The truth is, I know I’m not alone in this. So many people—especially those who grew up without emotional safety—carry these same wounds. They doubt themselves. They hesitate to take up space. They struggle to believe they are worthy of love, of kindness, of simply existing without having to prove themselves.
Finding the mic, finding my voice, and learning to express myself changed everything. Voicing up didn’t erase the struggles, but it gave me the power to face them. To name them. To challenge them. And slowly, I’ve been rewriting the narrative. I am learning that I don’t have to be perfect to be worthy. That I don’t need external validation to exist. That I am enough, simply because I am here.
The road is still rough, but now, I walk it with a little more certainty, a little more strength. And for anyone who has ever felt like they weren’t enough, I hope they find their path to seeing their worth, too. Because we are not alone in this.
Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
I am a creative force that thrives on versatility. From performing poetry and stand-up comedy to hosting events as an MC at the Melrose Trading Post for the Los Angeles Poet Society, I have built a career around using my voice to connect with others. I’ve performed at venues like Da Poetry Lounge, Sunday Jump, Palms Up Academy, and Tea at Shiloh’s, sharing stories that blend humor, vulnerability, and raw authenticity. But beyond the stage, I also thrive in the quieter moments—working behind the scenes to bring creative projects to life. If there’s something to learn, I’ll dive in headfirst. I specialize in adaptability, picking up new skills quickly, and embracing the challenge of being a jack of all trades. Whether I’m in the spotlight performing or working behind the scenes, I take pride in my discipline, wit, and the integrity I bring to everything I do.
One of the things I’m most proud of in my artistic journey is my work as a typewriter poet. I set up at markets and events, creating custom poems on the spot for strangers based on any prompt they give me. It’s an art that demands quick thinking, deep empathy, and the ability to pull from a vast well of experiences to craft something personal and meaningful. In just a few minutes, I take someone’s words, emotions, or memories and turn them into something tangible—something they can hold onto.
What sets me apart is the way I bridge different worlds. I bring structure and spontaneity, technical skill and raw creativity, humor and sincerity. Whether I’m writing, performing, or creating in any other medium, my goal is always the same: to connect, to make people feel seen, and to turn fleeting moments into something unforgettable.
Is there anything else you’d like to share with our readers?
At the core of everything I do—whether it’s poetry, comedy, or any creative endeavor—is a deep commitment to connection, understanding, and self-expression. My goals, intentions, and wisdom to share with humanity can be summarized as:
– Empathy is everything. Everyone carries a story, and taking the time to listen, understand, and validate others can make all the difference. The world becomes a kinder place when we make the effort to see each other fully.
– Humor and joy are revolutionary. In a world that often feels heavy, choosing to laugh, to find joy, and to spread light is an act of defiance. Comedy isn’t just about making people laugh—it’s about transforming pain into something we can hold with a little more ease.
– Resilience is powerful, but so is rest. Society glorifies the grind, but true strength comes in knowing when to push forward and when to step back. Healing, growth, and creativity all require moments of stillness.
– Imperfection is beautiful. You don’t have to be perfect to be worthy, to create, or to take up space. Messy, raw, and real are far more valuable than polished and distant.
– You are enough. No external validation, achievement, or title will ever replace the truth that you are already enough just as you are. Live, create, and love from that place.
These are the lessons I live by and the messages I hope to share with the world—on the stage, through my writing, and in every interaction I have.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.mrchaitea.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mr.chai_tea
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@mr.chaitea839
