The Autobiography of the "Alien Boy" "Ahmed Dadzie"
I have learned that telling my own story is important because if I do not write my story, others—sometimes without a clue about what I have lived through—will write it for me. They may define my journey through assumptions, fragments, or their own interpretations without understanding the struggles, sacrifices, failures, lessons, and perseverance that shaped the person I became. My story is not perfect, but it is mine. By telling it in my own voice, I can honor where I came from, acknowledge what I have overcome, celebrate how far I have traveled, and hopefully remind someone else facing adversity that their present circumstances do not have to determine the ending of their story.
Beyond the Title: My Journey Through Fatherhood, Service, and Purpose
When people see me in a professional setting, they may see Dr. Ahmed Dadzie—the administrator, the public servant, or the community leader. But those titles tell only a small part of my story. At the center of who I am is something much more personal: I am a father, and my family is one of the greatest sources of purpose in my life.
This photograph captures the side of me that the public does not always get to see. It captures laughter, love, responsibility, and the beautiful unpredictability of being a parent. These moments remind me why the work I do matters.
My journey has taught me that public service should always be about people. Throughout my career in health and human services, I have encountered individuals and families facing difficult circumstances—people struggling to access healthcare, individuals seeking recovery, parents trying to provide stability for their children, and communities working to overcome generations of challenges. Those experiences have reinforced my belief that behind every statistic, every budget line, and every government program is a human being with a story.
As a father, I look at my children and think about the future I want for them. I want them to grow up healthy and safe. I want them to have opportunities. I want them to be treated with dignity and judged by their character and what they contribute to the world. Most importantly, I want them to grow up believing that they belong and that their dreams are worth pursuing.
And then I remind myself that every parent wants something similar for their children.
That realization has profoundly influenced the way I think about leadership.
When I work to improve access to healthcare, behavioral health services, substance-use treatment, prevention programs, or other community resources, I try to remember that we are not simply administering programs. We are serving someone's mother, father, son, daughter, neighbor, or friend.
My life has also taught me about perseverance. The road has not always been easy, and like many people, I have experienced moments of challenge, misunderstanding, and adversity. But those experiences have strengthened my determination to keep moving forward without losing sight of who I am or the values I want my children to see in me.
I want my children to learn that strength does not mean that life will always be easy. Strength means continuing to stand for what you believe is right, treating people with dignity, learning from difficult experiences, and refusing to allow adversity to define your future.
The laughter in this photograph represents something important to me. It represents hope.
It represents the reason I believe communities are worth investing in. It represents the future we are responsible for building together.
I may spend my professional life thinking about policies, programs, budgets, partnerships, and outcomes, but when I come home, the measure of success becomes much simpler. It is found in moments like this—sitting with my children, hearing them laugh, watching them grow, and realizing how quickly these years will pass.
I am Ahmed Dadzie. I am a father. I am a public servant. I am someone who believes deeply in the potential of people and communities.
My hope is that when my children someday look back at my journey, they will not simply remember the positions I held or the titles that came before my name. I hope they remember that their father cared about people, stood by his principles, worked hard to make a difference, and tried to leave his community a little better than he found it.
Because ultimately, that is the legacy that matters most to me.
Finding Perspective on the Trail: My Love for Hiking
When I step away from the responsibilities of work and public service, one of the places where I feel most grounded is on a hiking trail. Whether I am exploring the beautiful mountains and landscapes of New Mexico or discovering a new trail during my travels, hiking gives me an opportunity to slow down, reflect, recharge, and appreciate the world around me.
For me, hiking is about much more than exercise or reaching a destination. It is about the journey. Every trail has its challenges—steep climbs, unexpected turns, difficult terrain, and moments when the destination seems farther away than anticipated. Yet, if I remain patient and keep moving forward, one step at a time, the perspective from the top often makes the struggle worthwhile.
In many ways, I see a connection between hiking and my approach to life and leadership. I have learned that meaningful progress rarely happens overnight. Whether working toward a personal goal, addressing a complex community challenge, or leading an organization through change, progress requires patience, resilience, adaptability, and the willingness to keep moving forward even when the path is difficult.
The quiet of the trail also provides something increasingly valuable in a busy world: space to think. Away from meetings, emails, deadlines, and the constant demands of professional life, I can listen to the wind, take in the landscape, and simply be present. Some of my clearest moments of reflection come when I am surrounded by nature with nothing ahead of me but the trail.
Hiking has also strengthened my appreciation for wellness and balance. I believe that serving others effectively requires recognizing the importance of caring for ourselves as well. Taking time to recharge allows me to return to my responsibilities with renewed energy, clarity, and perspective.
Perhaps the greatest lesson the trail continues to teach me is a simple one: you do not have to see the entire path to keep moving forward. Sometimes, you simply have to take the next step.
That philosophy has stayed with me far beyond the mountains. In hiking, in leadership, and in life, I have learned to appreciate how far I have traveled while remaining excited about the journey still ahead.
The Woman Who Taught Me to Help Without Conditions: My Story of Juanita
Throughout my life, I have met people who influenced my career, challenged my thinking, and helped shape the person I would eventually become. But only a few have left me with lessons that fundamentally changed the way I see other human beings.
Juanita is one of those people.
When I think about Juanita and the influence she has had on my life, I do not immediately think about professional accomplishments, positions, or titles. I think about something much simpler and, in many ways, much more powerful: her willingness to help people without first asking what she would receive in return.
She taught me that you do not have to know someone to care about what happens to them.
She Taught Me That Strangers Still Matter
There is a tendency in life to divide people into categories: family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, and strangers. We naturally feel an obligation toward the people closest to us. But Juanita helped me understand that compassion should not always stop at the boundaries of familiarity.
Sometimes the person who needs you most is someone you have never met before.
They may never be able to repay you.
They may never remember your name.
You may never see them again.
Help them anyway.
That lesson became one of the principles I carried into adulthood and eventually into my work in health and human services.
Juanita showed me through her example that helping another person does not have to be transactional. You do not need recognition. You do not need applause. You do not need to ask whether someone belongs to your community, comes from the same background, shares your beliefs, or can someday return the favor.
Sometimes another person's need is reason enough to act.
A Lesson That Followed Me Into Public Service
Years later, I would find myself working with communities and people facing circumstances very different from my own.
I have encountered individuals struggling with poverty, substance use, behavioral-health challenges, healthcare access, and other difficult circumstances. Some were people I knew. Many were complete strangers.
In those moments, I have often returned to the values Juanita taught me.
Public service can easily become consumed by policies, eligibility requirements, budgets, contracts, statistics, and organizational processes. Those things are necessary. But I have tried never to forget the human being standing behind all of them.
Someone asking for help is someone's child.
Someone experiencing homelessness is someone's family member.
Someone struggling with substance use is still a person deserving dignity.
Someone whose life has taken a difficult turn may simply need another human being to believe that their story is not finished.
And sometimes the person extending that hand will be a stranger.
The Kindness We May Never See Again
One of the most important things I learned from Juanita is that we may never know what happens after an act of kindness.
You might help someone today and never see that person again. You may never know whether your encouragement gave them enough confidence to continue, whether a meal helped them through a difficult night, whether an introduction opened a door, or whether simply treating them with dignity restored a little of their faith in humanity.
That uncertainty should not prevent us from helping.
In fact, I have come to believe that some of the purest acts of service are the ones for which we expect absolutely nothing in return.
This philosophy has shaped the kind of leader I try to be. I want my work to be measured not only by programs administered or outcomes reported, but also by whether people felt seen, respected, and supported.
Her Influence Became Part of My Journey
My journey has taken me a long way—from my childhood in Ghana to building a life and career in the United States and eventually serving in health and human services leadership. Along that journey, many people helped me.
That reality keeps me humble.
None of us arrives anywhere entirely by ourselves.
At different points in our lives, someone gives us advice. Someone opens a door. Someone takes a chance on us. Someone encourages us when we doubt ourselves. And sometimes, remarkably, that person has no obligation whatsoever to help.
Juanita helped me understand the responsibility that comes with receiving that kind of grace.
When someone helps you climb, you do not simply celebrate reaching higher. You turn around and extend your hand to the person coming behind you.
That is how kindness multiplies.
The Legacy I Want to Carry Forward
When I think about the kind of person I want to be remembered as, I hope part of my legacy reflects what Juanita taught me.
I want to be someone willing to help when I can.
I want my children to understand that kindness should not be reserved exclusively for people they know.
I want them to recognize humanity before status, background, nationality, wealth, education, or circumstance.
Most importantly, I want them to understand that we do not lose anything by treating another human being with dignity.
Juanita Hannan taught me that sometimes you help simply because another person needs help.
No conditions.
No expectation of repayment.
No calculation about what is in it for you.
Just one human being recognizing the humanity of another.
My career may have given me opportunities to serve people professionally, but people like Juanita helped teach me why I should serve in the first place.
And wherever my journey takes me next, that is a lesson I intend to carry with me:
Help when you can. Give without always expecting something back. Be kind even when nobody is watching. And never underestimate what one act of compassion from a stranger can mean in another person's life.
Because somewhere along each of our journeys, we have all needed someone to extend a hand.
Empowering Women Leaders: A Warm Welcome to Valerie Jarrett in New Mexico
In late 2018, Dr. Ahmed Dadzie welcomed Valerie Jarrett—former Senior Advisor to President Barack Obama and Co-Chair of The United State of Women—to New Mexico for the Women's Leadership Salon. On October 1, 2018, Jarrett co-hosted the kickoff Women's Leadership Salon in Las Cruces, an event dedicated to empowering women leaders and advancing gender equity. Dr. Dadzie has long been a champion of gender equity, supporting initiatives that expand leadership opportunities, promote inclusion, and foster equitable outcomes for women and underserved communities.
Rooted in Community: My Visit to Alejandro’s Farm in Española
Some of the most meaningful moments in my journey have not taken place in conference rooms, government offices, or formal meetings. They have happened in the community—talking with people, listening to their stories, and experiencing firsthand the traditions that make Northern New Mexico so special.
My visit to Alejandro’s farm in Española was one of those moments.
Standing among rows of towering sunflowers, I was reminded that farming is about much more than growing crops. The land carries history. It represents generations of knowledge, hard work, patience, and a deep relationship between people and the place they call home.
During my visit, Alejandro welcomed me into his farm and shared a glimpse of that connection. Walking through the field together gave me an opportunity to appreciate not only what he had grown, but also the dedication required to nurture something from the soil and watch it flourish.
As someone whose work centers on health and human services, experiences like this have expanded the way I think about community health. Health does not begin when someone walks into a clinic. It begins in our homes and neighborhoods. It is influenced by the food we eat, the environment around us, our relationships with one another, and whether people feel connected to their community.
There was also something powerful about standing in that field of sunflowers. A seed begins as something incredibly small, yet with the right soil, attention, water, sunlight, and time, it can grow taller than the person who planted it. I have come to believe that communities are much the same. When we invest in people and give them the resources and opportunities they need, remarkable growth can happen.
My time in Española has taught me the importance of getting outside the office and meeting people where they are. You cannot fully understand a community only through reports, statistics, or spreadsheets. You have to experience it. You have to listen to the people who have worked its land, raised families there, built businesses there, preserved its traditions, and contributed to its identity.
My visit with Alejandro reminded me why community relationships matter so much to me. Leadership, in my view, should never create distance between a person and the people they serve. It should create opportunities to listen, learn, build trust, and recognize the knowledge that already exists within a community.
When I look back at this photograph, I see more than a beautiful afternoon among sunflowers. I see friendship, agriculture, tradition, community, and the generosity of someone willing to share a piece of his world with me.
And I am reminded of something I continue to carry with me:
To truly serve a community, you must first take the time to know its people, appreciate its roots, and understand what they are working so hard to grow.
From a Ghanaian Boy Who Refused to Give Up: My Journey from Adversity to Public Service
When I look at this photograph of myself as a young boy in Ghana, I see more than a childhood portrait. I see a child who had no idea how difficult the road ahead would become. I also see a boy who could never have imagined that one day he would build a life thousands of miles away and eventually have the privilege of serving as a Health and Human Services Director in the United States.
My story did not begin with privilege, influence, or an easy path to success.
It began in Ghana, where I experienced the realities of poverty and learned early that life could be unforgiving. There were times when having enough could not be taken for granted. Growing up around hardship exposed me to circumstances that children should not have to navigate. I encountered bullying, substance use, robbery, violence, and situations in which life itself could feel frighteningly fragile. There were moments when I escaped circumstances that could have ended very differently.
Those experiences left an impression on me.
But they did not get the final word.
I Learned to Survive Before I Learned to Lead
As a child, I did not have words like resilience, social determinants of health, or trauma-informed care to describe what I saw and experienced. I simply understood that some people had opportunities and others struggled for them. I saw how poverty could limit choices, how substance use could affect individuals and families, and how circumstances beyond a person's control could influence the direction of a life.
I also learned something about myself: I could keep going.
Being bullied taught me that other people's judgments did not have to determine who I became. Experiencing poverty taught me to appreciate opportunities rather than assume they would always be available. Encounters with danger taught me how precious life is. And witnessing the consequences of substance use helped me understand that behind addiction and behavioral-health challenges are human beings whose stories are often much more complicated than what we see on the surface.
The hardships that could have made me bitter instead became part of the foundation for my compassion.
Education Became My Way Forward
Somewhere along that journey, I began to understand that although I could not control where my story started, I could influence where it went.
Education became one of my pathways forward.
I pursued learning not simply for degrees or titles, but because knowledge represented possibility. Every classroom, examination, professional opportunity, and new responsibility moved me farther from the limitations I once believed might define my future.
The journey was not a straight line. There were disappointments, setbacks, sacrifices, and moments when quitting would have been easier than continuing. I had to learn new environments, adapt to unfamiliar systems, and repeatedly prove to myself that I belonged in spaces that once seemed impossibly distant from the world of my childhood.
Eventually, that Ghanaian boy crossed oceans.
And America became another chapter of my story.
From Surviving Hardship to Serving Others
Years later, I found myself working in health and human services in the United States.
The irony is not lost on me.
The child who witnessed poverty would eventually help administer programs intended to assist vulnerable populations.
The young person who saw the consequences of substance use would eventually become involved in efforts addressing substance use, overdose prevention, behavioral health, and recovery.
The boy who understood what it felt like to be vulnerable would eventually be entrusted with leadership responsibilities affecting the well-being of other people.
And eventually, I became a Health and Human Services Director.
That title means something very different to me because of where I started.
When I sit in meetings discussing healthcare access, behavioral health, substance-use treatment, prevention, homelessness, poverty, or community resources, these subjects are not merely administrative concepts to me. Behind the numbers, I see people.
I understand that the person struggling today may have abilities that their present circumstances have hidden from the world.
I know because, in many ways, I was once that person.
I Am Still That Ghanaian Kid
Success has not erased where I came from.
When I look at this childhood photograph, I still recognize that boy. His experiences travel with me into every room I enter.
They remind me to remain humble.
They remind me not to judge someone's entire life by the chapter in which I happen to meet them.
They remind me why second chances matter.
And they remind me that leadership is not ultimately about titles, offices, or recognition. Leadership is about what we do with the opportunities we have been given and how many other people we help along the way.
My journey from Ghana to public service in America is not a story about overcoming every hardship and arriving at some perfect destination. I am still learning. I am still growing. I still face challenges.
But I am no longer the frightened child wondering what life might become.
I am a father, a professional, a public servant, and a man who understands that adversity can shape us without having to define us.
If my story carries any message, I hope it is this:
Never decide what a child can become based solely on the circumstances in which you find them.
The child experiencing poverty today may become tomorrow's leader.
The child being bullied may someday become a voice for others.
The young person surrounded by substance use or violence may someday dedicate a career to helping communities heal.
And the little Ghanaian boy staring seriously into a camera, unaware of what awaited him, could one day travel across an ocean, earn an education, build a family, serve a community, and become a Health and Human Services Director in the United States.
I know—because that little boy was me.
Faith in Times of Adversity + The Christ Element
Speaker Mike Johnson has often described his Christian faith as a source of personal strength, discipline, and inner peace during difficult moments. His reflections on prayer and perseverance resonate with me because they illustrate how faith can provide stability when circumstances feel uncertain or overwhelming.
Johnson has explained that prayer helps him remain calm during major challenges and reminds him to look beyond political influence, professional status, or personal ambition for direction. Rather than viewing leadership simply as a position of authority, he describes it as a responsibility grounded in spiritual conviction. That perspective reinforces the idea that true leadership requires humility, patience, and the ability to remain centered even when facing criticism, pressure, or uncertainty.
One of the most powerful parts of his personal story occurred when he was twelve years old and his father suffered a devastating fire-related accident. Doctors reportedly gave his father only a very small chance of survival. As a young boy, Johnson prayed intensely for his father's recovery, and his father survived. That experience became an important lesson for him about the role prayer can play during moments when circumstances appear impossible.
His broader message is that faith can serve as an anchor. Prayer does not necessarily remove every challenge, but it can strengthen a person's ability to endure adversity, make thoughtful decisions, and maintain hope when the outcome is uncertain.
These teachings have also influenced me, Ahmed Dadzie, in how I understand my own journey. Throughout my life and career, I have encountered periods of uncertainty, opposition, professional pressure, and situations in which the outcome was beyond my immediate control. Johnson's reflections remind me that strength is not always demonstrated by reacting forcefully to every challenge. Sometimes strength is found in remaining composed, praying for wisdom, and continuing to act according to one's principles.
As a leader, I have learned that positions, titles, and professional accomplishments are temporary, but character and conviction remain. During some of the most difficult moments of my life, faith has helped me resist becoming consumed by fear, anger, or frustration. Prayer has given me an opportunity to reflect before responding, to seek clarity when circumstances become complicated, and to remind myself that difficult periods do not define the entirety of my story.
The lesson I take from Johnson's experience is therefore deeply personal: when circumstances appear overwhelming, I do not have to depend entirely on my own strength. I can remain grounded in faith, continue doing what I believe is right, and trust that perseverance has meaning even when I cannot immediately see the outcome. This teaching has strengthened my resilience and shaped the way I approach leadership, adversity, and my personal journey. It has taught me that faith is not simply something I profess during comfortable times; it becomes most meaningful when I rely on it during the moments that test me most.
— Let's Connect - info@ahmeddadzie.com