Why Speech and Debate Access Matters More Than Ever

Speech and debate has always meant more to me than a competition or extracurricular. At its core, it’s about having the ability to speak up, to make your case, to be heard. It’s the confidence to raise your hand in class. The courage to disagree. The skill to take what you feel deeply and articulate it clearly.

But in a place like Silicon Valley, that opportunity isn’t shared equally. Some students grow up with access to top-tier coaching, workshops, and mentors, sometimes starting as early as elementary school. Others, just a few streets away, attend schools where speech and debate exists but isn’t prioritized or supported. It’s not that they’re any less capable or passionate. It’s that no one ever invited them in or made them feel like their voice belonged in the room.

That gap reflects who gets to lead, who gets heard in the classroom, and who enters college with a voice already trained to advocate. And the impact of that gap only grows over time. Students who begin with access to strong programs, mentorship, and guidance don’t just succeed in high school. They’re more likely to attend top colleges, build powerful networks, and step into high-paying careers. They learn early how to carry themselves in rooms of power—how to lead, how to be listened to. That early advantage compounds. Meanwhile, students without those opportunities face a steeper climb, not because they lack talent, but because the system never handed them the same tools. And so the cycle continues. The same communities that are left out stay left out, not by accident, but by design.

And it’s not just about speech and debate. It reflects how uneven our education system can be, especially when it comes to preparing students for college. You see it play out every day. Some students are coached through every detail of the admissions process, building picture-perfect resumes with all the “right” activities. Meanwhile, their peers, just a neighborhood over, might not even know what those activities are. It’s a quiet, persistent form of inequality. One that doesn’t make the news, but shapes outcomes all the same.

Now, you might be thinking, “Isn’t this just frustration speaking because you didn’t get the same leg up?” And honestly, that’s fair.

But this isn’t about being resentful. It’s about being aware and wanting to do something about it. Watching how opportunity plays out so unevenly didn’t make me bitter. It made me curious. It made me driven. And it made me want to create spaces where the kid who didn’t know they had a voice finally gets to use it. Not because it helps their resume. But because it helps them feel heard.

Speech and debate did that for me. It taught me how to ask better questions, how to listen closely, how to stand by an idea and see it through. But maybe most importantly, it taught me that words can move people. And that’s a lesson every student deserves to learn, whether or not they ever set foot in a tournament room.

At the same time, we can’t ignore what students are up against. A 2016 study led by Dr. Stuart Slavin found that over half the students at Irvington High School in Fremont showed signs of depression, and 80% reported symptoms of anxiety. That’s staggering. And it echoes what so many of us have felt: the pressure to constantly perform, to compete, to achieve without pause. In this environment, speech and debate shouldn’t be another stressor. It should be a relief. A space where students learn to express themselves, not just impress others.

The irony is that the skills we gain from speech and debate—critical thinking, clarity, confidence—are exactly what colleges and employers say they want. But access to those skills too often depends on where you live and what you can afford. That has to change.

I don’t think speech and debate is just something nice to have. I think it’s fundamental. The ability to speak clearly and think critically doesn’t just shape students. It shapes communities. It’s how young people step into leadership roles, challenge injustice, and drive meaningful change.

That’s why I care so deeply about access. Not because I think it’ll fix everything. But because I know what it feels like to finally find your voice, and I want more students to feel that too.

Because when more young people speak up, the future gets a little louder. And hopefully, a lot more fair.