Two months after being released from prison, I was granted the opportunity to enter the Systems Change Fellowship at Community Spring. I could never have imagined what type of buffer this experience would be between myself and society for my reentry journey.
When I first arrived at Community Spring, I carried fears that sat heavy on my spirit. I knew I had value, but I couldn’t yet see what this organization recognized in me. They saw strengths I hadn’t fully claimed, qualities I didn’t consciously lead with, and potential I hadn’t learned to name. Over time, their belief in me illuminated parts of myself I had overlooked and underestimated.
As a fellow, you choose a personal policy project to work on in real life that is connected to your past experience. During my incarceration, I had experienced firsthand the prices of commissary increasing steadily. I knew what it was like to have to continue to ask family members to supply me with food and hygiene products even as the prices increased. This is what I chose to do my policy project on: the prices of commissary in our local jail. It was something that I could, without doubt, be and remain passionate about. It was also something I was still experiencing with currently incarcerated loved ones.
Community Spring positioned me to take the lead on this project in a powerful way. I learned how to do policy research, movement and coalition research, and how to appropriately store and compile notes. In my research, I discovered that the prices for commissary items in our local jail were marked up 300% - 1,000% when compared to their cost at Walmart just down the street. At a certain point, I was ready and able to write my first blog on commissary reform.
The blog was a success! It was the first piece of literature that I had ever released into the online world. Nationwide organizations recognized my work. Some even reposted it. The sensation that flowed through me as a result of this was electrifying.
After the blog, I had the opportunity to meet with decision-makers regarding my policy project, which was intimidating. Our Policy Director, Max Tipping, and I met with the Undersheriff. We were able to discuss the contract that the Sheriff’s office currently holds with the commissary company at the Alachua County Jail, what we think needs to change, and what could be better. There I was, sitting in a room with my criminal history and my past, at the table with the Undersheriff. My value in that meeting was my lived experience. I was the only one at the table who knew firsthand what it’s like to be dependent on commissary while incarcerated. I had also just researched this topic for months. After the first meeting, I was just another comfortable voice in the room. The growth of my confidence was evident. We met with the Undersheriff and other officials multiple times after this.
Community Spring provided a work and social environment where I could truly flourish, but that growth didn’t happen by accident. I had to walk into that space with a willing mind, ready to embrace the unknown and allow myself to be stretched. If I hadn’t come in like a sponge, open to absorbing whatever was being poured into me, I would’ve been standing in my own way. Choosing to be teachable, open, and receptive is what allowed the experience to shape me, strengthen me, and reveal parts of myself I didn’t even know were waiting to emerge. I was continuously given opportunities to speak publicly and build presentations. At times, it was challenging, but I became more grounded and learned to advocate with precision. My presence changed as I developed emotional intelligence in real time. I stepped into leadership without forcing it and realized the power of the weight my voice carried. I was learning by doing.
As the Fellowship continued to unfold, the version of me I walked in with and the version of me that my coworkers reflected back began to merge. The attributes I consciously operated in, my resilience, my insight, and my lived experience, fused with the deeper strengths they saw in me. Every opportunity to speak, build, learn, and write created a new level of awareness in myself. Through that integration, I didn’t just grow; I flourished with the recognition poured into me by the team.
Without the Fellowship experience and exposure, I can’t think of any other medium through which I could have become connected to my current social network. At first, when I was told to network and table at events, I didn’t understand the value of it. Then I gradually began to see the importance and immense value associated with it. The connections I’ve made at Community Spring have led to so many opportunities, speaking engagements, and even my current job as a Violence Interrupter with the City of Gainesville. I now have relationships with policymakers and commissioners.
Having grown up in economically deprived communities, I thought I fully understood family dysfunction, poverty, and mass incarceration. It turns out that I did, but only from a detached, oppressed perspective. After learning about systems, the way they work and how to change them, I have a new lens and a new ability. It’s as if I have been liberated from the abyss of previously misunderstood oppression. There’s something special about being able to identify the causes of various forms of oppression. Even more special is the feeling I get when speaking to an oppressed person from an external perspective and seeing their light come on. Whenever I communicate with people now, I realize that I hold a set of keys that were given to me.
When I entered the Fellowship experience, I felt small at first because I didn’t actually know what, nor how much, I had to offer. The fact was that the team wasn’t looking for or expecting me to find anything new. They wanted what I already had but didn’t fully know I was in possession of.
Recently, my 19-year-old son needed support with a court case. I knew I needed to come speak on his behalf as his father in the courtroom. When I spoke to the judge about my son, I wasn’t the same person I had been months before. I spoke with a confidence I had never possessed, a grounded authority that felt like a new voice rising up inside me, a voice shaped by knowledge, experience, and the growth I had earned during my fellowship. The shift was so undeniable that the entire courtroom reacted. Even the court reporters, who are trained to remain silent and neutral, erupted in response. Moments like that don’t happen by accident. It was the kind of reaction that only comes when someone steps fully into their power. What a gift.
