Remi Cruz ‘86 founded and directed PBHA’s Keylatch program during his undergraduate years at the organization. In his speech, he shares his story of coming to Harvard College and engaging with the Boston community. He pays homage to major figures from his journey, including Jorge Palmarin. Jorge was one of the first campers in PBHA’s Keylatch Summer Program (KSP) and one of the first junior counselors. After his work with SUP, Jorge was a ground-floor member of City Year, established the Tent City Teen Center, co-founded the South End/Lower Roxbury Youth Workers Alliance, and worked with several other community-based organizations, including Teen Empowerment, IBA - Inquilinos Boricuas en Acción, and Boston Centers for Youth & Families (BCYF). In May 2008, Jorge passed away after a year-long battle with cancer. PBHA established the Jorge Palmarín Rising Leader Award in 2013 to commemorate his contributions to SUP and the Boston community and to honor his enduring legacy.

The following is a transcript from Remi Cruz’s speech at PBHA’s Alumni Weekend on Nov. 9th, 2024.

The contributions of Greg Johnson made a big difference in my experience here at Harvard. I want to share my story.

I arrived at Harvard in 1982, fresh out of Trenton, New Jersey—a Puerto Rican kid from a low-income background. I experienced a cultural shock that almost made me doubt whether they had made a mistake letting me into Harvard. But I knew I had to ground myself, so I focused on something that could nourish me: not just my body, but my soul as well. This led me to explore Boston's Latino neighborhoods, where I met people who welcomed me into their homes.

In return, I offered to help their children with their homework, simply because I happened to be a Harvard student. They couldn’t believe that Puerto Ricans were at Harvard. Through these interactions, I discovered my passion for community service, and these families took pride in knowing that one of their own was at Harvard. This sense of belonging and purpose ultimately inspired me to take on the challenge from Steve Hawkins to create the Keylatch program.

Back then, sociologists had described a group of children called "latchkey children"—kids who came home to an empty house, with a key on a string around their necks. So we reversed it: Keylatch.

Greg Johnson played a pivotal role in my journey. He encouraged me to be authentic, even when the world challenged my presence at Harvard. I had encounters with Harvard police on six separate occasions—being thrown up against walls, arrested, or stereotyped because I didn’t look like a typical Harvard student. I once asked one of the officers, "What does a Harvard student look like?" He responded, "Well, get rid of the sneakers and get yourself some penny loafers."

Greg helped me navigate these difficult times. He told me, "Focus on what you can control—your thoughts, your actions, and your ability to contribute something meaningful." He made me feel like I could be somebody. So, thank you, Greg.

I also want to thank Senator Garcia. Through PBHA and the PS program, I built many relationships with parents, community leaders, corporations, and even the mayor’s office. I remember going to meet a woman named Carmen Poland. Someone said to me, “You’ve got to meet Carmen Poland!” I said, “Okay.” So I went to meet her. She was expecting me, and I introduced myself. When I got her business card, it said “Carmen Poland.” I was blown away.

You see, I was the first student in my class to arrive at Harvard Yard on the first day of school. I was parked in front of the gate at 4:00 a.m. My parents were like, "What are we doing here so early?" But I was just so excited. Finally, they opened the gates, and the guard came up to me and said, “Pack your tiny guy.” I said, “What?” He said again, “You pack your tiny guy.” It was a funny experience.

Anyway, we went on to establish the Keylatch program, which addresses community needs and provides after-school tutoring and summer camp experiences at no cost to disadvantaged youth. It blows my mind that Keylatch is still around, still running after all these years. But it’s also ironic—starting a program that lasts 40 years was easier than getting some people to accept that there could be a Puerto Rican at Harvard.

The most rewarding aspect of founding Keylatch has been witnessing its internal legacy. I’ve been back a couple of times, and there are moments when young children tell me, “Thank you for starting the program. Do you remember my grandmother? My grandfather? We all went through Keylatch.” It humbles me.

Keylatch is more than just academic support. It’s about fostering a sense of community, belonging, and love. That’s the legacy that has grown over the years.

During my first year with Keylatch, I met Victoria Rivera, who later went on to become the president of PBHA. My life transformed when I met her. She was kind, intelligent, and had an unwavering commitment to social justice. Today, I thank God for meeting her, because she’s been my partner in life and in love ever since.

I want to share the story of George Palmarin. He was just 12 years old when I started tutoring him in Keylatch. He grew up to be an incredible community leader in Boston—an activist and a true champion for youth. But to me, George was always just “little George.” We became close friends, and he taught me one of life’s most important lessons: that it’s okay for one man to say, “I love you” to another man.

The last time I saw George, he was in the hospital, fighting cancer. As we said goodbye, he told me, “Remy, I love you.” I said, “George, I love you.” I didn’t know that would be our last conversation.

Afterward, I went home and started saying, “I love you” to my dad, to my brothers. In my Latin culture, men don’t speak like that, so they were perplexed. But now, my father and I say, “I love you” to each other every time we talk. My brothers and I do the same. And I say “I love you” to my son, my cousins, and my nephews—it's something they never knew was an issue.

So, I have to thank George for teaching me that lesson. I’m overwhelmed with gratitude—grateful for Greg, for PBHA, for Steve Hawkins, for the South End community, and for the opportunity to make a difference.

My message is simple: Be yourself. Listen to your heart. Trust yourself. These were the lessons Greg Johnson taught me, and I’m passing them along to you. Let’s continue to serve, uplift, and build communities that embody the love, resilience, and strength I found through PBHA and the Keylatch program.

Thank you.

Meherina:

It's really humbling to follow people who have built these incredible things. And now, we're about to tell you the tale of how we survived. So, let's start there.

Our journey as PBHA officers in 2020 began with seeds—sunflowers and daisies, basil and mint. Our theme for the year was to nurture and sustain a community garden, fostering a culture of collective care, shared accountability, and community building, both within PBHA and beyond.

On the first day of the Non-Profit Management Intensive, we encouraged the team to look after each other, our constituents, and our little seedlings. That day, in the Parlor Room, we didn’t just plant flowers and herbs; we planted seeds of trust, hope, and a commitment to growth. We promised to shower them with care and PBHA love.

We didn’t get to witness the bloom of our sunflowers, nor enjoy the aromatics of our mint, but amidst the chaos of the pandemic, we watched our community garden flourish virtually in ways we never anticipated.

We didn’t know how to lead during a pandemic, but we were steadfast in centering the needs and voices of our communities and the people we served. We went from being in the rooms where it happened to the Zooms where it happened. We supported the online transition of over 35 programs, moving them to remote operations—from after-school programs to ESL classes.

We also launched a series called "So You Want to Be Anti-Racist," in collaboration with other student groups across campus, including final clubs. The series encouraged introspection, learning in action, and pushing beyond surface-level engagement and performative allyship.

When Halloween came and trick-or-treating was paused, we delivered over 80 Halloween goodie bags to after-school kids who couldn’t make it to Harvard for their annual Halloween party. We helped with food security and technology during the shutdown. We celebrated 324,000 seconds together during virtual Midsummer. We created a 15K fund during the Black Lives Matter movement, using our officer discretionary funds to support Black-led organizations.

We became Zoom DJs, mastering 100+ person breakout rooms, and spent an absurd amount of time figuring out how many ways we could use the word “contingency” in a sentence.

Overall, we found solace in service, in community, and in each other, through moments of grief and moments of joy. I’m really happy to see that the video game is still going strong, so thank you to everyone who was a part of my virtual videos during SUB and online PBHA.

And now, I’ll pass it off to Farah.

Farah:

So, I know it’s a bit unusual, but we’re tag-teaming this. Mahina and I worked closely together during that time. I was on the officer team when we first moved to remote operations, and I like to call myself the "second COVID baby" because Mahina saw the organization migrate online, and I oversaw the transition back to in-person operations.

Hearing the current officers reflect on how the pandemic is now in the distance is really heartwarming. I was speaking with Cody and Andalia—both first-years who I helped recruit to the officer team when I was a senior. At that time, it felt like such an existential moment because when I picked up from Mahina, PBHA had been operating virtually for almost a year. I was one of maybe two or three officers who had actually seen what an in-person PBHA looked like. We also saw two entire classes graduate while we were functioning during the pandemic.

So, our biggest challenge when I picked up from Mahina and her wonderful VP, Chia, was grappling with the deep emotional difficulty of not knowing when we’d even come back in person. We also had to contend with massive institutional memory loss. We were asking ourselves how younger leaders—who had never seen PBHA in person and had not known it as their institutional home—were going to figure out how to be in that space again.

It was all about meeting the moment.

Our theme, coming out of Mahina’s beautiful "garden" theme, was "circus." I’ll admit, I had mixed feelings about it at the time. I was like, okay, gardens are beautiful—growth, planting, nurturing—but this is a circus. Things are all over the place, and we’re juggling a lot. But that’s what it felt like—juggling remote work, juggling hybrid situations where some things were in person and others were remote, and also juggling the transition back to in-person operations.

One of the things that was key was moving at the speed of trust. We weren’t going to crash land back into PBHA, with 60+ programs, in the first week. We had to ease back into it.

Another challenge we faced was that Harvard wasn’t even fully open at the time. I completely forgot this until just now, but we couldn’t meet inside the building. I kept wondering why I remember us being outside all the time, and then I realized—we didn’t have a choice! We spent a lot of time in tents. We had a huge tent right outside the PBHA building, where we held officer meetings, cabinets, and other events. It was starting to get cold, and we weren’t really sure what we were going to do, but we kept meeting outside.

We rebooted programs, like the Housing Opportunities Program, to support people who were facing eviction due to the pandemic. We took trips to meet with community organizations, reinvigorating new members of the class and helping them build connections to the community.

It also became about older members, especially, feeling a deep sense of responsibility to mentor those who had not seen PBHA in person. We not only stayed during the summer as students, but there was also a group of us who returned after graduation to help mentor new directors who had never seen PBHA in person. We wanted to help them reconnect with the space and culture we’d worked so hard to build.

I’ll wrap up with a few lessons learned and pass it back to Mahina for her insights. But I’ll keep it brief. There was a moment when I was feeling really down, as you do, and I was talking to an alum via Zoom. I can’t remember the alum’s name, but I was in a bad place and saying that everything felt horrible and I didn’t know how we were going to make it through. And this alum said, "I hear you, but let me check you for a moment." He said that this happens—there are always going to be moments when things feel existential at PBHA—but you’re going to be good.

So, I share that with you all: whenever things feel existential, know that you’re going to be good.

The other piece of advice I want to share with the current officers is this: Do not take your space for granted. Coming back to PBHA wasn’t just about rebuilding relationships with other students and figuring out how to be together again after the pandemic. It was also about rebuilding our relationship to the building itself—our institutional home. It’s different without it, and yet we can survive without it. But it’s in that space that we do our best, most connected visioning of what community service should look like.

I’ll leave you with those thoughts and pass it to Mahina.

Meherina:

Thanks, Farah. I’m definitely fangirling right now because, when I was a student, I did a lot of advocacy work with SLAM, Hope, and immigrants’ rights, and we studied the living wage campaign and the Civil Rights era. So, being up here with you all is definitely a fan moment for me.

During my time as an officer, we learned so much about leadership, trust, and how to extend grace to each other—and to ourselves. I was talking to Chia, my partner in service for so many years, about how our most valuable gift remains the friendships we built and the radical love we tapped into. These were the roots of the community garden we planted so many years ago.

I want to close with a quote from Gloria Steinem, which I still reflect on from my time at PBHA:

"Without leaps of imagination or dreaming, we lose the excitement of possibilities. Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning."

As we plan ahead and dream about what’s next, I want to encourage our current student leaders: know that we have your back. We want to create space for you to continue being the innovative problem-solvers and dedicated servant-leaders our world needs. Whether it’s during a crisis or in times of renewal, you have a network of supportive leaders who have been there before you. Lean on us as you continue the work we’ve started.

Watch the recording of their speech here.

Hello everyone, my name is Ian Simmons. I arrived on campus in the fall of 1994 and got involved immediately with the Mission Hill after-school program. That was a big part of my early work here. Later, my wife and I became anchor supporters for PBHA, which you'll hear more about shortly, continuing our commitment to this important work.

In addition to that, during my time at Harvard, I was part of the progressive student labor movement. This was an organization that emerged to address the growing economic justice issues we saw on campus. The movement began in the late 1990s, especially around 1999, with the founding of the Harvard Living Wage Campaign. The issue at hand was wage inequality, not just in the broader country, but specifically at Harvard.

As many of you know, the economic disparities in the U.S. were becoming more pronounced, with the median income levels diverging significantly over the past few decades. By 2000, the minimum wage had stagnated, while productivity continued to rise. This had serious implications for workers at places like Harvard, where wages were so low that many employees needed government subsidies just to make ends meet.

The irony was that while Harvard, a leading institution in many ways, was paying low wages, MIT and BU were already paying 50-300% more than Harvard's lowest-paid employees. This discrepancy motivated the movement, especially given that Harvard's unions were relatively weak. At that time, Harvard's leadership—President Neil Rudenstine and later President Lawrence Summers—had a policy of negotiating wages based on the market, without much consideration for the well-being of workers or the community.

One key irony here is that Neil Rudenstine came from a working-class background himself. He was the son of a waitress and had worked his way up, so he personally understood the challenges of being in a low-income household. However, he delegated labor relations to others, and when the issue was raised, he didn’t give it the attention it deserved. This lack of engagement was frustrating for us, and it became clear that we needed to take action to make our voices heard.

Instead of just pointing out the low wages, the student activists decided to take a more comprehensive approach. We interviewed workers—custodians, security guards, dining hall staff—and shared their stories. These interviews were extensive, often running thousands of words, and we displayed them publicly, including in the Science Center. By humanizing the issue, we brought attention to the real lives behind the numbers, showing the struggles of workers who were simply trying to make a living.

One such story was from a custodian named Prifera, who was 31 years old at the time. He was married with two kids, but he had to work two full-time jobs to support his family. He rarely saw his son except when he was asleep, and weekends were his only time to spend with his children. These personal accounts really resonated with the Harvard community and helped put a face to the issue.

The public relations campaign became more activist in tone over time, but it was important to keep it respectful and grounded in evidence. We focused on holding the administration accountable, not demonizing them. The goal was to point out the discrepancies in Harvard's wage policies and show that the university's leadership was failing to live up to its values.

After two years of campaigning, Harvard refused to address the issue through traditional channels. That’s when the sit-in tactics were organized. I’m in one of the photos here, outside President Rudenstine’s office. We had secured a building to serve as our headquarters, and we used it to continue our organizing efforts. It wasn’t just about the sit-in itself, but about building solidarity among students, faculty, and workers.

One of the critical elements that helped propel the campaign forward was media attention. Initially, there was a media blackout, but with the help of a friend working as an intern for Bob Herbert at the New York Times, we were able to get the issue covered. Bob came to campus, wrote two columns, and that really helped shift public opinion. We also gathered over 300 signatures from faculty members, which put additional pressure on the administration.

The campaign culminated in a series of rallies and events that garnered national attention. Newspapers across the country covered the issue, framing it as a question of fairness: how could it be just for a worker to put in 40 hours a week and still not make enough to support a family? These editorials resonated with the public and helped elevate the issue to the national stage.

In the end, the administration responded. Senators Ted Kennedy and John Kerry came out in support, as did the Cambridge City Council. After a prolonged negotiation process, Harvard agreed to raise its wages and establish a "living wage" floor for its lowest-paid employees. This agreement has been in place ever since, and it’s an achievement that we’re all incredibly proud of.

The victory also had a lasting impact. Within a year, 95% of Harvard's workers were earning a living wage. This success didn’t just improve the financial well-being of the workers; it also allowed them to support their families, send their kids to college, and have better healthcare. The New York Times even returned to campus two decades later and wrote a glowing story about Harvard’s policies, which was a testament to the long-term impact of the campaign.

The lesson here is clear: power matters. We were able to win because we built broad coalitions—students, faculty, and workers—and aligned ourselves with a majority of the campus community. The campaign was driven by evidence and the human stories of the workers, and we remained pragmatic in our negotiations with the administration. While the sit-in was an important tactic, it was the overwhelming public support and the evidence we presented that ultimately led to change.

I hope this story provides some insight into how grassroots organizing and solidarity can lead to real change. Thank you so much for your time.

Watch the recording of Ian Simmon’s speech here.

Hello everyone, I’m Van Le, and it’s truly wonderful to hear David speak because our work, about a generation later—around 10 years after his—really followed in the same path. I was involved with the Cambridge Youth Enrichment Program (CYEP). The summer before my freshman year began, I was recruited to work at CYEP, and I ended up staying for four summers, working as both a camp counselor and a director. That’s how I became involved.

When I think about “meeting the moment,” I remember coming to America in 1975 at the age of 8. I’m 32 now—don’t ask me how that happened, but I was just a kid in a family of nine children, plus my grandmother, so there were 10 of us. We lived in a three-bedroom apartment in Austin, Brighton. It was the mid-70s, and the Vietnamese "boat people" had started to settle in Austin, in part because rents were low. Over time, though, as more Vietnamese families came in, they started migrating to Dorchester, leaving Austin with an increasingly diverse community. Life was tough back then. There was limited access to jobs, language barriers were a challenge, and though there were a few Cambodian families, most of the newcomers were Vietnamese.

Fast forward a few years, and somehow, I got into Harvard. I still can’t quite believe it, and I don’t know if I’d be able to get in today, but back then it felt like a miracle. I brought my experience of growing up in Allston-Brighton with me when I joined the CYEP. I had the privilege of working closely with the kids and families there, especially those who lived in the Jefferson Park Housing Development. We had to fight for that housing. The Cambridge Housing Authority claimed there were no spaces, but the families insisted otherwise, and we pressed them. I remember confronting the city manager at the time, Bob Healey, who was, at best, begrudgingly supportive. Harvard students coming in to stir things up with housing issues wasn’t exactly what the city wanted, but we pushed on.

Once we secured the housing, it was a matter of building relationships with the families and the kids. Looking back, it was a time when we could do things that might seem unbelievable today. We took kids on trips to Montreal and Washington, D.C. I vividly remember a moment when little Junior Prophet, looking up at the Lincoln Memorial, asked, "Are we still on Earth? This place is so beautiful!" I also recall Henry Hernandez, one of our kids, when we stopped at a small town north of Montreal. We were in a restaurant with 19 kids and two camp counselors. The waiter, seeing so many Asian kids, asked, "Are you all in one family?" Henry smiled and said, "Yeah, we’re one big family." Those were the kinds of moments that stayed with me.

I think the success of the summer programs came down to being genuinely embedded in the community, being a stable presence in the kids’ lives. We weren’t just offering a program; we were part of the families, part of their world. We took pride in that.

In the early days, I teamed up with Nan Trong, who was the real driving force behind the program, the first director. I was more like a co-founder. Together, we saw a real need to help refugee children, particularly because there was a debate in the public school system about whether to offer bilingual education or immersion programs. If you were a Vietnamese refugee, recently arrived after the war, immersion was tough—you were already at a significant disadvantage. In our neighborhood, my sister worked as a teacher at Jackson Mann Elementary in Allston-Brighton. She told me that the refugee kids were really struggling, falling behind in school. That’s when we decided to step in and create a program to help them, much like what David described, based on the model of experiential learning and community engagement.

So, we set up a proposal for a program targeting refugee kids. There were no summer camps or after-school programs for them, and they kept to themselves, isolated from the broader community. With help from PBHA, we got the program off the ground, initially serving about 50-60 kids that first summer. We didn’t have the internet back then, so it was all about grassroots organizing—knocking on doors, passing out flyers, reaching out to local businesses. It was like community organizing. Thankfully, Harvard University and the Business School lent their support, helping us secure housing and funding, which really allowed us to get the program rolling.

The program was built on the idea of experiential learning, but we also recognized that the refugee kids needed special attention with their English language skills. So, we designed a curriculum that combined academics and recreation, ensuring that the kids received the support they needed to succeed. Over the years, the program grew, and today, it’s still going strong. Thank you so much for continuing that work. Looking back, I’m proud of what we were able to achieve, and I’m grateful for the environment we had at that time—supportive, open, and willing to try new things. Thanks to that, we were able to pursue our dream of helping these kids and meet the moment in a way that made a lasting impact.

Thank you.

Watch the recording of Van Le’s speech here.

Darin’s commitment to social service and community engagement was clear during his work with PBHA as an undegraduate, where he served in the Mission Hill program and as a Stride Scholar. His experiences at PBHA reinforced his passion for creating educational opportunities in underserved communities and helped shape his approach to nonprofit leadership. PBHA is proud of Darin’s invaluable experience in youth development and community organizing, and is excited for his future endeavors in philanthropy and advocacy.

"I began this program because I felt Harvard wasn't paying enough attention to community service.” - Arnold Hiatt

In Hiatt’s Turning Business Into a Force For Good, he follows his journey in buying a struggling shoe company at the age of 24. He transforms it into a thriving business, so successful that Stride Rite offers him a deal he cannot refuse. Hiatt briefly leaves Stride Rite to serve as treasurer for Senator Eugene McCarthy's presidential campaign, a key anti-Vietnam War movement, which marks the beginning of his lifelong commitment to progressive political causes.

Over the course of more than three decades, Hiatt has become a significant figure in advocating for campaign finance reform and championing social change. PBHA is so grateful for Hiatt’s commitment to the ever-growing Stride Rite program, which has fortified the public service experiences of hundreds of students.

Read more about Hiatt’s book here.

“The opportunity to work with the kids of Franklin Hill inspired me to pursue a career dedicated to serving children and families as a pediatrician and educator…It’s my hope this gift will give many more students the ability to choose service that will inspire their passion and build their skills as the next generation of public service leaders” - Priscilla Chan

Through the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative (CZI), Priscilla has continued her support for low income students, funding opportunities that remove financial barriers to public service. The Priscilla Chan Summer Service Award and the Chan Stride Service Program are key components of this effort, providing funding for up to 2,300 students over 15 years. These initiatives cover the summer earnings contribution for students who participate in immersive service experiences, such as the Summer Urban Program (SUP), and offers scholarships, mentorship, and leadership development for undergraduates involved in PBHA’s extensive community programs, which currently serve more than 6,000 residents in the Greater Boston area. Priscilla’s generosity ensures that more students can follow in her footsteps, choosing service over traditional work-study and making a lasting impact on their communities.

Read more from the Harvard Gazette here.

Richard R. Buery, Jr. ‘92 founded and directed PBHA’s Mission Hill Summer, one of PBHA’s Summer Urban Program camps. During his time with the organization, he also directed the Mission Hill After School Program and served on PBHA’s Steering Committee. As a trailblazer in the nonprofit and public service sectors, he developed a career dedicated to advancing equal opportunities for underrepresented communities. As the CEO of Robin Hood, one of the nation's leading anti-poverty organizations, Buery leverages his extensive experience to address the root causes of poverty in New York City. Prior to his current role, Buery was the CEO of Achievement First, a network of charter schools, and served as the Deputy Mayor for Strategic Policy Initiatives in New York City, where he spearheaded groundbreaking programs like Pre-K for All, which expanded access to early childhood education, and ThriveNYC, a mental health reform initiative. His leadership also extended to education and youth development, launching initiatives such as Schools Out NYC and building community school partnerships.

A passionate advocate for systemic change, Richard has worked with numerous nonprofit organizations, including the Brennan Center, KIPP, Children’s Aid, and iMentor, which he co-founded to support college-bound high school students. He has also founded several nonprofits, such as Groundwork, which helps public housing residents in Brooklyn achieve educational success. Throughout his career, Buery has been a champion of innovative social policy and community-driven solutions, making him a powerful voice for public service and a model for future generations of leaders.

“My experience at PBHA has profoundly shaped my career. The organization I co-founded…Groundwork Inc…is modeled after the work I did at PBHA’s Mission Hill program. Most powerfully, my experience at PBHA showed me that I could make a real difference in the world—even as a seventeen year old. It’s why I continue to do that work today.” - Richard Buery, Jr.

His legacy will be remembered and honored forever.

Read more about ACLU here.

Francis’s leadership journey began at PBHA, where he played a pivotal role in advancing the organization’s mission of service and social change. At the organization, he served numerous roles, such as President, where he was charged with overseeing PBHA’s leadership, governance, and relationships with external stakeholders, including the University, alumni, and community leaders. As a program director as well, Francis was deeply engaged with the nonprofit's educational initiatives, working to ensure that PBHA's programs effectively addressed the needs of the Greater Boston community. PBHA is so proud of his incredible career in nonprofit management and is so excited to see his future strides in the sector.

Read more about Beyond 12 here.

Sarah Lockridge-Steckel ‘09 is a nonprofit leader and social entrepreneur dedicated to empowering youth. As the Co-Founder and CEO of The Collective Blueprint, based in Memphis, Tennessee, she is at the forefront of efforts to address the systemic barriers that prevent young adults from achieving economic self-sufficiency. The Collective Blueprint focuses on creating pathways to in-demand careers by offering school-readiness training, coaching, internships, and employment support. Under Sarah's leadership, the organization has already made significant strides, impacting hundreds of young adults in its pilot program, with two-thirds of participants earning certifications in high-demand fields such as IT, healthcare, and skilled trades. The program has an incredible success rate, with 75% of graduates securing employment! Furthermore, the organization has attracted over $5 million in funding, demonstrating both local and national support for its mission to fix broken systems and mobilize young adults for social and political change. Sarah's commitment to social mobility is not just about providing individual opportunities, but also about reimagining educational and career pathways to create a more inclusive future for all youth in Memphis.

Sarah’s journey with social service was clear in her work with PBHA, where she immersed herself in programs that directly engaged with local youth and underserved communities. She volunteered with the Head Start Readers program, helping young children develop their reading skills, and in the summer of 2007, she co-directed the Franklin I-O Summer Program, which provided educational enrichment to children ages 6-12. As Co-Director, Sarah was responsible for overseeing curriculum development, organizing field trips, and managing day-to-day operations, an experience that deepened her commitment to addressing inequities in lower-income communities. These formative experiences at PBHA solidified Sarah’s passion for community engagement and social change, laying the groundwork for her later work with The Collective Blueprint, and PBHA is so proud of all of her strides.

Read more about The Collective Blueprint here.

“I often joke that I still have my freshman year Work-Study job. Having begun a program at PBHA that I still work with has, of course, had a tremendous impact on my life, but just as important, I know that if it weren’t for PBHA I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to take the kind of risks I’ve been able to professionally.” - Eric Dawson

This program has not only inspired countless youth, but the handful of students and adults who have volunteered with it as well. In PBHA’s 2023 Alumni Survey, a 1995 grad shared:

“Volunteering with Peace Games allowed me to look at competition in a different way. No one needs to win.'”

Since its inception, Peace Games has grown into a global movement, inspiring young people to become changemakers and advocates for peace and justice. In 1996, the program incorporated and expanded its work to address whole-school climate change, fostering environments where peace, inclusion, and empathy were prioritized. Dawson’s commitment to youth empowerment continued with the creation of Peace First, a global nonprofit supporting young changemakers in over 160 countries. With Peace First, Dawson provided mentorship, training, and resources to help young people lead projects that tackle pressing social issues. Today, Dawson is the CEO and founder of RIVET, a micro-financing platform for young social innovators, continuing his mission to support and amplify youth-led solutions to global challenges. Through Peace Games and his ongoing work, Eric Dawson’s legacy as a leader in youth empowerment and social justice remains an inspiration for generations of young activists.

Read more about Eric Dawson and his history with Peace Games here.

“Being part of PBHA was incredibly formative for me. When I was first developing the idea of starting Strong Women, Strong Girls, the staff at PBHA served as mentors, cheerleaders, and champions for me. Whether it was helping me think through a particularly sticky challenge or making a phone call to introduce me to a member of the community, they were absolutely awesome. In addition, my time at PBHA helped me to develop tremendous skills. Perhaps the greatest lesson that I learned from my time there was that at the end of the day, relationships matter the most. This emphasis on building meaningful relationships is core to the work of PBHA and, as a result, has become core to the work of Strong Women, Strong Girls as we have grown and developed.” - Lindsay Hyde

Since its inception, SWSG has grown exponentially, a testament to Hyde’s vision and leadership, reaching more than 175 girls in Boston. Hyde’s work has been widely recognized, earning her accolades such as being named one of Glamour magazine's “Top Ten College Women” in 2003 and receiving the Samuel S. Beard Award for Greatest Public Service by an Individual 35 Years or Under in 2006. These honors reflect the profound impact of SWSG on both the young women it serves and the Harvard community that has sustained it. Although Hyde retired as SWSG’s President in 2011 to pursue schooling further, her legacy is alive in the current Harvard chapter, where PBHA student leaders continue to honor her pioneering work while developing innovative curricula, organizing enriching field trips, and nurturing a new generation of women leaders. Hyde’s story is one of vision, perseverance, and an enduring belief in the power of women lifting up other women—a legacy that will continue to inspire for years to come.

Read more about SWSG here.

Read more about Race Forward here.

Read more about the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation here.

Christi served in PBHA’s Boston Refugee Youth Enrichment Program (BRYE) and held several key officer roles, including fundraising officer and Vice President. During her time with PBHA, she demonstrated a strong commitment to community service, using her leadership to help organize programs that supported refugee and immigrant youth in Boston. Her work in fundraising and strategic planning helped ensure the sustainability of these initiatives, while her role as Vice President allowed her to shape the direction of PBHA’s broader efforts. PBHA is so proud of Christi’s expertise in leading nonprofits in various capacities and is thankful for her continued support of our organization.

Read more about AARW here.

Read more about Home for All Massachusetts here.

Carolyn’s time with the PBHA played a significant role in shaping her commitment to community service and nonprofit work. Carolyn became deeply involved with PBHA’s programs, particularly those serving recent immigrant and refugee youth. As the director of the Boston Refugee Youth Enrichment Summer Program (BRYE), she not only planned and managed the camp’s curriculum and activities but also took on leadership responsibilities such as recruiting staff and coordinating field trips. This experience gave her invaluable insights into the day-to-day operations of nonprofit programs while also allowing her to envision broader goals, such as creating a positive, enriching environment for youth. Carolyn also mentored young women through PBHA’s Athena and Leaders! programs and served several officer roles including PBHA student President! These roles further solidified her passion for public service and leadership development, which would later inform her work in the nonprofit sector. Carolyn has often spoken about how her PBHA experience kept her grounded in her future career aspirations, focusing her efforts on advocacy and social justice work, particularly for marginalized communities. PBHA is so proud of Carolyn’s unwavering commitment to advocating for marginalized communities and is so grateful for her continued support of the organization as a board member.

Read more about HCZ here.

Kwame volunteered with PBHA during his time at Harvard and has remained a strong supporter of the organization ever since. A Stride Scholar and CYEP alum, he was honored with PBHA’s Outstanding Alumnus Award in 2023. In his acceptance speech, Kwame reflected on how his experiences with PBHA shaped his understanding of community and leadership, noting that he continues to see his own story in the young people he mentors both at HCZ and beyond. PBHA is incredibly proud of Kwame’s commitment to social justice initiatives through his nonprofit work in New York and look forward to seeing his continued impact.