I love going to prison with Andrew Glazier.
Glazier is the CEO of Defy Ventures, a Los Angeles-based nonprofit running entrepreneurship training programs in prisons across eight states. And twice now, I’ve tagged along at Defy events, including a New York coaching day and a California pitch competition. As you might expect, there are all sorts of rules in prison: first names only, no promises, no asking ‘what you’re in for,’ high-fives and fist bumps. But I’d argue there’s one rule that matters above the others: That this is fundamentally humanizing.
“When you walk into a Defy class, the first thing we’re expressing to you is that you’re a human with unique gifts and talents,” said Glazier, who’s run the organization since the founder’s departure in 2018. “You’re no longer ‘inmate number blank.’ You’re now an entrepreneur-in-training. What do you want to do?”
Entrepreneur-in-training (or EIT) is an important turn of phrase at Defy—there are no “convicts” or “inmates,” just EITs and volunteers. And I should say: I’ve shown up to these events as a volunteer, not as a journalist. But—as a person who interviews entrepreneurs and investors for a living—I asked Glazier if I could write about Defy, and what it reveals about entrepreneurship itself.
As it turns out, even in prison, a pitch is a pitch and a business is a business.
“Legal and illegal businesses involve the same skill sets,” said Glazier. “They require thoughtfulness around cash management, followership, marketing, inventory management, operations. So, for us, it’s about how you transform that hustle… We’re looking to employ entrepreneurship as a transformational frame.”
These pitches from EITs are often good to great, and frankly make more sense than half the startup pitches that hit my inbox each day. Unlike startup founders (kidding, mostly), EITs have rules for the businesses they’re proposing—there needs to be a clear customer problem you’re solving, a minimum viable product, a plan for overhead costs, and a possible path to scale. They’re simultaneously preparing for the reality that they’ll have to talk about the worst transgressions of their lives.
“It’s about leading with, ‘look I made some mistakes and these are some of the things I’ve learned through really hard times,’” said Glazier. “‘I’ve come out on the other side, and I can be a great asset to you and this community.’”
If you strip it all away, what’s the real difference between an EIT and the startup founders I talk to every day? In many cases, I’d argue it’s not talent, ideas, or grit. It’s opportunity and context. An entrepreneur is someone who has decided, for whatever reason, to control their destiny.
“Certainly, entrepreneurship for people coming home from prison can be a path to economic independence,” said Glazier. “When you come home, getting hired can be hard, advancement can be constrained. So, the idea that you can come home and be your own boss can be very compelling.”
And here’s the thing: The goal isn’t necessarily that every EIT will start their own business. Rather, the goal’s that they have a path back to the world, and to a better version of themselves. There’s evidence this program is deeply effective: 85% of released grads are employed within six months, and the one-year recidivism rate is less than 10% (nationally, that number’s more than 40%).
So, something’s working, and here’s my guess: That there’s something about entrepreneurship that is essentially and undeniably human—the ability to imagine a future that doesn’t yet exist, and to build toward it.
And that every founder, no matter where they are, is engaging in an expression of freedom.
See you Monday,
Allie Garfinkle X: @agarfinks Email: [email protected] Submit a deal for the Term Sheet newsletter here.
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The post Defy Ventures teaches entrepreneurship in prisons. It changed how I think about founders appeared first on Fortune.
