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Someone Somewhere backpack

Five women stepped forward from among the dozens of seamstresses and artisans from the village of Naupan, tucked away among the mountains of the Mexican state of Puebla. The rest chose to wait.

Fashion startup Someone, Somewhere was visiting Naupan from Mexico City to strike up partnerships with the local seamstresses and artisans, providing jobs and creating contemporary fashion that embraced traditional Mexican textiles.

Petra Secundino, 37, was one of the first to sign on. “It was totally unexpected for me to find something like this that allows me to work from home,” she says. In many Mexican rural communities, women can struggle to find employment, either because of limited access to jobs or because of social pressure to remain at home.

Secundino remembers the division of the community when the “group of youngsters”—Someone, Somewhere’s three 20-something co-founders—came to the village to pitch the idea and how the balance began to shift.

“We started with one order, then two, then three, then four,” she says. “As we began ramping up with more designs, the friends, the cousins started being interested and asking to get involved.”

The traditional textiles find new life on modern products. (Photo by Ana Georgina Ampudia)
The company increases artisans' incomes by three times or more. (Photo by Ana Georgina Ampudia)

Since starting out with those first five artisans, Someone, Somewhere has grown to employ 162 people across Mexico, providing much-needed income for its predominantly female workforce. Three thousand more have contacted the company asking to join.

Someone, Somewhere employs 162 people across Mexico, providing much-needed income for its predominantly female workforce.

Mexico’s National Fund for the Development of Arts and Crafts estimates that 8 million artisans live in Mexico, a majority of them below the poverty line. Co-founder and CEO of Someone, Somewhere José Antonio Nuño, 26, first come to the village from Mexico City as a teenager to volunteer with his friends.

“After several years of volunteering, my partners and I decided to do something more sustainable for the community [after we graduated college,]” Nuño says. “We realized the levels of poverty and marginalization, but [also] the beauty of the crafts produced there.”

Each label names the artisan who made it. (Photo by Ana Georgina Ampudia)
Rosa is one of Mexico’s 8 million artisans. (Photo courtesy of Someone, Somewhere)

Nuño saw one potential reason for why so many artisans lived in poverty: They were producing decorative souvenirs that had been popular 30 years ago—like sombreros and skull ornaments—instead of products that resonated with today’s market, such as T-shirts, sweaters, backpacks, and hats. Pieces in the Someone, Somewhere line incorporate traditional textiles, like a woven patch on a T-shirt, a bold pattern on a pair of swim trunks, or a geometric shape stitched onto a denim shirt. Each item comes with a label naming the artisan and her community, creating a thread between creator and consumer.

Fresh off a win at the Mexico City Creator Awards, a WeWork-sponsored competition funding ideas with impact, Nuño says he’s now ready expand, starting with Mexico’s neighbor to the north, the US.

Empowering with income

Naupan is one of hundreds of rural villages in Mexico that lives off the textile industry because it’s one of the only options besides agriculture. When Nuño and his co-founders struggled at first to get a single artisan to join their vision in Naupan, they learned of the village’s troubled history with outside partners.

“Other designers had come to promise they would change the world for these women, even release their collections in New York,” he says. “Some women bought new looms and other equipment, but the people never came back.”

Someone, Somewhere built up trust, artisan by artisan, who started to see income from the partnership right away. “Once people saw we returned regularly, interest grew,” he says.

Since production got underway in 2016, the company has sold between 5,000 to 8,000 T-shirts a year, along with around 3,000 sweaters, 2,000 hats, 2,000 backpacks, and 1,000 swimsuits. The company distributes the line via e-commerce and pop-up stores in Mexico City.

Creator Awards winner Someone, Somewhere employs Mexican artisans to create authentic textiles
Someone, Somewhere runs pop-up shops around Mexico City. (Photo by Ana Georgina Ampudia)

Nuño estimates that the company has at least tripled the income of the women they work with. One seamstress, Silvina Alvarez Flores, is paralyzed except for movement in her hands. Previously, Flores depended on her aging grandmother to take care of her. Now she brings in her own income, sewing from her bedroom.

“We always seek to integrate those with the greatest need, such as single mothers or those from the poorest families,” Nuño says, adding that Flores has become the biggest earner in her family and is able to send her nieces and nephews to school.

Someone, Somewhere’s staff of 15 creates new hats and T-shirts based on current trends. (Photo by Ana Georgina Ampudia)
Every design is a collaboration between the villagers and the design team. (Photo by Ana Georgina Ampudia)

Secundino echoes this, saying that she has also become the breadwinner in her household. She recalls some initial pushback from males in the community when the women started to earn their own incomes.

“Sexism reared its ugly head,” she says. “But the advantages of working from home, allowing women to still do what they need to do there, and of bringing in more money has convinced those who were opposed.”

Refining their style

“When we started, we were only engineering students,” Nuño admits. “We had no idea about design.”

He describes the company’s first “ugly” designs—patches ironed onto pre-existing clothing. The team now includes 15 fashion, textile, and industrial designers who follow current trends and coordinate with the artisans.

A startup vibe permeates the company offices. Located in a converted residential bloc in Mexico City’s hip neighborhood of Roma, the headquarters is half occupied by long tables covered in swatches of material. The glass walls of the meeting room are covered in marker scribbles, names of communities melding with items and deadlines. At the back, the trends laboratory is filled with racks of clothing and a gigantic sewing machine, which Nuño says can crank out any new idea as quickly as possible.

“We always release products in small quantities to test them out,” Nuño says. “If they work, we do more.”

A lesson in localization

As Someone, Somewhere has developed as a business, one of the biggest missteps came when they built a central workshop in Naupan with the idea of serving as a base for the artisans to learn how to make products.

“It was a total failure,” Nuño says. “The women wanted to work from home and maintain their activities, such as cooking or childcare.”

Now when Someone, Somewhere works with communities across central and southern Mexico, the company strives to preserve the lives of the artisans. Local coordinators in each community, including Secundino, are in constant touch with Nuño and ensure his team understands any local issues.

“I still sew, but less and less, as my time is taken up by the coordination,” Secundino says. Her duties regularly include accounting, distributing the workloads, ensuring quality control, and sending the goods to Mexico City.

One million artisans

Someone, Somewhere will open a pop-up shop in Venice Beach, California, in 2018. (Photo by Ana Georgina Ampudia)

So what’s next for Someone Somewhere? Nuño says he’ll capitalize on interest from the US, the source of 10 percent of the company’s online traffic. This summer, the company will open a pop-up store in Venice Beach, California. Over time, the store will test new concepts such as wallets, passport holders, and even surfboards designed with Ceviche Surf Co., fellow winners at the Mexico City Creator Awards.

Nuño believes that if demand explodes in the US, the number of women employed will skyrocket.

“Our intention is to reach 1,000 artisans in the next year,” he says. “We want to continue expanding dramatically. In the best scenario, we would eventually reach 500,000 to 1 million artisans.”

One million, following in the footsteps of just five.

Photo of José Antonio Nuño by Ana Georgina Ampudia

Reporting on the ongoing civil war that had spilled over from Syria into Lebanon, René Cao says she witnessed suffering on a scale unlike anything she’d ever seen before. But despite the hardships she encountered in war zones and refugee camps, she found herself inspired by the selflessness of the people she encountered.

The former reporter for Hong Kong-based Phoenix TV network now works for a bitcoin exchange based out of Shanghai’s WeWork Financial Center. But the Chinese citizen has never forgotten the people she met when she was on assignment in Lebanon in 2011.

“The people I met really shaped my values,” says Cao. “They have driven me to do something for someone else, not just care about myself. As a journalist, I thought I could use my skills to tell their stories and share them with the world. I knew their voices needed to be heard.”

Her determination to help the displaced people in the Middle East led her to found the Ponybaby Project, a nonprofit organization that raises funds for the education of refugee children.

In 2014, she decided to return to Lebanon to document the lives of young people there. Finding a videographer was tough — her first one dropped out after a terrorist attack in Paris — but her editor connected her to Olmo Reverter. Together Cao and Reverter made a documentary called The Hard Stop: The Plight of Syrian Refugee Children, which reached more than 10 million viewers in China alone.

“Flying over with Olmo and shooting that first documentary was really a turning point in my life,” says Cao, who is 30. “I had no idea at the time that I was going to carry on with this project. What I really wanted to do was tell their stories.”

Within a year the team had officially set up the Ponybaby Project. Cao and her partners tell moving stories through articles, documentaries, and photo exhibitions. In honor of World Refugee Day, she and her team hosted a panel discussion on the crisis in Syria at WeWork Shanghai Finance Center.

Cao says the name was inspired by a verse in a famous Chinese poem, which loosely translates to: “Take your dream as a horse, act your glorious youth.”

The Ponybaby Project partnered with Pear Video, one of China’s leading video platforms, to broadcast its Orphans of the World series. It recently embarked on a new series called Their Responses that follows more than a dozen Syrian refugees living across the Middle East. The Ponybaby Project also teamed up with Tencent Charity, one of the leading fundraising platforms in China, to help raise money to help refugees directly.

Niu Song, a professor of Middle East Studies at Shanghai International Studies University, likes the “community spirit” displayed by the Ponybaby Project team.

“I believe that the stories and documentaries displayed by Ponybaby Project, as first-hand information, can honestly uncover the real status of the refugees, including their basic life, children’s education, job employment, and willingness to return to their home country,” says Song, who was among the speakers at the panel discussion.

All of the funds raised by the Ponybaby Project go towards scholarships for families living in refugee camps who can’t afford their children’s school fees, materials, and books.

“Almost 90 percent of Syrian refugees are in debt,” says Lisa Abou Khaled, who works for the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights. “Parents are having to resort to difficult choices like pulling their children out of school and sending them to work because they can’t afford to feed the family anymore.”

Since Cao’s first visit to the Middle East, the humanitarian crisis in Syria has claimed the lives of 70,000 civilians and displaced 5 million others. Despite the scale of trauma, Cao says the refugee crisis is rarely discussed in her native China. But that’s part of the goal—to start the conversation by bringing the personal stories of refugees to households across the country.

“Many people don’t have a chance to talk with refugees, so they have a very unclear concept of who they are,” says Cao. “They’re often treated like wild animals, vulnerable and unpredictable. But they want to live with respect and dignity, just like everyone else.”

Photo by Nicholas Tortajada

Even before the lights went up on the stage, the WeWork Creator Awards was literally one of the biggest events of the year in Jerusalem. Nearly 4,000 people packed a stadium that usually hosts basketball games, and they came from as far away as Tel Aviv, Herzliya, and Be’er Sheva. It was also the largest regional competition so far for the awards, hosted in cities around the world.

At the job fair and pop-up market held before the awards, there were so many people that it was sometimes difficult to navigate the aisles. People eagerly pushed forward for free samples of food — even crispy grasshoppers.

When WeWork cofounder Adam Neumann finally stepped onto the stage, the event had the feeling of a homecoming. Neumann and his sister Adi Neumann, a model who hosted the event, both grew up on a kibbutz not far away.

WeWork cofounder Adam Neumann and his sister Adi share a moment at the Jerusalem Creator Awards.

“It’s a really special city and really special to be here,” said Adi from what is usually the home court for the HaPoel Jerusalem Basketball Club.

This is the second time the Creator Awards has been held in Israel. In October more than $1 million was awarded to winners at an event in Tel Aviv. In Jerusalem — where a WeWork location is slated to open later this year — a total of $774,000 went to eight winners.

Host Adi Neumann announces the winners in the business ventures category at the Jerusalem Creator Awards.

Here are some of the most unique and exciting highlights of the evening.

Most progressive fashion statement: More than 30 local artists, companies, and nonprofit organizations took part in a pop-up market on the arena’s concourse. There were bright paintings on canvas, glittering jewelry, natural beauty products, and plenty of T-shirts, including some emblazoned with the words “I’m Not for Sale,” part of a campaign against prostitution and human trafficking by the local nonprofit Turning the Tables, which was also a finalist at the Creator Awards.

Best product you can bury: Perhaps the most intriguing items for sale were paper greeting cards that weren’t just recyclable — they could actually be planted in the ground. Made by the Israeli company Paper Bloom, there are nine types of seeds embedded in the paper of the cards, resulting in several types of flowers that bloom throughout the year.

Winners in the nonprofit category of the Jerusalem Creator Awards pose for a photo together.

Best way to attract a crowd: More than 30 companies and nonprofits staffed tables at the event’s job fair, including half a dozen Creator Awards winners from last year’s event in Tel Aviv., The participants, like Yahoo’s Israeli R&D team and Taboola, were looking to hire a total of more than 70 people. Among the most attention-grabbing booths was that of the Israel Innovation Fund, a nonprofit promoting culture and creativity in Israel, whose table was covered with bottles of local wine.

Most popular souvenir: The most intriguing table at the job fair belonged to Hargol, an Israeli company that produces food products made from grasshoppers. The company — the top winner at the Tel Aviv Creator Awards — caught many people’s eyes with jars of roasted grasshoppers. About 40 percent of people who stopped by the table sampled them, leaving their transparent wings and crispy legs in little piles on the table. Many people then pocketed full jars to take home. “People keep taking them when we’re not looking,” said Hargol CEO Dror Tamir. “I don’t blame them. It really is the best souvenir.”

Most practical swag: The most in-demand item of the evening appeared to be bright red bags emblazoned with the words “Work Happy.” These were from Jobbio, the Dublin-based online hiring platform. “Personally I think they are quite eye-catching,” said Jobbio’s account manager Martha Hayes, who traveled from Dublin to attend the event in Jerusalem. “And they are a useful place to keep the rest of your swag.”

Netta Barzilai, who recently propelled Israel to Eurovision champion, is surrounded by fans.

Favorite food: At a moment when Israeli cuisine has been making global headlines, tables filled with local specialties were scattered throughout the event’s pop-up market and job fair. Popular items included fresh pitas stuffed with chicken, lamb, fish, or roasted vegetables and topped with cilantro-infused tahini. There were also tiny jars of creamy malabi pudding topped with pomegranate syrup and pistachio nuts. But the biggest hit may have been the chocolate chip cookies, baked on the premises in a giant oven by Pilpel Catering. “Holy Moses, these are good,” said one person who sampled them.

Most creative cocktail: Open bars served beer, wine, and craft cocktails all night long. People seemed to love the Golden City, a drink inspired by Jerusalem and made from vodka and honey and garnished with fresh cucumbers.

Most mind-blowing performance: For those who could tear themselves away from the party-like scene at the pop-up market, the highlight of the masterclasses was a show by Israeli mentalist Lior Suchard. As usual, the internationally known performer wowed the audience by reading people’s minds. At one point he seemed to know some participants better than they knew themselves. When asking one woman how many letters were in the name of her first crush, she kept saying five. Suchard replied, “Are you sure it isn’t six?” Sure enough, Suchard guessed the name, and there were indeed six letters.

Most tear-inducing moment: After the audience heard inspiring stories from all of the night’s finalists, it was Kaima Farm, which helps teeneagers who have dropped out of school, that took home the top prize for nonprofit ventures. Yoni Yefet-Reich, Kaima’s CEO, immediately handed the prize over to one of the teenagers who said his life had been transformed by his time on the farm.

Biggest winner: The $360,000 grand prize went to Yehudit Abrams, a recent American immigrant to Israel, for her startup MonitHer, which is developing a hand-held ultrasound device women can use for monthly breasts exams. The device will alert them to any changes in tissue, a key to early diagnosis of breast cancer. “I’m empowering women,” Abrams said, holding up her award.

Best show of hometown pride: Moments after Abrams was showered in sparkly confetti, another top figure in women’s empowerment, Netta Barzilai, who recently propelled Israel to Eurovision champion with her song “Toy,” took the stage to kick off the real party part of the evening. The crowd gathered around her, wildly snapping photos.

When Raffi Rembrand’s son was diagnosed with autism at the age of 4, it was not the worst news the family received that day. The biggest blow came when their doctor said it was too late for the earliest treatments.

So for Rembrand, a chemical engineer by training, finding a way to detect autism earlier became his life’s mission.

Now, more than three decades after his son was diagnosed with autism, Rembrand has founded an Israeli company, SensPD, which he hopes will accomplish just that. 

SensPD, a winner in the WeWork Creator Awards held on June 20 in Jerusalem, is developing a way to detect autism based on physiological signs. The company uses an existing device commonly used to check the hearing of newborns, but has modified it to check for sensory perception. One of the major components of autism, which affects one of every 59 children born in the U.S., is its effect on the sensory system.

“We didn’t reinvent the wheel,” says Maayan Shahar, SensPD’s CEO.  “But we have altered a very known device used in all hospitals that will hopefully provide a standard screening process for all babies.”

The goal is for such a test to eventually become standard for every baby born around the world, allowing the various treatments for autism to start as soon as possible. When started very early in life, some therapies have a success rate of up to 90 percent.

“It’s been known for a long time that it’s early intervention that makes all the difference,” Shahar says.

But the standard diagnosis of autism based on a series of evaluations often comes after a children has reached the age of 3 or 4, which is too late for some treatments.

SensPD is currently preparing to start clinical trials in Israel. It hopes that if all goes well it will get regulatory approval for its device within three years.

Rembrand’s son, now 35 and living in a group home in Israel, remains an inspiration for the company.

“We want to bring this to market as soon as possible, but in the most professional way,” Shahar says.  ”So that instead of being isolated, children with autism can be a productive part of society.”

While Yehudit Abrams was working as a postdoctoral fellow at NASA, her job was to research the potential use of ultrasound to monitor astronauts on long missions to the international space station. But when her cousin, a gynecologist and breast cancer survivor, was killed in a car accident in 2011, Abrams started thinking of other uses for the medical device.

“She was so passionate about the early detection of cancer, and I wanted to honor her for that,” says Abrams, a physician and mechanical engineer who immigrated to Israel last year from California. “That is what got me thinking about using some sort of portable ultrasound for early detection of cancer.”

Abrams founded MonitHer, a Jerusalem-based startup that is developing a handheld ultrasound device that women can use at home to monitor their breast tissue. The device and its potential to change the way breast cancer is detected is why MonitHer was the big winner the WeWork Creator Awards, held in Jerusalem on June 20. Her company took home $360,000.

“I’m empowering women,” Abrams told the crowd, holding up her award.

An early prototype of the MonitHer scanner.

Women using the device will scan their breasts once a month for about 10 minutes. A U.S. Food and Drug Administration-approved software program then scans the images for any changes over time. If the software detects any potential problems, users will be advised to consult a physician.

By monitoring breast tissue over time, Abrams says women will be able to detect cancer earlier than the traditional method of self-exams where women feel each breast in order to find lumps or swelling.

“We are changing the paradigm from breast cancer screening to breast health monitoring,” Abrams says.

Once more than 100,000 women begin to use the device and upload their scans to the app each month, artificial intelligence and machine learning methods will be used to evaluate tissue changes.

While mammography has long been the best way to diagnose breast cancer, it is less effective on certain women, especially those with dense breast tissue. And the current protocols for breast cancer detection have recently been questioned for resulting in the unnecessary treatment of tumors that may never grow in size or harm a women’s health.

“We are wasting billions of dollars of year treating cancer that women don’t have, and this is because we have stopped innovating,” Abrams said. “Medicine is a dinosaur.”