Dyslexia

Growing up with dyslexia was a constant challenge, especially in a time when it wasn't well understood. I often wondered what others thought of me, but more than anything, I felt different—like I didn’t measure up. That feeling of inadequacy haunted me, making me question my intelligence. It wasn’t just the struggle to keep up with my peers; it was the way others saw me, or at least how I believed they did. Whether they called me stupid or simply thought it, I felt the weight of that perception every day.

As a young boy, there was no way for me to understand why I was different. Dyslexia wasn’t something openly talked about, and without an explanation, it simply became part of who I was. School was an uphill battle—I couldn’t read as fast as the other kids, and every assignment was a test of endurance. When my family moved from Detroit to Hopkins, I was held back in the 6th grade. It was the first and only time, and while it was difficult, I was at least spared the embarrassment of facing kids who already knew me. But that moment left an imprint on me. Instead of letting it define me, I used it as fuel.

That was when I made a promise to myself. I would show EVERYONE that I wasn’t stupid. I set goals, pushing myself in ways I never had before. As I grew older, I learned that I was far from alone. Some of the most brilliant and successful minds in history—Richard Branson, Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, Jay Leno, and even "Mr. Wonderful"—all had dyslexia. Their stories became a source of inspiration, a reminder that intelligence comes in many forms.

Looking back, I realize that what once felt like a burden became a driving force. Dyslexia didn’t make me less capable—it made me more determined. And through that determination, I found success, proving to myself and the world that our differences can be our greatest strengths.