Thank you, Dr. Curry, for your years of leading with brilliance and heart. I’ve watched you build something extraordinary here. And what a gift, that tonight, I get to witness its living proof.
To the faculty, staff, every parent, sibling, guardian, neighbor, mentor, child and chosen family in the stands—thank you for lifting these graduates up on your shoulders.
And the stars of today’s ceremony—to the Class of 2025, and those walking from the Class of ‘24, Congratulations!
I know you know this—but let’s be clear: you are graduating from a national model of what community college must be. Compton College is what happens when equity, agency, and accountability collide, and create something powerful. In a country where community colleges serve more undergraduate students than any other sector, Compton College isn’t following the path. You are setting it. You are equity in motion.
And what the world needs now—desperately—is courageous, creative, connected human beings who don’t just graduate with knowledge, but who lead with truth. You are that.
You are not here by accident.
You are not a symbol. You are not a statistic.
You are not the exception…
You are the expectation.
The expectation that higher education should serve everyone. That justice must be rooted in equity. That leadership doesn’t require permission—it requires conviction.
And if you choose to step into that leadership—on your block, in your career, in your family—know this:
You don’t need to be perfect, you just need to be present. You don’t need to fix everything. But you can transform something. You are not the product of remediation. You are the architects of reimagination.
Lead with equity—not as a buzzword, but as a mission.
Speak with courage. Even when your voice shakes.
Protect your joy. It is an act of resistance.
We don’t gather tonight in some untouched sanctuary, as if the world outside has paused to let us breathe. No. I know there are helicopters in the sky. The National Guard was deployed despite pleas from leaders, neighbors and the governor himself. Our military dispatched without a governor’s consent, not to defend us from enemies abroad, but to control dissent at home. Armored vehicles where there should be investments. Tension where there should be trust.
And I know there are people across the country watching this community right now—many with suspicion, few with understanding. Let’s name that—not to discourage you, but to honor your clarity. Because even in the presence of force, you showed the world something stronger: focus, purpose, and peace.
This city, this institution—the stories, the culture, the people—is not some footnote in history. Compton is the syllabus. And tonight, you’re writing the next chapter. You are the counter-narrative. You are the correction. You showed up to this campus—every day. Perhaps scarred, and exhausted. But brilliant and
Unbowed.
Let me speak for a moment to the country you’re graduating into. This year’s NAEP results—our national education report card—painted a harsh picture. Reading and math scores among high schoolers dropped to lows we haven’t seen in decades. When I say decades…a 30 year low in Math and 50 years in Reading.
And more than ever, young people are asking: Does the system see me? Does it believe in me?
Me? Most of my school life, I wrestled with those same questions. Because where I come from, we didn’t have wealth. We didn’t have legacy connections. But we had belief—belief in the power of education, and in the dignity of every child. Education was my way forward. And I’ve spent most of my career fighting for a system that sees the full humanity and potential of students like you. Now I lead an organization working to redefine what student success and high school looks like across the globe—not just about grades, but real- world readiness: resilience, problem-solving, original thinking, lifelong learning.
You’ve heard the saying, “education is the great equalizer.” But education is only an equalizer when we equalize access. When we equalize power. And when we refuse to accept inequality as destiny. That’s exactly what you’ve done. Where others see crisis in the data, I see you. Where they see decline, I see
determination. Where they see unfinished learning, I see unmatched leadership.
I find hope in you. In being in Compton. On Alondra Boulevard, where this week your neighbors cleared debris left by rubber bullets and flashbangs, with quite unwavering dignity. I find hope in your stories. In your resilience. You made it here because you are powerful.
I see hope manifest on this very campus. That new 250-unit affordable housing complex, that you broke ground on this year? That is Student-Powered Justice. It’s underway because of students like you, like Joshua Jackson and Dayshawn Louden who didn’t just identify the housing crisis facing your peers—they solved it. They didn’t just wait for policy to catch up—they became it. They filled bellies and dignity with food pantries and open showers. This institution—You, literally turn lemons into legacy—like Karneisha Christin Stewart, who transformed a family recipe for lemonade into a thriving brand and business.
You persevere. You overcome. You do it with minds sharpened in your classrooms. With hearts rooted in your communities. With the conviction that you don’t need to be rescued…you need to be respected.
And let’s be real—global shifts, economic uncertainty, and the rise of Artificial Intelligence are all reshaping the workforce. But the skills most in demand—those that last—can’t be automated. They are human. And you’ve got them. You carry something no algorithm can teach. A strength born of struggle. A purpose that can’t be programmed into machine. AI can calculate—but it can’t care. It can simulate—but it can’t stand up. It can search—but it can’t lead.
So in this moment—when fundamental rights and freedoms are being tested—we need the power of your voice and the wisdom of your leadership. These moments may feel fraught, but it is often the fraught moments that are the most rich with possibility.
This moment — this degree, your success, is not the finish line…It’s the ignition switch. So go. Go create, heal, teach, innovate, vote, organize, invest, design, disrupt. Go build the world your ancestors dreamed of, and your children deserve. Go be so bold they have to rewrite the rules. Be so brilliant they cannot look away. Be so loving even broken systems begin to heal.
Now, I’m not the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet and downright National Treasure that was your commencement speaker last year—Kendrick Lamar. But trust that I came to Compton and absolutely witnessed what he described as royalty and loyalty in your DNA. And I see more. I see legacy in your lungs. Justice in your hands. Fire in your feet. And a I see a future in your footsteps.
Walk boldly. Speak freely. Dream wildly.
Push forward—through trauma and triumph.
Don’t ever let the world shrink your dreams to fit its fears.
While the rest of the country tonight may be asking where hope will come from— I know… It is here in this room. Hope is walking across this stage. Wearing caps and gowns. Hope, tonight, is graduating from Compton College. Congratulations, Graduates.
