Mustafa Santiago Ali
Dr. Mustafa Santiago Ali is the Executive Vice President of Conservation & Justice for the National Wildlife Federation (NWF), former Interim Chief of Programs at the Union of Concerned Scientists (UCS), and Instructor at American University. He is the Founder and CEO of Revitalization Strategies. He also serves as a commissioner for The American Academy of Arts and Sciences (AAAS). He is an award-winning writer and poet focused on social justice. Dr. Ali is frequently seen on television, including appearances on MSNBC, ABC, CBS, NBC, CNN, VICE, FUSE, BET, National Geographic, Full Frontal with Samantha Bee, and Democracy NOW! Mustafa is also a regular guest on Roland Martin Unfiltered, Black News Channel, Tavis Smiley Show, The Dean Obeidallah Show, and many others…
Editor's Note: This poem is the 53rd in our Democracy and Hope Series. This series will highlight hopeful aspects about our Democracy using various genres including poems, interviews, short stories, and articles about political events
I grew up on dirt roads that clung to your shoes, roads that whispered of small dreams and smaller futures. My grandfather, a man of few words, tilled the earth with his hands, the same hands that held me steady when the world felt too big to touch. He was a farmer, not by choice but by necessity, and that necessity wrapped itself around us like the dust we breathed. In our rural community, we didn’t get to dream big—no, big dreams were for folks who lived where the roads were paved, where names were remembered beyond family reunions and county fairs.
But one day, my teacher asked me a question that felt like both a gift and a burden: “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I remember looking out the window at the fields that stretched like a sigh, as if they too were waiting for an answer. My grandfather always told me the earth was honest—if you worked hard, it would feed you. But no one ever told me that I could feed the world in other ways. I thought for a moment, felt the weight of my grandfather’s silent hopes, and I said, “Jimmy Carter.”
It wasn’t just a name I threw out to fill the silence. It was a hope, a promise. Jimmy Carter—peanut farmer, president, humanitarian—he was proof that someone like me could rise from the dirt and still keep his soul clean. Carter didn’t just lead, he served. He made me believe that power wasn’t about dominance, but about care. He saw the best in us, even when we couldn’t see it in ourselves. And that’s what stuck with me. That’s what made me believe that I was enough.
I didn’t want to be president just to wear the title. I wanted to be like Carter because he walked into rooms full of power and still chose people over politics. He didn’t forget where he came from, didn’t forget the dirt under his nails, and because of that, he knew how to plant seeds of hope in places most folks had long abandoned. He taught me that leadership isn’t about standing tall above others; it’s about kneeling beside them, about being willing to get your hands dirty for the sake of something greater than yourself.
On his 100th birthday, I honor him—not for his policies, not for his accolades, but for the way he lived. For the way he saw the world through eyes that refused to dim, even when the road got rough. He made space for dreamers, for the quiet ones, the ones who had been told to shrink themselves. He led by example, by showing us that it’s not just okay, but necessary, to see the best in your fellow man, to care more about people than power.
And because of him, I know that I can walk the halls of Congress and the White House with the same grace. I know that the values I carry—values born from family, from dirt roads, from small farms—are worth something. Carter showed me that it’s okay to be soft in a world that tells you to be hard, that love is the only legacy that truly lasts.
So here’s to Jimmy, the man who believed in us when we forgot how to believe in ourselves. He showed me, and so many others, that no dream is too small if it’s rooted in love. Because of him, I know that even from the dust, we can rise and touch the sky.
©️MustafaSantiagoAli
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