A Curious and Stubborn Kid All Grown Up

I was always that kid in elementary school. The one who would ask the teacher a million questions with a relentless line of questioning that did not rest until the answer(s) brought me a thorough understanding of the problem. Quiet, yet stubborn, I became very observant but outspoken on anything I deemed nonsensical. Picture a third grader OUTRAGED at a new rule that would no longer allow her to be in the same area of the playground as her little brother. Upset she would be kept from looking out for him, and that administration didn’t trust “big kids” enough to mingle with little ones at recess. She was so outraged, in fact, that she and a group of her peers organized a class meeting with the principal to discuss our concerns with the new rule.

That was me—questioning what didn’t make sense to me and pursuing better outcomes. As an adult who has worked with little ones in the past, of course the rule makes a lot of sense. However my principal (shout out to Ms. Wells!) demonstrated a democratic decision-making process and showed me how much agency I could have in this world. My class got that rule changed and I got my first taste of organizing, making my case and winning a policy change.

As I entered college, my stubbornness evolved into a ferocious pursuit for justice that would accept nothing less. And as I matured, my tendency for asking questions joined forces with a knack for observation and picking up patterns. I noticed how the experiences of myself and other students of color at my predominantly white institution often varied greatly from the experience of white students whose ancestors designed the institution for them. I noticed me and my peers facing similar stress socially, academically, emotionally and even physically. These patterns troubled me deeply, so I started asking questions again. That kid who questioned everything was back—this time with a bigger mission than the playground rules.

I continued to dissect problems I noticed by throwing myself into studying social work, sociology and political science. Outside of the classroom I pursued action and began my first real ventures in community organizing. I learned to co-create safe and restorative spaces for myself and my peers while also learning about the power of collective action to change institutional policies and practices.

The lessons I learned both inside and outside of the classroom about equity, justice and the power of community taught me the links from macro patterns of systemic disinvestment to the individual (and generational) impact. The fire for justice that began in third grade and erupted in college only grew as I entered the workforce. I set out to learn more about why things in society are the way they are—and then do something about it with every step of my journey. Pursuing racial justice through various means has been at the heart of my work from the very beginning. Through my work in government affairs, DEI, and grassroots organizing, I have always sought to center the most marginalized communities in the solutions to complex problems.

The work of the League immediately was attractive to me because of its bold mission to pursue racial equity and center those who have been left out of prosperity. The League pursues that mission through policy advocacy that is informed by the voice of the community. The combination of all those things feels so incredibly authentic to me, and I am incredibly blessed to get to do work that aligns with my passions and values. That little girl—the one who asked too many questions and put up a fight against nonsense—would be proud of the work I get to do today. Work that involves asking questions, listening to those who are too often silenced, finding answers and seeking solutions that make our community a better place.