Cooking Up a Comeback Beyond Bars

Chef Brian shares his remarkable journey from serving 19 years in prison to forging a new path through St. Joseph Center’s Bread and Roses Training Kitchen. With determination, resilience, and a passion for cooking, he turned second chances into real opportunities — from leading in professional kitchens to inspiring his community. His story is a testament to redemption, possibility, and the power of pursuing a different future.

Chef Brian Beasley reflects on his journey from incarceration to culinary success, sharing how resilience, mentors, and St. Joseph Center’s Bread & Roses Training Kitchen helped him build a new life.

There was a time when my young cousins looked at me and wanted to gangbang. Now, they’re interested in other things: going to college or pursuing a career in culinary, for example.

These are two directions I’ve taken since being released from prison in December 2023. I served 19 years for gang-related activity. Now, I’m continuing my march toward full independence after leaving my transitional housing residence just the day after Mother’s Day. At 35, I’m searching for my first real apartment. I’m telling you all this from a bench on the front lawn at Glendale College, where I study accounting.

When I’m not studying here, you can find me cooking at Dulan’s Soul Food Kitchen, where I’ve been promoted to one of the lead night cooks. Luckily, Mr. Dulan believes in second chances—I can tell you firsthand.

I landed this job after completing the Bread and Roses Training Kitchen, a St. Joseph Center culinary program geared toward folks with lived experience like me. I’ve made a decision, obviously, that staying busy, as busy as possible, is key to finding stability.

While growing up in Compton, I felt like I was trapped in one little box. Even just going to Six Flags or a quick trip to Vegas wasn’t realistic for me.

I remember thinking from my cell, there were so many things that by my age I hadn’t done. Crip life was a dead end, but now I faced a fork in the road.

After making it through the crying stage of my sentence, I decided I needed to lean into my natural curiosity, something I’d always been blessed with. My grandmothers had been Black Panthers. They’d instilled a love of learning in me from as long as I could remember.

During the next phase of my prison time, one where I was more grounded, I started reading all sorts of books, taking an interest particularly in business and the economy. I also started trying to learn new words since I figured an enhanced vocabulary could help open doors. This was the start of a more productive and fuller life but also what I needed for healing and accepting my past.

The bad stuff is more a reminder or motivation that this is where I came from, but you can’t just sit there and soak over it. You got to turn it into something or it’s always going to be pain.

One night while living in transitional housing, I saw a housemate return home after being out all day while I had been stuck inside. This acquaintance was wearing a white chef coat. As it turned out, he was also a Bread and Roses Training Kitchen student. In the prison yard, I’d always joked about becoming a chef one day. I love to eat, and everyone knew it. I knew then my next move.

Bread and Roses was the first thing I could say I graduated from. And the confidence that comes with that is the key to everything that comes next.

Now that I’m out, one thing that has always amazed me is truly all the options that exist that you can do. Going on my school portal and just seeing what’s possible with accounting alone is crazy. Not to mention all the different classes related to film and music, just to give a couple of examples.

Ultimately, my goal is to have my own business where I can hire students from not only Bread and Roses, which was the start of my success, but also system-impacted people generally. I don’t want to just employ people, I want to teach people skills for the world.

Even former enemies from my past have reached out to congratulate me on the progress I’ve made. They say stuff like, “Man, we see what you doing, so keep up the good work.”

Now, when friends and acquaintances from the transitional housing I just left behind ask me about Bread and Roses, I tell them:

You got to give it a shot. You know, it might be something that sticks with you.

Editor’s note: This post has been edited for length, clarity, and narrative flow.