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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 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. Global Citizen’s Circle’s Role in Pushing Back on the Pushback on Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion11/13/2024  By James McKim, PMP, ITIL My experience helping a wide range of organizations improve their performance has resulted in a deep understanding of the value of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI). In contemporary discourse, DEI has emerged as critical focal points across various sectors, from corporate boardrooms to educational institutions and community settings. These initiatives aim to dismantle systemic barriers, promote equal opportunities, and foster environments where every individual feels valued and respected regardless of their background and can perform at their best. However, the journey towards living into DEI is often met with resistance, skepticism, and pushback from individuals or groups reluctant to embrace change. Being introduced to the Global Citizens Circle by current Board Chair Sean O’Kane, I saw an opportunity to join an organization that has had and has the great potential to have an even greater impact on how the pushback against DEI can be eliminated for the betterment of both organizations and society. So, just what is this pushback? The Pushback Against DEI Pushback against DEI may stem from a multitude of factors including fear of change, ideological differences, misconceptions about DEI, discomfort with confronting privilege and biases, or concerns about perceived threats to existing power structures. We can view the pushback as existing at 3 levels: interpersonal, group/systemic, and structural as shown in the figure.  At the interpersonal level, based on research by Gartner, pushback generally takes 3 forms in the context of culture – how we interact with each other in society writ large.  Image credit; Gartner https://www.gartner.com/en/articles/how-to-navigate-pushback-to-diversity-equity-and-inclusion-efforts
At the Group/Systemic (organizational/institutional) level, based on research by Forbes pushback generally takes the form of:
At the Structural level, based on research by Professor Tricia Rose of Brown, pushback generally takes the form of laws or best practices such as gender pay inequities or redlining that boost a particular industry at the expense of underrepresented individuals. Education impacts health, health impacts education. Both impact the ability for people to get good jobs to gain income to be able to pay for education, and health… see the vicious cycle?  Image credit: Axios https://www.axios.com/2024/04/02/dei-backlash-diversity The reality is that DEI is being discussed more than ever. As is reported in the Axios article “There are still companies committed to hiring people from diverse backgrounds, figuring out how to foster inclusive workplaces and treating people fairly. But they're less likely to use those initials.” Global Citizens Circle’s Role Global Citizens Circle (GCC) plays a significant role in countering the backlash against DEI efforts by fostering open dialogue and understanding among diverse groups. Since 1974, GCC has consistently brought together diverse groups of people, from world leaders to local activists, to engage in meaningful conversations on important social and global issues: including race relations in the US, Northern Ireland's troubles, South Africa's struggles, and women's rights. Want examples?
These discussions aim to inspire change by highlighting the importance of DEI in creating equitable opportunities and environments for all individuals, regardless of their background by encouraging intergenerational dialogue and empowering youth voices. This is how GCC helps sustain the momentum for DEI initiatives amidst growing opposition and helps create a world where we all can not only survive but thrive. I am proud to join GCC at this critical time in our world. Won’t you join us? James McKim is the managing partner of Organizational Ignition, a management consulting practice. He is a sought-after organizational performance speaker, coach, change manager, and author of the bestselling book "The Diversity Factor: Igniting Superior Organizational Performance." Over his 35+ year career, he has helped small and large organizations, for-profit and nonprofit, ignite efficiency and growth through the aligning of people, process, and technology. Mr. McKim is known internationally for his current focus on organizational and individual performance through diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI). He is recognized by industry watchers such as Atd, Brandon Hall, Bersin Associates, Axelos, and PMI for his dedication to creating win-win situations between organizations and their employees. In addition to founding two companies, he has held senior leadership roles at or worked with organizations such as Hewlett Packard Enterprise, Fidelity, Dartmouth Hitchcock, and the Massachusetts Partnership for Diversity in Education in defining and executing strategic plans with an eye toward organizational performance. As the Chair of the Episcopal Church’s National Executive Council Committee Anti-Racism & Reconciliation, Mr. McKim was the principal writer of the church's guidelines on anti-racism and reconciliation. As President of the Manchester Branch of the NAACP, he works regularly with governments and businesses to eliminate discrimination. He is a frequent conference presenter, a guest on radio and television shows, serves as Chair of the Finance Committee of the NH PBS Board of Directors, serves on the board of Global Citizen Circle, and delights in being the vocalist for the jazz band The Episcocats. 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. GCC helps sustain the momentum for DEI initiatives amidst growing opposition and helps create a world where we all cannot only survive but thrive. I am proud to join GCC at this critical time in our world. Won’t you join us? |
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