My therapist has challenged me to celebrate myself in this season—and to push past the fear of telling my story.

She’s also challenged me to stay connected to why I share it.

I share my story because I want people to know that God can and will help the underdog.

I want schools to dig deeper—to help those quiet C students realize their full potential.

I want young adults whose high school transcripts don’t reflect their abilities to reject the boxes the world tries to put them in—and to pursue work aligned with their interests and passions with every fiber of their being.

Now, to the story…

I recently submitted a farewell letter to the University of Arkansas–Pulaski Technical College, published in the latest edition of Impact Magazine.

In 2007, UA-PTC was my first college experience—the place where I proved to myself that I wasn’t the uneducated kid my high school transcript suggested I was.

In 2008, I dropped out. I didn’t have the discipline to balance a full-time job and my coursework.

In 2014, after earning the GI Bill through military service, I returned—this time determined to finish my associate degree and eventually transfer to pursue a bachelor’s.

In 2015, I was sitting in class when my mother passed away. I dropped out again, feeling like I should’ve been at the hospital instead. The night before she passed, she told me, “Go to class and finish what you started.” But after losing her, I vowed I’d never go back.

In 2017, my mentor reminded me that my dreams would require a college education—that a degree was a passport into the rooms I needed to be in. I went back. That graduation was the only one I’ve ever walked in—because I did it to honor her.

In 2020, I flipped that associate degree into a bachelor’s from @philandersmithcollege—and not long after, was invited to serve on UA-PTC’s Board of Visitors.

Earlier this year, I turned that bachelor’s into a master’s degree from the University of Arkansas at Little Rock.

And now, I’m closing the chapter on a five-year board term at the same college that made it possible for me to sit at many of the tables I’ve had the privilege of sitting at over the last decade.

The most beautiful part? Despite chronic impostor syndrome—and despite being the only Black man and the youngest person in most rooms—I showed up. And I made an impact.

I influenced enrollment processes. I participated in executive searches. I spoke up anytime I had something valuable to contribute.

I delivered a commencement speech in front of thousands. And I learned so much about how higher education truly works.

I still want to be great, too, because there is always room for improvement, and part of me realizing my greatness is helping thousands of other people realize theirs. 

I’m no longer focused on proving who I am — I’m focused on being who I am. Sometimes a change of scenery is necessary—especially when you’ve been rooted in an environment that still holds echoes of who you used to be: the doubts, the mistakes, the survival mindset, the limited version of yourself.

An environment can be both the place that grew you and the place that holds the residue of who you no longer are. It can be sacred ground for your transformation—and still carry the shadows of the doubts, mistakes, and survival seasons you had to navigate there. That’s the complexity of growth. You can honor what it gave you… and still recognize when it no longer matches who you’ve become.”

I’m available and ready to share my I want be great story with youth serving organizations all over the United States through keynotes, workshops and training for young people and the adults serving them. 

To start the conversation click here to contact me directly. 

To read my farewell letter to UA-PTC click here