I went to share our work in Rochester and came home with a renewed sense of purpose, a sharper strategy, and a few realizations that might just change the way we advocate.

Spoiler Alert: my biggest takeaways weren’t the typical bullet-points-from-a-PowerPoint kind. They were human moments, the kind that shift how you see what’s possible and remind you why this work matters.

Why I Was There

I was invited to present Blueprints for Belonging, a framework rooted in Rochester’s efforts to reimagine housing and community supports for people with autism and other developmental differences.

The message was simple but powerful: true inclusion starts with connection. The most effective blueprints aren’t drawn in isolation; they’re co-created by people living the experience every day.

That message fit perfectly with the symposium’s theme of scaling the mission, not the organization. Harvard’s Jane Wei-Skillern captured it best when she said that real social change doesn’t happen by building bigger organizations, it happens when we build stronger networks united by shared purpose.

The Nuggets I Brought Home

Here’s what I carried back from Arizona, not just in my notebook, but in my heart:

• Belonging isn’t a program, it’s a practice.
  Denise Resnik, founder of First Place AZ, said something that stuck with me: “Housing is the anchor, but belonging is the goal.” Every detail of their community, from resident life to employment partnerships, reflects that truth.
  Their Transition Academy helps young adults develop the skills and confidence they need to live more independently, showing that inclusion is something you build with intention and love.

• Scale the cause, not your ego.
  Jane Wei-Skillern’s reminder hit home. Too often we chase growth, not impact. Collaboration beats competition every single time.

• Policy and community must talk to each other.
  Dr. Erik Carter’s research showed that inclusion isn’t just moral, it’s measurable. When people with disabilities live, work, and participate in community life, everyone benefits.

• Seeing what’s possible changes everything.
  Arizona showed that our barriers aren’t always immovable, sometimes they’re just outdated playbooks. We can rewrite them. We can update our advocacy strategy to match what truly works.

Inspiring Leadership and the People Who Made It Even More Meaningful

Another bright moment came from hearing Diana Diaz‑Harrison, founder of the Arizona Autism Charter Schools. She did such an extraordinary job leading those schools that she was recently tapped to serve as Deputy Assistant Secretary for Special Education and Rehabilitative Services at the U.S. Department of Education. While that department has been under heavy scrutiny lately, she radiated positivity on stage. Whether her optimism was well‑placed or simply brave, it reminded me that immersing ourselves in negativity doesn’t build solutions. We can’t just say, this is wrong; we have to say, I want to be someone who made efforts that mattered — who shifted outcomes and helped build something better, something sustainable.

While I was there, I met a mom whose son, like my daughter, is a nonspeaker. We instantly understood each other in that unspoken way that only moms walking similar paths do. What started as a quick introduction turned into a deep conversation, and by the end of the week, I had a new friend to blaze this path with. We left Arizona with matching fire in our hearts — ready to make sure our kids’ voices are not only heard, but valued.

My mom also traveled with me, and at first she would introduce herself as “just my mom.” But something shifted over those few days. Surrounded by stories of empowerment and possibility, she began sharing her own. She talked about my sister Erin, who has autism, and how, when Erin was little, few people even understood what that meant. By the end of the symposium, she wasn’t “just” my mom — she was a mom on a mission, too. Watching her find her voice reminded me that advocacy is contagious when hope is in the air. People often call me brave for traveling and speaking, but truthfully, it wasn’t easy. Having her by my side made all the difference. I always feel loved, but this was deeper. It built new memories, a quiet kind of strength between us that I’ll carry forever. She may have only started to see her own strength by the end, but I’ve seen it all along — in every quiet act of love, every sacrifice, every moment she stood by me and my sister. To me, she has always been this version of herself, the one who leads with heart and never gives up <3.

Why the Trip Was Worth Taking

Leaving that symposium, something shifted. The problems we face in New York didn’t shrink, but the belief that we’re powerless against them did.

I saw what happens when families, professionals, and policymakers unite around shared values instead of fighting over limited resources. I met people who have turned frustration into fuel and proved that community-driven change can be scaled without losing its soul.

And maybe most importantly, I was reminded that this work doesn’t belong to systems or agencies, it belongs to all of us. We don’t have to wait for permission to build better supports. We just have to start connecting the dots, sharing blueprints, and daring to believe that we can do this differently.

If you’re passionate about change, the First Place team’s Vote the Spectrum initiative is a great place to start. It’s all about making sure the disability community’s voice is heard in policy decisions that shape our lives.

The Bigger Picture

At Finding Common Ground, that’s what we’re all about, bringing diverse voices to the same table, finding what unites us, and turning shared insight into action.

The First Place experience rekindled my belief that advocacy doesn’t always have to feel like an uphill climb. Sometimes it’s a reminder to pause, look around, and realize that the summit isn’t as far as it seemed, especially when we climb together.

Because belonging shouldn’t be the exception.
It should be the expectation.