World Refugee Day Keynote
I started this keynote the way I invite you to start every new endeavor in your day. Something I call a micro-moment of rest.
Standing under that big tree, I asked everyone to feel the ground under their feet. To notice their breath. To acknowledge the thoughts taking them somewhere else and tell them “thank you for the reminder, but not right now, right now I am here. In community. In my body”
Then we took a full breath in and a long breath out.
Then who?
When I was eight, I saw an unhoused man at a busy intersection in Tijuana, where I was born. People walked past him as if he wasn't there. I asked my mom if we could help. She said it wasn't our responsibility.
I was confused. Then who? I counted: five unhoused people over the next few days, and counted zero people stopped to help. I brought my findings to my third-grade class and was sent to the principal's office. “It is not your problem to solve, be a good girl and focus on your class work.” I learned early that asking who was seen as disruptive.
At twelve, I immigrated to the United States. Again, something I was not allowed to do. Being undocumented 20 years ago meant no college, no driver's license despite being a “good girl.” Then who? Who is going to act? Who has permission to access care, rest, and resources?
I decided it was me.
For twelve years, I taught, designed programs, published, and supported undocumented students, immigrants, refugees, and women rescued from trafficking. I did not stop.
My body stopped.
Three years ago, I stepped away from what I thought was my dream job. Simple tasks felt impossible. And I finally understood my mother at that intersection. She wasn't lacking care. She was tired. The man wasn't there by choice. He was tired too.
Your exhaustion is political. Your rest is the antidote.
When we are too tired to feel, to dream, to recognize the humanity in ourselves, we are too tired to show up for each other. Sociologists call the energy of people gathered for a shared purpose collective effervescence, and name it the most powerful energy available. Rest is what allows us to show up for ourselves, our communities and stand up for what we believe in.
Watch the keynote
WRD-Celebration-2026-Keynote-Website-16x9.mp4 (8 min 18 s)
It begins with a guided breath. I invite you to do it with us, wherever you are.
What the day held
The speech was one part of a bigger celebration. Mariachi music livened the day. Dancers showcased cultures. Families, organizers, and neighbors who have built lives across borders were all in one place. Along with the organizations that support them.
The county presented a proclamation honoring the day. At my table, I invited people to come back into their bodies: a homecoming, and those who stopped, had the opportunity to breathe, and talk with me about what rest means in bodies that have had to keep moving.
That is collective effervescence. I didn't just describe it from the podium. I felt it in the room.
A practice to carry with you
The next time you feel anxiety, or the pressure of becoming, try this:
Feel your feet on the ground.
Notice one sensation in your body. Don't fix it. Just notice it.
Breathe in, then exhale long, longer than feels necessary.
Say to yourself: I already am.
You don't have to earn rest, and you don't need anyone's permission to belong. You are most powerful, for yourself and for your community, when you are well rested.
Gratitude
Thank you to the San Diego Refugee Forum for inviting me to speak, and to every musician, dancer, organizer, and neighbor who made the day. Thank you to my mother, who was tired, and whom I understand now. And thank you to the eight-year-old girl who kept asking then who?
If this work speaks to your organization, community, or team, I'd love to bring it into your room. Let's connect.
— Delia Saenz Skinner, MA · Working With Delia, LLC
