SEE Alliance’s Zander Moricz shares personal story, why he’s staying in Sarasota through 2026
By Carol Lerner
From the July-September 2025 issue of Critical Times. Print versions are available for free at WSLR+Fogartyville and other community gathering spaces in Sarasota and Manatee counties.
Zander Moricz founded the SEE (Social Equity through Education) Alliance in 2019 at just 15 years old. What began as a student club quickly became a statewide movement. Today, SEE Alliance is known as one of the most influential youth-led political forces in Florida, organizing school board races, training hundreds of young leaders, and reshaping the fight for public education and democracy. In this interview, Moricz shares the personal story behind the movement, his national advocacy work, and why he’s staying in Florida through the 2026 midterm elections to lead the “largest school board-centered campaign in the country.”
Note: This interview took place at the SEE Alliance office in Sarasota with an email followup. Some excerpts have been reordered for clarity.
CL: How did your journey into politics begin?
ZM: When I transferred from Manatee County to Pine View School in Sarasota, I was struck by the inequities between the two public schools. Pine View was privileged: advanced programs, supportive teachers, immense resources. My former school struggled to meet basic needs. It made me realize how uneven access to opportunity is, even within the same county. I felt a responsibility to act.
CL: How did that become the SEE Alliance? How old were you?
ZM: I was 15. I started SEE Alliance as a club with a handful of friends. We weren’t thinking about “organizing.” We were just trying to make sense of the world: climate change, racial justice, economic inequality. We met after school and asked, “What can we actually do?” It grew quickly. Within months, we became the largest student group on campus. Then we were banned from campus entirely.
CL: Why were you removed?
ZM: The administration never gave a formal reason, but it was clear we were making some people uncomfortable. Parents had started monitoring our meetings. We were discussing racial justice, the Black Lives Matter movement, immigration—nothing inappropriate, just honest, important topics. This was before “critical race theory” became a flashpoint, but the panic had already begun. Ironically, the thing we were accused of, pushing CRT, was never taught in our schools in the first place.
CL: How did you respond? Did you consider giving up?
ZM: Honestly, for a moment, yes. It felt like the universe was closing in. We had just been kicked off campus, and then COVID hit. But instead of folding, we reimagined everything. If we couldn’t meet in classrooms, we’d meet online. If we couldn’t speak on campus, we’d build our own platform. That’s when SEE Alliance became something bigger than a club. It became a nonprofit. A real organizing engine. We launched a virtual civic engagement tour. We emailed every teacher and club advisor in the state and said, “You’re exhausted. You don’t know how to transition online? Let us help. We’ll give your students a fun, nonpartisan, one-hour session on civic engagement. Totally free.” The response was overwhelming. And suddenly, we were in every county in Florida.
CL: How quickly did the movement grow?
ZM: Between 2019 and 2022, we grew from a few friends in a high school classroom to over 2,000 organizers across Florida. We didn’t just “go viral.” We built real structure: trainings, campaigns, strategy meetings. I stopped being a student who organized on the side. I became an organizer who attended school when I could. And that’s when the “Don’t Say Gay” bill arrived. Everything escalated.
CL: When the “Don’t Say Gay” bill was introduced, how did SEE Alliance respond?
ZM: The moment the bill was filed, we knew it would be catastrophic. Not just for queer students, but for the entire public education system. It targeted the most vulnerable kids while manufacturing a crisis to distract from the real issues facing schools. We moved immediately. We launched statewide walkouts, coordinated voter registration drives, and organized protests. It activated our entire base. That’s also when I was approached at a rally by Tom Kirdahy, a Broadway producer. He introduced me to Roberta Kaplan, the attorney who won marriage equality at the Supreme Court. Days later, I was on a Zoom call with Kaplan and nearly two dozen attorneys from the Empire State Building.
CL: What was it like being pulled into a national legal battle at 18?
ZM: Surreal. I thought I was going to speak to one or two people, maybe offer a quote for a press release. Instead, I was at the center of the lawsuit. They didn’t want a figurehead. They wanted a partner. I was involved in legal strategy, media, everything. It consumed my senior year. Some days, I’d go straight from calculus class to a national press interview. Other days I’d meet with lawyers for hours after school. I made mistakes. But I also contributed real strategy. The stakes were high, and I felt all of it. But it was worth it.
CL: And in the middle of all this, you had to prepare your high school graduation speech?
ZM: Right. Because I was class president all four years, I had one consolidated speech to deliver. Before I even wrote it, my principal sat me down and told me I couldn’t mention being gay, the lawsuit, or anything related to the bill. If I did, my mic would be cut and the graduation ceremony would stop. I was crushed. This was someone I had respected. But it wasn’t his words. It was the fear behind them. That’s when I realized the bill was working exactly as designed. It didn’t need to pass to be effective. It had already created a chilling effect, forcing good educators into silence.
CL: What was your response?
Zander Moricz, Executive Director and Founder of SEE Alliance. Photo by Johannes Werner.
ZM: I escalated. If I was being censored, I knew others were too. We launched the “Say Gay” campaign, a simple action where students wore “Say Gay” stickers while walking across graduation stages. It exploded. Within hours, (“Star Wars” actor) Mark Hamill, the cast of “Star Trek,” and the team from “Schitt’s Creek” all reposted. We raised $50,000 from over 5,000 individual donors in two days. We activated 25,000 students statewide. That was the first moment I realized we weren’t just responding to hate. We were building power.
CL: And what about your speech?
ZM: I only had a day to write it. The school board had doubled down and formalized their restrictions in writing. I didn’t want to ruin the graduation for my classmates. They deserved to celebrate. But I also couldn’t stand there and pretend everything was fine. I sat with a pen and paper and just started scribbling. Then I thought about my hair. My curly hair, which I had spent years trying to flatten. And the metaphor unfolded from there. I wrote the speech in one sitting. My mom, my head of staff Anya (Dennison), and Roberta Kaplan all approved it. I turned it in.
CL: Did you think it would go viral?
ZM: Not at all. I thought people would be disappointed I didn’t get the mic cut. Some major public figures had told me outright, “If you get silenced, we’ll fly you out, do an interview, make it a moment.” But that wasn’t the right thing for my classmates or my movement. I thought the speech would land quietly. A local gesture. Instead, it took off. People instantly got the metaphor. They saw it wasn’t just about hair. It was about identity, dignity, and power. It was satire, protest, and strategy all at once. Suddenly, I was “the curly hair speech guy.” And the message cut deeper than anything I could have shouted at a microphone.
CL: What happened after the speech?
ZM: Everything exploded. National press, viral interviews, speaking tours. I remember getting booked for a Zander-themed weekend in Savannah. I was speaking at bars, churches, art events. Yes, seriously. But there were terrifying moments too. One day I was followed into a Publix by men yelling slurs at me. One shoved me. I locked myself in a bathroom and called Anya, scared to leave. That was my reality. Death threats one hour, a panel with senators the next.
CL: After the speech and viral campaign, you headed to Harvard. What was that transition like?
ZM: It was chaos. I barely moved in. I had just come from an event in New York, met my parents at Harvard with two suitcases, and they said, “We’ll ship the rest.” I didn’t have a dorm setup. I didn’t have time. And I quickly realized I wasn’t going to get a break. The calls didn’t stop. The invitations kept coming. Within weeks, I was being asked to speak at the White House. Twice. Meanwhile, I was trying to be a full-time student studying government, sociology, and education. But it felt backward. I wasn’t learning how to do the work. I was missing the work I’d already built. One night, I journaled, “Studying the work is preventing me from doing the work.” And that was the turning point.
CL: So what did you do?
ZM: I called my team and said, “I’m coming home.” It wasn’t impulsive. It was strategic. I realized I had built something in Florida that no one else was building. A youth-led, statewide infrastructure that could flip school boards and mobilize communities. And the 2026 midterms are the fight of our lifetime. If I’m serious about that, I have to be here, not watching from the sidelines.
CL: Did Harvard support the decision?
ZM: Honestly, yes. My professors were incredible. One pulled me aside and said, “You deserve to be a student here. But right now, your work matters more.” I still finished the semester, all As somehow, but I knew I needed to shift. I’ll finish my degree eventually. But right now, I’m focused on Florida.
CL: What happened when you got back to Sarasota?
ZM: The school board was on fire. Proud Boys-endorsed candidates had just won. They moved fast to fire the superintendent and bring in far-right consultants from Hillsdale College. It was a full-on political takeover. So SEE Alliance escalated. We partnered with other local orgs, launched rallies, packed school board meetings. We made it clear these attacks wouldn’t go unanswered. Our slogan was simple: Students Before Politics. In 2024, we defeated Amendment 1, which would have turned school board elections partisan. We registered thousands of voters, mobilized young people door-to-door, and proved that even in red counties like Sarasota, power can be built.
CL: That brings us to your recent viral moment, the Jubilee debate. What made you say yes?
ZM: I wanted to shift the narrative. Jubilee Media’s “Surrounded” series had been platforming people like Michael Knowles and Charlie Kirk, people spreading hate under the guise of debate. I wanted to show what real leadership looks like in those spaces. Not yelling. Not ego. But facts, strategy, and humanity. They asked me to represent the LGBTQ+ community, and I said yes. I brought three SEE organizers with me. We prepped for days, ran simulations, studied policy, and practiced rebuttals. We weren’t just there to perform. We were there to win.
CL: What was your goal in the debate?
ZM: Three things: debunk misinformation in real time, give people watching at home talking points they can use in real life, and drive people toward real organizing. Toward SEE Alliance. I didn’t want views. I wanted infrastructure. And it worked. The video hit over a million views, my following doubled, and we funneled that energy into new chapters, new donors, and new action. It was the most strategic viral moment we’ve ever had.
CL: What’s next for SEE Alliance?
ZM: Everything we’ve built has been leading to this. In June, we’re launching our biggest campaign ever: Midterms on Our Terms. It’s a two-year, statewide movement to flip school boards, register voters, and change the political culture of Florida, county by county. It’s not just reactive. It’s offensive. We’re using data, media, organizing, and coalition-building to engage every corner of this state. We’re focused on the seven most winnable counties, building teams of young and older organizers, and training hundreds of new fellows to lead. And I’m not leaving. I’ll be here through November 2026 to see it through.
CL: What’s the theory of change behind Midterms on Our Terms?
ZM: It starts at the school board because that’s where we can win now. In red states especially, people feel hopeless, like the political machine is too big to fight. But school boards are different. You can change one vote and flip an entire district. You can get dozens of young people to a meeting and shift the conversation. You can register 2,000 voters and swing an election. We’re going where we can build real power. In places like Sarasota, that means focusing resources, building local teams, and winning over time. We’re not scattering energy. We’re acting like a laser beam.
CL: Why focus so much on young people, and why multigenerational support?
ZM: The movement has to be youth-led. That’s where so much of the energy, cultural fluency, and innovation come from. Young people have always helped shape culture. We adapt quickly, we understand the moment, and we move with urgency. But we can’t do it alone. SEE Alliance is a multigenerational community. Retirees, educators, and parents have been essential. They bring wisdom, professional experience, and long-term strategic insight. They understand how systems work and how to sustain movements over time. What makes SEE work is that we build shared leadership across generations. Everyone brings something different, and everyone is respected. We’re not a short-term campaign. We’re building a durable political home, and that requires all of us.
CL: You’re clearly not done. Where do you see yourself in four years?
ZM: In Florida. Still organizing. Still building. I want SEE Alliance to be the kind of community where young people come to fight and stay to win.
CL: And 10 years from now?
ZM: In 10 years, SEE Alliance will have brought civic life back into the daily rhythm of millions of Floridians. People won’t just vote every few years. They’ll organize school board campaigns with their kids, show up to budget hearings with their neighbors, and rebuild trust in public life. SEE will be everywhere: in classrooms, community centers, and living rooms: training, supporting, strategizing, staying. And because of that, Florida will feel different. It won’t be defined by its politics anymore. It will be defined by its people. By our cultures, our landscapes, and our joy. When people think of Florida, they’ll think of who lives here and what we’ve built, not what’s been done to us. SEE Alliance won’t just still be here. We’ll be one of the reasons Florida finally feels like home.
Carol Lerner is the director of Support Our Schools.