For a long time, I felt like my life story had already been written for me.

Like many formerly incarcerated people, I returned home carrying more than a criminal record. I carried shame, anger, and the overwhelming understanding that society often expects people like us to fail quietly. The barriers after incarceration were immediate and constant. Employment applications became exercises in humiliation. Opportunities disappeared the moment background checks surfaced. Even when I told the truth and proved myself capable, I often felt judged for the worst decision or period of my life rather than for the person I had become. Even within the nonprofit world, there were times when colleagues treated me more like a token than a peer.

What many people do not understand is that reentry is never linear. Growth does not happen in a straight line. There were moments where I succeeded, moments where I failed, and moments where I questioned whether I would ever belong anywhere professionally. I experienced rejection in nonprofit spaces where I was more than qualified to lead. I also made mistakes along the way, driven at times by ego, frustration, or the desire to push my colleagues to move with greater urgency.

But I also discovered something important: lived experience can become expertise when it is paired with discipline, accountability, and purpose.

Over time, I stopped seeing my incarceration as a source of pain and began understanding that it gave me a perspective many institutions desperately needed but rarely valued. I knew firsthand what systems looked like from the inside. I understood the realities facing people returning home because I lived them. That understanding became the foundation for my work in criminal justice reform, nonprofit leadership, and entrepreneurship.

My professional journey did not begin with prestigious titles or advanced degrees. It began with a job makign $16,000 per year, relationship-building, persistence, and a willingness to keep showing up even when doors were shut in my face. I eventually had the opportunity to help build and lead organizations like JustLeadershipUSA, where we worked to center the leadership of formerly incarcerated people in national criminal justice reform efforts. I also worked with organizations like Fortune Society, wjhere I built the David Rothenberg Center for Public Policy, and collaborated with a wide range of grassroots and national groups focused on reentry and policy reform.

Through that work, I learned how to organize communities, advocate for policy change, raise millions of dollars, build partnerships, and mentor emerging leaders who were returning home from prison and jail themselves. I came to understand that many of the people closest to the problem are also closest to the solution, if they are given meaningful opportunities to lead and access to resources.

One lesson I have learned is that success after incarceration often depends on finding environments where your story is not merely tolerated, but valued. Too often, formerly incarcerated people are expected to hide their experiences in order to appear “professional.” I found greater purpose when I embraced my full story instead of running from it.

I also learned that financial independence matters. My own journey eventually expanded beyond non-profit advocacy into business, philanthropy, and real estate investment, where I was able to build economic stability while continuing to support social justice work. That balance taught me that formerly incarcerated people should not only survive — we should have opportunities to build wealth, create jobs, and shape our own futures.

To anyone at the beginning of this journey, my advice is simple: do not confuse delays with defeat. Your path may look different from mine, and it may take longer than you hoped, but your past does not eliminate your value. Invest in relationships. Learn constantly. Stay accountable. Be willing to evolve. And most importantly, do not allow society’s low expectations to become your own.

The truth is that people returning home are capable of extraordinary leadership when given opportunity, trust, and room to grow. I am not successful because I avoided failure. I am successful because I survived it, learned from it, and kept moving forward.