You are an activist and a changemaker with March for Our Lives. Can you tell me about the first time that you not only wanted to see change in your community, but also that you wanted to make that change yourself? Where did you start, and what did you do?

Parkland was named the safest community in Florida for something like eight consecutive years. I was really shielded from the deep-rooted problems in our society. And it wasn't until the shooting in my high school that my eyes opened up to those problems. It was because of my privilege that I didn't see those things for what they are. But, once the shooting happened at my school, I truly understood that this wasn't just some one-off instance of gun violence; it was an entire system that allowed this act of violence to happen in my community.

I wanted to use the attention that we were getting in Parkland not only to advocate for gun violence prevention policies but also to shed light on the fact that this happens every day in other places, specifically communities of color, and nothing is done about it. What I and several other people at my school wanted to do was to spread awareness that a system allowed this to happen.

I called a state senator, and said, “Hi, I'm a student from Parkland, I want to do something, and I'm going to need your help.” Thankfully, she was all about it. I wanted to bring people to the Florida State Capitol in Tallahassee and make our presence known. It's easy to wave off things when you're talking to people who are seven hours driving distance away. But it's another thing when you're right in front of them. Eventually, we concluded that we could bring 100 students from Marjory Stoneman Douglas. I did the logistics of getting buses for us, figuring out where we were going to sleep, and figuring out permission slips.

I think that last detail is such an important reminder of how old you were. You were starting a huge movement, but you needed permission slips.

Yes! I've never thought about it that way. After that trip to Tallahassee, I connected with the people from my school that were jumping in, doing interviews, and planning, and we ended up becoming the co-founders of March for Our Lives. We spent the next month after the shooting organizing this massive event in DC. And the rest is history.

Tell me about being the March for Our Lives in Washington, D.C. What did it feel like seeing hundreds of thousands of people in front of you who shared your goal?

It felt like that moment was really going to change things. I think it definitely changed the course of our public discourse about guns. But, unfortunately, we haven't seen very much happen on a national level to change gun policy. I do know that since that day, something like 30 states have improved their gun control laws, and that's saved thousands of lives. But it's only once there's federal policy change that we can all really breathe.

At Search, we do a lot of work at the community level to change cultural norms. We see local work as one of the first steps to larger peace. Even though there haven’t been changes in federal legislation surrounding gun policy, do you still feel like the march and your work since then has made progress in our country?

Yes, 100 percent. A few months after the march in D.C., I was going to dozens and dozens of communities. A lot of people came out to our events and said, “You know, I was not aware of this problem, or I was not tapped into the community organizations that we have. But now that I am aware, I'm going to get involved.” I think that especially happened to a lot of young people. With the power of social media, something happens to someone in our generation in one place, and so many of us feel it, no matter where we are. That awareness will really change things as we become the people who are making laws.

You're talking a lot about inspiring young people and the demographics of the movement that you started. In what ways does being a young person, especially a young woman, present challenges that maybe other activists don't have to face?

From the get-go, being a woman made it difficult for me to be taken seriously. Whenever we got interview requests, it was hard for the media to accept two women instead of a man and a woman or two men. In the organization, most of the leaders internally were men, and it was very difficult for a lot of the other women and me to get our opinions on the table and to be listened to. That was really tough.

I remember fighting my way to a leadership position because I thought I could do a better job being more diplomatic. It was only when we started hiring staff members, who were all women, that the course of March for Our Lives changed. The people working full-time were women, and they respected the young people who identified as women.

In the advocacy space, a lot of women are fighting this challenge, especially with the activism of the women of the #MeToo movement and the Women's March. We have the power to change things. But I think it's interesting that even within spaces that are progressive and outwardly feminist, there are still problems. It’s just so deeply rooted.

I remember in the news coverage immediately after the shooting, I read a lot of interviews with you and your male co-founders. There was an article about your public speaking and organizing, but it also talked about the sound of your voice. The word it used was “soprano.” And I remember thinking, “Why does that matter? They're not talking about how the men sound. Why differentiate her voice from their voices?”

I noticed exactly what you're talking about. And that comment still today makes me feel really bad. I always think about it when I'm talking, even just in a room with friends when I say something and they can't hear me. I'm like, “Damn, I just wish I had a deeper, stronger-sounding voice.” I always think back to that exact quote.

Do you think that the expectations for how you spoke and conducted yourself differed from those for your male co-founders?

Yes, definitely. I think the reason why so many of my male colleagues were broadcast on social media was because of the moments when they were back-talking or being aggressive. I think I built my own platform. I always hear people saying, “Oh, you're the quiet, respectful one.”

If I said those things, I'm sure I would get a lot of backlash from people, even from people that agree with me, simply because they're not used to seeing women stand up for themselves or their community in such an aggressive way. If I acted that way in closed-door meetings with politicians, I would not have been taken seriously moving forward, and they would have never met with us again.

Do you think that you had to sacrifice being able to engage with your own anger in order to meet your goals for the movement?

Yes, I definitely could not tap into the anger. Most of what I tapped into to get people to feel emotion was sadness. I definitely had many meetings where I cried. I couldn't help it. But I think that, because I’m a woman, crying was acceptable and maybe expected. It’s interesting, because I wonder how it would have been received if a man started crying. I think that a lot of the elected officials, if they had young daughters or children, saw them in me.

This is something that I've been thinking about since I started interning for Search. We have programs that empower young women who were previously excluded from peace processes to become voices for peace. But many of these programs are taking place in communities with restrictive gender norms, where our own beliefs about gender norms can alienate people. It’s a fine line, because you want to build trust with people who think differently than you, but also to stay true to your core values. For you, it's an advantage that you can cry, which gets legislators on your side. But the reason that you have that advantage is sexist. It's frustrating that you're allowed to cry, but you're not allowed to shout.

Wow, that is so true. I remember so many moments when a man would get on top of a car with a megaphone and start shouting. I remember I tried to do that once. And no one was listening. Maybe that's because of my “soprano” voice. But I have a feeling there was something else in there, something that required a man to come up with me and shout for me.

What about being a young woman in this space empowers you and inspires you?

Being a young woman in the advocacy space has connected me to other young women that are trying to achieve the same goals. They are mentors and friends who constantly inspire me and push me to do better and to keep working hard. I think it makes me a better person being connected to those people and having shared experiences.

You have engaged with many different communities, often speaking with people who disagreed with you. At Search, we define “common ground” as a starting point—rather than a final destination—that enables opponents to face a joint challenge together. It does not mean meeting in the middle, compromising your beliefs, or settling for a partial solution. In the words of our CEO, Shamil Idriss, finding common ground “is not about trading justice for stability. Quite the opposite: it is a bold and principled approach that secures our core needs and affirms our dignity, just not at the expense of anyone else’s.” How do you relate to this definition in your work? And do you think that common ground exists in the gun control debate?

I think that definition aligns perfectly with what we try to do at March for Our Lives. I've had countless conversations with people who initially disagree with our mission. I start with, “What is the root of why you think the way you do about guns?” Both sides just want to make sure their community and their family and their friends are safe. When I start at that level, it helps them to understand that I'm not advocating to put their family in danger. We have the same goal, so let's talk about the things that we can do to achieve it.

So common ground clearly exists. However, I think that for a lot of people, gun violence prevention feels like a black-and white-issue. Why do you think that is?

It's painted to be a black-and-white picture by the media and elected officials, especially elected officials that don't fully understand how to find a solution that works for everyone. That’s really detrimental because the more time that we wait to pass legislation that speaks to the core values of all people, the more people die. Common ground is necessary.

What do you think about the theory that the biggest obstacles in the gun control debate aren't actually people with extreme views, whether anti-gun control or otherwise, but rather the media and officials who paint the debate as a situation where common ground doesn't exist?

I agree, honestly. The media paints all our political opponents as having a stubborn attitude, just unwilling to negotiate. According to the media, our supporters hate the other side, the other side hates us, and conversations never happen. As an organization, I think that if you really want to live up to your mission statement, then you need to engage with the other side in order to get something done. Our election in November shows just how divided we are in ideology in this country, and the media fans those divisions in order to get more views. I do think that's definitely one of the most difficult hurdles to jump over.

It's interesting that the media is the reason that you were able to connect with so many people and amass such a base for this movement. But at the same time, polarized media stands in the way of progressing the movement now that you have so much support. Do you think that there are any solutions to this problem? Are there any steps that media organizations can take to ameliorate divides right now?

I think it's super necessary to broadcast voices that are not as polarizing. I understand that outrage is going to get you views. But the thing that is going to allow for change is exposing each side to differing opinions. Make sure those voices are reasonable and accurately represent the majority of the other side, instead of just someone that you're going to have a screaming match with. I've seen very many screaming matches on my TV. You just turn people off of politics, and they don't want to engage with it moving forward, which is incredibly dangerous.

Would you consider yourself a peacebuilder?

I would consider myself a peacebuilder. Ending gun violence is a key step toward creating a peaceful American society. I think a lot of peacebuilding comes from bringing communities together and fostering spaces within those communities where people can interact and talk about their opinions.

Ending gun violence means that families can live at peace and that they won't have to deal with the trauma that is losing a daughter or a sister. For me, I have a fear of getting shot almost every time I leave my room. With gun violence prevention policies in place and a changed culture around guns, hopefully I don't have that fear decades down the road. And hopefully my kids won't have to grow up with that fear. The idea that one day this situation could be different gives me a lot of peace.

What feels the most important to you right now? As you study government and education policy, what is your goal? And how does the work that you’re doing for March for Our Lives play into that goal?

I want to increase funding for under-resourced communities and give every single child the same resources, no matter where they grow up. The reality is that social mobility for people that come from communities of color and low-income communities is so low in the United States, which affects both education and gun violence.

I think government and policy are such powerful tools to improve people's lives. We have a system of government that can provide for these communities to create better futures for their children, but some people in power don't want that to happen. It’s so frustrating.

How do you overcome that frustration to keep working?

I never want to leave this work. And that's why I'm studying government in order to work on policy after I graduate. The reality is, it goes back to what happened in my school and never wanting other communities to feel like that, or other families to lose their children or spouses or brothers or sisters.

But it's also all of the things that I've learned along the way in the last three years—meeting people, hearing their experiences and seeing their communities, how different they look from my own. All of those things combined make it so that I can't ignore the reality of our country. The fact that I've had the opportunity to meet all of those amazing people means that I need to use that experience to change something.