As a Hasidic Jew, specifically of the Chabad branch, I have also spent (and continue to spend) substantial amounts of time studying Jewish law and Hasidic thought. Although the influence of this on my work is rarely explicit, it permeates all of the philosophy that I do. (Two clearer examples of this are my focus on essence, or etzem, and the idea that all beings are inherently valuable.) With only one or two other Hasidic Jews in analytic philosophy, I believe this gives my work a unique perspective.

I am also a cancer survivor. In 2019, just before beginning my PhD, I was diagnosed with an aggressive but curable cancer. This made for a tough first year of the program, to say the least. But it also taught me the impact that even small acts of kindness and accommodation can have for students who are faced with difficulties. Now, as a teacher, I have tried to live by this when engaging with my own students, remaining flexible and understanding regarding each student’s unique circumstances and needs.

In addition to all of this, of course, I am a philosopher. I didn’t know about philosophy while growing up, yet I’ve been philosophizing since I was young. Early on, the questions I pursued were always practically oriented: mainly about how I should live my life, what the good life is, or how we should live together as a society. And even now, years later, this practical orientation remains with me. While I certainly engage with abstract issues in metaphysics, epistemology, and the like, my concern for these theoretical questions is always with an eye for the concrete - for their ramifications about how we ought to live, whether as individuals or as a society. And ultimately, it is this question that has remained my focus, both as an academic philosopher and as a person: the question of how we ought to live.