When I started elementary school in the South in the 1960s, schools were segregated. I saw firsthand that “separate but equal” was a fiction. But because we were a military family—recently returned from living in Japan—I was simultaneously part of a community where the stark differences based on race were not the defining reality. The juxtaposition of those two worlds created a tension that has been with me throughout my career: the gap between what is and what is possible.
This tension became my “why.” Its existence revealed that barriers were not inevitable and, importantly, could be overcome. It made me passionate about ensuring that everyone can live their best life—and showed me that my purpose was to fight for those being left behind or ignored. That conviction has guided every leadership role I have held across three decades, and it has carried me through pushback, criticism, and moments when it would have been easier to move on. When you know your “why,” you do not abandon it because the work gets hard.
I believe most of us in psychology share a version of this conviction. We entered this field because we believe the human condition can be improved, and our science gives us unique tools to do it. APA’s mission makes that explicit: to use psychology to benefit society and improve lives. And the truth is, there are very few critical challenges facing our society—from the youth mental health crisis, to the responsible development of AI, to the deep divisions fracturing our communities—where psychology is not an essential part of the solution.
But having a “why” is not enough. You must be willing to pay what it costs. This work demands sustained engagement when public attention moves on. It demands organizational transformation, not just good intentions. And it demands the willingness to stand firm in what our science tells us, even when that means navigating criticism and sometimes standing apart from popular opinion.
We are increasingly called upon not only to determine how we will address critical issues, but whether we will accept the cost of those choices. Our willingness to count that cost—without retreating from our commitments—will ultimately define this field and this organization for generations to follow.
Understanding your “why” is clarifying. Deciding to pay for it is defining.