[SHAPE YOUR FUTURE]
I want you to take this journey with me.
Let's set the stage.
It's a Sunday in Baltimore.
There could be kids
in the park Druid Hill.
They're watching dirt bike riders go pass,
do tricks, pop wheelies, do stunts,
they're zipping.
If you hear the engines revving,
smell the gasoline,
you can see the joy
and excitement on their face.
Someone’s probably learning
how to fix their dirt bike,
because the parts
are way too expensive to buy.
Then they can go to school.
They can get a pop quiz
or a test from a teacher.
You know the kind we all heard
and we've all hated.
"A train that's leaving from New York,
goes to Cleveland,"
but they're here in Baltimore.
How does this relate?
They don't get it.
They fail the test
and now they can hate school.
Then their world
can be turned upside down.
They can get on Facebook, on Instagram,
get a call or a text.
They can watch as their friend
can become a hashtag,
a kid in the wrong place
at the wrong time.
Lost to the streets, lost to the system
or lost to gun violence.
Or a kid that could be arrested
for a dirt bike.
Because in my city
it can be a misdemeanor
for possession of a dirt bike.
This can be a likely story
for Black kids across the country.
In cities like Miami,
Cleveland, Atlanta, Philly,
whatever place had
the dirt bike task force.
Now ask yourself if the thing
you use to relieve your stress,
if it was demonized,
would you still do it?
If it was criminalized?
The answer is yes.
That's the reality for Black people
across the US right now.
They’ve watched as we made room in cities
for skateboarders, for bicyclists
and any other sport.
They can watch TV and see it on X Games,
the Olympics or ESPN.
The style of riding can be seen
in ad campaigns and films.
But in Baltimore, what do they
have to look forward to?
What do riders get from all of it?
No space, no outlet,
just a typical narrative.
Like I said, this is a common story.
I was the kid in a park.
I wanted to be just like
the big dirt-bike riders,
but I hate to fall.
Instead, I became like Bill Nye
The Science Guy.
I was doing all kinds of experiments,
blowing my eyebrows off,
gluing people to the chair,
and I may or may not have made
stink bombs at school.
They would describe me as another bad kid.
What they didn't see
was all my genius, my talent,
my voice was not heard.
Then I became that Black girl from
West Baltimore working in STEM.
My first position, I was confused
for the secretary.
I was pissed.
But it lit a fire in me.
So I want to get more people
in the industry.
And in 2013, that's what I started doing.
Working in small groups
with kids and students,
teaching them STEM activities.
Then in 2014,
I lost my little brother
to the prison system.
In 2015, I lost all faith
in the system, period.
The world watched the following
of Freddie Gray uprising
as Baltimore burned.
I wondered when were people
going to listen,
where were the solutions?
And where was the investment
into my community?
In 2016, I broke the system
and became the founder and CEO of B-360,
carving out a new lane.
I went back to my experience in the park.
I thought about the kids
fixing their bikes.
Those are skills people use
to pay the bills,
just like mechanics
and mechanical engineers.
We leaned into STEM.
S -- Science.
The science behind
popping the best wheelie,
pulling your dirt bike at twelve o'clock
is a physics equation.
T -- Technology.
The technology needed to get
the best radial tires
so you don't have frictional asphalt.
E -- Engineering.
The engineering needed
to fix or peg a dirt bike,
but to also get the best "mac mac" noise.
M -- Mathematics.
The math needed for the gas to oil ratio
so your dirt bike does not explode.
Then I took it a step further.
I thought about the riders.
I knew the only way
to have program and solutions
was to have them at the table.
Because the people closest
to the problem are the solution.
I thought about Mike.
Since he was six,
he's been riding dirt bikes.
When he was 17, graduating high school,
he didn't know what he wanted to do,
but he knew he loved
everything about dirt bikes.
He started working with us in B-360,
he's helped us educate kids,
train dirt bike riders,
and at 21 he's our lead instructor.
He's created events,
he's traveled across the country
and he really represents
the best of B-360.
At the core of our work
is constantly thinking
about what people like Mike want.
For Mike, he wants a space.
A space where he can keep working
with students on our curriculum,
a space where he can keep
training more riders
and growing their skill sets,
a space where he no longer has to escape,
but he has something
in his own city for him.
With your support
and the support of more cities,
we can make this a reality.
Since 2017,
we've saved the city of Baltimore
about 233 million dollars
by doing programing
for over 7,000 students.
We've saved the city of Baltimore
one million dollars
by growing work force and opportunities
for people just like Mike.
That's less people
that could possibly go to jail,
less money spent on dollars
and cents of incarceration
and more money going back
into our Black communities, our leaders,
our culture and our voices.
We don't need your black squares,
we don't need your campaigns,
but what we do need
is your dollars and cents behind us
to make real change.
We need more people like you in cities
to believe in investing in us
and our model of growing the people.
What will you choose to be?
An ally?
Be an impact?
Be the revolution?
B-360.
Thank you.