The Bridge: Finding My Voice Through Theirs 

Office Intern (2023) | Tutor( 2023,2024) | Lead Volunteer (2024) | Warehouse Intern (2022, 2025) | Delegate Refugee Congress (2025)| TedX Speaker (2025)

I didn’t start this journey knowing exactly where I was headed. I just knew I wanted to be useful.

When I started packing care supplies at the YMCA for newly arrived refugee families, I was a nervous teenager. I had no idea how to talk to anyone. I wasn’t sure if I was helping or just in the way. Slowly, I found more confidence in the work I had done. I saw more and more the effects of what the efforts I put in amounted to. I saw families carrying away the care packages I made, and it inspired me to be bolder in the ways I can help, and not just stay in the backgrounds of the Warehouse. Soon, I was out of my comfort zone, talking to people I never imagined I’d meet. I was learning more than just the names of the people I met. I was beginning to understand their fears, their jokes, and their favorite foods. As I got more involved, I wasn’t just giving, I was growing. I was making friends from all over the world, learning new cultures, picking up new languages, and most importantly, discovering who I was.

The refugee families became easier and easier to talk to as I grew along with the job. The most important thing is to not speak as much, but to hear and to listen. The more I listened, the more I learned. The most difficult challenge many of them faced wasn’t just finding food or shelter, it was learning English and acclimating to a new environment. So, I began trying to  learn their languages, at least conversationally, so I could speak to them. I wanted to help as more than just a guy working in the back of the warehouse. As someone fluent in Spanish, Pashto, Hindi, and American Sign Language, I use language as a tool to build communication.

Some of the most moving experiences I had came during the citizenship classes I conducted at the YMCA. Week after week, I sat with individuals and families who had endured so much war, displacement, and the heartbreak of leaving home. Yet they showed up with a hunger to belong. What struck me most wasn’t their determination to pass a test, it was their genuine desire to understand American culture, language, and history. They asked thoughtful questions, took notes diligently, and treated every lesson with the weight and hope of a new beginning. One day, someone raised their hand and asked, “Can you tell me more about the 4th of July? Why do people celebrate it?” It set into my mind that something I had grew up learning about could have been a subject of knowledge for someone else. I realized that I had been living in a bubble, surrounded by familiar customs and perspectives, never needing to examine them too closely.

It changed something in me. I realized that if I don’t seek out different perspectives, my worldview will always remain narrow. Since then, I’ve been inspired to travel, to learn new languages, to taste new foods, and most importantly, to talk to people, across barriers and borders. Every interaction has helped me grow, intellectually, emotionally, and personally. What started as teaching refugees about America, has taught me more about the world than any textbook ever could. Since then, I’ve helped settle more than 50 refugee families, organized civic literacy programs for adults preparing for their U.S. citizenship test, mentored children some learning English, others communicating in sign language.

The experiences I had alongside the refugees at the YMCA inspired me to blend two of my passions together: I wanted to write a book about this topic that I had grown so close to. It became my way to break the silence. To show people what I had seen up close from the refugees: their resilience and warmth; their relentless will to rebuild. These weren’t faceless headlines. They were my neighbors. My friends. My family. I want other young people to know what I discovered: when you speak even a few words in someone’s language, you speak directly to their soul. I’ve even had the honor of sharing my story from a global stage speaking at a TEDx Talk, where I reflected on the beauty of cultural exchange and the courage of displaced communities. It was surreal. The same kid who once struggled to stutter out a few words now stood confidently behind a mic, sharing the voices of those who had shaped his.

However, with recent changes in YMCA’s administration, the Education Department has been dissolved, bringing me back to where it all began: the warehouse. The difference between the Paarth who started there and the Paarth who returned is profound. I come back not as someone who sees this as a step down, but as someone humbled by the full circle. I now find deeper meaning in the basics, seeing the warehouse not just as a place of logistics, but as a quiet space where service begins. It’s a reminder that leadership isn’t always about titles; sometimes, it’s about showing up where you’re needed most and being open to learning from every perspective. It’s about being willing to be a vessel for the voices of others.

Today, when I think of family, I don’t just think of mothers and fathers. I think of the friends I made at the YMCA, where we could talk and learn about each other’s cultures. I think of the people who you surround yourself with, the people who make me better. I think about the people I met and worked with at the YMCA. So, I will keep telling their stories. Not just to feel at home. Not just to feel connected. But to keep that resilience and warmth alive.

In August 2025, I was honored to be offered the position of “Interim Texas Delegate” for the Refugee Congress. This opportunity reflects my ongoing commitment to refugee advocacy, and I look forward to continuing my efforts to make a greater impact and contribute meaningfully to this important work.