Good morning.
President William McCormick, Board of Trustees, faculty and staff, proud families, and most importantly, the Class of 2025:
It is a special honour to stand before you on this campus, which holds deep historical roots, not just for Florida but for the Black experience in America.
Before we begin to talk about what lies ahead, let me take you back to a young boy born in Miami to Bahamian farmers from Cat Island in The Bahamas in 1927. His family was poor, and he was barely literate when he moved to Miami at the age of 15. He worked as a dishwasher in restaurants and learned to read by sounding out the words on restaurant menus. That boy, of course, was Sir Sidney Poitier.
Sir Sidney would go on to become one of the most influential actors in the history of American cinema. The first Black man to win an Academy Award for Best Actor. A trailblazer who refused roles that demeaned his people and stood with dignity, always. But what many forget is that before the applause and accolades, there was struggle. There was uncertainty. There were moments when he, too, had to choose between fear and purpose.
Sir Sidney’s life reminds us: the path forward isn’t always obvious. But your story, like his, is still being written. And the pen /in your hands.
Today, we celebrate the achievements of each of you. You have crossed the finish line—and what a journey it has been. But this moment is also a crossroads. The world you are graduating into is not the one your parents entered. It’s faster, more connected, more uncertain, and in many ways, more demanding.
But that’s why this theme—“It’s Our Time: Legacy in Motion”—couldn’t be more fitting.
You are inheriting a legacy forged through sweat and sacrifice, through marches and movements, through the courage of those who dared to challenge the world as it was, to shape the world as it could be. And now, that legacy is in your hands.
Here at Florida Memorial University—one of the few remaining HBCUs in the state of Florida—you are part of a lineage that began in the ashes of slavery and segregation, when education was seen as a threat to the status quo. A legacy that stood up in defiance of oppression and said, “We will learn, we will lead, and we will last.”
You walk in the footsteps of giants. People like Mary McLeod Bethune, Carter G. Woodson, Rosa Parks, and yes, Sir Sidney Poitier—who refused to allow the limitations of their time to define the possibilities of their future.
But now it’s your time.
And when I say that, I don’t mean simply that it’s your turn. I mean it’s your responsibility. Your moment to take what you’ve learned, what you’ve lived, and what you believe—and move that forward.
Because the truth is: you will see two versions of life after graduation.
One version will ask you to accept things as they are. It will tell you to play it safe. To take the job that pays well, but feeds no passion. To avoid the issues that make people uncomfortable. To scroll past injustice, to numb yourself with distractions, and to chase an idea of success that’s measured in likes and status, rather than impact and purpose.
The other version will challenge you to be more. It will ask you to stand up, even when your knees shake. It will ask you to build something lasting. To question systems. To tell the truth. To love deeply. To serve others. To make room for those who have been left behind. And it will ask you to believe—in yourself, and in a future that has not yet come into view.
The world is changing rapidly. Technology is rewriting how we work. Climate change is threatening how we live. Democracies are under strain. And inequality is growing wider, not narrower.
But in all of this, you have a choice: to be passive or to be a force for good.
Graduates,
There is something happening in our culture that we rarely speak about—not because it is hidden, but because it has become so normal we’ve stopped noticing it.
Much of what is broken in the world today—its inequality, its erosion of trust, its casual cruelty—has not been caused by ignorance or malice.
It has been enabled—quietly, steadily—by those who were told they were the most capable, the most educated, the most prepared to lead.
But something has gone wrong.
We have built a culture—particularly among the educated elite—that rewards self-preservation above service, caution above conscience, and silence above moral clarity.
We are producing leaders who know how to speak fluently, but have forgotten how to speak honestly.
People who are brilliant at managing complexity, but uncomfortable with the simplicity of doing what is right.
And the most dangerous part?
It doesn’t feel like failure.
It feels like professionalism.
It feels like maturity.
It feels like success.
This is how the drift begins—how character is slowly traded for caution.
You will not be told to abandon your values.
You will simply be told to postpone them.
To be strategic.
To be careful.
To wait until the timing is better.
And that, over time, is how you arrive somewhere you never meant to go.
Because self-preservation—when practiced long enough—can look a lot like moral failure.
So we must be honest with ourselves.
We cannot afford another generation of leaders who quietly absorb the values of a system they were meant to challenge.
We cannot afford to destroy our clarity by mistaking comfort for goodness.
We cannot keep producing people who rise without ever asking what they’re rising into.
We must bend this culture—gently, but decisively—before it bends us beyond recognition.
Ask yourself now:
- What kind of person does this system reward?
- What kind of compromises am I being trained to accept?
- And when the moment comes—because it will—will I be ready to stand for something, or simply to survive it?
Because now, more than ever, the issue is character.
Not performance.
Not positioning.
Not how you look when the spotlight is on.
But who you are when the room goes quiet.
When there is no reward for doing the right thing.
When all the incentives say “stay silent”—and something inside you says, “speak.”
That is the moment your education will be tested.
That is when we’ll find out whether this degree gave you more than skills—whether it gave you a spine.
So carry your credentials with pride, yes.
But carry your conscience with greater care.
Because when the ground beneath you shifts—as it surely will—
the only thing worth standing on will be your character.
And if you do not decide now what that character is,
someone else—some system, some culture, some quiet set of compromises—will decide for you.
So ask the question that no résumé ever requires:
What kind of person am I becoming?
And let that question be the thread you follow.
Even when it’s difficult.
Even when it costs you something.
Even when no one is watching.
Because in the end, the measure of your education is not how far you go—
but whether you remain recognizably yourself, when you get there.
There is no script for how to navigate what’s ahead. But you’ve already proven you can rise to a challenge. You’ve studied, persevered, and succeeded—some of you while working two jobs, raising children, or being the first in your family to go to college.
So, my advice to you is this:
First—give yourself grace.
You don’t have to have it all figured out today. You may stumble. You may take a wrong turn. You may even fail. But don’t let that convince you that you are lost. Growth is not linear. Life is not a checklist. And success is not a straight road.
Second—protect your mind and your values.
In a world that will try to define you by your output, your appearance, or your background—never forget that your worth is inherent. You are more than what you produce. You are more than a title, or a salary, or a social media profile. You are here to bring light to a world that desperately needs it.
Third—build your life with intention.
Live not only to consume but to contribute. Don’t wait for opportunity to come find you—create it. Whether you’re going into education, engineering, business, the arts, or public service, remember: the world isn’t changed by those who sit still. It’s changed by those who show up, who speak up, who care enough to act.
And to those of you who feel uncertain about what comes next—know this:
Uncertainty does not mean you are unprepared. It means you are human. Every generation has faced its own set of unknowns. But history favours those who decide to move forward anyway. You don’t need to know every step. You just need to keep stepping.
You are not alone in this. Look around you—at your classmates, your professors, your families. And yes, look to the wider Caribbean and African diaspora. Our roots are deep. Our branches wide. And the power of our people has always come not just from what we do individually, but from what we do together.
And now let me speak directly to the Bahamian students here today. You carry two flags with you: one in your hand, and one in your heart. I congratulate you on reaching this milestone. You are making your country proud. We are watching you. We are rooting for you. And we are waiting to see the contributions you will make to our nation and the world.
As your Prime Minister, I want you to know: you matter. Your education matters. Your future matters. And your time is now.
As you step forward into this new chapter of life, I know that many of you are carrying questions—about your future, about your country, and about the world you’re walking into. These are uncertain times, where shifts in U.S. immigration policies have created real anxiety about what comes next. I want to reassure you: your government is not only listening, we are responding. We are creating real, tangible opportunities at home, so that returning to The Bahamas is a future filled with promise.
We are laying the foundation for a modern, resilient Bahamian economy; one that creates space for your ideas, your talents, and your leadership. In agriculture, we’ve launched the Golden Yolk initiative to reduce our reliance on imports and empower local farmers. Building national food security and creating pathways for young Bahamians to lead in sustainable farming and agri-business.
We have expanded the Small Business Development Centre, which provides grant funding, training, and mentorship to help young Bahamians launch and grow their own businesses. Whether you dream of opening a digital startup, launching a creative brand, or building a sustainable enterprise, the SBDC is designed to support you every step of the way.
The Bahamas Development Bank serves as a financial engine for young entrepreneurs. The bank is now offering low-interest loans in priority areas like manufacturing, technology, and tourism, so your innovative ideas can find the funding they need.
We are building a new foundation—one that empowers you to return home, not just to live, but to lead. The future of our nation will be shaped by the brilliance, energy, and vision of its young people. Whether you decide to come home or not I want you to be the best representation of what it means to be a Bahamian.
Florida Memorial University holds a special place in the hearts of many Bahamians—not just because of those who have walked its halls, but because of a legacy that began generations ago. Arthur Vining Davis, who once owned land in Eleuthera, left behind more than property—he left a vision. Upon his passing, he established a trust fund specifically to support the education of Bahamians here at FMU. That act of generosity has shaped lives. It has opened doors for students who might otherwise have been left behind. Bahamians have been quietly benefiting from this legacy for decades. Among them is former Senate President Sharon Wilson, and many others who have gone on to serve our country with distinction. Today, we honor that bridge between our two nations—and the belief that education, when made accessible, can change everything.
Florida Memorial University has long played a meaningful role in the development of The Bahamas, shaping generations of Bahamian students who have gone on to serve with distinction in education, public service, and national leadership. In my own Office, Stacey Arthur—a proud alumna of this institution—continues that tradition, contributing daily to the work of governance with the same values of excellence and commitment instilled right here at FMU.
In closing, I want to leave you with the words of a proverb from my home:
“If you want to go fast, go alone. But if you want to go far, go together.”
So go far. But take each other with you. Uplift your friends. Support your families. Invest in your communities. Honour your ancestors by building something worthy of their sacrifice. And never forget—you are the legacy in motion.
So as you prepare to step into this world—one more connected than ever, and yet somehow more divided, more distrustful, more fragile—I urge you to see clearly what is slipping away. We are losing the ability to speak honestly across differences. We are watching shared truth dissolve into noise. And beneath the surface of progress, too many are quietly surrendering their principles for convenience, their voice for comfort, their courage for self-interest.
Do not be part of that surrender.
The world does not need more polished professionals. It needs people with the strength to say what is difficult, to resist what is popular, and to choose what is right even when it is costly. So I say this as simply as I can: do not trade your moral compass. Not for ambition. Not for approval. Not for belonging. If you lose that, no title, no position, no praise will make up for it. And if you keep it—if you protect it—then no matter where you go, the world will be better for your presence in it.
Congratulations, Class of 2025.
Go forward in courage, go forward in love, and go forward knowing that it really is your time.
Be Brave Thank You