“I feel so behind. I’m 24 and I’ve never worked in an office before. I’ve never had a real job.”
Markie is one of ARC’s newest interns apart of the Transitional Age Youth (TAY) program at ARC. As part of the Communications Department, it was my job to take professional headshots of the interns.
Markie was incarcerated from 18 to 24. For a younger Markie, growing up in LA and in the foster system, prison was something he and his peers glorified. When his brother passed in his younger teens, Markie was surrounded by his late-brother’s friends, friends who were gangbanging but open to receiving him. When he went to prison, he quickly realized there wasn’t anything about the lifestyle to laud about. “You’re just in a cage with your thoughts.”
“Every time you go in, it’s like a restart. I lost everything, all the cars, the money. I’m tired of that [losing],” said Markie. As I took Markie’s photo, he posed with a slight smile that I perceived as him feeling proud of this moment. This isn’t a mugshot. He isn’t in trouble. We’re proud of him and want to take his photo with his nice shoes, slacks, button-down and slicked-back hair. Looking at Markie, there is no tell that this is his first-time in an office.
We sat down for an interview post-photos. Here, he admitted that he isn’t proud of where he’s at because he wants more for himself.
He recounted the moment he wanted his life to change. He was watching a Dodgers game, and a player was 24-years-old, his same age. “I was like ‘damn, he has his whole life set-up and I’m just here, sitting with my boy.’”
How do you tell a twenty-something, of any background, that they’re worth it? That they are achieving great things and on the right track? I remember feeling disappointed in myself in my early twenties. I didn’t get that internship with Stephen Colbert, I didn’t get an A in my Economics class (I almost failed), and I remember feeling lost. I can’t imagine that typical twenty-something angst combined with lost youth behind bars.
Markie, like most twenty-somethings, has dreams.
He wants to go to school, get his degree in business, and “…have a business in the hood.” He wants to give back.
“If I just put in half of what I did in the streets to education, there’s no stopping me.”
I felt a lump in my throat form as Markie went on about how he isn’t where he wants to be, how he has so much work to do, that he needs a second job, he needs a car, his own place, and to do well in school. He went on for about 5 minutes. I can tell he really believes in this story that he has not achieved a lot. But, he has a job, he’s looking into schools, and he will get that car because he’s hungry for it.
I let Markie finish before I looked him in the eyes and told him I was proud of him, and that he should be proud of himself, too. He paused. I only met him half an hour ago, but I hoped these words from a stranger would mean something. “Thank you,” he said, “I’m trying to elevate, I’m just trying to progress and elevate. I just, I want it.”
