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Conversations with Ali Waad

Today we’d like to introduce you to Ali Waad.

Ali, we appreciate you taking the time to share your story with us today. Where does your story begin?
In the shadow of war-torn Baghdad in 2003, a young boy named Ali Waad clutched onto more than just survival — he held tight to a dream. Amid sirens and shattered skies, while many lost hope, Ali found a strange kind of comfort in music. Even as buildings crumbled around him, melodies rose quietly in his soul.

His family fled the chaos and found shelter in Amman, Jordan — a city of dust, resilience, and waiting. For almost three years, they lived with uncertainty. Yet in the silence of displacement, Ali’s dream only grew louder. He sang whenever he could, in moments stolen between responsibility and rest.

In 2008, the family arrived in the United States. With nothing but faith and a new beginning, they started from zero. Ali worked tirelessly while attending school — translating books by day and melodies by night. His accent became sharper in both languages: English and music. Though life demanded hard work, Ali’s heart was always writing verses.

He taught himself piano and guitar — not in grand halls or polished studios, but in his bedroom, on borrowed instruments, with fingers guided by fire. Every note was soaked in struggle, every lyric carved out of longing. He performed in universities, Arab festivals, and every place that would give him a mic — not just to sing, but to be seen, to be heard.

Ali never gave up. He balanced his reality — long work hours, exams, cultural adaptation — with the world he was building in music. Slowly, the seeds he planted in pain began to bloom. He graduated, found a six-figure job in finance, and still, music remained his heartbeat.

And then came his greatest harmony — love. Ali married the woman who became his anchor. Together, they welcomed a baby boy — their rainbow after every storm. A new song began: one not just of survival, but of legacy.

Today, Ali Waad is more than a singer and songwriter. He is a symbol of perseverance, proof that you can rise from ruins, teach yourself to fly, and still remember where your wings were broken. With a producer in Egypt by his side and music pulsing through his veins, Ali now sings for the ones who are still searching — for home, for hope, for healing.

Because his voice didn’t just survive the war.
It became its answer.

Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
Definitely not a smooth road — but a meaningful one.

I was born in Baghdad and lived through the war in 2003. I still remember the sounds of bombs, the fear in people’s eyes, and the silence that followed destruction. That kind of trauma doesn’t leave you — it shapes you. My family fled to Jordan, a beautiful city where I lived and finished my high school and then migrated to USA. Life was uncertain. We didn’t know if we’d ever find stability, let alone chase dreams.

When we came to the U.S. in 2008, we had to start from zero. We didn’t speak English. We didn’t know the system. We just had determination and each other. I balanced school and work — sometimes working late nights and then waking up early for classes. There were moments I wanted to give up, especially when I felt invisible or misunderstood.

But music saved me.

I didn’t have a teacher or a studio. I taught myself piano and guitar with whatever I could find — YouTube tutorials, secondhand instruments, and a whole lot of trial and error. I performed at university events and Arab festivals, just trying to be heard, trying to turn my story into something beautiful.

Even as I built a successful career in finance and graduated with a degree, music was always with me. I faced doubt — from others and from within. Being a Middle Eastern immigrant artist isn’t easy. You have to fight twice as hard to be taken seriously, to be seen beyond the labels.

But every struggle gave me depth. Every fall taught me rhythm. Every setback became a lyric.

And through all of it — I kept going.

Thanks – so what else should our readers know about your work and what you’re currently focused on?
I am a treasury finance manager with Mativ company I am proud that I worked in banking and like Truist Bank of America and then worked with Fiserv and UPS and then promoted to a manager with Mativ.
I am proud of learning a lot and moving forward in life

Any big plans?
The future feels brighter than ever. I’m at a place in my life where I’m not just dreaming — I’m building.

My biggest focus right now is expanding my music career on a global level. I’m working closely with my producer in Egypt on powerful, emotional songs that speak to people’s hearts, blending Arabic soul with modern pop sounds. I’m pouring everything I’ve lived through — war, struggle, love, fatherhood — into my music, and my goal is to share it with the world.

I dream of one day performing on the Grammy stage, not just for the fame, but to represent those who come from places like I did — from Baghdad to Amman to the U.S. — and show that no matter where you start, greatness is possible.

On a personal level, I’m also planning to buy a home for my family — a place where my son can grow up surrounded by peace, joy, and music. That kind of stability means everything to me. It’s not just about bricks and walls — it’s about giving my son what I never had.

And as I grow my brand and platform, I also want to use my voice to inspire others, especially immigrants and artists who are just starting out. I want them to know: you can rise, you can heal, and you can succeed — no matter how hard your beginning was.

So yes — I’m chasing the Grammys, building a home, raising a beautiful family, and writing songs that I hope the world will remember.
And make my family wife and son proud and hopefully more kids

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