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 By Andrew Boutselis One morning about a year ago, I was drinking coffee in my Brooklyn apartment when there was a knock on the door. My wife had left for the day and we were not expecting any deliveries, so I was naturally perturbed by the disturbance to such a sacred morning ritual. Like most New Yorkers, I contain that paradox of being openly friendly to strangers, while holding any waste of my time in utter contempt. It’s the same trait that leads us to yield to a pedestrian with a pleasant wave yet lean on our horn when they don’t cross the street quickly enough. Closing my robe tightly around my neck, I looked through the peephole to assess the uninvited visitor. Waiting patiently on the other side of the door, stood a bearded, Caucasian man roughly my age, with a Mets hat and stack of pamphlets. He’s either delivering lost mail or the good word of Christ, I assumed, and took my chance as I turned over the deadbolt and swung open the door. He was neither a neighbor nor a missionary but rather a political advocate, specifically for the Democratic Socialist mayoral candidate Zohran Mamdani. I knew little of Mamdani beyond his striking name, made all the more memorable by the retro font used by his campaign that would look more at home on the front of a tiki bar than a political banner.  As a disillusioned Democrat who was quickly devolving into a full-blown curmudgeon since moving to Brooklyn many moons ago, the universal championing of Mamdani by hipster progressives primed me to write him off with little more than an eye roll without having done much investigation. Prescribing to neighborly etiquette more than any political philosophy, I gave the man the floor to sell me whatever rehearsed talking point he had. After a brief introduction, he asked me as a New Yorker what issues concerned me the most. Hoping to pass whatever moral purity test I anticipated coming my way and return to my coffee, I rattled off an uninspired sentiment about the homeless crisis and the need for the city to do more to protect its most vulnerable population. The man in the door nodded politely and agreed, as if I had said something of substance, before telling me his concerns: “I’m a dad,” he began, “and the things that keep me up at night at are the cost of rent and childcare.” Huh. That’s rather pragmatic for a socialist, I thought, embarrassed by my own grandstanding. He went on to tell me about candidate Mamdani, the energetic, 33-year-old assembly member from Queens, who was running an outright affordability campaign, promising to make life in New York easier by taking the financial burden off of residents struggling to meet ends meet, much like my wife and me. I listened to his case, confirmed that I was registered to vote, that I knew where my polling place was, and was left with some literature before he departed to continue his journey. As the door shut behind him I felt a familiar sensation creeping in that I wasn’t able to identify, like a song that comes on the radio that you haven’t heard since you were a kid but cannot put a name to. For a moment I allowed myself to daydream that should this Mamdani character be able to win and accomplish some of this wish list of ideas, how my dramatically that would improve life for my wife and I, who have been actively contemplating if we can still afford the city, let alone have children. I began to recognize the feeling as something from my 20s—hopeful. The feeling had just shown up, uninvited, even more intrusive than the man at my door, but extinguished almost as soon as it had arrived by a reflexive cynicism. Picking up my lukewarm coffee, for the first time in a long time, I considered the option of being hopeful.  I hadn’t always been this much of a grouch. Like Mamdani himself, I’m a 33-year-old millennial, a mix of people who I feel have had a particularly tough political journey in their third of a century on the planet. While I know that every generation has its own tragic historical landmarks to define them, the chasm between where our country was when we became of age to participate in politics, and America of 2026, feels like an indescribable decent into chaos. As with most people my age, one of the earliest national events burned into my memory was September 11th. For many of us, it was a coming online point, a complete loss of innocence, the first steps towards recognizing the world as a bigger, scarier and far more complicated place than our backyards. Tragedy birthed further tragedy and we saw our country dive headfirst into a war that we did not understand led by people, who even as a 10-year-old overhearing the nightly news was able to recognize as morally dubious characters. By the time I neared voting age, the country had been at war for more than half of my life and was in the depths of The Great Recession. Up until that point, it seemed in fashion among most people I knew to assume that the government was run by war criminals, the president to be a buffoon, my best friend’s father famously enjoying his coffee from a mug with a devil-horned George W. Bush on it. The biggest album of my graduating class was Green Day’s “American Idiot.” Something else had happened, however, by the time I turned 18. Barack Obama was elected president, a historical event that had such an impact on this young white kid from New Hampshire that I cannot fathom the effect it had on more disadvantaged people around the country, let alone the world. The significance was not lost on me, and for everything terrible I had known to be true about America in the present and it’s not-too-distant past, the 2008 election signified to me that change is possible, that things can actually get better. While a child may not understand the minutia of foreign affairs or puzzle of the American economy, I cannot stress enough the impact the character of a leader can have on a child.  Photo credit: Courtesy Barack Obama Presidential Library. This optimistic outlook for the country mirrored a pivotal time in my own life as a I prepared for college and looked to my own future. Through graduation, college and the tumultuous post-grad years, there would be ups and in downs, but one constant in my life was my admiration for the president, the pillars of the Democratic Party aligning with my own values. The youngest of four children in a barely middle-class home, I was essentially raised by a single mother because of my father’s chronic, debilitating illness. Through this upbringing, I saw firsthand the importance of a strong social safety net, the value of the arts in public education, and the nightmare that is our healthcare system. In short, life was hard for my family, but we had leaders to look to and keep us inspired. Believing in my elected leaders and supporting their fight for a better future was an inherent part of my character, as essential to my identity as the books I read or the music I loved. This sentiment seems laughable now, as this romanticized idealism of politics in 2026 sounds as dated and quaint as stump speech given out of the caboose of a steam locomotive. As the Obama years wound down, I found both myself and the country preparing for an uncertain, new future. I had made up my mind to move to New York City to pursue a career in the film industry, and my final few months in New Hampshire were spent basking in the political frenzy that is this key state during an election year. Saddened by the end of a presidency that had defined my formative years, I saw an exciting, more progressive future in the senator from Vermont, Bernie Sanders. Much to my dismay, as well as virtually every other Democrat I knew, he was not our candidate. Dismissed by many establishment Democrats as “extreme” or “unable to win an election,” this seemingly blatant rejection of the will of the party’s base was the first crack in the foundation of my faith in the Democrats.  Photo credit: Facebook Nonetheless, my friends and I threw our support behind the Clinton-Kaine ticket enthusiastically, even having an opportunity to see the former first lady speak, introduced by then first lady Michelle Obama. Unstirred by the trollist rhetoric coming from the other candidate on the right, a friend and I had dinner on election night and even cheered to the presumptive first woman president. It was cold and grey when I moved to Brooklyn in January the following year. I found myself, as well as the country, in a new, unknown place. While exploring a new city was a welcome distraction, I couldn’t escape the existential dread of the direction our country was headed, like waiting for a diagnosis after the discovery of a potentially malignant lump. We looked to leaders but they were still licking their wounds. It felt quite powerless at times. The party was having an identity crisis and seemed to be trying to try to cleanse itself in any way it can. Progressive movements spiked up like #MeToo, leading to long overdue justice for so many women, but adding to further disillusionment of men in power. It was a confusing time and I did my best to listen and learn. I went to protests, met plenty of liberals in my community, but more often than not it appeared to me we were finding more reason to divide amongst ourselves at a time when we should be building a strong coalition more than ever.  Photo credit: Pamme Boutselis Things were reaching a boiling point when the pandemic hit, and a red-hot populace stayed home and had nothing but time on its hands—hands that were constantly holding their phones. Misinformation, toxic algorithms, and age-old police violence, now impossible to ignore, filled everybody’s screens. The American culture had become a dumpster fire and the first year of what should have been an exciting new decade did nothing but pour gasoline onto it. The beaten down idealist in me, still clinging to hope, believed that a new leader could emerge from this 24-hour a day shit show. We got Joe Biden. The next four years were a bit of a respite, but it felt like a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound, a minute to catch our breath in the corner of the ring before hearing the bell and going another eight to ten rounds. There were whispers of something called Project 2025—and in seeing the growing lack of faith in Biden, it became increasingly apparent to me that in 2024 there would need to be new energetic leadership to seize this moment and protect the country from the monster waiting in the wings. By July of 2024, as I watched the addled, feeble president fumble his way through the most important debate of his life, I felt a long way from the young man who had watched Barack Obama’s inauguration speech 15 years ago. It was a fittingly frigid day when the orange man was sworn in for his second term. Record-low temperatures moved the ceremonies indoors, although the chill was felt far beyond the borders of the capital. As I watched him take his oath, surrounded by many of the people responsible for eroding the decency of our culture, I felt any hope left in me expire. I wasn’t sad. I was angry, bewildered, and felt that my own party had failed me, the country, and future generations. All these things were on my mind as I drank my cold coffee and looked at the big, yellow letters on the pamphlet in my hands. ZOHRAN. I cast it to the purgatory of unread mail in my office and assumed I’d forget about the wonder kid from Queens. History proved to make this impossible over the next several weeks. I could not escape the name Zohran Mamdani. Posters in bodega windows, stickers on the Q train, wheelbarrows of mail, and above all, a relentless social media presence speaking directly to voters.  Photo credit: Kara McCurdy My knee-jerk reaction was to dismiss the digital blitzkrieg as a shameless attempt to seem relevant to younger voters, until remembering Mamdani was my age and, in fact, a young voter himself. This was not a typical candidate awkwardly appearing on podcasts and desperately speaking to influencers in a calculated ploy to assimilate to the next generation’s language. Mamdani spoke that language. Additionally, he was an immigrant from a working-class neighborhood in Queens, understood the hustle culture of New York City, and even more importantly, had a sense of humor. Most impressive was the clear communication and frank goals of his campaign that you could rattle off the top of your head: freeze rent, universal childcare, free buses. No grandiose statements about equity or demonizing folks who had a different perspective. Direct messaging, instead, to voters about how he will improve our lives. Inevitably, Mamdani’s candidacy became the main talking point over drinks or dinner with friends, whether it be their fiery support or outright dismissal based on the scope off his ambitions. Always more comfortable seated at the skeptic table, I largely agreed with the latter and found the Mamdani agenda a bit fantastical. The rest of the democratic establishment seemed to agree, everyone from the governor to mainstream podcasters labeling him as “radical.” Despite following this logic, emotionally it didn’t sit well with me, perhaps bringing back memories of that old senator from Vermont and his ill-fated nomination back in 2016. As time went on, my flirtation with the omnipresent Mamdani developed into full-fledged support when it became clear the alternative was none other than disgraced former Governor Andrew Cuomo. Having resigned over sexual misconduct, Cuomo’s brand of politics reeked of a bygone era, like the stench of cigar smoke in the woodwork of an Albany steakhouse. Positioning himself as a political heavyweight who had the strength to go toe-to-toe with the President, he seemed to think the title of Mayor was nothing more than a consolation prize that he was entitled to. Contrasted with Mamdani’s direct to the people approach, Cuomo barely did interviews or made his case for himself. He didn’t seem to be seeking people’s vote but rather demanding it. His statements regarding his past lewd behavior can be summed up as “boys will be boys,” a total parade of arrogance not too dissimilar to the president he claimed that only he could stand up to. For anyone on the fence about Mamdani, the choice seemed crystal clear in my mind, as this was a decision between returning to the past or stepping into the future.  Photo credit: Kara McCurdy Faced with the choice between fresh idealism and business as usual, I was frustrated to find many of the people in my life, who I was ideologically aligned with, still weren’t convinced. “He just won’t be able to get anything done,” they’d proclaim with tired eyes and defeated certainty. No rational person could argue against the mountain of improbability facing the young candidate, but is dreaming big not the purpose of seeking higher office in this country? Obama spoke of the audacity of hope. For eight years in this country, we said yes we can, even when we were defeated and the odds stacked against us. Did John F. Kennedy tell us we would go to the moon because it would easy? Hell, the current president has spent the last decade making promises that he cannot deliver. That is not to equate his incessant lies to Mamdani’s lofty agenda—no, but it is to say that the goals of a candidate don’t inform you of what they for certain will accomplish, but to inform you of who for certain they will be fighting for. The word that came up over and over in this dialogue was “radical.” Every time I would hear this word, I felt an anger growing inside of me. When I looked around, there were plenty things that seemed radical to me beyond Zohran Mamdani. What seems “radical” to me was accepting the status quo, that so many New Yorkers worked more than 50 hours a week and struggle to pay their rent. What was “radical” was expecting people who had been living under an authoritarian to elect a sexual predator as the mayor of their city. It is “radical” to accept that we cannot choose a leader who will fight for us because we need to accept that large-scale change in this country is no longer possible. Surrounded by such rank pessimism, I found myself for the first time in a decade feeling like an idealist. And it felt good. Even if Zohran can only accomplish a fraction of what he has promised, he will have mobilized a new generation.  Photo credit: Kara McCurdy It was a bright, brisk day on January 1, 2026. As the world celebrated a New Year and nursed their hangovers, my city celebrated a new chapter. The sun beamed hard as the young mayor was sworn in by none other than the senator from Vermont himself. It was the beginning of what would be a historic, brutal winter, but I felt some of that cynicism in me melt away. “Beginning today, we will govern expansively and audaciously. We may not always succeed. But we will never be accused of lacking the courage to try.” In those remarks, Zohran Mamdani articulated a core tenet of American idealism. Falling short in the pursuit of a better world is not a failure, but a noble effort, one that is essential to the American story. A lot has been said about the state of our democracy because of the current administration. While it is true that the president is morally bankrupt, culturally poisonous, and globally harmful, he was brought to power by the will of the American people. Rather than let that understandably horrify me and shatter my hope for a better world, I choose to focus on the fact the American people can still choose their leaders, no matter how “radical” they may be perceived. We can educate, inspire, and mobilize an electorate that can make a tidal, historical change in this country. Andrew Boutselis is a writer and filmmaker, currently working in location management in the film and television industry. He studied film production at Fitchburg State University and earned a bachelor’s in communication at Southern New Hampshire University. After two-plus decades of New Hampshire life, he now resides in Brooklyn, New York. Connect with him on LinkedIn. 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. I choose to focus on the fact the American people can still choose their leaders, no matter how “radical” they may be perceived. We can educate, inspire, and mobilize an electorate that can make a tidal, historical change in this country." - Andrew Boutselis
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By Stanley Thomas Reaching the midpoint of my master’s in nonprofit administration at Notre Dame has been a moment of profound reflection. Beyond the academic rigor, it’s the heart of this community that has truly filled my cup. The skills I’m gaining here feel less like 'tools' and more like a commitment—one I am eager to pour back into organizations like GCC that are changing lives.  Artist Akosua Bandele, Stanley Thomas, and Marguerite Mariama A special shoutout to Marguerite Mariama, who has offered me a true “safe harbor” in Chicago. Through her generosity and presence, I’ve found space to grow, reflect, and feel grounded. As I step into this new chapter, her guidance, insight, and wisdom have been nothing short of a blessing.  The author, far right foreground. My recent time in Boston and New Hampshire transformed that commitment into something personal. Meeting the GCC family in person, sitting in the circle, and co-facilitating a mental health session with the bright students at Breakthrough Manchester wasn't just 'fieldwork.' It was a reminder of why I do this. Those faces and stories are now the heartbeat behind my studies. I share my gratitude for these experiences with all of you and wish you each a joyous holiday season and hope the new year is filled with conversations that further connect us in powerful ways. 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 organizations 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.
 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  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."  Two years ago, I reached out to Global Citizens Circle (GCC) with a simple goal: To grow as a leader. Little did I know, it would become a catalyst for my mission to empower young changemakers. I have since co-facilitated three of our Emerging Leaders programs and most recently, with Abdi Nor Iftin, who I became quite interested in after reading his book, “Call Me American.” I felt empowered and reached out to one of GCC’s Global Advisors, Pamme Boutselis, who knows Abdi from when he spoke at TEDxAmoskeagMillyard, an organization she is also involved with. She was able to connect us – Theo Dunfey, Phoebe de Larrabeiti and me – to Abdi, who later shared in a powerful discussion in an Emerging Leaders program on the topic of resilience. This speaks to what GCC is, a platform of interconnectedness with people passionate about making positive change; indeed, making it a small but mighty organization.  GCC has given me a platform to turn inspiration into action – proof its mission to equip leaders at every level. When I joined, I wanted to bridge the gap between GCC’s legacy and the next generation. Outreach to young people wasn’t just a goal – it became my passion. We’ve since had emerging leaders from Afghanistan, Peru, the Philippines, Morocco, Nigeria, the U.S., Cameroon, Syria, Bangladesh, and Nepal join us. This work mirrors Jerry Dunfey’s, GCC's founding president, original spark – empowering others to lead, no matter their age. At 90, Jerry’s 50-year journey with GCC is a testament to what one visionary can achieve. I joined at 20, and it’s impossible not to wonder: What could the next 50 years hold? But GCC’s future isn’t automatic. In 50 years, who will carry this mission forward? Without intentional investment in young leaders today, what remains of the organization tomorrow? That’s where the Emerging Leaders Program (ELP) comes in. It’s not just an initiative – it’s GCC’s lifeline to the future. The Emerging Leaders Program identifies and connects young leaders to GCC’s network and resources, ensuring the mission outlives its founders. Every young leader we empower today is a seed for GCC’s next era. Jerry built GCC with the audacity to think decades ahead. Now, it’s our turn. If you believe in legacy, mentorship, or the power of youth leadership, this is your invitation to join us. I don’t know what the next 50 years hold, but I know this: GCC’s story is still being written – and its future authors are the emerging leaders we nurture today. As a dedicated mental health advocate and counseling psychology student, Stanley 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. 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. Jerry Dunfey built GCC with the audacity to think decades ahead. Now, it’s our turn. If you believe in legacy, mentorship, or the power of youth leadership, this is your invitation to join us.  By Kristen D. Nevious A civil conversation does not just happen. It requires commitment: to the critically important and deep-seated needs that inspired it, to the process, and to the dignity of the participants. In a world that is in desperate need of civil conversations, leaders do emerge and guide us through that process and help us build the bridges that allow us to collectively reach for outcomes that serve the public good. The Marlin Fitzwater Center for Communication has been recognizing Leadership in Public Communication since 2004, shortly after it was founded on the campus of Franklin Pierce University, a liberal arts institution at the foot of Mt. Monadnock in Southwestern New Hampshire. Some Fitzwater Medallion Honorees have hailed from the ranks of mainstream media; others work in the technology, business, civic or educational spheres. Some have spent decades in leadership roles; others are just emerging. Some are building bridges between world-wide audiences; others’ work is evident primarily in their hometowns. But the trait all of the Honorees share is commitment. On March 11, 2020, CNN’s Chief Medical Correspondent and 2022 Fitzwater MedallionHonoree, Dr. Sanjay Gupta, shared with CNN’s audience why he would be “using the term pandemic to describe the current coronavirus outbreak.” He noted that on that day, over 100,000 cases and 3,000 deaths had already been attributed to this new virus. As a neurosurgeon and medical school professor who had dedicated decades of his life to promoting science and health literacy, he presciently walked all who were paying attention through the data at hand, alerting them to potential challenges ahead, and reassuring his global audience that “this is a crisis we can overcome if we can work together.” A 2019 Fitzwater Medallion Honoree, Robert M. Patterson ‘69, pioneered the communication satellite technology that made it possible for Dr. Gupta’s bridges to reach those of us who were increasingly isolated in our homes and communities. Patterson facilitated the very first televised live broadcast event via a U.S. domestic satellite.He went on to arrange transmissions for such critical events as the Reagan- Gorbachev Summit Meetings, and the reunification of West and East Berlin. To note but two other Fitzwater Honorees:
The Fitzwater Center is proud to have presented the 2025 Fitzwater Medallion for Leadership in Public Communication to Theo Spanos Dunfey, President and Executive Director of Global Citizens’ Circle. Dunfey is a civil and courageous conversationalist who has demonstrated a life-long commitment to convening and empowering future generations of global bridge builders. Dunfey embodies the mission of the Marlin Fitzwater Center for Communication to educate leaders in public communications. Within our state-of-the-art technology studios and classrooms, we are intentional about providing our on-campus and off- campus communities with opportunities for perspective-challenging conversations with such global leaders as Nobel Laureate Lech Walesa or Journalism Ethicist Richard T. Griffiths. Our students can develop their communication skills editing an episode of $100 Plus Mileage, a podcast in its fifth season of production in collaboration with Citizens Count. Or, they can crew for NHPBS’s weekly digital public affairs show, The State We’re In, which is produced in collaboration with the Granite State News Collaborative. In the end, we are confident that all will find their voices in the bridge building that is essential to the well-being of our global community. Kristen D. Nevious, whose first encounter with communication media technology was a beautiful baby blue Smith Corona manual typewriter in the 1970s, has been Director of Franklin Pierce University’s Marlin Fitzwater Center for Communication since 2004, where she oversees the video and audio production studios and low-power FM station. Her team of students and staff just completed shooting episode 220 of NHPBS’s The State We’re In, and it produces award-winning podcasts in collaboration with the Granite State News Collaborative, which she co-founded in 2018. Media production is just one way the Fitzwater Center meets its charge to engage intellects, challenge perspectives, teach skills and help people find their voices in the public discourse that is essential to the health of our democracy. Nevious delivers programming that takes advantage of the University’s location in the home of the First-in-the-Nation Primary, including The Presidency and the Press, a high school summer program; PoliticsFitzU, a collegiate political reporting unit that has earned national press credentials to the national political conventions covering presidential races since 2008; and Ravens Sports Network, which livestreams every home game on FloCollege, a global sports livestreaming platform. Her undergraduate and graduate degrees are in journalism, and she has taught at Southern Illinois University at Carbondale, Southern Missouri State University, the University of Southern Mississippi, and the University of South Dakota, where she earned tenure. She serves the profession as chair of New Hampshire Public Broadcasting’s Community Advisory Board, and as a member of the New England Newspaper and Press Association’s Board of Directors, the New Hampshire Press Association Board of Directors, and the Journalism Education Foundation of New England Board of Directors. In 2018, she was named the Journalism Educator of the Year by NENPA. Please note: Biweekly, 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. In a world that is in desperate need of civil conversations, leaders do emerge and guide us through that process and help us build the bridges that allow us to collectively reach for outcomes that serve the public good.   On April 2, 2025, GCC's President and Executive Director Theo Spanos Dunfey was awarded The Fitzwater Center Medallion for Leadership in Public Communication at Franklin Pierce University's Marlin Fitzwater Center for Communication. Theo delivered The Medallion Lecture: "I'm No Expert: Confessions of a Generalist." Here's what she had to say. Before I begin with what I prepared several months ago when this event was originally supposed to take place, I want to first acknowledge how much has changed and continues to change every day since then. Changes that I believe are leading our country into unknown, and frankly frightening, territory in terms of our democracy, freedom of speech and civil discourse. I’m not going to address these issues directly – we hear about them everywhere, all the time from historians, political pundits, journalists and other so-called experts. Today, I’d like to speak with you about being a generalist, and I hope it will resonate with you as we all think about how we navigate these troubled waters. How did I end up here – accepting an award for communication? You see, I was this very shy little girl from Claremont, New Hampshire who relied on her sister (who’s sitting here in the audience) to speak for me. If someone asked me what my name was and how old I was, my sister would confidently answer: “Her name is Theo and she’s 5-years-old. I’m Kass and I’m 6!” I probably let this dynamic go on much too long, but that’s a story for another time and, honestly, for a therapist to hear.  Theo and Kass  Phoebe de Larrabeiti and Theo Spanos Dunfey The irony sure isn’t lost on me that I’m receiving the Fitzwater Medallion for Leadership in Public Communication but let me say what an honor it is to have been chosen for this award. I want to thank Sean O’Kane, chair of the board of Global Citizens Circle and former trustee of Franklin Pierce University, for first introducing me to the amazing Kristen Nevious, Director of the Fitzwater Center, who then introduced me to the very generous Christina Cliff, associate professor of political science and security studies. Together, along with Phoebe de Larrabeiti, assistant director for Global Citizens Circle, we worked on a series of critical issue discussion guides to accompany edited videos of Circle programs on topics such as monuments and their power to unite and to divide, the hard realities of police reform, as well as healing divisions and finding our common humanity. Neither Kristen nor Christina ever asked for anything in return but gave us confidence and the skills to begin a project that would allow hard but critical conversations to continue beyond our 90-minute programs, making them available to a wider public audience. For their help and friendship, I am most grateful. Let me also thank Marlin Fitzwater, whose prescience to found the Fitzwater Center “to prepare students for the responsibilities of inspired leadership and service in vibrant public discourse” is a lasting gift to Franklin Pierce University, to its students and scholars, and to the state of New Hampshire. As a native New Hampshirite and someone whose career began just about the same time that Mr. Fitzwater was establishing himself as a leader in political communications, I remember him well and I’d like to think that his passion for presidential politics was in the crisp NH air when I returned to Claremont after college for my first “real” job in a presidential primary campaign in 1983. It was just prior to this that my story of being a generalist really starts. I went to college and studied international affairs, which was a mix of courses in political science, economics, history, and anthropology. These weren’t the kinds of courses (except for history) that I had learned about at Stevens High School. I needed to know something about all of them before I could decide what I would really want delve into. Four years later, when I graduated, I realized I wasn’t an expert in any one discipline, though I felt I’d had a well-rounded education and that I’d enjoyed learning a little about a lot of topics. So, what else could I do but go home and work on a presidential campaign and use my broad knowledge to help organize and persuade people to support my candidate. Of course, that was a challenge too, because I still had those shyness tendencies and making cold calls to potential voters was something I really had to get used to. Though my candidate, astronaut and senator John Glenn, lost in the NH primary, I had found my voice, if not any particular expertise. Continuing a bit longer in NH politics, I worked on a gubernatorial campaign, before I decided to go back to studying international affairs. This time I thought, I’ll come out with a master’s degree that would convey on me a certain sense of expertise. I got a master’s in law and diplomacy from the Fletcher School at Tufts University. Sounds pretty expert, don’t you think? Guess what? I’m neither a lawyer nor a diplomat, nor have I ever been. Why that’s the name of the degree, I don’t know because Fletcher is a school that distinguishes itself for turning out generalists. I had to pick three fields of study, not one concentration – I chose international development, US diplomatic history, and international communications. Again, just as I had as an undergraduate, I learned a little about a lot. And no, I’m not diminishing that – I’m getting to my point really. And that is that being a generalist offers unique strengths in communication by fostering adaptability, empathy, and the ability to connect ideas across disciplines, with storytelling as a key tool. So why did I feel, and, to be honest, still sometimes feel, that I should be an expert in something? I believe there’s societal pressure to specialize. Society often equates expertise with authority. We live in a world that celebrates specialists. Think about it—doctors, scientists, engineers—they’re revered for their deep expertise. But with specialization comes a challenge: communication. Specialists often fall into "expert blind spots," using jargon or focusing so narrowly on their field that they struggle to connect with others outside their domain. I’ve felt this firsthand. In conversations with specialists, I’ve sometimes been overlooked because I didn’t have a single label—like “data analyst” or “Middle East expert.” Yet, what I’ve learned is that this lack of a defined niche allows me to see things from multiple perspectives. And here’s the problem with hyper-specialization: when we don’t communicate effectively, we limit innovation, collaboration, and progress. That’s where generalists step in. Being a generalist means being adaptable, empathetic, and able to see the bigger picture. First, adaptability. Generalists excel at translating complex ideas for diverse audiences. For instance, I once explained what it means to be a global citizen to a group of emerging leaders by comparing it to a conversation at a Global Citizens Circle program. I explained how open and honest discussions, even when they are about hard topics (which is really what Global Citizens Circle is all about), help everyone to understand our shared humanity. It isn’t just about simplifying; it’s about making the information relatable. Second, empathy. When you’ve dabbled in multiple fields, you start to understand the challenges and perspectives of different groups. This makes you a bridge-builder. I’ve worked to bring people of differing backgrounds, races, religions, and opinions together for respectful dialogue that advances solutions to problems that sometimes seem intractable. By reframing their disagreements as dialogue rather than debate, I’ve helped people find common ground. Finally, big-picture thinking. Specialists dive deep, but generalists connect the dots. We see patterns, relationships, and opportunities that others might miss. This broader perspective makes conversations richer and more dynamic. It also helps us form relationships and identify partnerships that provide give and take and benefit all. Here’s where storytelling comes in. Stories are universal. They break down barriers and make abstract concepts relatable. As generalists, we’re uniquely positioned to craft multidimensional stories because we draw on diverse experiences. For example, I’ve had the privilege through Global Citizens Circle to meet and converse with world leaders, local activists and emerging leaders from all over and from different sectors, and when I tell others about these interactions, I’m able to speak about them on a human level because I’ve listened to their stories even more than to their expertise, and this allows others to understand the shared humanity that doesn’t put one person above another. Stories don’t just explain; they inspire. And for generalists, they’re a way to translate the value of our diverse knowledge into something that resonates with everyone. This is why when we begin a Global Citizens Circle program, we always ask our discussion leaders to start with a personal story that relates to the topic at hand. It may be, “why did you get involved in this issue? And what has kept you going even when you thought you wanted to quit?” It’s through these kinds of questions that we hear answers that are relatable and have the power to inspire others. Of course, being a generalist isn’t always easy. Sometimes, I’ve felt like an outsider in conversations dominated by specialists. I’ve struggled with imposter syndrome, questioning whether I’m “enough” without a defined expertise. But here’s what I’ve learned: being a generalist is not about knowing everything. It’s about being curious, adaptable, and willing to learn. It’s about asking the right questions, connecting people, and telling and listening to stories that bridge gaps. The reward? Seeing people collaborate in ways they couldn’t before. Watching ideas flourish because you helped connect the dots. That’s the magic of being a generalist.  Theo Spanos Dunfey, Ukrainian Nobel Peace Laureate Oleksandra Matviichuk, and Phoebe de Larrabeiti Let me leave you with one final story. I never imagined as that shy little girl from a mill town in New Hampshire that I would travel the world and in so doing have opportunities to impact positive change. I never thought I would be able to help a young Afghan woman to leave Afghanistan to come to the US where she could get the education she wasn’t allowed in her country. I couldn’t imagine I’d meet a young Syrian peacebuilder who travelled with me to the west coast of Africa this past October for a peace conference and was so inspired to learn more about Africa that he is hoping to do a master’s program in African studies so that he can use lessons from that continent to help him make change in his own country. And I wouldn’t have imagined I would ever feel confident enough to share lunch and conversation with a human rights lawyer and Nobel Peace Laureate from Ukraine. But those are all things that I’ve experienced in just the past few years. How did it happen? Well, I’ve used my knowledge and curiosity as a generalist. So, my message to you is this: Don’t underestimate the power of being a generalist. Embrace your unique ability to connect ideas, people, and disciplines. Use storytelling to bridge divides and inspire action. We may not be experts in one thing, but we are experts in weaving the threads of our experiences into stories that inspire, connect, and transform. And in a world that is clearly struggling to communicate in ways that bring out the best of humanity, that might just be the most valuable expertise of all. Thank you. When we don’t communicate effectively, we limit innovation, collaboration, and progress.  By José Tulio Gálvez Contreras In a world marked by uncertainty and division, effective leadership is crucial. The Global Citizen Circle (GCC) shines as a beacon of hope, uniting leaders to inspire tomorrow’s change-makers. My journey with GCC began during the pandemic, a challenging time when many felt lost. As a Latino immigrant from Honduras, GCC became a vital source of inspiration and connection. I arrived in the United States in 2007 on a scholarship, driven by the dream of one day giving back to and transforming my home country. In those early years, my aspirations burned brightly. I envisioned creating positive change and uplifting my community. However, as time went on, that fire began to fade. The weight of isolation and uncertainty took its toll. While my dreams remained alive, they lacked the passion I once felt. It was during the pandemic, grappling with these feelings of disconnection, that I discovered GCC. GCC emerged as a platform where diverse voices could unite, fostering dialogue, collaboration, and inspiration—essential elements for effective leadership. The organization created circles of conversation, allowing individuals from various backgrounds to share their experiences and aspirations. This sense of community was crucial during such chaotic times, especially as we confronted not only the pandemic but also the urgent call to support the Black Lives Matter movement and stand against oppression. One of the key lessons from my involvement with GCC is the realization that I am not alone in my struggles. Many others share the desire to enact change in their communities. This understanding reignited my sense of purpose and revealed that our diverse backgrounds enhance the dialogue about our collective future. The stories and insights shared within GCC circles underscored the strength found in unity and the power of collective action. What sets GCC apart is its commitment to empowering individuals as agents of change. By bringing together leaders from different fields, GCC encourages discussions on pressing issues such as social justice and environmental sustainability. These conversations serve as catalysts for action, prompting participants to reflect on their roles in their communities and the wider world. Through GCC, I learned that effective leadership isn’t merely about wielding power; it’s about listening, understanding, and collaborating toward shared goals. Engaging with fellow members provided invaluable support, motivating me to take an active role in my community. Together, we brainstorm ideas and hold each other accountable for change, reinforcing that real transformation often begins at the grassroots level. In conclusion, the Global Citizen Circle illustrates the transformative power of community and dialogue in fostering leadership. During a fragmented time, GCC offered hope and connection, profoundly shaping my journey as a Latino immigrant. It reignited my passion for change and strengthened my commitment to helping Honduras. As we move forward, we must recognize our potential to contribute to a more equitable world. Through organizations like GCC, we can cultivate future leaders, united by a shared vision for positive change. José Tulio Gálvez Contreras is the Director of Affordable Solar at Solar One, a position he has held since 2019. He manages solar projects and leads research initiatives to enhance solar access for multifamily affordable housing. With over a decade of experience in renewable energy, sustainability, and community development, José is committed to addressing social and environmental injustices. He is currently completing his doctoral studies in Public and Urban Policy at The New School, focusing on environmental justice and energy democracy. José holds master's degrees in Public and Urban Policy and Environmental Law and Policy. In his free time, he enjoys nature, meditation, martial arts, dancing, exploring new cuisines, and meeting new people. 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. What sets GCC apart is its commitment to empowering individuals as agents of change. By bringing together leaders from different fields, GCC encourages discussions on pressing issues such as social justice and environmental sustainability. These conversations serve as catalysts for action, prompting participants to reflect on their roles in their communities and the wider world.
Battles over Confederate flags and monuments persist and suggest that the issues fought over in the American Civil War and Civil Rights Movement are unresolved. How we confront symbols of statues, flags and anthems determine the extent of domestic tranquility we can achieve as a nation. How can public commemoration shape a collective narrative that builds, rather than strains the ties that bind us together?
In Feb. 2021, Global Citizens Circle (GCC) addressed this question in a stirring circle. Discussion leaders included American politician, lawyer and author Mitch Landrieu, whose book, “In the Shadow of Statues: A White Southerner Confronts History,” speaks to his personal journey confronting the issue of race and institutional racism that still plagues America. Circle discussion leaders also included Imari Paris Jefferies, Ph.D., Tracyann Williams, and Dr. Craig Stutman. 
This important circle discussion is now part of GCC’s engaging Dialogue2Action series. The overview video can be viewed below. Review the discussion guide here. There’s never been a better time to participate in one of GCC’s Dialogue2Action discussions with your friends, colleagues, and community. There is a difference between remembrance of history and reverence of it.  By Theo Spanos Dunfey We live in turbulent times. Extreme polarization, animosity across divides, and violence erupting in places we’ve grown too accustomed to seeing it and in places we never expected it. Exacerbated by a 24/7 media landscape that proves difficult to pull away from, we find ourselves irritated, agitated and feeling small and alone in the face of the enormity of the problems we face in these turbulent times. Surely there must be an escape! Rather than an escape, however, I would posit that what we need is to do something, as people at the recent Democratic National Convention have reminded us. Recalling their mothers’ admonitions to do something instead of complaining, do something instead of sitting on the couch waiting for someone else to fix things, and do something even if it’s hard, the speakers reminded me of one of the origin stories of Global Citizens Circle. As I wrote in my previous blog post, I was fortunate to become part of the Dunfey family, the Circle founders. While I never met Catherine Dunfey, the family matriarch, I’ve heard the stories of the example she set for her large and sometimes unwieldy group of a dozen offspring. Her youngest daughter, Eleanor Dunfey-Freiburger, wrote in her memoir “Counter Culture: Clams, Convents and a Circle of Global Citizens” – My mother’s example…showed us what “social justice” looks like. She would never have heard that term in those days. She lived it though…my mother walked the talk of social justice in her everyday life. Catherine’s example had a profound and lasting impact on her family, and it is reflected in the story of Global Citizens Circle. Fifty years ago, it was another turbulent time. In the wake of national trauma over the assassinations of JFK, RFK and MLK, the end of the Vietnam War, the resignation of a disgraced president, and the upheaval in Boston over school desegregation and bussing, the pervasive feelings of helplessness and hopelessness spurred the Dunfey family to “do something!” As hoteliers, the family decided to use their experience in the hospitality industry to take action and bring people of different backgrounds, races and beliefs together, usually over a meal, to talk with one another in an open and respectful manner about the hard issues that everyone was grappling with in the early 1970s. A firm belief that diverse, civil conversations on critical issues of the day would help begin to break down barriers when coupled with a friendly, warm and welcoming environment – and that is how the Circle became the family’s act of doing something. And beyond opening up their hotels to welcome people into the conversation, they set an example of working behind the scenes for peace in Northern Ireland, South Africa and the Middle East among other conflict areas in the world. As Monica McWilliams, the only woman signatory to Northern Ireland’s Good Friday Agreement, said to us, “They (the Dunfey family) were influencers, but influencers without ego, influencers who worked under the radar, influencers who were humble people…” In this, the 50th anniversary year of Global Citizens Circle, I value and hold dear the legacy that the organization has of bringing people together across differences, welcoming everyone to the conversation, and honoring everyone’s lived experience as we discuss the way towards lasting peace and justice. When we truly listen with open minds, and we learn to hold differing opinions with respect for the humanity of those who express them, I believe we can all lead the way to solving even the most intractable problems we face. Just do something! 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. When we truly listen with open minds, and we learn to hold differing opinions with respect for the humanity of those who express them, I believe we can all lead the way to solving even the most intractable problems we face. 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.
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