I Didn't Set Out to Be a CEO
I didn't set out to build a makeup brand. I set out to help people feel seen in their skin.
As a board-certified, fellowship-trained dermatologist, I've spent years studying skin at its most clinical---how it heals, how it reacts, how it ages. But what I've learned through practice, research, and thousands of patient stories is that skin isn't just biological. It's emotional. And beauty isn't just aesthetic. It's personal, political, cultural, and deeply felt.
I didn't always see myself as a founder. But compassion has a way of turning into conviction. And over time, I realized that the people I cared for in clinic---the ones who felt overlooked, mislabeled, misunderstood---deserved more than treatment. They deserved representation. They deserved products and spaces that made them feel not just seen, but celebrated.
Salmalita didn't start as a business plan. It started as a question: what if makeup could actually support the skin it touches? What if beauty could be inclusive, intentional, and clinically sound---not just aspirational?
This brand is my answer. It's personal. It's rooted in years of experience. And it's built on a belief that skin deserves both care and color.
15 Years in the Trenches of Skin Health
Before Salmalita, my world was clinic rooms, research labs, and hospital corridors. I trained for over 14 years at institutions like Yale, Cleveland Clinic, and Northwestern---places that shaped not just my knowledge of skin, but my understanding of what it means to care for people.
I didn't just study dermatology. I lived it.
From the bench to the bedside, I built my career around the pursuit of skin health---especially for those who were too often left out of clinical conversations: people with darker skin tones, people with chronic conditions, people who had been dismissed or misdiagnosed one too many times.
Alongside my clinical practice, I led and published research on pigmentation disorders, aging, acne, inflammation, and cosmetic dermatology. I collaborated with scientists, formulators, and patients to translate raw data into real-world solutions. I contributed to clinical trials, spoke on national stages, and mentored future dermatologists. And throughout it all, I stayed curious---not just about the science, but about the human stories behind it.
That background didn't just qualify me to build a brand. It made it impossible not to. Because I saw a gap, and I knew how to fill it. I knew how to build something better.
Because once you've spent over a decade studying the science of skin and listening to the people who live in it---you start to see all the ways the industry could do better.
What Clinical Practice Taught Me That Science Couldn't
Clinical training taught me how to diagnose. Research taught me how to investigate. But my patients taught me how to see.
I've had people cry in front of the mirror---not because of the condition itself, but because of what they thought it said about them. I've had teenagers with acne stop making eye contact. I've treated melasma on women who'd been told for years that nothing would work for "their kind of skin." I've heard shame where there should have been care. Silence where there should have been knowledge. And resignation where there should have been options.
Over time, I began to understand that skin is never just skin. It's a map. Of memory, identity, genetics, stress, joy, survival. What we see in the mirror is shaped by so much more than biology---and yet, the beauty industry often stops at surface-level solutions.
I started Salmalita because I knew we could offer more. Not just pigment and payoff, but protection. Not just coverage, but care. And not just inclusivity in marketing, but in formulation, testing, tone, and tone-matching. I wanted to create something that met people where they were, in every phase of life, with every skin story.
Because when you truly understand skin, you stop designing for people. You start designing with them. You listen differently. You build differently.
Why Salmalita Had to Exist
For years, I moved between two worlds. In one, I was a dermatologist guided by data and diagnostics. In the other, I was a queer person of color who never fully saw himself in the beauty aisle. The disconnect was exhausting---and eye-opening.
I saw how often makeup ignored the realities of real skin. I saw "clean" brands that flared up eczema. "Inclusive" launches that excluded undertones. "Skincare-infused" claims with no real science behind them.
And I kept thinking---if we can do better in medicine, why can't we do better in makeup?
Salmalita was born from that question. Not as a rebellion, but as a correction. A course-change. A commitment to honoring skin with both clinical respect and creative joy.
This brand exists because I believe you shouldn't have to choose between feeling beautiful and feeling safe in your own skin. You shouldn't have to decode ingredient lists or settle for formulas that weren't built with you in mind. And you shouldn't have to wonder if a product was tested on skin that looks like yours.
Salmalita isn't here to fill a gap. It's here to redesign the landscape. It's here to ask better questions, to offer better answers, and to meet people with both empathy and efficacy.
Inclusive Leadership Isn't Trendy. It's Urgent.
Diversity has become a buzzword. But for me, inclusion isn't a marketing pillar. It's the only way forward.
As a queer founder, a person of color, and a board-certified dermatologist, I bring a perspective that isn't theoretical---it's lived. I know what it feels like to be the only one in the room. To not see your face in the campaign. To wonder if "for all skin types" really means your skin.
So when we built Salmalita, we didn't just think about shades. We thought about undertones, skin behavior, inflammation patterns, scarring tendencies. We thought about people going through hormonal shifts, autoimmune flares, laser treatments, breakouts, and burnout---and still wanting to show up with grace and glow.
We also built with joy. With vibrancy. With reverence for the boldness it takes to be visible in a world that often makes people feel small.
Inclusive leadership means being in the details. It means showing up at every level of formulation, hiring, testing, and storytelling. It means listening more than we speak. And building systems where no one is an afterthought. It means accountability and openness, even when it's uncomfortable. It means looking people in the eye and saying, "We made this with you in mind."
What Comes Next
Salmalita is just getting started. But our foundation is strong---because it's built on science, storytelling, and skin in every form.
This isn't just about product launches. It's about shifting the standard. We want to change how beauty is formulated, how it's talked about, and who it's made for. We want to bring dermatology out of the clinic and into the moments that make people feel powerful in their skin---on the street, in front of a mirror, through a camera lens, or simply walking into a room.
We want to build something that lasts. Not just a brand, but a culture. A new default. A beauty space that prioritizes skin health without sacrificing joy. Where science and spirit aren't in conflict---they're in collaboration.
Our vision is ambitious. But it's personal. And if you've ever looked at your reflection and felt both pride and possibility, you already understand it.
Salmalita is more than a brand. It's a community, a movement, and a reclamation of what beauty can be when it's built with intention.
If you've ever felt unseen, this space is for you.
If you've ever felt radiant and wanted to share that light, this space is for you too.
We'd love for you to be part of what's next.