In a world quick to divide, Ashitha Nayak believes in the power of stories to bring people together.
As the founder of Lighthouse, a non-profit that amplifies intercultural stories from around the world, she has created a space where vulnerability is seen as a strength and where differences become bridges.
In today’s interview, Ashitha shares how Lighthouse began, what a truly safe space feels like, and how listening deeply to others has changed the way she sees herself and the world.
1. What pulled you toward creating Lighthouse? Was there a moment that made you realize, “This is the work I need to do”?
Growing up as an only child with working parents, I learned early how to seek connection wherever I could. If I wanted to play, I had to reach out to kids in the neighborhood. If I wanted to learn, I had to find peers at school or in extracurricular activities. I began to notice that people often gravitate toward those who are similar and feel uncertain around those who are different. I remember thinking as a child, “If someone is very different from me, then there is something to explore here.” That mindset shaped my friendships and the projects I chose to pursue.
When I was eighteen, I started a project called Unchaining Gender. It connected LGBTQ+ youth across several countries, providing a space for sharing experiences and reflecting on identity. I remember reading a message from a participant in Chile who described the fear of coming out in a small town. A participant in India wrote about feeling isolated while exploring their identity in a conservative school. The emotions were strikingly similar.
Anxiety, hope, courage, and moments of doubt transcended borders. Seeing that universality planted the seed for Lighthouse.
In 2019 and 2020, my travels across Chile, the United States, Germany, Ghana, and India reinforced this observation. In Berlin, I watched children laugh and worry about grades, while in Mumbai, teenagers organized community projects with the same mix of excitement and uncertainty. And in Accra, young people debated ideas about social change while carrying the weight of family expectations.
Each encounter revealed that our circumstances differed, but our emotional experiences were deeply aligned. During a conversation with a Chilean journalist in Temuco, we reflected on how the pandemic had forced societies to reconsider belonging and connection.
I realized that news and social media provide facts, but rarely convey the lived experience of everyday people.
Through my research, I encountered the concept of symbolic mobility from the Intercultural Education Society of Japan. It describes the ability to move across cultural symbols, languages, and identities with thought and empathy. Lighthouse became a platform for symbolic mobility, where people could experience perspectives beyond their immediate environment and build a deeper understanding of belonging and human experience. The vision is to create spaces where storytelling is both the medium and the pedagogy, amplifying voices that are often unheard and fostering empathy across cultures.
2. In your experience, what does a truly safe space look and feel like?
A safe space is quiet, attentive, and relational. People feel free to speak without performing or censoring themselves. I have seen this in many different settings. In a school in Nairobi, I noticed that students initially spoke softly, hesitating to share their experiences. By the end of the session, the same students were describing personal struggles and moments of pride with clarity and emotion. The change happened because the room was structured to hold their attention, curiosity, and emotional rhythms.
Our work is based on a fundamental framework called Narrative Agency, which emphasizes that people are not merely subjects of observation but active participants in shaping the meaning of their experiences. This framework ensures that every story originates from a place of choice, autonomy, and personal reflection.
Safety is created by how facilitators listen and respond.
In the workshops we led in Germany, I observed participants who had been taught to suppress emotion. I encouraged small gestures, such as pauses and reflective questioning, which allowed participants to speak from the heart.
In Mexico, we noticed that participants needed moments of quiet reflection before speaking. The space was safe because they were never rushed, their experiences were acknowledged without judgment, and their personal experiences were treated as valuable forms of knowledge.
Creating safety also requires cultural awareness.
Emotional expression is different across cultures and can be subtle. In India, a participant’s silence conveyed discomfort and reflection, while in Ghana, a participant’s laughter revealed nervousness. By observing and adjusting, our facilitators allow stories to unfold naturally. A safe space is an ecosystem. It allows vulnerability to exist, questions to emerge, and complexity to be held in shared attention.
3. Unmentioned brings together over 100 stories from people all over the world. Could you share one from the campaign that still lingers with you?
Every story from Unmentioned carries its own weight and beauty, spanning the experiences of young school-going children to retired professionals in their sixties and seventies. The diversity of perspectives is part of what makes the campaign so compelling.
One of the most special initiatives within Unmentioned is Strong Enough to Cry, a series where we speak with men from around the world about the last time they cried, how that experience made them feel, and what it taught them about strength and emotional expression.
One story that has stayed with me comes from the streets of Mumbai. We interviewed an aging father and asked him when he last cried.
He paused for a moment, then spoke about thinking of his daughter and his wife, who had supported him in every way throughout his life. His voice shook slightly as he spoke, and tears welled up in his eyes. At the end of the interview, he told us that it was the first time anyone had ever asked him about a moment that made him strong enough to cry.
The vulnerability of that moment, the permission to express what had long been suppressed, left a deep impression. It was a reminder of how culturally entrenched ideas of masculinity often equate emotional expression with weakness, and how transformative it can be to create a space where that narrative can shift.
The campaign goes beyond individual stories. We work in schools, creating safe spaces where children can explore emotions freely and discuss how vulnerability relates to courage. In parallel, we conduct expert interviews with scholars from institutions like the University of Cambridge and the University of British Columbia to understand how storytelling can be a vehicle for social-emotional learning.
We integrate these insights to ensure that Unmentioned is both academically informed and human-centered.
It is also intentionally global.
A father crying in Mumbai, a teenager reflecting on fear in Germany, or a retiree from Canada sharing a moment of grief all demonstrate that human emotions cross borders. By witnessing these narratives, audiences see that vulnerability, courage, grief, and joy are shared human experiences. This recognition builds empathy, reduces stigma around emotional expression, and highlights the potential for storytelling to act as a form of global mental health literacy.
The beauty of Unmentioned lies in its layered approach: it combines intimate personal stories, academic research, and global diversity to show that emotional expression is both deeply human and universally shared. It invites reflection, encourages connection, and demonstrates that strength and vulnerability can coexist.
4. After hearing countless narratives of resilience and vulnerability, how has it changed the way you see yourself and others?
Hearing hundreds of narratives has shifted my understanding of strength and human connection. I have learned that resilience is relational. It emerges through witnessing, shared recognition, and presence. I have listened to people describe fear, loss, and uncertainty, and found the same feelings reflected in my own life. Listening closely has changed the way I interpret silence, pauses, and hesitation. Today, I am aware that people often communicate as much in what they leave unsaid as in what they share. This work has also reshaped my view of empathy. I now see it as a practice requiring attention, patience, and humility.
Our stories have made me more observant, more patient, and more willing to engage with complexity as a leader. I understand now that emotional experience is universal and human connection is essential.
We all carry pieces of each other, and the act of sharing makes the world more human, more compassionate, and more connected.
Ashitha Nayak is a non-profit leader and intercultural storyteller with extensive experience in strategic communications, Global Citizenship Education and Practice, and technology. She is the founder of Lighthouse, a new-age intercultural storytelling platform, and serves as Director of Strategic Communications in the executive office of the Melton Foundation, a non-profit organization.
