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 Photo by Gary Butterfield on Unsplash By Mariam P. Sometimes, late at night when I’m studying or the internet is slow, I catch myself wondering about big things , like why people believe what they do, or how the world could be different. In those quiet moments, I realize curiosity isn’t just something nice to have. It’s actually a strong way to deal with a world full of arguments and divisions. We live in times where information comes at us constantly : news alerts, social media threads, heated family dinners. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed and retreat into certainty. We scroll past opinions that don’t match ours, mute notifications from “that one friend,” or just nod along in conversations to avoid conflict. But I’ve noticed something: the moments when I push past that instinct and get genuinely curious are the ones that stick with me. They don’t always change minds (mine or anyone else’s), but they change the energy. They make space for something human instead of just positions. Right now, a lot of people pick a side fast and stick to it. They stop listening. But asking questions changes that. A simple “Why do you think that?” or “What made you feel this way?” can open the door to real talk instead of shouting matches. Those basic questions are powerful because they shift the focus from winning to understanding. When we ask them sincerely, we’re saying, “I see you as more than your opinion.” We’re inviting the other person to share the story behind their view , the experiences, fears, hopes, or values that shaped it. Often , people aren’t used to being asked. They expect attack or dismissal so when curiosity shows up instead, it disarms defensiveness. Suddenly, the conversation isn’t a battle; it’s an exchange. I’ve seen it happen in small ways. In online chats with people from different places, when someone asks a real question instead of arguing, the whole mood shifts. People start sharing stories. They don’t always agree, but they start to understand each other a little better. That small shift matters. This works on a bigger scale too. Whether it’s arguments about politics, climate, or rights, things get stuck when everyone thinks they already know the full truth. Questions break that stuck feeling. They let us see new sides, find common ground, and maybe even solve problems together. Think about how polarized things have become , elections, social issues, even basic facts get twisted into team sports. When we assume we already know everything about “the other side,” we stop learning. But curiosity reminds us that no one has the complete picture. Every perspective is shaped by partial experiences. Asking questions helps fill in the gaps. It reveals shared human concerns underneath the divide like wanting safety for our families, fairness in opportunities, or a planet that future generations can thrive on. Those common threads don’t solve everything overnight, but they make collaboration possible instead of impossible.  Photo by Nicole Baster on Unsplash Global Citizens Circle shows this in action. Their Circles bring people together from all ages and places to talk without needing to win. Questions are welcomed, not shut down. Listening happens first. I’ve seen how that builds trust. When people feel heard, they open up. When they open up, change becomes possible. It builds trust and shows that understanding can come before agreeing. Young people especially have this superpower. We’re growing up in a noisy, divided world, but many of us still ask “why” and “what if.” We wonder about fairness, about the future, about how to make things better. That wondering keeps hope alive. It reminds us that the world isn’t finished changing. Every question we ask is a step toward something kinder, fairer, more connected. Of course, asking questions isn’t always easy. It can feel risky especially when opinions run hot or when you’re afraid of looking unsure. But that’s why it’s powerful. It takes courage to say, “I don’t know; tell me more.” It takes strength to listen without jumping in to correct. In divided times, that’s revolutionary. When we choose questions over conclusions, we choose connection over isolation. We remind ourselves and others that people are more than the side they choose to take. We’re stories, struggles, dreams. Curiosity just lets us meet each other there. Here’s something simple anyone can try this week: When you see or hear something you disagree with — in person, online, or even in your own head — stop for a second and ask one honest question. “What’s behind that view?” or “What part of this is hardest for you?” Just one question. And remember: the goal isn’t to agree; it’s to learn something new about the person across from you. If this speaks to you, feel free to share your own question or join a Circle — small steps go a long way. “The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.” — Albert Einstein 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. When we choose questions over conclusions, we choose connection over isolation. We remind ourselves and others that people are more than the side they choose to take. We’re stories, struggles, dreams. Curiosity just lets us meet each other there." -Mariam P.
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 A Declaration of Moral Power RIGHT We affirm that Right precedes Might. As citizens of humanity, we choose Right Action—especially in times when human rights are dismissed, distorted, or deliberately dismantled. We refuse the false doctrine that force determines truth or that dominance confers legitimacy. We bind ourselves to a moral code grounded in the inherent dignity of every human being, without exception—across borders, beliefs, identities, and legal status. Human worth is not granted by the state. It is not earned. It is not revocable. In moments when fear is weaponized and cruelty normalized, we choose conscience over compliance, courage over convenience, and humanity over silence. MAKES Right does not remain an idea. Right becomes real through action. As people of conscience, we take a stand against the erosion of civil liberties, the criminalization of compassion, and the misuse of power, and for the protection of human dignity, due process, and truth. We commit to doing right—now through daily, measurable acts that multiply when practiced together:
MIGHT Might is power—but not all power is equal. We reject domination, coercion, and fear as false strength. We affirm that the only power capable of sustaining human dignity is moral power:
This is the power that outlasts regimes. This is the strength we claim—together. RIGHT MAKES MIGHT.
ACT NOW: If you believe that Right Makes Might, we encourage you to click through to Change.org and sign the petition with your pledge to act upon this declaration. JOIN US at our next virtual Circle by registering here. Does Might Make Right: The Moral Cost of Power When: January 28, 2026 Time: 12:00-1:00pm EST Where: Zoom Circle  By Theo Spanos Dunfey September 21st – International Day of Peace – Earth, Wind and Fire day – the birth of my first grandchild, Milo. Oh, how the confluence of these events gives me pause to reflect on this past year. You see, I became a grandmother on the 21st of September, a date I had forgotten, until a colleague reminded me, was established in 1981 by the United Nations as the International Day of Peace. It’s also a date that is recognized especially by my generation as the night when the band Earth, Wind and Fire sang and asked the question, “Do you remember/ The 21st night of September?/Love was changing the minds of pretenders/ While chasing the clouds away.” There’s surely something profound for me in this mix of the pursuit of global peace, the music of my late teens, and now the birth of my first grandchild. Though I won’t do justice to describing why it’s profound for me, I will give it a try. The ideal of achieving global peace is something that I’ve worked towards throughout my career. Listening deeply to and learning so much from those who have faced the unimaginable horrors of conflict and war have left me humbled and committed to doing what I can to advance, if only a small bit, the prospects for peace. Those prospects grow when we come together to talk and we pay attention to how we talk to one another. It is with respect and an abiding trust in the inherent dignity of all people that “talk” can lead to understanding and ultimately to peace. It’s not an easy, straight or short line between the two, but history has proven its worth. I think of Northern Ireland and the countless hours, days and years that it took to find a semblance of peace through the Good Friday Agreement. I believe the words of Nelson Mandela when he said, “The best weapon is to sit down and talk.” I respect the insights of Gloria Steinem, when she wrote in her book "My Life on the Road," “If you want people to listen to you, you have to listen to them. If you hope people will change how they live, you have to know how they live. If you want people to see you, you have to sit down with them eye-to-eye.” I’ve seen where prospects for peace expand with respectful, civil dialogue, and I feel hope in the act of nurturing it. I’m no less moved by the power of music to motivate, heal and inspire activism for a more peaceful world. It is a universal language that can sometimes soothe the soul. For me, a child of the 60s and 70s, music that brought me solace in that particular time of upheaval was soft, melodic, and soothing, or happy, lively and fun. Some were undoubtedly moved more by the hard rock of the day, but that wasn’t me. I return to the significance of Earth, Wind and Fire, a band whose songs featured poetic lyrics about universal love, harmony, spirituality, and consciousness. That’s what I liked, that’s what made me smile and sing along. When my grandson Milo was born on the 21st night of September, how I smiled and sang silently in my head the words of Earth, Wind and Fire’s perennially popular song, “September.” Of course I was beyond happy and filled with the peace and joy of knowing Milo and my daughter McKayla were healthy, safe and surrounded by family and friends filled with love for them and Nolan, the proud father and partner.  Theo and her grandson Milo. But, my dearest Milo, my prince of peace, I can’t help but worry. It is what I do best, though I try my hardest to overcome it. The world you have been born into will confront you with great challenges, and that scares me, not because I think your generation will be unable to survive. I believe you will, but it will take great effort, strategic initiative, perseverance and hope to envision and forge a new world of peace, justice and prosperity for all. You will need to work together in a world that tries to divide. You will need to learn the difference between fact and fiction in a world that tries to confuse and conflate the two. You will need stay true to your values in a world that tries to pull you away. I know you and your peers will do it, but the unknown still scares me. Nonetheless, it’s a new year and I refuse to succumb to the messages the world has imposed on me this past year. I can acknowledge and feel the pain of loneliness, the despair of war, the devastation wrought by climate change and the chaos of collapsing democratic values and institutions, but I will not and cannot give up hope for a more peaceful world. I will continue to put that hope into action for my own sweet Milo and for all of the precious new lives that come into our world with nothing but the expectation of nourishment, warmth and love. 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. Listening deeply to and learning so much from those who have faced the unimaginable horrors of conflict and war have left me humbled and committed to doing what I can to advance, if only a small bit, the prospects for peace."  By Steve Dunfey As a member of the Dunfey family, I feel privileged to write about two people who have influenced my life for the better. One is my father Jack and the other is Manny Diaz. We all knew Jack as the leader of the Dunfey family business enterprises. He also built bridges in many foreign countries. Most significantly were his efforts in Cuba and dealings with Fidel Castro. Manny Diaz is the former mayor of Miami and has been a close friend of mine since 1976. He served two terms as mayor and became the president of the U.S. Conference of Mayors. My father was introduced to Castro by Congressman Mickey Leland, who unfortunately died in a plane crash in Africa in 1989. He continued meeting with Castro close to a dozen occasions and I was lucky enough to join him on one of those visits. We started out in Santiago de Cuba in Cuba’s east end. While there, we visited Boniato Prison and interviewed several political prisoners. Then on to Holguin, where we were treated to inspecting the tourist industry.
 Fidel Castro with Steve Dunfey  Jack Dunfey with Fidel Castro Global Citizens Circle made a trip to Cuba in 2001. The delegation met with government officials, activists and the famous Cuban writer Miguel Barnet. It would be great to hear any feedback about that trip from those that were there. Manny Diaz was born in Cuba and came to the United States with his mother in 1961. His father was a political prisoner and came to the U.S. when he was released. I met Manny when I worked for Mike O’Donovan who ran for State Representative in Miami in 1976. Manny was Mike’s campaign manager. Unfortunately Mike died soon after losing a close election. But Manny and I remained friends. He became an attorney and also a businessman working for Terremark, a real estate development firm. He also became co-owner of Monty Trainer’s, a popular Miami restaurant. Manny got into politics in a big way in 2001 when he ran for mayor of Miami, his first attempt at elected office. He wrote a book about his experience titled “Miami Transformed: Rebuilding America One Neighborhood, One City at a Time.” According to the former Mayor of Chicago Richard M. Daley, “Miami Transformed is the story of a doer, a big thinker with a passion for improving the lives of people. Manny Diaz is undaunted by the challenges that inevitably arise in government and business but always squarely focused on the agenda he has carefully set to reach his goals. That’s the definition of a good leader, and that, based on my experience, is Manny Diaz.” Dr. Eduardo J. Padron, president of Miami Dade College, said, “Manny Diaz became the mayor of Miami during a critical time, when professional leadership was needed. He took the city to new heights and also represented Miami nationally and internationally as president of the U.S. Conference of Mayors. Manny is a visionary leader who has never lost his footing or his roots. He epitomizes the immigrant success story and the fruition of the American Dream.” Steve Dunfey is a freelance writer, writing primarily for InDepthNH and the Seacoast Jazz Society. Dunfey has extensive background in politics having served as State Representative and Assistant Democratic Leader in New Hampshire. He was appointed by Governor Hugh Gallen to serve as Vice-Chairman of the New Hampshire State Port Authority. He also has experience as a professional musician and writer for Modern Drummer magazine. Dunfey has been a member of several boards of directors and as a Taxi Commissioner for the City of Portsmouth. 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. Through his efforts my father helped nearly 100 prisoners obtain their freedom."  By Theo Spanos Dunfey At a time when it’s becoming harder and more competitive to fundraise, nonprofit executive directors, development directors and board members are looking at fundraising from all angles. We have to be creative, think outside the box and explore opportunities beyond foundations and individual donors. Global Citizens Circle has been doing just that, and one particular opportunity has been with charitable gaming in New Hampshire. The charitable gaming business model in NH operates under a state law that mandates NH-based charities receive 35% of the revenue from table games and 8.75% from historic horse racing machines, and the state takes 10% and 16.5% respectively. The remaining profit goes to casino operators. From August 19–28, Global Citizens Circle will partner with REVO Casino in Manchester, NH, for a 10-day charitable gaming event to raise funds in support of its mission to bridge divides through radically civil dialogue. For more than 50 years, Global Citizens Circle has engaged people across generations to address polarization and advance just and peaceful solutions to some of the world’s most pressing concerns. Funds raised during the event will support the organization’s work teaching global citizenship to high school and college students in the Breakthrough Manchester College Bound program, as well as connecting New Hampshire citizens to global perspectives through both in-person and online discussions. With roots in NH that go back more than 50 years, Global Citizens Circle remains committed to serving concerned citizens of NH by bringing the global to the local, connecting them with people from around the world who share their unique perspectives on issues that affect all of us. We're very grateful for the opportunity to raise funds from charitable gaming to support the work that helps instill the values of global citizenship right here in NH. This partnership with REVO Casino underscores the power of charitable gaming to make a tangible difference for local communities. 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. We're very grateful for the opportunity to raise funds from charitable gaming to support the work that helps instill the values of global citizenship right here in NH. Over the past year, we’ve celebrated the 50th anniversary of Global Citizens Circle—reflecting with gratitude on a remarkable journey, the people who’ve shaped it, and the lasting impact of its work. As we honor this legacy, we are also looking ahead—committed to ensuring that our mission continues to thrive for generations to come. On May 23, so many came together globally to celebrate the 90th birthday of GCC’s founder, Jerry Dunfey. As part of this heartfelt tribute, a very special short film premiered during a private virtual screening. Created by GCC Board Member Michael Lockett and narrated by Global Advisor Marguerite Mariama, the film tells the story of GCC’s evolution and the many activists across the globe who have fueled its mission. It also highlights a new generation of emerging leaders poised to carry this important work forward. We invite you to watch “Global Citizens Circle: Forward to Fifty and Beyond” and be inspired by the journey—and the path that lies ahead.  By Pamme Boutselis Throughout the past 50 years, Global Citizens Circle has created essential dialogue around serious societal issues throughout the U.S. and across the world, especially at Circle events. I appreciate the sense of connection each Circle has given me, the opportunities to connect with others globally, and, notably, the access to people I most likely would never have experienced otherwise – and for that I’m grateful. One Circle, in particular, the first virtual Circle actually, made a marked impression on me at a time when we were all feeling especially vulnerable. I invite you to think back to where you were in early April 2020 and consider what your mindset might have been. As for me, I was working from home for several weeks at this point, having gone remote for what we thought would be just two weeks as the coronavirus ramped up stateside. Before March was out, though, the university I work at was partnering with the city to provide overflow hospital space on our campus. The mom of four now-grown kids, two of my sons lived local to me in New Hampshire, one with his wife and two recently adopted kids – and a baby soon to join their family that summer – and the other with his wife, also pregnant and due in May. My daughter, her husband and two kids had just moved back from Vermont to the town where she’d grown up (and where I still live). My youngest lived in Brooklyn, where he and his girlfriend worked in hospitality. Just a few days after NYC shut down in mid-March, my youngest son tested positive for Covid-19, and his girlfriend also did just a week or so later. In those early days, of course, there were no vaccines, and the uncertainty of the virus’s severity was incredibly alarming, with media stories of deaths worldwide coming at us daily. The length of time those diagnosed with Covid-19 had to quarantine was much longer than it is today. As our family in Brooklyn remained isolated in their apartment, we pondered how to get them safely back to NH once they were able to go out again. It was a surreal time, and one like nothing none of us had ever experienced before. Like many, I was scared – and watching the news each day with growing concern. And then I received an email from Global Citizens Circle, telling of a virtual Circle planned for April 7, 2020: “Connection & Action in Uncertain Time.” Having witnessed the power of an in-person Circle firsthand, I wondered what this might feel like online, particularly as we were all just beginning to get our feet wet in this new digital meeting space. But I knew I needed to be on that call.  Until now, most of what I knew about this global pandemic was what I saw in the media and briefly heard from a friend or two across the sea. April 7th brought this all home, allowing me to bear witness to what others were experiencing in a way I never could have imagined. As participants joined the Circle, there were a few that I knew, but so many others coming together from throughout the world. Two people will always stay with me. Ralph Zhang, a man in Wuhan, the capital of Hubei, China, a place I’d only recently become acquainted with via the news. His city had been released that day from a two-plus-month lockdown – and as he spoke with us, his face close to the computer screen, what he had been through over the past few months was evident with every word and facial expression he shared. It was haunting in many ways, but I also recognized that the virus had advanced earlier in that area. We had not yet entered into that stage yet in the U.S., although we were certainly heading there. While Ralph Zhang’s experience gave me trepidation, it also gave me hope; that there would be light eventually as we continued down this tunnel. Another man shared what he was witnessing – this time, more local in Manhattan. Although I don’t recall his name, I do remember what he had to say. He spoke of living near one of the big hospitals in the city, and on his noontime walks each day seeing the refrigerated trucks – something I had heard about and seen pictures of in the news. This was where the remains of people who had passed from Covid-19 were being housed. Hearing this took my breath away, lending credence to what I had already known to be true but now cementing it solidly as something real happening not too far away. It added to my urgency in wanting to get my son and his girlfriend out of the city as quickly as possible. It also grew the empathy I felt for those who died away from loved ones in those hospitals, for those who didn’t have an opportunity to say good-bye, to mark their deaths in the ways we normally might, or to grieve with others. I thought about the healthcare workers experiencing all of this and what the long-term effects would be on each of them – and the man who walked by those trucks each day. And while both of these accounts I shared – along with those I haven’t – might have you thinking this was a Circle I may have wanted to avoid – it was completely the opposite. These were scary times and I had been on my own in my house, working remotely, connected with friends and family virtually but feeling cut off from the world in so many ways. I could take in news reports each day but this didn’t compare at all with hearing experiences firsthand from people throughout the world. It gave me a sense of connection – of understanding that this truly was a global pandemic that affected us all in a way that I hadn’t felt as deeply before. It put faces and sometimes names, along with countries, cities and towns in my heart and head, reinforcing how important it was to work together to come out the other side of this global crisis. I know Global Citizens Circle has always been engaged in connection and conversation, no matter how hard or uncertain the times are. I’ve borne witness to this time and time again. But as I think back to that day in April 2020, when I felt quite scared and often alone – GCC came through in a big way offering connection and potential action to help us get through that very uncertain year. And I’m grateful not only for that day but for all of the virtual Circles since that allow us to connect regularly from so many places globally, to connect and communicate no matter what we are facing. 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. As I think back to that day in April 2020, when I felt quite scared and often alone – GCC came through in a big way offering connection and potential action to help us get through that very uncertain year.   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. We recently became aware of "Black and white," a poem written by 10-year-old Olivia Harris, and asked if we might republish it on GCC Voices. According to her mom, Carrie Huggins Harris, Olivia wrote this poem because she wanted to share a piece of herself at her school’s open mic night--and she was excited to be chosen to perform. Through this poem, she explores her identity in a way that invites others to listen, learn, and reflect. Her words speak not just to being biracial, but to anyone who’s ever felt like they don’t fully fit into one box or another. Olivia’s message is powerful: you don’t have to choose just one part of who you are—you can proudly be all of you. Her poem reminds everyone, no matter their age, that their identity is something to be celebrated!  Black and white We are sunshine and moonlight Different like night and day Not stuck between two worlds We make our own way. We are Black and we are white Like zebra stripes Like piano keys Like day and night. Everything in life is different Although it may not seem We all have a purpose We all have a dream. Our hair may be different From braids to curls to waves to swirls Our hair is unique And oh sooo chic. The world will have its rules A box we have to check But there is no box That determines what's next. I am Black I am white I am mom’s sunshine And dad’s moonlight. I am Jamaican I am Bahamian I am British And Romanian. People ask “What are you?” And I say I am me I hope that I am someone Everyone can see. All of us are different But in a way the same Strong and proud and free Our parents' legacy. - Olivia Harris   Olivia Harris is a bright, creative, and confident ten-year-old who lives in Queens, New York. She’s passionate about dance, acting, traveling, and finding new ways to express herself through various forms of art. Whether she’s on stage performing or dreaming up her next project, Olivia shines with imagination and energy. She’s known for dancing and twirling her way through life—literally—spreading joy wherever she goes with her infectious spirit. One of the things she’s most proud of is being biracial. Olivia speaks openly and proudly about her identity and enjoys helping others understand what it means to live in both worlds at once—something she does with wisdom well beyond her years. 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. I am Black  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. |
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