What my DNC speech taught me about finding your voice
I stood at a podium in front of thousands of people and said the thing I’d been quiet about for 36 years. My mother died from gun violence when I was 20 months old. That was the sentence. Twelve words that changed everything that came after.
TL;DR: Speaking at the DNC forced me to say publicly what I’d carried privately for decades. The speech lasted four minutes. The decision to give it took years. Finding your voice is not about volume. It is about choosing honesty over comfort.
The 36-year silence
I did not talk about my mother’s death for most of my life. Not because I was ashamed but because I did not know how. What do you say when someone asks about your parents and the answer involves a coroner’s report? You learn to redirect. You learn to keep it short. You learn that people get uncomfortable and you get tired of managing their discomfort.
I built a career in construction, ran a business, raised kids, ran for office. The whole time carrying this thing I never put words to publicly. My close friends knew. My family knew. The general public, the people I was asking to vote for me, they did not.
The four minutes that changed the trajectory
The DNC speech in 2016 was four minutes long. I rehearsed it maybe fifty times. Not for polish but because I needed to know I could get through it without breaking down. The first time I read it out loud I couldn’t finish. The second time was worse. By the twentieth time I could feel the emotion without drowning in it.
What surprised me was what happened after. Not the media calls, though those came. What surprised me was the strangers who found me afterward and said, “I never told anyone about mine either.” Mothers. Fathers. Kids who grew up the way I did. They’d been carrying the same silence.
That taught me something about voice that I hadn’t understood before. Finding your voice is not about having something to say. Everyone has something to say. It is about deciding that the cost of silence is higher than the cost of speaking.
What changed after
Everything, and nothing. I was still the same person. Same business, same family, same struggles. But the way people saw me shifted. Some doors closed. There are corporate rooms where gun violence prevention is considered too political. I get it. Those rooms were never going to be a good fit anyway.
The doors that opened were better. Speaking engagements where I could be fully honest about who I am. Advocacy work with Everytown. Conversations with legislators who needed to hear from someone who had lived it, not just studied it.
The career trajectory bent toward purpose instead of away from it. That is what happens when you stop performing a version of yourself and start showing up as the actual one.
What I’d tell someone still in the silence
You do not have to give a speech at a national convention. You can start with one person. One conversation. The first time is the hardest because you are not just telling someone else, you are telling yourself that this thing matters enough to say out loud.
I waited 36 years. If I could go back, I would not have waited that long. But I also do not think I was ready sooner. The timing found me when I was ready to be found.
Frequently Asked Questions
How do you find the courage to speak up on difficult topics?
You do not find courage first and then speak. You speak and the courage follows. Every time I have waited until I felt ready, I never did. Action creates confidence, not the other way around.
Can advocacy help or hurt your professional career?
Both. Some doors closed when I became public about gun violence prevention. More doors opened. The ones that opened were better fits because the people behind them already knew who I was and what I stood for.
How do you talk about political topics without alienating people?
Lead with the personal, not the political. Nobody argues with your story. They might argue with your policy position, but they cannot argue with what happened to you and how it shaped you.
Keep Reading
Last updated: March 13, 2026