With Perspective
"That’s not what that says."
First grade. Shame entered the room like it had a right to be there. I didn’t have a name for it then, but I could feel it — the instant shift from curiosity to fear. That moment didn’t just teach me I was different. It taught me to hide it.
Growing up with dyslexia is often misunderstood. It’s not just flipping letters or reading slowly. It’s negotiating with a world that forgets you exist — or worse, decides you’re defective. It’s the quiet terror of knowing what you want to say but watching the words betray you on the page. And still, even with the fear, we keep showing up.
This past Friday, I had the honor of sharing this part of my story on KQED's Perspectives. The piece is short — under two minutes — but it carries a lifetime of learning, loving, unlearning, and reliving. You can check it out here: https://www.kqed.org/perspectives/201601145988/riley-mulcahy-nurturing-talents.
What I didn’t have time to say in the broadcast was this: I wouldn’t be here — a nonprofit executive director, a coalition-builder, a believer in radical systems change — if two schools hadn’t decided I was worth more than my remediation plan.
Charles Armstrong School and Compass High School didn’t just support me academically. They offered something far rarer: the space to develop self-awareness, self-advocacy, and actual self-worth. They taught me that my voice had value — not because it sounded like everyone else’s, but because it didn’t.
These institutions didn’t "fix" me. They recognized me. And in doing so, they planted the seed for what would later become The RILEY Project.
Storytelling as a Civic Practice
The RILEY Project exists for one reason: to make sure other neurodivergent kids don’t spend their lives recovering from their education. We’re building a platform that treats storytelling as both survival strategy and civic muscle — a place where young people can name their truths, shape their identities, and speak into systems that have historically silenced them.
We see stories as architecture — the scaffolding of empathy, awareness, and eventually, advocacy. Just like KQED’s Perspectives series, we believe a well-told story can shift a mindset. But we also believe that mindset shift is only the first step. The next steps are infrastructure, investment, and imagination.
Because let’s be honest: the educational system is fragmented on its best day and harmful on its worst. We can’t just raise awareness and call it justice. We have to build what comes next.
Gather San Mateo: The Vision in Brick and Mortar
That's why we’re launching Gather San Mateo — a physical space for belonging, for bridging, for building what’s missing. It will be grounded in Universal Design for Learning (UDL), not as a checkbox but as a first principle. We’re designing a place that honors how different minds engage, connect, and thrive.
Gather San Mateo will be a home for storytelling workshops, intergenerational learning, community events, and strategic convenings. It’s the next chapter of The RILEY Project — a sanctuary and an engine.
And still, even as the vision comes into focus, I find myself in a deeply liminal moment. That threshold feeling — between what was and what’s next. Between heartbreak and hope. Between being underestimated and being undeniable.
But if neurodivergence teaches us anything, it’s that nonlinear paths still get you home.
To Support:
Please consider a donation of any amount to my nonprofit, The RILEY Project:
https://www.therileyproject.org/donate/
P.S. If this newsletter resonates with you, please pass it along to your friends and family! We’re inching close to our 50th edition, and I’m committed to keeping the momentum going with fresh posts 1–2 times a week. Let’s grow this community together.