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 By Dr. Esperanza Freitchen Webster’s Dictionary defines pivot as: to adapt or improve by adjusting or modifying something (such as a product, service, or strategy). At this stage in my mid-to-late career, after decades in higher education, nonprofits, and K–12 charter schools, I find myself reflecting deeply on that definition. My entire professional life has been rooted in expanding educational access for marginalized and underserved communities. I’ve been doing what we now call “DEI work” long before the acronym existed. Two years ago, I stepped into what felt like the pinnacle of that work — a senior leadership role at a major university in my hometown. It pulled together every thread of my experience: higher education, multicultural student affairs, diversity and inclusion, and community impact. The opportunity felt aligned with my purpose. And as a bonus, my youngest daughter attended the same university, receiving a tuition discount because I was an employee. From the outside, and honestly from the inside too, it looked like I had finally landed the job. I was back on a campus, shaping strategy, rebuilding a team, and steering initiatives that mattered deeply. It was hard at first — my team had been through significant turmoil. They were skeptical, guarded, unsure of my intentions and leadership style. But I trusted my belief in authentic leadership. I showed up every day with consistency, transparency, and empathy. Slowly, brick by brick, trust formed. By the six-month mark, we were healing, rebuilding, and imagining new possibilities. By late summer 2024, I felt confident enough to discuss my role with my supervisor. I was underpaid and carrying far more responsibility than the position reflected. She agreed we should work with HR to re-map and elevate the role. For the first time in a long time, I felt aligned, valued, and hopeful. I was thriving. Then came November. The unexpected results of the 2024 election hit like a boulder. Almost overnight, discussions about growth and promotion evaporated. Higher education nationwide was thrust into upheaval. Policies affecting minority-serving institutions, women’s research, global microcampuses, outreach services, and anything that resembled DEI were called into question or outright dismantled. When the U.S. Department of Education released its “Dear Colleague” letter that February, I felt the rumbling under my feet. Something foundational was shifting. By early spring, the environment in my division grew increasingly tense. Micromanagement escalated. Decisions were increasingly made to dilute, minimize, or erase student-centered initiatives, especially those supporting students of color, queer students, disabled students, and other marginalized identities. It felt like we were being asked to hide our work — as if equity had become a liability rather than a value. And that was the moment I realized my values were in jeopardy. So I began to explore new roles — first casually, then more urgently. Internal postings, other universities, local nonprofits, national organizations, EdTech. I wanted to stay connected to education and community, but I also needed to protect my integrity, my energy, and frankly, my sanity. May confirmed my fears. A meeting between my supervisor and the incoming provost created a tension I couldn’t ignore. Her sudden withdrawal and silence said everything she didn’t. My intuition — that familiar, uncomfortable knowing — pulsed louder and louder. On May 20, my supervisor told me verbally that she would likely not be retaining me — and that my direct reports would be laid off as well. She questioned my work, my capacity, and even my dedication. It was cruel, abrupt, and deeply personal. I tried to reason with her, but the door was closed. The next day, she confirmed it: eight positions, including mine, would collapse into two. When I asked about applying, she told me I shouldn’t bother — that even my own team would be “more competitive” than I was. In that moment, my years of work, leadership, and contributions were reduced to nothing. She offered empty reassurances — references, placement support, HR transfers — but I see now they were attempts to soften her own fear and preserve her own position. On June 2, 2025 — my birthday — I received my official layoff notice. I stayed until June 23, closing out projects and packing up my office, holding back tears I didn’t want to shed in a place I once loved. Then began the grind. I applied for over 300 jobs from February through September. I invested in career coaching, résumé rewrites, and new job boards. Out of hundreds of applications, I received nine interviews and three second rounds. One organization took me through three rounds only to tell me I was “overqualified.” I applied in every sector imaginable: healthcare, gaming, utilities, social media, education, defense, even industries I’d barely considered before. I leaned on my transferable skills like they were life rafts. Then, almost randomly, I applied to an EdTech company providing supplemental transportation for McKinney-Vento students — something that still connected to educational access. I moved through a phone screen and three interviews in less than 30 days and received an offer. The speed and efficiency shocked me. I began the role last month. The learning curve has been steep. Shifting from the public sector to the private sector has required rewiring how I think, work, and communicate. I stepped back from leadership into an individual contributor position with a level of oversight and structure that feels unfamiliar. I’ve had to learn new software at lightning speed and adjust to a new culture. But I’m also relieved. I have income again. Health insurance. Stability. The ability to contribute to my household without fear or guilt. I work remotely, which has its own advantages. And while the pay is lower than my previous role, it aligns with the market — and right now, employment itself is a blessing. And yet… I feel lost. I feel disconnected. I miss community. I miss being where the people are. I miss leading, mentoring, problem-solving, and building something greater than myself. I feel grateful, yes — but also restless, conflicted, and hungry for alignment again. This pivot has taken a toll. It has challenged my identity and my sense of purpose. It has forced me to confront uncomfortable questions about what I truly want versus what I can reasonably expect in this job market. And just when I began to wonder whether I should settle into this new reality, three different people — who don’t know each other — sent me two CEO job openings in my local community. Completely unprompted. Maybe it’s coincidence. Maybe it’s intuition. Maybe it’s a sign that the story isn’t over — that this pivot is still unfolding. Time will tell. But for now, I’m learning, adjusting, and listening closely for what comes next. Dr. Esperanza Freitchen is a native of Tucson and a lifelong Arizona resident. She has over 20 years of experience working in nonprofits and higher education organizations in a variety of capacities, including fundraising, grant writing, project management, and executive leadership. As a consultant, she focuses on leadership development and strategic planning for community-based organizations. Her work has led her to speak at statewide conferences and offer training on workplace communication, cultural competence, allyship, and intersectionality. Dr. Freitchen was a first-generation student and has dedicated her career to removing barriers to accessing postsecondary education for historically marginalized populations. She holds a BA in Spanish Literature from the University of Arizona, an MS and MBA from Western Governors University, and an Ed.D. in Leadership and Innovation from Arizona State University. She is a graduate of UC Berkeley’s Executive Leadership Academy, the Hispanic Leadership Institute, Greater Tucson Leadership’s Lead Tucson, CSU Fullerton’s LIFT program, and is a member of the Sunnyside Foundation’s Hall of Fame. She is also a proud Star Wars nerd and shameless Disney Adult. She and her family own Presidio Comics, a Tucson-based comics and collectibles retail store. Please note: We invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. Decisions were increasingly made to dilute, minimize, or erase student-centered initiatives, especially those supporting students of color, queer students, disabled students, and other marginalized identities. It felt like we were being asked to hide our work — as if equity had become a liability rather than a value." - Dr. Esperanza Freitchen
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 By Mariam P. When people hear about Afghanistan, they often think of war, loss, and restrictions. But behind all the headlines, there’s another story that is less told but deeply true. It’s the story of Afghan youth who, despite living in crisis and uncertainty, continue to find strength, hope, and purpose. I have seen this resilience in the faces of young people around me — friends, classmates, and even strangers online. Many of them have lost access to schools, jobs, and even basic freedoms, yet they still find ways to learn, to dream, and to stay connected. Hope has quietly become our form of resistance. For many Afghan youth, mental health has become one of the biggest challenges. The constant fear of the unknown, not knowing what tomorrow will bring, often leads to anxiety, sadness, or hopelessness. Yet, we rarely talk about mental health openly. In Afghan culture, these topics are still surrounded by silence. People are taught to “be strong,” to not show emotion, and to move on. But strength doesn’t mean hiding pain. Sometimes, real strength is found in facing it and choosing to grow from it. Learning as Healing Education has always been more than just lessons and grades for us; it has become a lifeline. When girls’ schools were closed and universities restricted, many young people turned to online learning. They joined free virtual programs, watched lessons on YouTube, or created small online study circles. These moments of learning make us feel alive again. Even though our opportunities are limited, we try to create our own. Some teach younger students at home, some start small study groups, and others volunteer online. Through these efforts, we remind ourselves that education cannot be fully banned, not when it lives inside us. Community as a Source of Strength In difficult times, community becomes everything. In Afghanistan, we rely on each other to survive — emotionally and practically. But for girls, this connection has a deeper meaning. We often say that we are all we have because society doesn’t protect or support us the way it should. Patriarchy still controls every part of our lives, from what we wear to whether we can study or work. So we lift each other up. We share resources, lessons, and opportunities. When one of us learns something new, we teach the others. We encourage each other not to give up, even when everything feels unfair. This sisterhood among Afghan girls is one of the strongest communities I have ever seen. It’s where we find hope, love, and the courage to continue. Online spaces have also created a kind of global community for Afghan youth. Through digital programs and leadership fellowships, we meet people from other cultures who remind us that we are not alone. Intercultural dialogue gives us a sense of belonging that many of us have lost in our own country. Learning from people who listen, understand, and support us helps rebuild our confidence and reminds us that our stories matter.  Finding Purpose Amid Pain When your country is in crisis, it’s easy to lose sight of purpose. But Afghan youth continue to prove that purpose can grow from pain. Many young people are using their voices to raise awareness about mental health, equality and education rights. Some start small campaigns on social media, while others join global programs or local volunteer groups. We don’t have perfect systems or many resources but we have determination. Our hope doesn’t come from comfort; it comes from the belief that one day things can be different. Resilience isn’t something we are born with; it’s something we build, piece by piece, through every hardship we face. For Afghan youth, resilience has become a quiet revolution. It shows in how we keep learning, helping and dreaming even when the world feels heavy. The Role of Global Solidarity Support from international communities matters more than many realize. When global organizations open doors for Afghan youth to learn or share their voices, it gives us visibility and hope. It reminds us that our stories are not forgotten. Intercultural dialogue and inclusion are key to healing divided societies. When people from different cultures listen to one another, stereotypes begin to fade and understanding grows. That’s why spaces like Global Citizens Circle are so meaningful. They bring people together not just to talk but to truly see one another as human beings with shared struggles and dreams. A Message of Hope Despite everything, I still believe in the power of youth especially Afghan youth to create change. Even if we can’t always change our environment, we can change how we respond to it. We can continue to learn, support each other and speak up for those who cannot. One day, I hope mental health will no longer be a taboo topic in Afghanistan. I hope that every young person, especially girls, can study freely and chase their dreams. Until then, we will keep doing what we can: learning, teaching, connecting, and hoping. Because sometimes, resilience is not about winning. It’s about refusing to give up. Mariam P. is a young Afghan woman passionate about technology, education, and creating opportunities for women. She continues her studies online while volunteering and participating in global leadership programs. She enjoys reading, exploring art, and engaging in a variety of extracurricular activities, including digital projects. Living through years of conflict and restrictions has shaped her belief that learning, commitment, and community are powerful forms of healing and hope. Please note: We invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. Resilience isn’t something we are born with; it’s something we build, piece by piece, through every hardship we face. For Afghan youth, resilience has become a quiet revolution. It shows in how we keep learning, helping and dreaming even when the world feels heavy." - Mariam P.  By Stanley Thomas Asango My relationship with Global Citizens Circle started in 2023 while participating in the Young Leaders Fellowship program with MCW Global, one of GCC’s partner organizations. Instantly drawn to GCC’s mission and the vibrant community it fosters, I was eager to learn more and get involved. That curiosity led me to reach out, and soon after, I found myself leading a Circle focused on the intersection of technology, artificial intelligence, and mental health. But my journey with GCC didn’t stop there. I later stepped into the roles of Social Media Director and Youth Engagement Lead, positions that deepened my connection with the organization and broadened my leadership experience. GCC has also consistently placed me in rooms with highly accomplished individuals, spaces where one might naturally feel hesitant to speak up. Yet, through the kindness and openness of the community, I’ve learned to own my voice and take up space. That confidence is something I now carry with me into every new opportunity. Looking back, GCC has played a pivotal role in shaping my growth as an emerging leader. As I continue to climb the ladder of leadership and professional development, I carry these experiences with me, now stepping into a new chapter as a Master of Nonprofit Administration student at the University of Notre Dame’s Mendoza College of Business, where I will Grow the Good in Business (Mendoza’s catch phrase). As a dedicated mental health advocate and counseling psychology graduate, Stanley Thomas Asango is committed to promoting mental health and wellbeing. Through his active involvement with nonprofit organisations like Miracle Corners of the World Global (MCW Global) and Global Citizens Circle (GCC), he has honed his leadership skills and gained a global perspective. These experiences have fueled his passion for making a positive impact on mental health, both nationally and internationally. Stanley's goal is to leverage his knowledge and skills to drive meaningful change and support communities in achieving better mental health outcomes. Now, he is moving toward a greater role in the nonprofit world by earning his master's in nonprofit administration. Please note: Each week, we invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. Global Citizens Circle has also consistently placed me in rooms with highly accomplished individuals, spaces where one might naturally feel hesitant to speak up. Yet, through the kindness and openness of the community, I’ve learned to own my voice and take up space. That confidence is something I now carry with me into every new opportunity."  By Elizabeth Richards Like so many people, I frequently face today’s news with feelings of despair and hopelessness. But in a world that often feels divided and uncertain, one of the most powerful sources of hope I encounter is working with college students who are deeply committed to social change and community engagement. As the leader of The Chandler Center (Southern New Hampshire University’s center for service and community engagement), I daily witness young people’s passion, creativity, curiosity, and determination in service to their community. This reminds me that the future is not only in capable hands, but also in hands that care deeply about justice, equity, and collective well-being. Young adults today are facing a world that is complex and full of challenges—climate change, systemic inequality, political polarization, and rising costs of living, just to name a few. And yet, rather than turning away from these issues, many of them are choosing to lean in. They are volunteering in local food pantries, organizing voter registration campaigns, facilitating difficult conversations, and developing innovative solutions to problems that affect their communities. It’s not performative. It’s personal. They believe they have a role to play in creating a better world—and they act on that belief. They lead with collaboration rather than competition. They prioritize listening and learning over ego and expertise. Many of them approach community work with humility, understanding that change doesn’t come from “saving” others, but from partnering with communities, sharing power, and building relationships grounded in mutual respect. That mindset represents a profound shift from older models of leadership and service—and it’s a shift we desperately need. They’re also unafraid to ask hard questions. They challenge institutions, including their own universities, to live up to their stated values. They push for inclusive policies, more equitable systems, and meaningful opportunities for civic learning. They are not satisfied with symbolic gestures; they want structural change—and they are willing to do the work to make it happen. Of course, young people don’t have all the answers. None of us do. But the energy they bring, the values they live by, and the solidarity they practice remind me every day that positive change is not only possible—it’s already underway. The future is being shaped right now in student-led meetings, community forums, voter registration drives, mutual aid projects, and classrooms where difficult truths are being confronted with courage. Working with college students doesn’t just give me hope—it keeps me going. It reminds me why this work matters. It provides daily evidence that the legacy of our elders lives on in the courage and conviction of young people and in their belief that a better world is possible. Elizabeth Richards serves as the assistant vice president of The Chandler Center, Southern New Hampshire University’s center for civic and community engagement. The Chandler Center envisions a community where every individual is empowered to be curious about and committed to social action and works to meet that vision through the cultivation of community-based leadership opportunities, meaningful community partnerships, and social issue education for students. Elizabeth holds a Bachelor of Specialized Studies in Conference and Event Planning & Master of Education in College Student Personnel from Ohio University in Athens, Ohio. She has held professional roles in residence life, student conduct, student leadership, and community engagement. Elizabeth has presented at state, regional, and national conferences on the Social Change Model of Leadership, the challenges faced by first-generation college students, and the role of white people in anti-racism work. She teaches courses related to race, gender, and power and has 15+ years as a social justice educator. When she’s not working, Elizabeth is reading queer romance novels, crocheting, baking, or volunteering in her community. She lives near Concord, New Hampshire, with her wife, two children, and a very fluffy cat. Please note: We invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. Of course, young people don’t have all the answers. None of us do. But the energy they bring, the values they live by, and the solidarity they practice remind me every day that positive change is not only possible—it’s already underway. By Theo Spanos Dunfey GCC Assistant Director Phoebe de Larrabeiti and I recently attended CSW69, which marks the 69th session of the Commission on the Status of Women, held at the United Nation Headquarters in New York. We are grateful to Marlyn Tadros, CEO and Executive Director of Digital Democracy Now for hosting GCC at UNCSW. A highlight was meeting one of GCC's Emerging Leaders, Nilab Ahmadi from Afghanistan, and celebrating her selection for the UN youth cohort. We enjoyed GCC Board member Priscilla Lee’s presentation on Afghan girls’ education and were deeply moved by a panel of survivors of sexual abuse and prostitution. Inspiring sessions featured young leaders and storytellers, while cultural moments included learning a Maori proverb and enjoying their singing. A final interactive session felt like a fitting celebration of our experiences and gave us hope for what’s to come. I hope you enjoy this video compilation of our time at CSW69. Theo Spanos Dunfey is president and executive director of Global Citizens Circle. She has over 30 years of global experience in non-profits, higher education, and international affairs. Dunfey is a graduate of the Fletcher School of Law & Diplomacy at Tufts University, where she earned a Master of Arts in Law and Diplomacy, concentrating on American diplomatic history, international communication, and international development. It was during her studies at the Fletcher School that she first began volunteering with Global Citizens Circle’s Boston programs. She also earned a bachelor’s in international relations and French at Brown University. With a primary focus on global issues, Dunfey taught international development at the University of New England, led student groups on global citizenship service-learning trips abroad, directed the World Affairs Council of Maine, and produced numerous global editorial conferences for The WorldPaper before taking the helm at Global Citizens Circle. I walk backwards into the future with my eyes fixed on my past.  By Kibar Moussoba I was sitting in my classroom on 9/11 when someone turned to me and said: “Kibar, was that you? What did you do? Was your dad flying that plane?” I froze. It took me a moment to even process what had just been said. The news had been playing on all TVs showing footage of smoke, destruction, and fear. And now, somehow, I was being linked to it. I didn’t have the words to explain how wrong that moment was. All I knew was that things were changing, and quickly. In the weeks and months after 9/11, I was no longer just a kid in high school. I was an Arab-American that constantly had to look over my shoulder. It didn't matter that I was 15 years old. It didn't matter that I was Christian. It didn't matter that I lived in rural New Hampshire with absolutely no connection to any terrorist organization. The bullying, name calling, and snickering at my expense continued longer than I care to explain. What I learned years later is this: when people don’t understand you, they create their own version of your story. And the best way to change that was to tell your own story before they tell it for you. For a long time, I stayed silent. I kept my head down. I knew that if I ignored the comments, they would simply go away. The following year, my English teacher announced a school-wide essay contest inviting students to share their reflections on 9/11 and what freedom meant to us. At first, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to participate. After all, I was not in a positive state of mind about this topic so I saw no reason to subject myself to this exercise. But, of course, the same day they announced this essay contest, the kid that was making my life miserable for a year decided to take another stab at me. I wrote the whole thing that night. I wrote about my family’s journey to America. About what it meant to leave behind a war-torn country. About how proud we were to become citizens. And about how, after 9/11, that sense of belonging was gone for me and most Arab-Americans in this country. When I was selected to read my essay in front of the entire school, I was terrified. The same students who had been bullying me, who had laughed, who had made me feel like an outsider — they would all be in that room. What felt like the next day, I stepped onto that stage as the last finalist to read their essay. I closed my eyes, and with slight anger in my voice I belted out the first words, "I was born during a war." Over the next 4 minutes I spoke about freedom from my lens, but what it could truly look like. I spoke about the façade of unity in this country. I spoke about pride and perseverance; how escaping war from my birth country only led to war in this country. When I finished, there was silence. I could practically hear the jaws hitting the floor. I was unsure if what I had just done was going to help me or hurt me, but the principal encouraged everyone to applaud and I walked off stage. As we exited the assembly, something unexpected happened. The one kid who led the charge at making my life miserable for the past year stopped me in the hallway. He looked at me, but didn't say anything this time. As he stuck out his hand, his blank face turned to remorse. He didn’t say a word. But he didn’t have to. That moment told me everything. He saw me. That moment taught me a lesson I will never forget: stories have the power to shift perspectives in ways that arguments never will. People fear what they don’t understand. When we don’t know someone’s story, we fill in the blanks with assumptions. The best way to break down bias is to make yourself known. Stories create connection. Facts inform. But stories connect. When someone hears your lived experience, they don’t just process information — they feel it. When you share your truth, you take back control. For a short amount of time, I let others define my identity. But telling my story helped me reclaim it. So, if you feel misunderstood — don’t allow yourself to shrink. Share your story. Let people see you. Because when they do, their perspective might change forever. We all have a story that could change someone’s perspective. My story brought me to the TEDx stage. Ask yourself, what’s one part of your story that others could benefit from hearing? Kibar Moussoba is the senior program manager of People Experience at Southern New Hampshire University, where he leads strategic Inclusive Listening initiatives to enhance employee engagement and equity, diversity, and inclusion. With a deep passion for fostering meaningful workplace experiences, he helps drive key initiatives aligned with the university’s strategic goals. Beyond his role at SNHU, Kibar is an award-winning entertainer and professional DJ, known for creating unforgettable experiences at events across New England and beyond. His love for music began at the age of five with piano lessons, and by 19, he had launched his professional DJ career with Main Event Entertainment. Originally from Beirut, Lebanon, but having spent most of his life in Southern New Hampshire, he developed his DJing skills early and quickly became a sought-after performer. His ability to blend diverse musical influences and craft dynamic atmospheres has made him one of New England’s top DJs. In addition to his professional commitments, Kibar serves on the Board of Directors for the Mental Health Center of Greater Manchester and has been recognized with several accolades, including the prestigious 40 Under Forty award in New Hampshire. He is also a TEDx speaker, sharing insights on resilience, perspective, and personal growth. A husband and father of two, Kibar balances his career with his dedication to family, mentorship, and making a meaningful impact in every space he enters. Please note: Each week, we invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. When we don’t know someone’s story, we fill in the blanks with assumptions. The best way to break down bias is to make yourself known. Stories create connection. Facts inform. But stories connect. When someone hears your lived experience, they don’t just process information — they feel it. When you share your truth, you take back control.  By Michael Lockett This past summer, I shared a bit about me and how I first got involved with Global Citizens Circle. I invite you to check out "The Not-So-Accidental Activist" if you haven't had the chance. If, like many of us, you're feeling a bit stuck these days, perhaps this video I created will spur you into action. You may start small, but you can still do big things. While International Women's Day was recognized on March 8, Global Citizens Circle has partnered with Southern New Hampshire University for a breakfast program on March 11, 2025, from 9-10:30 EST. You're welcome to attend in person (at the university's upper dining hall) or virtually. The details are available here. We hope you'll join us at this special Circle event: "From Crisis to Change: Addressing Gender-based Violence in Conflict Zones," featuring Theresa de Langis and Rashida Eltag Mohamed. Michael Lockett is a New York screenwriter, director, and sometimes producer, as well a member of Global Citizens Circle’s Board. A lifelong storyteller, Michael graduated from the University of Delaware with a degree in visual communications. After a stint in advertising, periodical design, and marketing/PR, he delved back into the longer storytelling forms with film and TV screenwriting. Although specializing in horror with dark, thought-provoking overtones, Michael is always prepared and happy to lend a hand or idea to make his or others' projects a success. Please note: Each week, we invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” ― Margaret Mead  By Pamme Boutselis Like many of you, I’ve nearly gotten whiplash this past month in response to the onslaught of nefarious actions throughout the U.S. and all that's in tandem worldwide. Everyone around me – from family to colleagues to friends – seems to be battling such an array of emotions, from astonishment to fear to anger to despair, and just about everything in between and beyond. It's a balancing act between wanting to stay informed and becoming mired in the news. There’s been a reel featuring RuPaul making the rounds in social media, from some time ago, in which this sage advice is offered: “With all the darkness that’s going on in the world, you can look at the darkness. Don’t stare. It will make you crazy. It will make you cross-eyed. It’ll make you what it is. The solution is to create magic, dance, sing, love, create environments where you can find joy. Because you can create joy.” And I found solace in those words, although a piece of me felt (and feels) like it’s a betrayal to focus on finding joy when so many around me are in such pain. I know I’m not alone in feeling that way. I have so many blessings, so much in the way of joy ahead, particularly this year. I bet you do, too. So what I’m working toward is helping others find joy, big and small. Find comfort in these difficult times. Find solutions when solutions feel far away. Find ways to bring unheard voices to the forefront and find people willing to listen. These are things I can do – and so can you. I’ve been thinking a lot about who we can be for each other. This certainly isn’t a new concept – nor is the way I’m thinking lately all that new for me either. It just feels more urgent now. Our influence is greater than we might suspect – and our belief in each other, and ourselves, might be just the thing to turn this ship around. Let’s not allow these dark waters to engulf us. Find hope where you can – and nurture that hope. I found hope in an unlikely place over the weekend, at the cinema where I took in the “Becoming Led Zeppelin” movie. The band’s rise to fame took place during tumultuous times in the U.S. and the world. Newsreels and media clips surfaced throughout the narrative, reminding me of all that transpired in the 60s and 70s and how recent, really, so much of that was. And while history will show us the treacherous acts that have transpired since time began, it also brings us the stories of courage, of the activists who created forward movement, of the solidarity that brings about change. Throughout the past 50 years, Global Citizens Circle has been knee deep in societal, global issues, immersed in respectful dialogue focused on radical communication, conflict resolution and achieving peace. And it is here, with GCC, I also find great hope, along with continued learning and the belief that each of us has a voice in shaping a world that we all can thrive within. Join GCC on Wednesday, February 26 from noon to 1pm ET for “Uniting in the Face of Fear: Building Transformational Alliances,” featuring:  Learn more and register to attend here. Pamme Boutselis is an award-winning writer and content producer, currently serving as a senior director of content marketing and a communication adjunct at Southern New Hampshire University. She loves hearing and sharing stories. As a writer spanning a 25-plus-year career, her work has been featured in print and online via news media, career and education-focused blogs, regional magazines, technology publications and more. A serial volunteer, Boutselis has been a TEDx organizer since 2013 and a speaker coach. She’s been fortunate to work with dozens of nonprofits throughout the years and serves as a communication advisor for Global Citizens Circle. Connect with her on LinkedIn. Please note: Each week, we invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. Our influence is greater than we might suspect – and our belief in each other, and ourselves, might be just the thing to turn this ship around. Embarking on a Journey to Sierra Leone: A Quest for Peacebuilding and Reconciliation (Part 2)2/17/2025  Suraj Budathoki, Ahmad Bakdad, France Bognon, Interim CEO, International Civil Society Action Network; Jesica Rhone, Director of International Programs, McConnell Foundation By Suraj Budathoki Although I have never visited a war zone or country ravaged by conflict, the desire to visit these places, meet with people who have lived through unimaginable circumstances, and learn from their experiences has always been deep-rooted in me. My doctoral studies over time, now have revolved around theories aimed at mending the acrimony between warring parties. I have invested reasonable time reading, researching their implementation, and scrutinizing the ingrained challenges in such processes. Still, there is something incomparable about moving out of the academic world and into the real stories of those affected by conflict. I am grateful to Global Citizens Circle for allowing me to deepen my understanding through meaningful dialogue and engagement. This incredible organization has been a cornerstone of my development as a peacebuilder, continually encouraging me to link theory with practice. During one of these moments of connection, Theo Spanos Dunfey, the president and executive director of Global Citizens Circle, a remarkable mentor and friend, reached out to me with an opportunity that filled me with excitement. Theo’s email was concise but electrifying: there was a chance to attend the Constellation for Peace 2 (CP2) conference,organized by Catalyst for Peace and Fambul Tok, in Sierra Leone. As soon as I read the message, my curiosity led me to research the country, its civil war, and the groundbreaking reconciliation work that has occurred since. Sierra Leone endured a brutal civil war from 1991 to 2002 that left unforgettable marks. However, the nation has also been an extraordinary testament to the power of reconciliation, community healing, and grassroots peacebuilding. A Global Gathering of Peace Activists Being part of a global gathering of peace activists was exciting. Delegates from across the world—Northern Ireland, Nepal, Germany, Gambia, and beyond came together to share their experiences and learn from one another. It was not only an opportunity to observe peacebuilding in action but also to play a part in the collective effort to imagine a more harmonious world. I also shared my experiences with Peace Initiative Bhutan—a newly minted organization to foster peace and reconciliation with Bhutan through sincere dialogue. We do not believe in ushering in positive peace by defeating the other side, as we have spent more than three decades with that intention. Now, with the establishment of Peace Initiative Bhutan, we want to create a win-win solution where both parties emerge into dialogue in a mutually respectful environment for the betterment of the affected people. When I arrived in Sierra Leone, we boarded a bus to Freetow followed by a ferry to our final destination. Our journey across the water felt significant and transforming; I felt I was crossing a bridge of new understanding and solidarity, from conflict to cooperation, understanding war and division to unity. Accordingly, I, too, am transforming from an individual with my own concerns about Bhutan to a global citizen with an appreciation for and commitment to peacebuilding worldwide. Immersion and Learning in Villages Our schedule included traveling to villages badly affected by the civil war. I looked forward to this part of the trip the most—meeting people who had experienced the war firsthand and hearing their stories of loss, survival, and reconciliation. Each of the villages we visited symbolized a testament to human toughness and community’s transformative power. In one of the villages, I encountered a woman who had lost all her family members to the war. Despite her unthinkable pain, she had become a community leader and “Peace Mother,” championing dialogue and healing among former combatants and victims. Her story made me shed tears but also gave me a renewed sense of purpose in my own journey as a peacebuilder. Something she said will stay with me for eternity: “Forgiveness is not easy, but it is the only way forward.” Witnessing a traditional ceremony where community members publicly forgave one another and committed to rebuilding trust was yet another indelible experience. These ceremonies are rooted in Sierra Leone's culture and traditions; they also offer a powerful example of how local practices can be integral to peacebuilding. Insights and Takeaways I learned a lot from the conference and the village visits. Peacebuilding is not a one-stop endeavor; it requires humility, listening, and a willingness to adapt to the needs and contexts of the people involved. I heard stories about pain and also about the courage to heal and move forward. Those stories reminded me that reconciliation is not a destination but a journey—one that demands patience and steady commitment. Building a Global Network for Peace Aside from the lessons, the trip was an opportunity to build relationships with peacebuilders from around the world. During meals and conversations, we exchanged ideas, strategies, and dreams for a more peaceful future. These connections are a source of hope and remind us that we are not alone in this work. On my way back from Freetown at the end of the trip, I felt an immense sense of gratitude—for the chance to be part of something larger than myself, for the people who shared their stories, and for the global community of peacebuilders I am now privileged to call friends. This journey to Sierra Leone was both a professional milestone and a profoundly personal one, confirming my belief in the power of human connection and the possibility of a more peaceful world. I am returning home not just with stories and lessons but with a revitalized commitment to continue the work of peacebuilding and reconciliation. Although long, the road ahead promises hope, healing, and transformation. Part I of this blog may be found here. Suraj Budathoki is the co-founder and president of Peace Initiative Bhutan, which is committed to fostering positive change in Bhutan through reconciliation. His organization partners with Global Citizens Circle, collaborating to share resources and knowledge in peacebuilding through sincere dialogue. In addition to his peace work, Suraj is a doctoral student in Transformative Social Change at Saybrook University in California, and he was recently elected to serve in the NH State House of Representatives. Please note: Each week, we invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. Reconciliation is not a destination but a journey—one that demands patience and steady commitment.  By Suraj Budathoki I am making my first-ever trip to the African nation of Sierra Leone, a nation finally beginning to reconcile after decades of bloody civil war. As someone who survived forceful expulsion from his country at an early age, and where the division is chronic and shows no sign of improving, this journey is crucial. My journey into reconciliation within myself began not as a grand declaration, but as a deeply personal quest for healing—healing for myself, for my community, and ultimately, for my birth homeland of Bhutan. Because I have, early in my life, experienced displacement, a reasonable part of my life has been dedicated to the pursuit of a serene environment where peace, dignity, and understanding thrive. I couldn’t find a guideline for my healing journey until I crossed paths with the wisdom of the great peacemakers, Mahatma Gandhi, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. My physical journey from a Bhutanese refugee camp in Nepal where I spent almost 20 years to the United States was just part of the struggle; I knew that too well. The invisible wounds—those of trauma, loss, humiliation, and disconnection—could not be healed simply by crossing borders or leaving decades behind. Another type of journey was necessary, a journey that gravitated inward toward self-discovery and outward toward community and collective healing. I’ve learned that it is critically important to engage in a healing process prior to engaging in peacebuilding and reconciliation work, especially for a person that has been strongly impacted by historical trauma or other forms of personal pain. Unsettled trauma does not only cloud judgment but also sustains cycles of pain and hampers the ability to stimulate authentic reconciliation. As we’ve often heard, "Hurt people hurt people." In other words, individuals whose wounds are not yet healed may, often unknowingly, transfer their aggression to others, aggravating dispute instead of finding a solution to them. For that reason, healing is not just a personal necessity but a necessary condition for contributing to the greater collective settlement process. To honestly offer the empathy, patience, and understanding required to close gaps and promote a more peaceful future, individuals must first tend their own wounds. Reading the works of Gandhi, Tutu, and MLK, Jr., I realized how crucial it is to respect and honor those on the other side of the conflict, not as foes, but as equal contenders in a shared game. Each of these peacemakers confronted strongly ingrained injustices but believed in the transformative power of nonviolence, forgiveness, and reconciliation. The ahimsa principle of Mahatma Gandhi—the nonviolence practice—profoundly resonated with me. Gandhi taught that true peace emanates from understanding one’s opponents. Through his belief in satyagraha, or the force of truth, I realized that reconciliation starts from accepting the humanity and dignity of the other side, even when their actions have caused harm. From the Bhutanese point of view, it implies understanding the historical and political intricacies without giving in to bitterness or displeasure. My understanding of collective healing is strongly impacted by Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s role in South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission. “No future without forgiveness,” as he believed, particularly stands out to me. According to Tutu, forgiveness is not just for the one who has been wronged, it is also for the wrongdoer as well. He also argued that it is a requisite step toward freeing both parties from the cycle of pain and violence. The caveat we need to understand, however, is that righteous closer of the conflict is necessary for forgiving wrongdoers. I have given this idea the utmost attention in my work with Peace Initiative Bhutan. I have realized that true reconciliation is about transforming our thoughts about the past, not about wiping them away. The primary aim is to openly confront the injustices we endured and not to forget them and to seek a path that heals rather than encourages division. Dr. King’s vision of a “Beloved Community” sustained my hope for what is possible, even when confronted with deep-rooted conflict. From Dr. King, I learned that justice and peace are attainable realities and not unachievable dreams, as long as we are committed to nonviolent struggle and hold firmly to the belief in human dignity. The idea that peacebuilding must be grounded in empathy, compassion, and a refusal to treat the other side as if they are lesser humans was strengthened by his philosophy of love as a driving force in social change. Today, as I go on with my work in peacebuilding, both in Bhutan and with Bhutanese communities around the world, I am accompanied by the lessons of these exceptional leaders. I am reminded by their teachings that peace is not just an absence of war or violence, but a state of mind, a way of living, and a commitment to healing the wounds of the past. The path to sustainable peace in Bhutan demands that we all come together as equal players, believing in each other’s humanity, while committing to the tough but crucial work of restoring trust. This journey is about learning to see further than the pain of the past and toward the potential for a future that inculcates all of us. And just as Gandhi, Tutu, and MLK Jr. have taught us, this journey needs immense courage, patience, and, above all, love. As I strive to bring healing and reconciliation to my people, the wisdom of these extraordinary leaders keeps me grounded and focused. Their words serve as a constant reminder that peace is not just an aspiration but a tangible possibility—one that requires us to see each other not as adversaries, but as partners in a shared journey. Each of us has a role in building a world that is more just, compassionate, and peaceful. Stay tuned for Part 2. Suraj Budathoki is the co-founder and president of Peace Initiative Bhutan, which is committed to fostering positive change in Bhutan through reconciliation. His organization partners with Global Citizens Circle, collaborating to share resources and knowledge in peacebuilding through sincere dialogue. In addition to his peace work, Suraj is a doctoral student in Transformative Social Change at Saybrook University in California, and he was recently elected to serve in the NH State House of Representatives. Please note: Each week, we invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. Because I have, early in my life, experienced displacement, a reasonable part of my life has been dedicated to the pursuit of a serene environment where peace, dignity, and understanding thrive. |
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