Founder & CEO
"To live for that, for which it is worth to die, and to die for that, for which it is worth to live." - Garegin Njdeh
These are the words that have been spoken by Njdeh, the Honorary son of the Armenian nation. When I read this quote, it forever molded my thought process. It made me question the motives of philanthropy; was it selfish, for power, political, or genuine? I thought about this and reflected on the life that Njdeh had led. It made me realize that there are only a handful of people that can fight to preserve and influence a nation the way he did. Nothing was more important to this man, than the love for his country, the betterment of his country and the future of his country.
I've never been truly inspired as I was when I read this quote. I kept thinking to myself, that if I achieve even 1% of what Njdeh has done for the Armenian people, I would be able to depart this world knowing that I've done something for humanity.
While I made great strides being the CFO of a non - profit, that fought for the recognition of the Armenian Genocide and historical injustices, started a coat drive to send to destitute families in the outskirts and villages in Armenia, and, helped found a free Armenian Saturday school to teach children about their history, culture and language, here in Los Angeles, what was I really doing to help my fellow brothers and sisters today, in Armenia? I always felt that I had the burning drive to do something great but never really knew how to carry out this passion. For many years, this question was spinning in the back of mind without an answer.
In October of 2017, I went back home to Armenia and visited an orphanage in Gyumri. I instantly fell in love with the children, their stories and secretly wished that I could be as courageous as them. Despite living in some of the most unhealthy and poorest of the poor living conditions, they smiled, they showed gratitude and an immense amount of resilience. So many things went through my mind and so many things were put into prospective. These innocent children have been robbed of their childhood and been burdened with the woes of the world, far before they needed to be. I walked out and felt that little fire of passion inside of me burn deeper and deeper. Throughout the rest of my trip, I couldn't get Gyumri out of my mind. With grace and gratitude, for all the blessings that I've been given in life, I made a vow to myself that if I wanted to see the betterment of my people, and it must start with a little change with the future of the people, the children.
To the children, I say, "remember, the stronger your storm is, the greater your rainbow will be."