By: Rodney Walker, M.Ed., Leadership Studies
“Either we go up together or we go down together. Let us develop a kind of dangerous unselfishness.” Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., “Mountaintop Speech” (1968)
Dr. King’s prolific legacy of social justice leadership is more relevant and important today than ever. No other quote from better articulates the spirit of what has been missing from the fight against the mass disenfranchisement of the incarcerated community. My mind works along similar lines. Those citizens who are in jails and prisons across the city of Atlanta, most of whom will return to society one day, have been left to figure it out on their own. The prison label has permanently branded them, and we as the “outsiders” don’t share that brand, although we come from the same communities and have made many of the same mistakes. Like cemeteries, those incarcerated are buried beneath us: hidden out of sight, and after a while, seamlessly forgotten about.
The only way to beat back the entropy of forgetting is to purposefully and willfully engage in the work of social and restorative justice. That is the crusade to which I’m committed myself since becoming exposed to the work of the Higher Education in Prisons Program in the Andrew Young Center [AYC-HEP] at Morehouse College. After attending a class inside Metro Reentry Prison in DeKalb County, I was overwhelmed with both joy and despair. Before that moment and since, I had never experienced both of those emotions simultaneously, and in such an explosive fashion.
The joy came from seeing these “adults in custody” embrace the opportunity to learn while serving time in prison. To see their passion and commitment to knowledge in the carceral space was something so different from what I learned though media narratives and also from family members who went to prison. To the contrary, these students exhibited the ability to participate in critical discussions, effectively collaborate on learning projects, and maintain an environment of respect and empathy. Simply put, that learning environment was a teacher’s dream.
The nightmare of it all was knowing that many of them will return to prison, according to the Bureau of Justice Statistics, within 5 years of their release. It was knowing that they have become defined by one adverse police encounter, often a nonviolent offense, or an addiction relapse; once released, formerly incarcerated men and women are often one infraction—e.g., a missed court hearing, a parole violation, or job denial—away from being ushered right back behind prison walls. It was disheartening to realize that no level of ambition nor self-determination was likely to persuade a society that is often if not totally convinced that “those people” can’t be trusted to resume the privileges of civil society, and that they deserve equal protection under the law.
To further dampen this reckoning is the fact that there will be “some” exceptions to this rule, which—as attorney Michelle Alexander suggests in The New Jim Crow (2011)—is a necessary condition to maintaining a system of racial and social control. It’s the idea that one can point to the outliers and success stories as proof that hard work and personal responsibility is what emancipates you from the throes of second-class citizenry. This is the perpetual and pernicious narrative we tell ourselves while standing in front of a backdrop of a disproportionate level of incarcerated men of color relative to their overall population; ultimately, the exceptions reinforce or justify the unwritten rule.
In my own personal drive to reconcile these contradictory ideas, I sought to identify social justice leaders and advocates who are dedicated to the cause of reducing recidivism. In my discovery, there was one glaringly population missing from this fight for restorative justice, and they are arguably the most important: young, empowered men of color. Particularly, students and graduates from the nation’s only black male liberal arts college were profoundly underrepresented in these volunteer and service efforts.
That is why in the Fall of 2023, I taught a seminar inside Atlanta’s Metro Reentry Prison as part of Morehouse College’s AYC-HEP Program. The seminar was focused on “Entrepreneurship and Social Justice.” Lecturing and learning together with a class of 25 adults in custody, the majority of whom were within two years of release, my goal was to educate students about free enterprise in a way that taught both practical concepts and mindset transformation principles. My pedagogical approach stemmed from my decades-long work as an entrepreneur, and in my collaborative efforts with organizations that teach the principles of entrepreneurship.
It is my belief that engaging youth and adults in this type of pedagogy cultivates a self-liberating mindset. Because there is no “one way” to create value for yourself and others, an entrepreneurial mindset compels you to think outside the box about things you can do to navigate the challenges of reintegrating back into society. A social justice mindset compels you to focus on ways to contribute to the greater good of humanity. Taken together, these two pedagogies—which can be called “social justice entrepreneurship”—provide a learning experience that entreats returning citizens to become “founders of hope and healing” in their respective communities.
Ultimately, if our prison and college communities can collectively learn these principles in a shared environment, it will make the prospect of social change not just a hope—but a reality. Student ambassadors and faculty affiliates may finally be able to give a spark of humanity back to those who’ve been dehumanized. The incarcerated population can teach the college community to not merely comprehend but also empathize with the very complex nature of the criminal justice system. And for both groups, if done appropriately, this collaborative effort will empower us all to dismantle the “us-them” narrative and create a new popular consensus that is inclusive, compassionate, and socially just for all of us.
As we reflect on Martin Luther King Jr.'s profound insight that “life's most persistent and urgent question is, 'What are you doing for others?’,” let us also be reminded of the collective call for dangerous unselfishness in our pursuit of social and restorative justice. We stand at a pivotal moment when we can redefine our commitment to inclusivity by forging a meaningful and empathetic relationship with the incarcerated learning community. By extending their support, resources, and understanding to those who are often marginalized, colleges and universities can embody the true spirit of service and transformation. Let us rise to this challenge with a spirit of altruism, ensuring that our efforts contribute to breaking down barriers, fostering opportunity, and uplifting every individual with the dignity and respect they deserve.
Mr. Rodney Walker ’12 is a visiting assistant professor of leadership studies in the Andrew Young Center at Morehouse College. He is the author of two books: New Day One: Trauma, Grace, and a Young Man's Journey from Foster Care to Yale (2016) and Wounds You Can Not See: An Educator’s Guide to Cultivating Resilience and Leadership in At-Risk Youth (2020).
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