Featuring: Kei Kawashima-Ginsberg & Megan Brandon

 

As Generation Citizen begins a new initiative, thanks to Carnegie Corporation of New York, , two key leaders—Kei Kawashima-Ginsberg, a national expert on youth civic engagement and one of the originators of the concept of Civic Deserts, and Megan Brandon, GC’s Senior Program Director, South Region—reflect on the challenges, nuances, and opportunities that define this critical work.

In this interview, they share personal stories, field-based insights, and a shared belief in the power of rural youth to lead civic change when given meaningful opportunities.

 

What first drew you to this work—whether rural partnerships, youth civic engagement, or both? Why does this space matter to you personally or professionally?

Kei:
My core motivation is to ensure that every young person has the opportunity to thrive. This commitment stems from my experience as a clinician-in-training in Chicago, where I witnessed the tragic consequences of opportunities not reaching young people and families. At CIRCLE, my work focused on expanding opportunities for young people to develop and utilize their civic voice to improve their communities. Having lived in remote and rural areas during my formative years, I sought to understand the civic landscape in these areas, hoping that my research could help expand civic opportunities in these communities. This led me to integrate rural-community partnerships starting around 2017.

Megan:
My commitment to rural communities and youth civic engagement is both personal and foundational to my work. I grew up in a town of fewer than 2,500 residents in rural Iowa, and witnessed firsthand what it meant to contribute meaningfully to one’s community. While teaching in a rural Central Texas town of just over 6,000 people, my ninth-grade students expressed a deep sense of disconnection and a lack of opportunities for youth leadership. To address this gap, I began integrating civic education into my curriculum. I was fortunate to be among the first educators to implement Generation Citizen in Texas, giving students a powerful framework to see themselves as changemakers. This work remains urgent, especially in rural areas where students often face systemic barriers to the kinds of opportunities available in more urban or affluent settings.

 

When you think about civic opportunity in rural communities, what excites you and what concerns you? What possibilities are emerging, and what barriers are still too common?

Kei:
After studying young people’s perceptions of civic institutions like religious congregations, preschools, arts organizations, and universities, my colleagues at CIRCLE and I noticed significant geographic and economic gaps in access. Rural communities, often lacking broadband Internet, have limited digital civic engagement opportunities, such as live town halls or livestreams.

Two-thirds of rural youth, twice as many as in urban areas, experience a “Civic Desert,” where they usually have only one civic point—often their religious congregation. This lack of diverse civic models concerns me, as engaging in community problem-solving is vital for fair and inclusive governance. Without awareness of available engagement, towns risk missing important voices and opportunities for rural prosperity.

CIRCLE’s project, the Digital Equity and Opportunity Initiative, aimed to address this. The federal government planned to release billions for broadband infrastructure, but rural states risked missing out without proper organization and input. My team helped Southern state coalitions use data and research to develop strong, evidence-based funding applications. Based on what I observed in these partnerships, I believe long-term relationships among residents allow well-aligned initiatives to take root and sustain impact over time.

 

Megan:
One aspect that excites me about this work is the potential to expand civic opportunities and support for rural communities. There is a pressing need to invest in and equip educators, particularly in rural areas where professional development is often underfunded or overlooked. Too often, rural spaces are marginalized, particularly when it comes to amplifying the perspectives of young people. In many of these communities, youth are taught to defer to adults, with limited encouragement to speak up or take on leadership roles.

Youth civic engagement shifts dynamics by giving students tools to effect local change. I’ve seen students start feeling discouraged, asking, “Why are we doing this? Adults don’t care.” By the project’s end, they had established connections with the mayor and city council members, demonstrating the power of civic education, especially in rural areas where students often have direct access to decision-makers, thereby creating real opportunities for change.
Of course, rural communities face challenges like distrust of outsiders, brain drain, and environmental disruptions. Despite this, rural youth have vast potential, and creating space for civic engagement is essential.

Can you share a moment from your work that reflects what it takes to build trust in rural civic partnerships?

Kei:
One moment that stands out was when I asked a philanthropic partner for twice the amount of time they had proposed for the incubation phase of a rural partnership project (to which they graciously agreed). It stood out to me because understanding of the different ways initiatives move in rural communities is deepening the philanthropic community, and I felt so grateful and hopeful.

When we began building the new partnership, I knew it would only work if we took the time to understand community needs and supported partners in deciding how youth civic education fit into their goals. This is because staff at rural organizations often wear many hats and navigate deep-rooted community relationships. Decision-making takes time and must align with local priorities. Beyond time and respect, humility is essential. Every community is unique, and being open to adjusting how we work has led to stronger, longer-lasting partnerships.

Megan:
I once met with a principal in rural Texas who seemed distracted and skeptical until I mentioned that a rival school district was already part of our civic engagement program. He immediately shifted: “If they’re doing it, we have to do it too.” That moment reinforced that in rural communities, trust is built through local relationships. I stay connected by following local news and school updates. When one of our partners closed for weeks after an ice storm, staying informed helped me show up thoughtfully in our next conversation. In rural communities, relationships are not optional; they are essential.

 

The term “Civic Desert” gets used often, but what does it actually mean to you? How do you see it showing up in your work?

Kei:
Civic desert is often seen as a lack of physical civic institutions, which is part of the picture. Projects like Map Agora from Johns Hopkins help map these spaces. But at CIRCLE, we define civic desert more broadly—as a person’s awareness of local institutions, their sense of access to them, and whether they have a mentor to help them engage with them.

Two people in the same town might live near the same institutions, but without social access or guidance, only one may truly feel connected. Civic desert is psychosocial as much as it is geographic. That distinction matters, especially for young people in rural communities. A place that looks like a desert on a map can become rich with opportunity if the community actively includes youth. Youth250, a project by MadeByUs, created a Score Card to help organizations assess and improve youth engagement. I encourage everyone to take the quiz and start the conversation.

Megan:
To me, a civic desert is a place where opportunities to engage in civic life are limited or absent, especially for youth. These are places where leadership pathways and youth councils often don’t exist. I taught in one of these communities. My students would ask, “What’s the point? No one’s listening.” Without encouragement, clear pathways, or role models, disengagement becomes the norm. But this isn’t about apathy—it’s about access. Civic deserts often result from disinvestment in schools, community spaces, and leadership programs. And while they’re common in rural areas, they also exist in urban neighborhoods facing systemic inequities.

 

As this work continues to grow, what gives you the most energy or optimism at this time? Whether it’s a moment, a mindset, or a milestone, what stands out?

Kei:
One thing that gives me optimism is the ongoing shift in mindsets among adults and organizational leaders to view young people as previously unseen, but real and present assets. Slowly but surely, thanks to the patience and insistence of young people themselves, I see adult leaders beginning to expect young people to have different perspectives and to give more serious consideration to their viewpoints. I believe that’s an important change for the future of inclusive democracy. At the same time, I would love to see us, as a field, trust local wisdom and capabilities. I invite you all to read a powerful argument by Hannah Botts, a young leader of the Rural Youth Voices Initiative, about why youth-led, local engagement efforts are the key to engaging young people in rural communities.

Megan:
What gives me hope is the deep desire for civic engagement I see in rural communities. I recently spent time with high school students in rural Appalachian Kentucky and was struck by their clarity and insight. They spoke with pride about the close-knit nature of their town, how neighbors support each other, and how community shapes daily life. They also named the challenges: gaps in education and job training, and the lack of local industry to keep young people rooted after graduation. Civic work in rural communities may look different, but when we create space for youth to engage, they show up with purpose. That keeps me going—even when the work is hard. The potential I see in these students makes it all worthwhile.