Some of the most important lessons I learned did not come from a classroom or a textbook. They came from folding clothes at Abraham’s, a local clothing store in Indianola, Mississippi, and serving customers during a Chick-fil-A lunch rush. Long before I had a title or a clear plan for the future, I was learning what responsibility, service, and care looked like in real time.

I have always been drawn to people I could learn from. Not because they had the loudest voices or the biggest platforms, but because they were willing to teach. I wanted more than information. I wanted understanding. I wanted to carry what I learned forward and pass it on.

In high school, I worked at Abraham’s, where I learned how to fold clothes a certain way, a habit I still carry with me. I learned how to handle bank deposits and how to be trusted with responsibility. None of these tasks were glamorous, but they mattered. They taught me discipline, attention to detail, and the importance of doing something well even when no one was watching. More than anything, they taught me that responsibility was not something I had to grow into later. I already carried it.

Later, I worked at Chick-fil-A. The pace was faster and the expectations were higher, but the lesson stayed the same. Service matters. I learned how to communicate clearly under pressure, how to stay consistent, and how to treat people with dignity even when things felt rushed or stressful. That environment pushed me, but it also affirmed something important. I was capable of showing up for others, even when the work was demanding.

I name these experiences because mentorship is not always formal. Sometimes it looks like correction, consistency, and care. Sometimes it looks like a manager taking time to explain why something matters or a coworker modeling patience. Those everyday moments shaped me just as much as any structured program. They helped me understand that growth is relational and that learning happens in community. Too many young people are given access to opportunities but never experience true belonging within them.

That understanding deepened when I began working with Teen Health Mississippi. That experience changed the trajectory of my life. It was there that I met the woman who is now my godmother. She saw something in me before I saw it in myself. She affirmed my passion for service and helped me recognize that my desire to help people was not just a personality trait. It was purpose.

With her encouragement, I planned my first community event at Gentry High School in Indianola called Mental Health Madness. The event brought together youth-serving organizations from across Mississippi to talk openly about mental health, stigma, and access to care. It was not perfect, but it was honest. For the first time, I felt like I was doing something bigger than myself. I did not just feel included. I felt trusted. I felt capable. I felt like I belonged.

That distinction matters. Access gets young people into rooms. Belonging changes how they see themselves once they are there. Research from the Search Institute shows that young people who experience strong relationships with caring adults are more likely to develop confidence, a stronger sense of identity, and a clearer sense of purpose (Search Institute, n.d.). I did not need research to tell me this, but it affirmed what I had already lived.

Mentorship is the bridge between opportunity and identity. It turns participation into purpose. It shifts the question from “Do I belong here?” to “How can I contribute?” Looking back, none of my mentors handed me a blueprint for my future. What they gave me was belief, skill, and responsibility. They helped me see myself as someone capable of serving others with intention.

If you work with young people, pause and ask yourself one simple question. Who is one young person you can intentionally check in with this week and truly listen to?

If you are a young person reading this, think about who already sees you clearly. Who takes time to invest in you, even in small ways? Lean into that relationship. Ask questions. Stay curious. Carry what you learn forward.

And for everyone else, support the spaces that center relationships, not just outcomes. Programs matter, but belonging lasts longer. Belonging does not happen by accident. It is built through consistent care, one relationship at a time.

Tyren Boyd is a fellow in the 2025-26 cohort of the John Lewis Young Leaders. Learn more about Tyren or donate to his capstone project.

Reference

Search Institute. (n.d.). Developmental relationships: A framework for cultivating powerful relationships that promote youth success. https://www.search-institute.org/developmental-relationships/