A few months ago, Dr. Jade Singleton and I were posting like crazy about our forthcoming documentary Ninety-Two: The Silent Revolt No One Saw Coming. Dozens showed up to support, namely Black women who immediately understood what this film was created to chronicle—the soul-deep ache many of us felt in the aftermath of the 2024 election, and the strategic detachment that followed. We liked and commented. We reposted. We donated.
And, to our delight, others emerged as well. These were people who don’t look like us and who don’t share our lived experiences—who may or may not inherently understand that soul-deep ache or strategic detachment, but who admire our determination to do good in not-so-good circumstances.
Some of these people are our friends. Some we’d never met, but they took notice and entered stage left with a kind word, a prayer emoji, or a monetary gift. With each gesture of care, they let us know that they see us, and that they’re fighting the good fight from where they are. They could have easily scrolled past the multiple calls for support with no more than a fleeting hint of compassion. Instead, they paused long enough to grasp the need and decided to do something.
These kinds of people are not only appreciated; they’re necessary. They are allies and co-conspirators, and we remain grateful that they answered the still, small voice that led them to act upon their inspiration. Thankfully, helpers are everywhere. They keep our spirits light and our hope alive. And sometimes, by going beyond, they make a way.
Jade and I weren’t familiar with Jeffrey Vahanian of Vahanian and Associateswhen he reached out and offered to make a substantial investment in the film. This was generous, but he didn’t stop there. He then connected us to prominent people in the film industry who had informed guidance to share, and has remained in touch as we move toward the finish line on what I believe will be one of the most consequential projects of my lifetime.
To be honest, I was curious as to why this literal stranger—a white man in his mid-sixties from New York City—would be chasing us down to help us.
And then I learned more about Jeffrey. Namely, that he was raised by two psychotherapists, including a mother whose Hungarian-Jewish family fled Vienna in the 1930’s when she was just a child. She sailed to America with her mother in 1940, reaching California, where she eventually earned her Master’s Degree in psychology from UCLA, followed by her Doctorate in Education from Columbia University. Dr. Tilla Vahanian was a pioneer in the mental health space who practiced marriage and family therapy, and in the 1970’s, she became host of one of the country’s first television talk shows, Alternatives, which provided children and young adults a platform for discussing the challenges they faced growing up.
When Jeffrey speaks of his mother, who passed away twenty-six years ago at the age of seventy-four, he comes alive. “She cared about all people,” he told me. “She believed we are all worthy and important. She taught us to see beyond the surface and expected us to stick up for folks who needed someone in their corner. Every time I am intentional about helping another person achieve a meaningful outcome, I honor my mother,” he shared. “It’s a gift to me too.”
We all have our why.
Getting to know Jeffrey has served as a critical reminder of what I teach my clients—that our individual lenses are a combination of our exposures and experiences. Jeffrey was exposed to curiosity, kindness, and service to others his entire life. He watched his beloved mother devote her energy to healing people, and he experienced that same healing in her raising of him.
It’s not just talk. This past week, Jeffrey sent me a private message saying he wanted to purchase 100 copies of You Are Before the World for me to donate to Black women who need help redefining their relationships with giving and serving. I channeled his purchase through a small, Black woman-owned bookstore in Chicago to keep the flow flowing. Helping should be circle, not a straight line that begins and ends with those left carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.
At the end of the day, we care well when we are well cared for. I recognize that not everyone was raised by someone like Dr. Tilla. But the saving grace here is that, even when we don’t receive such care growing up, we can give it to each other. We can pause long enough to grasp a need and feel moved by it. We can choose to act upon our inspiration. We can go beyond in ways that don’t deplete us.
And when we do, we can change things. If not for everyone, for someone. Rest assured, it counts. And so do you. I’m believing in a new year that heals us all.
With love and enduring gratitude to every Waymaker in the world…
Tara Jaye
Photo: Dr. Tilla Vahanian with son Jeffrey Vahanian at 3 years old