The Power of Volunteers: Changing History, One Act at a Time

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”

Margaret Mead (1901–1978; renowned American cultural anthropologist; strong advocate for social change and human rights, influencing discussions on gender, family, and education.)

Blue-tipped flames, shooting up from the oak logs burning in my kitchen fireplace, are chasing away a mid-September, early-morning chill. I’m sitting at the table, facing the flames, enjoying the warmth. I’m fresh shaven and freshly showered. I’m wearing my best casual shirt and my favorite Chinos–both from acclaimed clothier Charles Tyrwhitt of London–along with my Allen Edmonds loafers. I’ve even fragranced myself with a delicate spray of Sage & Citrus Oud, my favorite cologne by Habibi of New York.

Where am I going? No where. I’m hunkered down right here, sipping a decadent whip-creamed-topped hot chocolate in my favorite stoneware mug with a simple wooden handle that bespeaks rustic elegance.

But even though I’m staying right here, I’m working on a critically important task, and when something’s critical, I believe in getting myself in the right frame of mind.

Let me tell you about what I’m doing. I’m a volunteer, sending out postcards to voters in Swing States. I’m writing my message, a simple, straightforward reminder to vote on Tuesday, November 5. I’m taking my time. I’m making sure that every word is clear and legible, signaling the heavy duty that all eligible voters have to vote. I’m writing in a slower and more deliberate manner, mirroring our slow and deliberate choices when we vote.

I’m writing cards to people living in little towns I’ve never heard of. They’ll be getting cards from someone living in a little town they’ve never heard of. That doesn’t matter. What matters is getting people to vote on Tuesday, November 5.

As I address my 300 postcards—each one a small but powerful step toward change–I can’t help but reflect on the significance of volunteer work in the United States and how we have a long tradition of citizen-led efforts that have changed our nation for the better.

I’m thinking, for example, about the American Revolution. Who doesn’t remember Paul Revere’s midnight ride to warn the people of Concord that the British were coming? He was an ordinary citizen, just like the other 230,000 Minutemen who volunteered to fight for independence. Without the commitment of these volunteer soldiers, the struggle for freedom might have turned out very differently.

Fast forward to the Abolitionist Movement. I’m thinking of Harriet Tubman who was born into slavery, escaped to freedom in the North, and then risked her own life to lead other enslaved people to freedom through the Underground Railroad, a volunteer movement operating secretly across 14 northern states and parts of Canada. By some accounts, more than 100,000 enslaved people escape to freedom through the help of the Underground Railroad.

Without this vast network of volunteers, the escape routes and freedom efforts would have been far less successful, and many would have remained enslaved.

Or what about the Women’s Rights Movement? Volunteers like Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton come to mind. They and thousands of other activists worked tirelessly for decades to secure the right to vote for women. But one volunteer in particular looms large in my mind because she loomed large in life: Sojourner Truth, one of the most powerful advocates for women’s rights in the nineteenth century. At the 1851 Women’s Rights Convention held in Akron, Ohio, she delivered what is now recognized as one of the most famous abolitionist and women’s rights speeches in American history, “Ain’t I a Woman?” If you haven’t read it, this would be the perfect time, so that you’ll appreciate more fully subsequent volunteers whose steadfast work and determination led to the eventual passage of the 19th Amendment in 1920, giving over 26 million women the right to vote.

Sadly, that victory was only a partial win for women. Three years later, Alice Paul introduced the first version of the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA), aimed at ensuring that “men and women shall have equal rights throughout the United States and every place subject to its jurisdiction.” I have not the ability to explain the complicated chronology of the ERA Campaign since then, nor can I comprehend why the amendment has not been ratified. Most recently–on January 27, 2020–Virginia made history to become the 38th state to ratify the Equal Rights Amendment, thereby reaching the required number of states for ratification. Now, the attention is focused on the fight for Congress to remove its 1982 deadline. I am convinced that eventually, the amendment will ratify its way to the Constitution, and when it does, it will be largely because of grassroots volunteers from 1923 until now.

Without those volunteers, the fight for women’s voting rights and gender equality would not have achieved the critical progress it has, and the ongoing efforts to secure full legal equality might not exist at all.

Then we have Voter Registration Drives and the Civil Rights Movement. How well I remember both. I lived through them. I’m thinking especially of The Freedom Summer of 1964. It’s a perfect example of grassroots volunteerism. Over 1,000 volunteers, many of them college students, traveled to Mississippi and other Southern states to register African American voters. Despite the dangers, including arrests, beatings, and even the murders of three civil rights workers, these volunteers worked door to door, held freedom schools, and organized workshops to encourage African Americans to exercise their right to vote. And let’s not forget this fact: Black women domestic workers led community efforts to organize and advance voter registration drives as well as the Civil Rights Movement. Equally important, let’s not forget the grave danger that more than 60,000 African Americans in Mississippi risked by attending local meetings and choosing candidates. 17,000 African Americans attempted to register, though only 1,200 were allowed to do so because of the restrictive laws. However, these efforts were pivotal in raising awareness and helping to pass the Voting Rights Act of 1965, which banned discriminatory voting practices.

Even today, grassroots voter registration drives continue. I’m thinking about those led by Stacey Abrams’ Fair Fight Action aimed at empowering marginalized communities. Through her efforts, over 800,000 new voters were registered in Georgia between 2018 and 2020.

Without those volunteers, both today and in the 1960s, critical voting rights victories and the enfranchisement of marginalized communities might never have been achieved.

I’m also mindful of several other initiatives dear to me where volunteers have made a powerful difference.

How well I remember the start of the Earth Movement with the first Earth Day, on April 22, 1970. It was a massive grassroots effort with over 20 million Americans—about 10% of the U.S. population at the time—participating in events like cleanups, rallies, and educational forums, making it one of the largest civic demonstrations in our history. Organizers reached out to schools, universities, and local communities to mobilize people, and the idea spread rapidly through word of mouth, local environmental clubs, and volunteer-driven networks. How vividly I remember that Seventeen magazine took out an ad in the New York Times. I just looked it up so that I could provide the poignant text that appeared beneath a photo of a couple strolling, hand in hand, along a beach:

“Today—Earth Day—we salute millions of earnest young people who have accepted the challenge of seeking solutions for our environmental ills. Having reached the moon in the Sixties, perhaps in the Seventies we shall rediscover the earth!”

Volunteer participation helped generate the momentum that led to the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) later that year and the passage of key environmental laws, including the Clean Air Act and the Clean Water Act. Today, who is not familiar with Greta Thunberg, who at 19 years of age became a Swedish environmental activist and rose to fame worldwide. She has become one of the world’s most famous figures and has been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize.

Without Greta and the long line of volunteers just like her, the modern environmental movement, and critical regulatory bodies like the EPA, might never have gained the traction needed to protect our natural resources.

As a gay man, I am mindful of the role that volunteers have played going all the way back to Henry Gerber, who founded The Society for Human Rights in 1924—the first gay rights organization in the United States. That was long before I was born, but I well remember the Stonewall Uprising in the summer of 1969, when New York City police raided the Stonewall Inn, a gay club in Greenwich Village. Those riots served as a catalyst for the gay rights movement in the United States and around the world.

And look how far we’ve come. Thanks to tireless volunteers, in 2015, marriage equality became the law of the land. More recently, in 2020, Pete Buttigieg made history as the first openly gay candidate to make a serious run for president and later serve in a key role during the Democratic campaign. His rise is a testament to the hard work of volunteers who have pushed for visibility and inclusion at the highest levels of politics.

Without those volunteers, none of this progress would have been possible.

Or what about the AIDS Crisis? In the 1980s and 1990s, ACT UP (AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power) and GMHC (Gay Men’s Health Crisis) were grassroots organizations at their core. Thousands of ordinary citizens, many directly affected by the AIDS crisis, volunteered for roles in advocacy, caregiving, and public awareness. By 1986, ACT UP had grown to over 10,000 volunteers and by 1991 GMHC provided services to over 15,000 people living with AIDS by 1991, thanks to volunteers who offered emotional and practical support. One person, though, haunts my memory: David Kirby, a Gay Rights Activist who died prematurely from HIV/AIDS. As he drew his last breath, surrounded by his family, Therese Frare took a picture that was published in November 1990, LIFE Magazine. It was titled “the picture that changed the face of AIDS.” After its public display, the photograph became one of the most powerful photos identified with the HIV/AIDS pandemic.

Without those volunteers, the public response and the government’s response to the AIDS crisis would have been delayed, and countless lives might not have been saved by the advancements that followed.

Most recently, we’ve all grappled with the COVID-19 pandemic. Once again, volunteers played an essential role in responding to its challenges. From helping with vaccine distribution to supporting food banks and providing community care, volunteers were at the forefront of the response. In the U.S., over 80,000 volunteers with the Medical Reserve Corps (MRC) assisted at vaccination sites, helping to administer vaccines, manage logistics, and ensure smooth operations. At the same time, grassroots efforts like Mutual Aid Networks connected volunteers with elderly and vulnerable populations, delivering essentials like groceries and medications to those unable to leave their homes. Food banks, facing a 60% increase in demand, relied heavily on volunteers to distribute meals to millions of families affected by the economic fallout. Retired healthcare professionals and medical students also volunteered in hospitals and clinics, providing critical support to overwhelmed healthcare systems. Volunteers even staffed crisis hotlines, offering mental health support to individuals struggling with isolation and loss. But one small group of five volunteers stand out to me because they embody the true spirit of volunteerism. They were healthcare workers at New York-Presbyterian Morgan Stanley Children’s Hospital who made headlines for their bravery and dedication. They volunteered to clean the rooms of COVID-19 patients, a task that involved significant risk. Their willingness to step up and ensure the safety and cleanliness of the hospital environment was crucial in preventing the spread of the virus and in setting a model for others to follow.

Without thousands upon thousands of volunteers, the pandemic response would have been far less effective, and countless communities would have lacked the support they needed during one of the most challenging times in modern history.

I could continue my reveries and showcase more volunteers and their extraordinary power even more fully. If I were to do so, the same adjectives could be used to describe them.

● Courageous.
● Relentless.
● Trailblazing.
● Resilient.
● Visionary.
● Fearless.
● Compassionate.
● Selfless.
● Determined.

With such noble traits, it’s easy to see why so many are eager to contribute to meaningful causes. I’m fortunate to be involved in one right now, and that brings me back to where I began. I’m sending out postcards to voters in Swing States, an effort that feels critically important.

I’m just one volunteer, and I’m only writing 300 postcards. But get this. I’m working with more than 265,000 other volunteers, all part of the Progressive Turnout Project Initiative. Together, we’ll be sending out more than 40 million postcards. Vote by vote, we will make a difference.

And what about you? What can you do? If you’re an American voter, I urge you to exercise your right to vote on November 5. Together, we can change history once again.

Remember, too, that volunteerism is a powerful tool for change regardless of who you are and regardless of where you live. Look around your own corner of the world for a cause that you can champion. As you do, you will join hands with more than 1 billion volunteers worldwide. As you do, celebrate the realization that as a volunteer, you have the power to change history, one act at a time.

The Final Cake

Speak your latent conviction, and it shall be the universal sense; for the inmost in due time becomes
the outmost—and our first thought is rendered back to us by the trumpets of
the Last Judgment.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON (1803-1882; AMERICAN ESSAYIST, POET, PHILOSOPHER, AND LEADER OF THE TRANSCENDENTAL MOVEMENT; from his seminal Transcendental essay  SELF-RELIANCE [1841])


Dayum! I just realized that the title of today’s post might lead you to believe that I’ve baked my last cake. Not to worry. I haven’t. I mean, after all, I’ve been stacking cakes for layers on end, and I have cakes to bake before I sleep and cakes to bake before I sleep. (Frost and I have our own thing going.)

Let me count the cakes. (Barrett–Elizabeth, not Robert–and I have our own thing going, too.) I’m thinking something like around the world in 80 cakes. (Well, dayum again. It looks as if movies and I have our own thing going. Maybe I have my own thing going with everything. No doubt. I do.)

But imagine that. Baking 80 cakes from around the world. Well. I have never, not yet at any rate. But I wonder: will I be the first? BRB.

Well, triple dayum. Every time that I have a brilliant idea, someone goes and steals it from me–right here in plain sight for everyone to see–and manages to get away with it years before I even manage to speak up and declare it in my post.

Yep. You read it right. Famed pastry chef Claire Clark has already done it: 80 Cakes from Around the World. 6 continents, 52 countries. What adventures. What delights.

OMG! I just had another brilliant idea! Forget my idea of around the world in 80 cakes. Well, actually, we can’t forget it, can we? It’s published as a book already, enjoying life everlasting to its fullest.

Fine. Since Clark’s book focuses on countries, here’s another idea. I will remove that which defines countries as countries. I’ll take away all the borders. Is that a stroke of genius or what? Then I can bake what I want to bake and not be boxed in. BRB. I have to go Google.

Well. Dayum nearly flew out of my mouth again, but I’m getting tired of saying dayum because I’ve said dayum three times already. So, dammit. I Googled, and, once again, someone stole my idea even before I had a chance to speak up and declare it here in my post.

Yep. You read it right. Jennifer Rao has poured the batter already and is baking it up as eBooks. Cakes without Borders. Volume 1: The Maiden Voyage. And she’s added another layer. Cakes without Borders Volume 2: The Journey Continues.

Fine. No problem. Since the baking borders are gone, let’s call it like it is. One World. How’s that for a simple-syrup solution? I’ll bake up One World Cakes. Forget cakes without borders. BRB. I have to go Google again.

Well, as I live and breathe. I have been duped again. What I found was not a perfect match, but it was close enough in spirit and intent that my conscience would never ever let me move ahead with what I know would become my One World Cakes empire. I can’t because Oksana Greer started her One World Cafe in 2007.

Well, I’ve gotten over the repeated theft of my ideas before I even had the chance to speak up and declare them, but now “one world” is floating around in my head. We are, you know, One World. More and more every day. One world.

But if you had asked me when peopled started talking about one world and the heightened responsibilities that we face as one world, I would have credited Pearl S. Buck, who alluded to one world in her 1950s essay “Roll Away the Stone,” contributed to NPR as part of its “This I Believe” program:

I take heart in a promising fact that the world contains food supplies sufficient for the entire earth population. Our knowledge of medical science is already sufficient to improve the health of the whole human race. Our resources and education, if administered on a world scale, can lift the intelligence of the race. All that remains is to discover how to administer upon a world scale, the benefits which some of us already have. In other words, to return to my simile, the stone must be rolled away.

But I’m glad that you didn’t ask, because I would have been wrong. Buck was not the first. Credit for the first use of one world goes all the way back to 1919:

The English idealists have followed Hegel rather than Fichte … in striving for a one-world theory, for seeing ideal values realized in the actual (Political Science Quarterly, 34: 610).

Gracious me. Have I gotten side stacked or what? If I keep this up, my post might well compete with a Smith Island Cake. Please tell me that you know about this famous cake from Smith Island, Maryland. Say whaaaat? You don’t. Well, let me take just another crumb or two to bring you into the cake know. The Smith Island Cake has been honored a mighty stack of times for the defining role that it has played in American culture. It is a super-sweet confection, consisting of at least seven thin layers with cooked fudge icing between the layers and on top. The side of the cake is often left unfrosted. (I made one once with 15 layers. Talk about a show-stopper.) Give yourself the baking challenge. Here’s Mrs. Kitching’s Original Smith Island Cake. Or, if you prefer, buy one online: Smith Island Baking Company.

Enough of Smith Island Cakes. Enough of one world and one world cakes. Enough of cakes without borders. Enough of around the world in 80 cakes. Enough of my nonsense.

It suits me just fine to let it all go. Enough is enough is enough. Besides, those who know me well know that I have baked the good bake and that I will continue to do so (The Bible and I have our own thing going, too.)

I suppose, then, that the best thing for me to do is stop salivating over the gazillion cakes that I have yet to bake and start putting the frosting on the final cake that I baked, the one that got me going with this post.

Let me tell you all about it. I promise: I’ll make it no more than a three-layer cake.

During my twenty-three years at Laurel Ridge Community College (formerly Lord Fairfax Community College), I always baked cakes for my classes, especially my Creative Writing classes. They were smaller than my other classes. Plus, I usually met with Creative Writing classes on Fridays. Bringing cake seemed perfect for a three-hour class like that.

Baking for my classes became a standard. If it was a Kendrick class, there would be Kendrick cakes. Word traveled fast. Once I walked into class on the first day and discovered that one of my students had written on the board:

We heard there would be cake.

Is that sweet or what?

I continued baking for my students throughout my teaching career, all the way through Fall 2022, my final semester as a full-time professor at Laurel Ridge. However, that semester I treated my students, week by week, to various types of sourdough muffins.

As I prepared for our final class–which turned out to be my final class, too–I had in mind my usual: celebrate my students and their writing successes.

Muffins didn’t do it for me. It just had to be a cake. I had many of my favorites lined up as possibilities, but it seemed to me that my students should get to choose.

So, for our final class, I’m baking a cake to celebrate. And here’s the deal. You get to decide what kind of cake. What would you like? Just name it. You’ll get it.

Silence fell over the very same room that I sometimes thought could never be silent.

But I learned decades ago that the best way of breaking classroom silence is to remain silent.

It always works. After a minute of silence that felt as long as a semester, one student spoke up:

German Chocolate.

Robbie, thank you very much. German Chocolate it shall be.

I was silent for a moment, pondering why Robbie was the only one bold enough to speak up and declare a preference. The others sat there as if they could not speak. The others sat there, as if they had no preferences whatsoever. I knew otherwise and started laughing a little, as I started asking why no one else spoke up. Typical responses followed:

Social anxiety

Didn’t know what others might think.

Fear of being wrong.

(Hello. How can you go wrong with cake?)

Wanted to hear what others had to say.

But here’s the thing, and it’s rather ironic. When I walked into class and asked my students what kind of celebratory cake they would like, I stood there before them ready to honor whatever they wanted.

It could have been my 15-layer Smith Island Cake. It could have been a Lady Fingers Cake–Торт “Дамские Пальчики”–from One World Cake. It could have been a Bolo de Fuba from Cake without Borders. It could have been the scandelicious Carrot Cake from 80 Cakes from Around the World. It could have been whatever their taste buds desired to taste, whatever their minds dreamt to dream.

With greater irony, they could have had more than one cake. I stood there before them ready to honor whatever they wanted.

But only one student spoke up. One lone voice prevailed. German Chocolate.

I didn’t want to turn the situation into a lecture, yet I felt that I had a responsibility to seize this moment and make it a sweet learning one.

In a flash, I thought of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essay “Self-Reliance.” With greater speed, I found the essay on the Internet, projected it on the screen for my students to see, and read the following passage:

To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men—that is genius. Speak your latent conviction, and it shall be the universal sense; for the inmost in due time becomes the outmost—and our first thought is rendered back to us by the trumpets of the Last Judgment. Familiar as the voice of the mind is to each, the highest merit we ascribe to Moses, Plato, and Milton is that they set at naught books and traditions, and spoke not what men, but what they thought. A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within, more than the lustre of the firmament of bards and sages. Yet he dismisses without notice his thought, because it is his. In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts: they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty. Great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us than this.

When we met the next week, my students were majorly impressed by my show-stopper German Chocolate Cake. Three 9-inch layers of light chocolate cake. Coconut-pecan frosting slathered between the layers, all around the sides, and on the top. Delightfully sticky. Delightfully sweet. Delightfully decadent

When the final class ended, Robbie left–cake carrier in hand, delighted to be taking home what remained of the final cake, his own sweet indulgence to share as he saw fit.

I like to believe, however, that everyone left class that day with an even sweeter realization that might serve them for a lifetime if they will only listen: the influential power of a lone voice surrounded by silence.