We recently had the chance to connect with Jarmichael Harris and have shared our conversation below.
Jarmichael, really appreciate you sharing your stories and insights with us. The world would have so much more understanding and empathy if we all were a bit more open about our stories and how they have helped shaped our journey and worldview. Let’s jump in with a fun one: What is something outside of work that is bringing you joy lately?
I find a lot of joy in being outdoors, whether it’s hiking, fishing, or exploring my new hobby of hunting. Spending time in nature helps me reconnect with God and rejuvenates my spirit.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Jarmichael Harris, Founder and CEO of Engage Recovery, a movement rooted in advocacy, education, and systems change. At Engage Recovery, we believe that recovery is more than a personal journey — it’s a collective responsibility. Our work centers on challenging misperceptions about people who use drugs and those who love and support them. Too often, what we’ve been taught about substance use is shaped by harmful rhetoric, “tough on drugs” laws, and “Just Say No” campaigns that lacked nuance, dismissed humanity, and failed to reduce drug use. Through our training, speaking, and consulting, Engage Recovery helps communities build more compassionate, equitable, and effective recovery ecosystems.
Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. What’s a moment that really shaped how you see the world?
I share this story often because it feels like a mirror for society. When I arrived at East Carolina University in the fall of 2006, I had dreams of becoming a doctor. I came in with ambition and confidence, but after a difficult first semester and too much pride to ask for help, I ended up with a 1.6 GPA. That moment hit me hard, not because I had never failed before, but because I realized I had misunderstood what college and life itself were really about.
With the support of friends, mentors, and a renewed sense of determination, I began to turn things around. But even as I made progress, life continued to test me. I lost my father to cancer, was falsely accused and arrested, and mourned friends whose lives were cut short by tragedy and gun violence, all while trying to recover academically and emotionally.
Through that season, I learned a truth that continues to guide my work today: deciding to do better does not mean that life suddenly becomes easier. Challenges still come. Disappointments still happen. Each day, you have to choose to believe that what is on the other side of struggle is worth pressing toward.
For many people who use drugs, stigma and the narrative of the War on Drugs have created a false belief that recovery has to be done alone and that no one will love or support them through the process. While my journey was not centered on substance use, it was about learning to ask for help, to be honest about where I was, and to connect with the resources and people who could help me succeed.
Today, my work through Engage Recovery is rooted in that same lesson. It is about holding systems accountable so that when people who use drugs find the courage to ask for help, the support and compassion they deserve are already in place. It is also about helping them see that no matter how challenging the road ahead, what is waiting on the other side is worth the climb.
If you could say one kind thing to your younger self, what would it be?
It’s funny to look back now. In my younger years, I often struggled with self-doubt and insecurity, unsure of what I was capable of or where I truly fit in. If I could say one thing to my younger self, it would be this: you are powerful beyond measure.
You could not have convinced that uncertain middle schooler that one day he would sit with national policymakers helping to shape how we support millions affected by the failed War on Drugs. You could not have told him that he would one day deliver keynote addresses and TEDx talks inspiring others to heal, lead, and build communities rooted in recovery and compassion. You could not have told him that he would marry the love of his life and raise two warm, curious, and amazing children who are learning to become change agents in their own right.
I would remind him that his light was never too much. It just needed the right time, the right soil, and the right purpose to shine.
So a lot of these questions go deep, but if you are open to it, we’ve got a few more questions that we’d love to get your take on. Where are smart people getting it totally wrong today?
Too many people are frozen in the mindset of “what’s in it for me.” We have become paralyzed by the moment, the Instagram shot, the LinkedIn spotlight, the chase for recognition instead of impact. I wish I could say this was limited to millennials or Gen Z, but it is much broader than that.
If the War on Drugs had truly been about helping society, it would have been met with funding for prevention, treatment, and recovery, grounded in common-sense approaches to harm reduction. It would have brought people into the light of love rather than the darkness of hate, shame, and guilt.
But when you understand the history of this nation and its complex relationship with race, class, and gender, it becomes clear why harm has so often been the default instead of healing. The problem is not a lack of intelligence; it is a lack of compassion, humility, and the courage to center humanity over personal gain.
At Engage Recovery, our mission is to help shift that focus—from performance to purpose, from harm to healing, and from isolation to community.
Okay, so before we go, let’s tackle one more area. What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
Legacy is one of my core values. Not legacy in the sense of names in lights, trophies, or awards, but in how we are remembered when we are gone. I never gave it much thought until I lost my father in September 2007. Over two thousand people came to his memorial service, and that moment changed me. It showed me that people do not take time to celebrate you after your death unless you have made an impact in life.
I hope people remember me as an advocate, not simply in name or title, but as someone whose work was rooted in supporting people. I never wanted to be seen as a voice for the voiceless, because everyone has a voice. I hope I am remembered as someone who passed the mic to those with less of a platform, someone who empowered others to lead, and someone who always stayed connected to the grassroots efforts of every movement I aligned with.
In many ways, I hope my legacy resembles what Don Coyhis calls the Healing Forest. A forest is not defined by one tree standing tall but by the network of roots beneath the surface that sustain life for generations to come. When I am gone, I hope the work I planted continues to grow and nurture others long after I am no longer here to treat the soil.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.jarmichaelharris.com
- Instagram: https://Instagram.com/Counselnlaugh
- Youtube: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLHDaINDLFmc_Gd7IMGdWRVhHxGhLYKopq&si=BT9svGPr3AuMnRLQ
