Written By Jaymes Black
Malcolm X once said, “Education is our passport to the future, for tomorrow belongs to the people who prepare for it today.” My pathway to education and leadership has been nonlinear: I dropped out of high school at 17 years old after being outed as a lesbian by a classmate. I left home, faced evictions, and lived in a trailer with no running water.
I worked jobs at McDonalds, Walmart, Whataburger. Then, at 18, I decided to pursue education again. I went to the book store and bought a GED prep book. After studying for about six months, I took the test at a community college in Corpus Christi, and received my GED.
This moment changed everything for me. It was the first “stamp” in my passport. It gave me the confidence I needed to jumpstart the future I so desperately wanted for myself, but never thought was attainable.
It was never for a lack of ambition. For Black folks, particularly LGBTQ+ Black people, unconventional journeys to success are often a symptom of survival.
Statistically speaking, I shouldn’t be here writing this piece. Young LGBTQ+ people who grew up the way I did – bullied, rejected at home, at school, at church – we end up in emergency rooms. We end up unhoused. We end up as names people wish they’d reached out to sooner.
The Trevor Project’s research found that just over one in five (21%) of Black
transgender, nonbinary, or questioning young people reported a suicide attempt in the past year, and just over half (51%) seriously considered suicide. Alarmingly, 40% of LGBTQ+ young people reported a history of food insecurity, houselessness, or unmet basic needs, which are all associated with increased likelihood of anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation, and suicide attempts. That statistic used to be me.Unfortunately, my story is not unique. It’s the story many LGBTQ+ people share. It’s the story many of our youth are living today. More than one in 10 LGBTQ+ students in the U.S. are projected to drop out of school at some point, according to researchers at Theirworld. That number is more than twice the national average.
At 21 years old, I left my small town in Texas – a place where I was told daily that I wasn’t enough. Not smart enough. Not good enough. I arrived in Dallas with $70 and a bag. I had no money. No real plan, other than hoping like hell my aunt would allow me to live with her. I arrived on her doorstep, unannounced, around 10 p.m. My head sank in shame. Although she was not happy to see me, she opened her home.
Dallas gave me my first real chance to rebuild. I started at the bottom, answering calls at a high-volume IT help desk, and learned quickly that survival had prepared me in ways I hadn’t recognized. I knew how to adapt. I knew how to listen.
One promotion led to another. Analyst became team lead, team lead became manager, manager became director, and so on. In rooms where no one looked like me, I learned how to hold my own – even when I was still learning how to believe I belonged there.
At age 36, I finished my bachelor’s degree while working as an IT manager. Then, six years later, my wife and I jointly pursued and finished our MBAs together at 41 and 33 – all while raising two-year-old twin boys. I was filling up pages on my passport that I didn’t even know existed.
After more than two decades in corporate America, I had stability. I had success. On paper, I had “made it.” But the pandemic forced stillness. In that stillness, I realized I had spent much of my life outrunning my past. I had built a career, but I hadn’t yet built alignment between my work and my purpose. I didn’t just want to succeed. I wanted my story to matter to someone other than me.
That clarity led me to the nonprofit sector, where I became President and CEO of Family Equality, a national organization working to protect LGBTQ+ families. Leading that fight was deeply personal, especially because my wife and I had faced discrimination when we were trying to start our own family.
Even in my 50s, I’m still making history. I am the first Black, nonbinary CEO of The Trevor Project, the leading suicide prevention and crisis intervention organization for LGBTQ+ young people. I have the honor of leading an organization that is on the front lines of building a brighter future for LGBTQ+ youth. An organization that I needed growing up.
For me, education was never about proving I was smart. I was never a bad student, I just had bad circumstances. I have always been a natural learner. But when I entered corporate America, I quickly realized how far behind I felt, compared to my peers. Education helped me feel equal at the table.
Then, when I became a parent, my motivation shifted. It was no longer just about career acceleration. It was about setting an example. When I walked across the stage with my wife, earning our MBAs, I wanted our boys to see that growth doesn’t stop. That learning doesn’t expire. That it is never too late to bet on yourself.
Even now, as CEO of a nationally recognized organization, I ask myself: Where are my gaps? How can I become a better leader for my staff and the LGBTQ+ youth who depend on us?
I was recently accepted into Oxford’s Strategic Leadership program – one of just 40 global participants. It begins in May.
I will travel to England for six days of long and intense sessions lasting until the evenings, missing family dinner conversations, football with my kids, and date night with my wife. Thankfully, both my educational passport and my physical one have prepared me for this next destination.
Black history is often something we talk about in the past tense. But it isn’t confined to textbooks or a single month on the calendar. Black history is actively being made every day: by the first Black student in a family to graduate college, or the first Black homeowner building generational wealth.
From GED to CEO, I am making my own Black history.
And I am committed to making sure the next generation of Black LGBTQ+ young people have passports of their own – ones they never have to fight this hard to use.
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ABOUT JAYMES BLACK:
Jaymes Black (they/she/he pronouns) is the CEO at The Trevor Project, the leading suicide prevention and crisis intervention organization for LGBTQ+ young people. He oversees the organization’s 24/7crisis services, research, education, advocacy, and peer support programs. They are The Trevor Project’s first Black nonbinary lesbian CEO.