8: The Beginning of Forever

They say all good things must come to an end. But I’m starting to believe that’s not true. If anything, I think the opposite: when you do the work, when you stay consistent, when you build community, the wave you catch can keep rolling as far as you’re willing to paddle.

Looking back — high school struggles, losing my brother in 2017, Bowling Green leadership, the TEDx stage, coming home to Detroit, serving with BMEA, stepping into YDRC — I see a thread: consistency in leadership—even when I doubted myself, even when I didn’t know if I belonged.

Losing my brother forced me to grow up fast. It fueled doubts but lit a fire, reminding me that time is short, impact matters, and memory can push you forward. And when I look in the mirror today, I still see that boy who struggled with self-belief. The only difference is now he carries accomplishments, memories, and proof that he’s made a difference.

The biggest lesson I’ve learned? Community.

Community means something different to everyone. For me, it started with family. Then it stretched to PLA cohorts, BMEA mentors and mentees, and colleagues at YDRC. Community carried me when I couldn’t carry myself. It shaped me into someone who could push through pressure, anxiety, grief, and sacrifice — someone who could take the hits and still keep building.

Sacrifice hasn’t been easy. Choosing Wayne State, taking on debt, grinding through setbacks, none of it was simple. But each choice brought me closer to purpose. I don’t always feel proud of myself, but when I hear a kid, a peer, or even a parent say I made them feel seen, heard, or inspired? That’s when I know it was worth it.

Leadership is messy. It’s heavy. And it’s ongoing.

This is my story. The story of a boy who doubted himself, lost, grieved, and almost gave in to the voice of contentment. But it’s also the story of that same boy who chose to dream bigger, to stand taller, and to keep going.

This isn’t a happy ending. This is just the beginning.

For my brother—your memory is my reason to keep going, my reminder that this story has to be bigger than me.