If I close my eyes, I can still smell the kitchen of my childhood on a lazy Sunday afternoon. It’s a sharp, earthy clash of aromas the rich, mouth-watering scent of fried food competing with the deep, medicinal bitterness of a dark herbal broth simmering on the back stove.
And slicing through the steam of that kitchen was a phrase that served as the soundtrack to my life: “Yeet hay.”
If I reached for a handful of crispy chips or a second piece of fried chicken, my mom would swoop in, her eyes giving me that knowing look as she slid a bowl of bitter liang cha (cooling tea) across the counter. “Too much yeet hay,” she’d warn. Years later, if I stayed up way past midnight hunched over a desk, frantically chasing a design idea into the early morning hours, she’d look at the strain in my eyes and say, “You’re creating yeet hay.” Wake up with a scratchy throat, a sudden breakout, or just an unexplainable, restless irritability? The diagnosis was always the same.
Literally translated from Cantonese, yeet hay (熱氣) means "hot air" or "toxic heat." In Traditional Chinese Medicine, it describes a physical, inflammatory imbalance.
But as I grew up, watching my mom apply this expression to everything from what we ate to how we handled stress, I realized her warnings weren't just a lesson in health. She was giving me a masterclass in reading the invisible energy of our lives. Yeet hay is the heavy, toxic friction we accumulate when we forget how to balance our fire.
And honestly? Lately, I catch myself passing the torch when I least expect it.
"What is that, Mommy?"
Life moves so fast, and before you know it, you wake up and realize you’ve become the voice of the kitchen.
A few weeks ago, we were rushing through our usual chaotic evening routine. I looked over at my husband, Montell, who was completely buried in a mountain of work, and then at my daughter, whose energy was bouncing off the walls in that frantic, over-tired way kids get when they’ve had too much screen time or sugar. Without even thinking, the phrase bypassed my brain and came straight from my gut: “Okay, everyone stop. There is way too much yeet hay in this room right now.”
Instantly, the entire house went dead silent. Montell stopped typing. My daughter froze. They both looked at me with total, blank confusion. “What is that? What does that even mean?”
I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Trying to explain it to them forced me to unpack the entire universe my mom had built for me. I sat my daughter down and told her it’s not just about 'hot air' or catching a cold. It’s a feeling. It’s what happens when our internal battery gets too hot, too cluttered, and too overwhelmed because we’re pushing when we should be resting.
By sharing that little piece of my heritage with her, I realized I’m not just passing down a quirky phrase; I’m handing her a survival toolkit. I want her to grow up knowing how to feel the friction in her soul before it turns into burnout.
The Hustle Friction
We all know what that high-heat state feels like. It’s that season where you are grinding at a million miles an hour, building a business, obsessing over a creative project, or trying to be everything to everyone. You’re running on pure adrenaline and passion.
But passion is a fire, and fire eventually burns up its resources if you don't feed it properly.
My mom had this incredible, intuitive eye. She could look at the subtle tension in my shoulders or hear the slight, sharp edge in my tone after a long week and instantly know the temperature in my life had risen too high. She could see the invisible heat rising off me.
When we live in that constant state of high-heat hustle without a pause, our atmosphere becomes heavy. We lose our patience. Our creative clarity gets clouded by the thick air of anxiety. In our family, and in everything we build under the KNg Dynasty name, we are learning that a true legacy isn't built by burning out as fast as you can; it’s built by sustaining the flame.
Sucking Down the Bitter Tea
My mom’s remedy for yeet hay was never sweet. Those dark, cooling herbal brews she made tasted absolutely terrible unforgivingly bitter and heavy but they always brought my body back to center.
In our modern lives, our "cooling teas" are the hard boundaries we have to set. And let’s be real: they are rarely easy or comfortable to swallow. It’s the mandatory pause when every ambitious bone in your body is screaming at you to keep working. It’s the radical, uncomfortable act of recovery turning off the phone, stepping away from the screen, sitting in the quiet, and letting your mind just be.
To understand yeet hay is to recognize that everything is connected. Your body, your mental health, your creative work, and the vibe in your household are all part of the same ecosystem. When things feel chaotic, it’s rarely because you aren't talented enough or trying hard enough. More often, it’s simply because you’ve let things get too hot.
Staying Cool in the Arena
This isn't just a rule I try to live by at home with my family; it has completely transformed how I show up as a leader, a creative designer, and a strategist in the sports industry.
The sports and branding world is a massive, roaring engine of high heat. The pressure to perform, the non-stop grinding, the endless noise of the crowd, the constant demand to always be "on" it is a breeding ground for professional yeet hay. If you don’t manage the temperature, the very passion that got you into the game will be the thing that burns your career to the ground.
When I work with athletes or build brand frameworks, I’m no longer just looking at the flashy aesthetics or the highlight reels. I’m looking at the person behind them. I’m checking the temperature of the ecosystem. I look for where the hidden friction is building up. True strategy isn’t just about making the most aggressive play; it’s about knowing when to implement the cooling strategies that protect your longevity and keep your spirit intact.
Balance isn't a static place where you stand perfectly still; it is the active, messy, daily art of adjusting your temperature.
Looking back, I smile at how those two little words used to echo through the hallways of my childhood house, and how they now echo through mine. My mom was giving me a blueprint for sustainable growth before I was even old enough to understand what a legacy was.
As we design our futures, build our businesses, and raise the next generation, we have to carry that wisdom forward. I see it in the eyes of my daughter when she looks up at me, learning what it means to take a breath. I'm teaching her, my husband, and the people I mentor to watch out for the hot air. Pay attention to the friction. And never be afraid to slow down, cool the system, and restore the balance.
After all, the empires that last are the ones that know how to keep their cool under pressure.
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