My father was stationed in a city that bordered Afghanistan during America’s war on terror. The war didn’t stay confined to the borders, it spilled into our streets, our schools, our homes. The city I lived in was torn apart by violence. Every norm, every truth, every sense of safety was shattered. I grew up where one wrong word could mean death. One glance, one misstep, could cost you your family.

While children around the globe were learning to dream, I was learning to survive.

I had to master the art of silence, of precision, of reading faces, tones, movements. I learned how to tell stories, not to move hearts, but to protect them. I chose every word like my life depended on it. Because it did. I had to say what wouldn’t be misunderstood. What wouldn’t raise suspicion. I wasn’t just surviving - I was learning the most powerful skill in the world: how to shape perception.

I saw horrors no child should ever witness. I watched people gunned down in broad daylight. I saw bodies burn. I saw children my age turned to ashes. But what shattered me more than death was the betrayal of the living. People I knew, neighbors, teachers, friends started sympathizing with the terrorists. They helped them. Defended them. Worshipped them.

And I asked myself: How?
How can a human heart twist so far? So I searched. I read everything I could, Religion, Politics, War, Propaganda, Psychology, History. I read everything and read between the lines and I began to see the hidden force behind it all, Narratives.

Narratives built worlds, and destroyed them. They created heroes and monsters. They made people pick sides, take lives, or give them. And here’s what shook me the most: the narratives that shaped the deadliest realities… weren’t even born there. They were crafted far away, by powerful hands, clever words, and centuries-old stories.

I realized, narratives are the most dangerous and powerful weapon ever and if I didn’t learn to build them, I’d forever be at their mercy.

So I chose marketing, not because it was trendy, not because it paid well but because it was the only discipline that taught me how to build narratives with precision and intent. I studied marketing like my life still depended on it because in a way, it did. I earned a 4-year degree in marketing, and then threw myself into the field.

Very quickly, I proved what I was capable of.

I managed campaigns worth half a million dollars and delivered a 200% return on investment, not because I followed formulas but because I felt the consumer. I could see what others couldn’t. Patterns in behavior, Hidden fears, Quiet hopes. I crafted campaigns the way a survivor crafts an escape plan, meticulous, calculated, and unshakably human.

And when I realized marketing was half strategy and half good management, I took it further. I pursued a graduate degree in management from an AACSB-accredited business school, an elite certification held by fewer than 6% of schools worldwide. I didn’t want to just tell stories. I wanted to lead them.

Today, I’m a marketer with the rarest combination of assets:

• A survivor’s intuition.

• A scholar’s discipline.

• A strategist’s mind.

• And a storyteller’s soul.

I don’t just know how to build brands. I know how to build belief.
I don’t just track performance. I shift perception.

Because for me, marketing wasn’t a career choice.
It was the difference between life and death.

And when your survival depends on something,
you don’t just get good at it.
You master it.