Back to Humble Beginnings: Why This Work Is Personal
I usually keep my professional life separate from my personal story, especially in the company blog section. But the truth is, you can’t really separate the two—not for me, anyway. So much of who I am today, both as a person and as a co-founder of aes, comes directly from where I started.
This summer, I went back to Berat, Albania—the city where I was born and raised. I visited the small apartment where my parents raised three kids. It was a tiny, one-bedroom home, built during the communist era. Like most families back then, we didn’t have much. No running water most days. No steady electricity. No cable TV or luxuries. Just family, resilience, and a quiet sense of determination.
Standing there again, in that old apartment, I was flooded with memories. I remembered my mom heating water on the stove because the taps had run dry. I remembered doing homework by candlelight during blackouts. And I remembered how my parents always managed to make it work—even when it felt like the odds were against us.
My mom and I standing in front of our old apartment.
Eventually, they left everything behind and moved to the United States with just $100 to their name. Somehow, they put all three of us through college. No shortcuts. No safety nets. Just grit and belief in something better.
That experience stays with me. It shapes the way I think about opportunity, equity, and the work we do at aes. Because when we talk about supporting underserved communities or amplifying voices that often go unheard, I don’t see those as abstract ideas. I see real people. I see my family. I see myself.
When we collaborate with nonprofits and health centers, when we collect and analyze data that helps improve lives, I think about the people behind the numbers. I think about families like mine—working hard, facing barriers, and still finding a way forward.
This visit home was a reminder of why this work matters. It’s not just about strategy or research. It’s about staying connected to the communities we serve and remembering that change starts by honoring real stories.
This time, I was also able to bring my husband and children with me to show them exactly where I grew up. For my kids, who are growing up with more access and comfort than I had, I hope this experience stays with them. I want them to understand that while it’s a gift to have stability, it’s just as important to work hard and lift others up along the way.
Thanks for reading.
-Elona