The View from 30,000 Feet: A Journey of Firsts and Second Chances
Previously published at The Last Mile
Until last month, I had never been on a plane. I had never left my home state of Indiana. I had never stood on a stage, surrounded by business professionals, educators, and advocates…let alone been invited to speak on one. But in April, I found myself in New Orleans doing all of that. And for the first time in a long time, I felt something I wasn’t sure I ever would again: I belonged.
Five months earlier, just two days before Thanksgiving, I walked out of prison after serving seven years. I didn’t walk out empty-handed, though. I walked out with a purpose, business and coding skills I had gained through The Last Mile, and a job I had already been doing for over a year. While incarcerated, I worked as a website specialist for Televerde, putting everything The Last Mile taught me into practice. At reentry, I transitioned into a full-time corporate role for Televerde, continuing to build my career in web development as a free woman.
Turns Out I’m Conference Material
Then the unthinkable happened. In January, The Last Mile asked me to speak at the National Conference on Higher Education in Prison (NCHEP). I was overwhelmed—not just because of all those firsts I knew I’d experience, but because they saw something in me. They believed my story mattered and that I had something to offer. That sense of being seen, supported, and valued—after years of feeling like I didn’t matter—was one of the most powerful experiences of my life.
So, off I went to New Orleans. I participated in the session titled “Bridging Barriers: Remote Work-Based Learning and Career Pathways for Incarcerated Students.” And that’s exactly what these last few months have been: a bridge from incarceration to freedom, from doubt to confidence, from surviving to thriving.
Jazz, Beignets and Becoming
Speaking on that panel was one of the highlights of my life. But beyond the conference itself, it was a week filled with firsts:
- My first time on a plane (terrifying and exhilarating as I get motion sickness, but the view above the clouds was magic).
- My first time visiting another state.
- My first Po’ boy sandwich.
- My first real beignet from Café du Monde (powdered sugar everywhere, but so worth it).
- My first walk through the French Quarter, with jazz in the streets and music in the air.
- My first time feeling like I wasn’t just allowed in the room, but that I had earned my seat there.
These may sound small, but they aren’t. They’re everything. Every one of these moments reminded me of how far I’ve come and what’s possible when someone believes in you, invests in your future, and gives you a real chance.
No Looking Back
The prison-to-workforce programs offered by Televerde, Televerde Foundation, and The Last Mile didn’t just teach me technical skills. They helped me become self-sufficient. They gave me the opportunity to work and grow while incarcerated. And most importantly, they helped me reenter society with confidence, financial stability, and a sense of direction.
But here’s the hard truth: these programs aren’t available everywhere. I often catch myself saying I was lucky to be incarcerated in Indiana (how’s that for irony!). But in my case, it’s true because it meant access to programs that changed everything. In most states, those opportunities don’t exist, and that’s reflected in the numbers. The national three-year recidivism rate is 68 percent. Televerde Foundation’s reentry program has a 1 percent rate. And over the past 30 years, more than 4,500 women have participated in Televerde programs with a recidivism rate of just 5 percent.
That’s a signal. These programs work. They build careers. They rebuild lives. They keep families together. And they should be the norm, not the exception.
Today, I’m contributing. I’m learning. I’m healing. I’m building a life that once felt out of reach. And it feels extraordinary.
This is just the beginning. And I can’t wait to see where I go next.
