We recently had the chance to connect with Dr. Ananya Singh and have shared our conversation below.
Hi Dr. Ananya, thank you for taking the time to reflect back on your journey with us. I think our readers are in for a real treat. There is so much we can all learn from each other and so thank you again for opening up with us. Let’s get into it: Have any recent moments made you laugh or feel proud?
Recently, I had a moment that made me laugh, pause, and feel genuinely proud all at once. I was wrapped in my usual whirlwind of responsibilities, deadlines, creative problem-solving, mentoring students, and planning the next chapter of my journey. It was one of those days where ambition and exhaustion were walking side by side. In the middle of it all, my son suddenly looked at me and said, “Mama, you’re like a superhero… but with cooler outfits and bigger dreams.” The honesty, innocence, and confidence in his tone made me laugh out loud, but it also melted something in me. That single sentence felt like a trophy with no award show, stage, or spotlight required.
As adults, we measure success in numbers, platforms, recognitions, followers, and titles but children measure it in energy, presence, and how boldly you stand in your truth. In that moment, I realised that even on days when I feel like I’m simply holding everything together, someone very important believes I am conquering the world. To him, my hustle is not tiring it is inspiring. My late nights are not sacrifices they are blueprints. My dreams are not mine alone they are proof that possibility is hereditary.
Balancing ambition and motherhood is often portrayed as choosing between two worlds, but I have learned that they can co-exist, strengthen each other, and rewrite what “having it all” looks like. My journey is not about perfection; it’s about purpose. It’s about showing that a woman can be soft yet fierce, nurturing yet unstoppable, emotional yet strategic, and that dreams do not expire the moment responsibilities begin sometimes, that’s exactly when they evolve.
That moment reminded me that my story is not just about the milestones I reach but about the values, courage, and visibility I pass on. And if my child sees me as a superhero while I’m still building, learning, and dreaming then maybe the world should too.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
If I had to describe myself in one line, I’d say I’m a woman who refuses to fit into a single box. I teach, I create, I research, I mother, I lead, and I rise.
I belong to the world of visual communication, storytelling, and design thinking, where ideas aren’t just crafted to look beautiful they’re built to challenge, heal, provoke, and transform.
My journey has been anything but ordinary from a small-town dreamer in Muzaffarnagar, Uttar Pradesh, India, to an international academic voice in the United States; from a young advertising student to an Assistant Professor of Visual Communication & Design at the University of Texas at Arlington, shaping global conversations on AI art, cultural identity, ethics, and media influence.
I don’t work in design. I work in meaning. I’m not here to create designers who follow trends; I’m here to empower visionaries who build legacies.
What makes my work unique is the way I blend intellect with instinct, research with real-world relevance, and the heart of an artist with the mind of a strategist. To me, design is not decoration; it is a language, a power, and at times, an entire revolution disguised as creativity.
Today, my focus is on developing research and creative work that explores how media shapes identity, how ethics must evolve with technology, and how education can become a stage that prepares students not merely to enter the world, but to transform it.
So, if you ask me what my brand is, it’s simple:
Courage. Purpose. Curiosity. I have an unapologetic ambition to leave the world wiser, braver, and a little more beautifully aware than I found it.
Amazing, so let’s take a moment to go back in time. What was your earliest memory of feeling powerful?
My earliest memory of feeling powerful is tied not to a stage, trophy, or spotlight but to something much quieter and far more defining. I must have been around seven or eight when I overheard a conversation between my parents late at night. My father calm, wise, and incredibly steady said, “Our daughter doesn’t just listen… she absorbs. Mark my words, she will not follow paths she will design them.”
My mother replied with something that sat in my heart like destiny whispered, not spoken:
“She isn’t afraid of difficult things she’s curious about them.”
I remember lying there, pretending to be asleep, but my mind was wide awake. Their faith didn’t make me feel special it made me feel responsible. That night, something shifted. I realized power does not come from proving yourself to the world it comes from living up to the belief of those who see your potential before you do.
A week later, a moment tested that understanding. During a school group activity, none of the students stepped up to lead because the task seemed “too complicated.” I remember quietly walking to the front, not because I was confident, but because I felt chosen by purpose, not convenience. I broke down the task, assigned roles, and motivated my classmates until we completed what everyone assumed was impossible.
It was the first time I saw leadership not as authority but as service, clarity, and courage.
That was the moment I learned that real power is not loud, not dramatic, and not borrowed.
Real power is when your actions reflect who you were always meant to become.
Since then, I’ve carried one core truth with me everywhere across borders, careers, evolution, motherhood, and reinvention:
“When you learn to trust the voice within, the world eventually learns to listen.”
When did you stop hiding your pain and start using it as power?
I think I truly stopped hiding my pain the day I realized that silence was not strength transformation was. For a long time, I treated my struggles like private storms: survive them quietly, clean up the mess, and show up polished as if resilience only counts when no one sees you cry. But one day, it hit me: unseen pain does not make you strong it makes you invisible inside your own life.
There came a point when life didn’t ask me to be strong it demanded it. I had responsibilities, dreams, motherhood, leadership, and an identity I was still building piece by piece. I realized that pain wasn’t the enemy it was the trainer. It was sculpting courage, sharpening vision, and forcing me to meet the version of myself that comfort never would.
So I stopped wearing my scars like secrets and started wearing them like credentials proof that I may bend, shake, and bleed, but I do not break. I learned that transparency is not weakness; it is the birthplace of connection, empathy, and impact. That shift didn’t just change me, it upgraded me.
Now, I don’t tell my story for sympathy
I tell it so someone else can recognize their own power in it.
Because pain did not define me
It introduced me to the woman I was born to become.
Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? What’s a belief or project you’re committed to, no matter how long it takes?
I am unshakably committed to the belief that education is not just a system it is a mirror, a launchpad, and sometimes, even a rescue mission. My lifelong project is to reshape the way young creative minds see themselves and their potential: not as participants in the industry, but as architects of culture, ethics, and future narratives.
This commitment didn’t start in a classroom, a university, or a conference hall it began at home. I grew up with parents who didn’t measure dreams through wealth, shortcuts, or status. My father used to say, “Knowledge is the only treasure no one can steal,” and my mother would add, “and character is the only currency that never loses value.”
Those words didn’t feel like wisdom back then they felt like oxygen.
Years later, when I stood in front of my first class, I realized I wasn’t just teaching design I was awakening identity. Students didn’t just need skills; many needed permission to believe they could belong, contribute, and lead. That day, I silently promised myself:
“I will spend my life turning unnoticed talent into unstoppable confidence.”
I’m not building a project that ends with a publication, a title, or a milestone. I’m building an intellectual legacy where:
curiosity outruns competition,
purpose outweighs ego,
and ethics evolve alongside innovation.
Whether it takes 5 years or 50, I will continue shaping spaces physical and digital where creativity becomes responsibility, not performance; impact, not ego; identity, not trend.
Because at the end of my life, I don’t want to count achievements —
I want to count lives I helped redirect toward their own greatness.
Okay, we’ve made it essentially to the end. One last question before you go. What light inside you have you been dimming?
For many years, I dimmed the part of me that was meant to take up space, not politely fit into it.
Not because I lacked ambition but because the world trained me to believe that grace meant silence, humility meant shrinking, and goodness meant being agreeable.
I remember one moment clearly, not at home, but during a study trip early in my academic journey. I was surrounded by brilliant minds from different countries, and during a group discussion, I had a strong perspective that could shift the direction of the conversation, but I waited. I waited for the “perfect moment,” for the “right tone,” for the “invitation to speak.”
Someone else said something similar, received applause, and all I felt was a silent earthquake inside me a realization that unspoken brilliance is not humility; it is self-erasure.
There were other moments, too.
A close friend once said to me on a long, late-night walk, “Why do you speak like you are asking for permission? Your mind walks like a queen; let your voice follow.”
It stayed with me.
Sometimes the world doesn’t silence us; we silence ourselves because we don’t know we’re allowed to sound like thunder.
Travel also changed me. Sitting alone in airports from India to London and Dubai to the U.S., I learned something airports never announce:
Every boarding pass is proof that reinvention is legal.
Slowly, I stopped dimming…
Not in one dramatic moment, but in small rebellions:
raising my hand first
saying my idea without cushioning it
choosing rooms that challenge, not flatter
building my identity without waiting for witnesses
And then motherhood turned the dimmer switch all the way up.
I realized I could not teach my child courage if I taught myself silence.
Today, I no longer dim my light
I adjust the room.
Because if there is anything the world needs now, it’s not quieter women, quieter dreamers, or quieter thinkers…
It represents a louder truth, courageous minds, and unapologetic brilliance.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.behance.net/14ananyasingh
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/ananya-singh-7305516b/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ananya.singh.16547/
Image Credits
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