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 By Casey LaMarca In May 2020, my wife and I had to cancel our oldest daughter's first birthday party. The world was closed, and we couldn't give her the normal experience she deserved. The experience she deserved to look back on later in life when she needed comfort, knowing she had a big celebration surrounded by family and friends. Where she could have laughed at the fashion choices of the time and the questionable decision to choose a brewery for the party’s location (listen, first birthday parties are also for the parents). For almost two years, my wife and I worked from home during the pandemic without proper child care. I still get stressed thinking about all those days when we had to use the TV as a babysitter or risk missing a meeting. We didn’t have the luxury of living off one salary. People were losing their jobs; how could we risk it? And our village, while powerful, was relatively small. So what did we do instead of that big 1st birthday? We signed off work for the day, did a cake-smash photography session, and just unplugged. We lived off that day for a while, but what we would have given for that normal, right-of-passage birthday party. In 2026, birthday parties are back, but they still don't feel normal. Our oldest daughter is in first grade now, and our youngest is close to starting kindergarten. We’re fortunate and grateful to be in that “birthday party almost every weekend” phase. It gives our kids something to do during these frigid winter months.  But what should feel like celebrations are merely temporary distractions. This should be the time in our lives when we stress over little things, like whether our kids find a sport or a hobby they love. Wondering when they will meet their first real school friends. Watching them try to break those final baby habits like bedtime routines, meltdowns over whose toy is which, and balancing work and personal life to sneak in a date night or two with your significant other. But those are not the times we live in. The times we live in fill us with these daily questions: Will today be
Because I see you. And you are not alone. You are not crazy. You have every right to feel like things are not okay. Because they are not. But, and I can’t stress this enough, you still have the right to feel joy while also feeling dread. You have the right to fight for the happiness you deserve. And it’s okay to do that right now because we do not have another choice. If the last 10 years have taught us anything, it is that the next 10 years may be our last chance to show our kids that we said, "Enough is enough." That doesn’t mean we always need to attend every protest as the only way to fight back. In fact, I think of the scene from the extraordinary 2025 film, "One Battle After Another," when the character Bob Ferguson, played by Leonardo DiCaprio, tries to remember a password given to him by a fellow revolutionary so he can find his missing daughter. When the revolutionary finally tells him, it’s “time doesn’t exist, yet it controls us anyway.” A frustrated Bob replies with, “You obviously don't have kids, you f****** idiot!” What Bob knows that his fellow revolutionary doesn’t is that a parent’s time is surviving one day at a time, and within that time, our children come first. And sometimes, it isn’t always at the birthday party we envisioned. In fact, lately, it mostly consists of play dates that are half making sure your kids are having fun and the other half having side conversations with other parents that go something like this: How old is your kid now? Six. Wow. So the world is falling apart, huh? You ain’t kidding. It is within those moments of whiplash that we must try not to lose our sense of joy. We deserve to hold on to these memories without doomscrolling and heartache. We will need them later in life to keep going. That said, we need to acknowledge for our own sanity that the world is indeed trying to rob us of the most core time of our lives. To wit, I say to millennial parents: How resilient are we? Every time we think we’ve passed a historical event, another comes right at us. And you know what we do? We fight back by being decent. By calling things out. By saying, "This is not okay, and it never will be." It’s okay if you’re not okay. But what’s also not okay is that we have to wake up every day thinking that our children may not come home because our gun laws are asinine. It’s not okay for ICE agents to come to our neighborhood and terrorize our neighbors. It’s not okay for our children to wake up one day in a fascist state to wonder, “Why did my parents let this happen?” It’s not okay that we have to spend time Googling (yes, we millennials still Google things) “how to move to Canada.” But here we are, trying to stay decent while still finding joy. If anything else, for the millennial parents out there raising young children right now, just know there isn’t a generation I would want to go through this terrifying and magnificent moment with more. Casey LaMarca is a creative director and adjunct faculty at Southern New Hampshire University (SNHU). He has over 15 years of experience in digital video production, communication, and marketing. A graduate of Emerson College, where he earned his bachelor's in visual & media arts, concentrating on writing for film and television, LaMarca also earned his master’s in communication with a concentration in new media and marketing at SNHU. He co-founded a production company and created his first documentary film focusing on America's student loan crisis. Dedicated to his work at SNHU and volunteering with TEDxAmoskeagMillyard, LaMarca is a father of two daughters, Audrey and Ava, who inspired this blog contribution. Please note: We invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. You are not crazy. You have every right to feel like things are not okay. Because they are not. But, and I can’t stress this enough, you still have the right to feel joy while also feeling dread." - Casey LaMarca
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 By Mariam P. When people hear about Afghanistan, they often think of war, loss, and restrictions. But behind all the headlines, there’s another story that is less told but deeply true. It’s the story of Afghan youth who, despite living in crisis and uncertainty, continue to find strength, hope, and purpose. I have seen this resilience in the faces of young people around me — friends, classmates, and even strangers online. Many of them have lost access to schools, jobs, and even basic freedoms, yet they still find ways to learn, to dream, and to stay connected. Hope has quietly become our form of resistance. For many Afghan youth, mental health has become one of the biggest challenges. The constant fear of the unknown, not knowing what tomorrow will bring, often leads to anxiety, sadness, or hopelessness. Yet, we rarely talk about mental health openly. In Afghan culture, these topics are still surrounded by silence. People are taught to “be strong,” to not show emotion, and to move on. But strength doesn’t mean hiding pain. Sometimes, real strength is found in facing it and choosing to grow from it. Learning as Healing Education has always been more than just lessons and grades for us; it has become a lifeline. When girls’ schools were closed and universities restricted, many young people turned to online learning. They joined free virtual programs, watched lessons on YouTube, or created small online study circles. These moments of learning make us feel alive again. Even though our opportunities are limited, we try to create our own. Some teach younger students at home, some start small study groups, and others volunteer online. Through these efforts, we remind ourselves that education cannot be fully banned, not when it lives inside us. Community as a Source of Strength In difficult times, community becomes everything. In Afghanistan, we rely on each other to survive — emotionally and practically. But for girls, this connection has a deeper meaning. We often say that we are all we have because society doesn’t protect or support us the way it should. Patriarchy still controls every part of our lives, from what we wear to whether we can study or work. So we lift each other up. We share resources, lessons, and opportunities. When one of us learns something new, we teach the others. We encourage each other not to give up, even when everything feels unfair. This sisterhood among Afghan girls is one of the strongest communities I have ever seen. It’s where we find hope, love, and the courage to continue. Online spaces have also created a kind of global community for Afghan youth. Through digital programs and leadership fellowships, we meet people from other cultures who remind us that we are not alone. Intercultural dialogue gives us a sense of belonging that many of us have lost in our own country. Learning from people who listen, understand, and support us helps rebuild our confidence and reminds us that our stories matter.  Finding Purpose Amid Pain When your country is in crisis, it’s easy to lose sight of purpose. But Afghan youth continue to prove that purpose can grow from pain. Many young people are using their voices to raise awareness about mental health, equality and education rights. Some start small campaigns on social media, while others join global programs or local volunteer groups. We don’t have perfect systems or many resources but we have determination. Our hope doesn’t come from comfort; it comes from the belief that one day things can be different. Resilience isn’t something we are born with; it’s something we build, piece by piece, through every hardship we face. For Afghan youth, resilience has become a quiet revolution. It shows in how we keep learning, helping and dreaming even when the world feels heavy. The Role of Global Solidarity Support from international communities matters more than many realize. When global organizations open doors for Afghan youth to learn or share their voices, it gives us visibility and hope. It reminds us that our stories are not forgotten. Intercultural dialogue and inclusion are key to healing divided societies. When people from different cultures listen to one another, stereotypes begin to fade and understanding grows. That’s why spaces like Global Citizens Circle are so meaningful. They bring people together not just to talk but to truly see one another as human beings with shared struggles and dreams. A Message of Hope Despite everything, I still believe in the power of youth especially Afghan youth to create change. Even if we can’t always change our environment, we can change how we respond to it. We can continue to learn, support each other and speak up for those who cannot. One day, I hope mental health will no longer be a taboo topic in Afghanistan. I hope that every young person, especially girls, can study freely and chase their dreams. Until then, we will keep doing what we can: learning, teaching, connecting, and hoping. Because sometimes, resilience is not about winning. It’s about refusing to give up. Mariam P. is a young Afghan woman passionate about technology, education, and creating opportunities for women. She continues her studies online while volunteering and participating in global leadership programs. She enjoys reading, exploring art, and engaging in a variety of extracurricular activities, including digital projects. Living through years of conflict and restrictions has shaped her belief that learning, commitment, and community are powerful forms of healing and hope. Please note: We invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. Resilience isn’t something we are born with; it’s something we build, piece by piece, through every hardship we face. For Afghan youth, resilience has become a quiet revolution. It shows in how we keep learning, helping and dreaming even when the world feels heavy." - Mariam P.  By Kibar Moussoba I was sitting in my classroom on 9/11 when someone turned to me and said: “Kibar, was that you? What did you do? Was your dad flying that plane?” I froze. It took me a moment to even process what had just been said. The news had been playing on all TVs showing footage of smoke, destruction, and fear. And now, somehow, I was being linked to it. I didn’t have the words to explain how wrong that moment was. All I knew was that things were changing, and quickly. In the weeks and months after 9/11, I was no longer just a kid in high school. I was an Arab-American that constantly had to look over my shoulder. It didn't matter that I was 15 years old. It didn't matter that I was Christian. It didn't matter that I lived in rural New Hampshire with absolutely no connection to any terrorist organization. The bullying, name calling, and snickering at my expense continued longer than I care to explain. What I learned years later is this: when people don’t understand you, they create their own version of your story. And the best way to change that was to tell your own story before they tell it for you. For a long time, I stayed silent. I kept my head down. I knew that if I ignored the comments, they would simply go away. The following year, my English teacher announced a school-wide essay contest inviting students to share their reflections on 9/11 and what freedom meant to us. At first, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to participate. After all, I was not in a positive state of mind about this topic so I saw no reason to subject myself to this exercise. But, of course, the same day they announced this essay contest, the kid that was making my life miserable for a year decided to take another stab at me. I wrote the whole thing that night. I wrote about my family’s journey to America. About what it meant to leave behind a war-torn country. About how proud we were to become citizens. And about how, after 9/11, that sense of belonging was gone for me and most Arab-Americans in this country. When I was selected to read my essay in front of the entire school, I was terrified. The same students who had been bullying me, who had laughed, who had made me feel like an outsider — they would all be in that room. What felt like the next day, I stepped onto that stage as the last finalist to read their essay. I closed my eyes, and with slight anger in my voice I belted out the first words, "I was born during a war." Over the next 4 minutes I spoke about freedom from my lens, but what it could truly look like. I spoke about the façade of unity in this country. I spoke about pride and perseverance; how escaping war from my birth country only led to war in this country. When I finished, there was silence. I could practically hear the jaws hitting the floor. I was unsure if what I had just done was going to help me or hurt me, but the principal encouraged everyone to applaud and I walked off stage. As we exited the assembly, something unexpected happened. The one kid who led the charge at making my life miserable for the past year stopped me in the hallway. He looked at me, but didn't say anything this time. As he stuck out his hand, his blank face turned to remorse. He didn’t say a word. But he didn’t have to. That moment told me everything. He saw me. That moment taught me a lesson I will never forget: stories have the power to shift perspectives in ways that arguments never will. People fear what they don’t understand. When we don’t know someone’s story, we fill in the blanks with assumptions. The best way to break down bias is to make yourself known. Stories create connection. Facts inform. But stories connect. When someone hears your lived experience, they don’t just process information — they feel it. When you share your truth, you take back control. For a short amount of time, I let others define my identity. But telling my story helped me reclaim it. So, if you feel misunderstood — don’t allow yourself to shrink. Share your story. Let people see you. Because when they do, their perspective might change forever. We all have a story that could change someone’s perspective. My story brought me to the TEDx stage. Ask yourself, what’s one part of your story that others could benefit from hearing? Kibar Moussoba is the senior program manager of People Experience at Southern New Hampshire University, where he leads strategic Inclusive Listening initiatives to enhance employee engagement and equity, diversity, and inclusion. With a deep passion for fostering meaningful workplace experiences, he helps drive key initiatives aligned with the university’s strategic goals. Beyond his role at SNHU, Kibar is an award-winning entertainer and professional DJ, known for creating unforgettable experiences at events across New England and beyond. His love for music began at the age of five with piano lessons, and by 19, he had launched his professional DJ career with Main Event Entertainment. Originally from Beirut, Lebanon, but having spent most of his life in Southern New Hampshire, he developed his DJing skills early and quickly became a sought-after performer. His ability to blend diverse musical influences and craft dynamic atmospheres has made him one of New England’s top DJs. In addition to his professional commitments, Kibar serves on the Board of Directors for the Mental Health Center of Greater Manchester and has been recognized with several accolades, including the prestigious 40 Under Forty award in New Hampshire. He is also a TEDx speaker, sharing insights on resilience, perspective, and personal growth. A husband and father of two, Kibar balances his career with his dedication to family, mentorship, and making a meaningful impact in every space he enters. Please note: Each week, we invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. When we don’t know someone’s story, we fill in the blanks with assumptions. The best way to break down bias is to make yourself known. Stories create connection. Facts inform. But stories connect. When someone hears your lived experience, they don’t just process information — they feel it. When you share your truth, you take back control. Raising Mental Heath Awareness: A Q&A with Emerging Leader and GCC Youth Ambassador Stanley Asango7/6/2024  Stanley Asango at the United Nations, NYC, 2024 As a dedicated mental health advocate and counseling psychology student, Stanley Asango is committed to promoting mental health and wellbeing. Through his active involvement with nonprofit organisations like Miracle Corners of the World Global (MCW Global) and Global Citizens Circle (GCC), he has honed his leadership skills and gained a global perspective. These experiences have fueled his passion for making a positive impact on mental health, both nationally and internationally. Stanley's goal is to leverage his knowledge and skills to drive meaningful change and support communities in achieving better mental health outcomes. Stanley recently connected with GCC to answer some questions about his work as an activist and emerging leader – and why raising mental health awareness is so important, particularly for youth. How did you get involved as an activist, and what cause is most important to you? I became involved as a mental health activist through the support and resources provided by MCW Global, an organization partnered with Global Citizens Circle (GCC). MCW Global gave me the platform to spread mental health awareness among the youth in Nairobi, Kenya. My primary focus is on mental health because I believe that mental well-being is fundamental to making authentic and wise decisions, whether it's in addressing climate change, improving education, or any other area of impact. Good mental health is crucial for the youth, as they are at a critical stage in their lives where their decisions will shape their futures and influence future generations. Tell us about the work you do and hope to do as an emerging leader for GCC. As an emerging leader and youth ambassador for GCC, my goal is to expand the organization's outreach to as many youths as possible worldwide. I aim to strengthen GCC's partnerships with other youth organizations, including MCW Global, by fostering collaboration and resource sharing. By increasing awareness and promoting mental health education, I hope to empower young people to make informed decisions and address unresolved trauma that could otherwise hinder their ability to contribute positively to society. How have your education and life experiences shaped your work as an activist? My journey into mental health and psychology was driven by personal experiences and the lack of mental health conversations in Kenya. Growing up, the stigmatization and scarcity of resources made mental health issues feel nonexistent. During the COVID-19 lockdown, I was forced to self-reflect and realized the significant impact of my previously unrecognised emotions. This led me to major in psychology to better understand the mind and spread awareness. My education and personal experiences have equipped me with the knowledge and empathy needed to advocate effectively for mental health. Who do you follow for inspiration, leadership, or encouragement? I draw inspiration from various sources, including films and philosophies. Movies like "Forrest Gump," "Beautiful Boy," and "Shutter Island '' have had a profound impact on my understanding of mental health. Philosophies such as Stoicism and Taoism, along with teachings from different religions, inspire me. Influential figures like Carl Jung, Osho, and Marcus Aurelius are significant sources of inspiration. Additionally, I admire Theo (Dunfey) and Phoebe (de Larrabeiti) – leaders of GCC – whom I work with, and exemplify what it means to be accommodating and effective leaders. Does activism play a role in your profession, or does it have to be separated to protect you and both sets of goals? For me, activism is an integral part of my profession. I believe that our personal experiences and recoveries equip us to help others in similar situations. My journey through mental breakdowns and recovery has enabled me to assist others with their mental health. I view activism as a natural extension of my authentic self and my profession, which aligns with my core values of spreading love and helping others. Activism and my profession are intertwined, as both aim to create positive change. What's your connection to Global Citizens Circle? My connection to Global Citizens Circle (GCC) stems from my involvement with MCW Global, a partner organization. Through this partnership, I have been able to amplify my efforts in mental health activism and engage with a broader network of like-minded individuals and organizations. GCC has provided a platform for me to extend my reach and impact, particularly among the youth. What advice do you have for young people throughout the world who have a desire to create positive change? My advice to young people is to start with themselves. Change begins with you. Don't focus on the numbers or the money; instead, do what you are passionate about, and the people and resources will follow. Embrace your experiences, both good and bad, as they shape your ability to help others. Authenticity is key, align your actions with your true self and values. Remember that even small efforts can create a ripple effect, leading to significant positive change. Stay resilient, seek knowledge, and continuously strive to make a difference.  My advice to young people is to start with themselves. Change begins with you. – Stanley Asango |
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