I have always had a way with words. Ever since I was a little girl, I was groomed to stand up for myself and for what I thought was right. As the oldest of 6 siblings, there have been quite a few times I have had to step in and offer my voice for my younger siblings; this is just what you do as the oldest. As I get older, I have found that speaking my truth offers a sense of freedom that is unmatched. One of the ways that I have found my voice is through teaching. For the past 12 years, I have been blessed to teach African American History at a predominately black high school in Miami Gardens, FL. One theme consistently unites all the stories of our ancestors that I get to share with my students: remaining steadfast in your beliefs and speaking up about what you believe in, no matter what.

This past October, alongside a team of lawyers from The Community Justice Project, I traveled to Geneva, Switzerland, to speak in front of the largest global platform dedicated to social justice – The United Nations. For eight days, I traded the warm weather of Miami, Florida, for the crisp, cool breeze of Lake Geneva and the Swiss Alps. As an African American History teacher, fueled with a passion for justice and the desire to make my ancestors proud, the invitation to speak at the United Nations was a surreal honor. I needed to be a Voice of Clarity for myself, my fellow educators, and the students I have taught and will teach. How can I teach social justice without being a social justice warrior myself?

Tallahassee, the capital of the Sunshine State, has become a battleground for the freedom of expression and the teaching of African American history. Policies emanating from the statehouse continue to threaten to stifle critical conversations and erase significant chapters from our collective past. The voices of educators are muffled, and the diversity of narratives is overshadowed by a narrow, distorted perspective. When I got the opportunity to voice these concerns worldwide, I immediately accepted the invitation.

I arrived in Geneva on October 14 and immediately was filled with excitement and resolved to fully embrace my purpose. Stepping foot inside the United Nations building in Geneva was a moment of awe-inspiring magnitude. The grandeur of its architecture, echoing with the weight of diplomatic history, enveloped me as I crossed its threshold. As you can imagine, security at the entrance was tight, and when I finally received my clearance badge, proudly displaying my name and photo, it became real. The energy within was palpable, a convergence of accents, voices, and convictions from every corner of the globe, each echoing the pursuit of peace and progress. Walking through its corridors, I felt a profound sense of belonging to a global community where differences dissolved, and common goals soared high above the intricate mosaic of cultures and ideologies.

I felt the applause of Malcolm, Martin, Sojourner, and Ida as I walked off the stage.

We were all there for the same reason; even though our paths and focuses may have been different, we were all truth-tellers, and we were determined to use our voices to stand up for change and demand justice on the largest platform in the world. On the afternoon of Tuesday, October 17th, at Palais des Nations, I took my spot at the podium and addressed the international assembly. I am Renee O’Connor, a humble African American history teacher from Florida, addressing some of the most decorated human rights advocates in the world. For 2 minutes and 22 seconds, I laid out my deep concerns regarding Florida’s encroachments on our fundamental rights to freedom of speech and expression. Each word I spoke resonated with the weight of truth and conviction, highlighting the insidious nature of censorship and its chilling effects on education. From the podium, I conveyed the frustrations of educators forced to navigate a landscape where teaching history authentically is deemed controversial. It was a moment of advocacy, defiance, and unwavering commitment to uphold the principles of democracy and education. I am so proud of myself for having the courage to speak my truth and use my voice to speak for so many who, for whatever reason or situation, cannot speak for themselves. I felt the applause of Malcolm, Martin, Sojourner, and Ida as I walked off the stage.

As I returned to Florida, I carried the spirit of Geneva with me. Empowered by global support and fueled by the urgency of the cause, I have continued my mission to ensure that every student can learn history unburdened by censorship and distorted narratives. My voice will never waiver, and I will continue to demand that our truths be heard.