Today we’d like to introduce you to Ashanti Branch.
Hi Ashanti, so excited to have you on the platform. So before we get into questions about your work-life, maybe you can bring our readers up to speed on your story and how you got to where you are today?
I often say that becoming an educator wasn’t my plan, but I have discovered that it was planned for me.
I grew up in Oakland, California, raised by a single mother on welfare. My father died three months before I was born, and as the oldest child, I learned responsibility early. I was told I was the “man of the house,” so I learned to take care of others while also learning to hide many of the emotions I was carrying myself.
Education became my pathway forward. I studied engineering at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo and began a career in construction. My plan was pretty simple: become a successful engineer, make a lot of money, and build an amazing life.
Teaching was nowhere on the roadmap.
Then a friend asked me to teach math on Saturday mornings through Upward Bound in Oakland. I initially agreed to do it for only two months. I stayed for more than two years.
Something happened while working with those young people. I saw brilliant students struggling not because they weren’t capable, but because many of them were carrying things into the classroom that no math lesson could solve. I recognized parts of myself in them. Eventually, I left engineering, earned my teaching credential and master’s degree in education, and became a math teacher at San Lorenzo High School in 2004.
During my first year, I noticed several young men of color who were smart but disengaged and not working to their potential. I initially thought I could push them harder academically. Instead, I realized I needed to understand them better. I invited a small group to lunch and essentially told them, “Help me become a better teacher.”
Those lunchtime meetings became the Ever Forward Club.
What started with eight or nine young men grew into a community built around helping students feel safe, seen, heard, and supported. Over time, I learned one of the most important lessons of my career: before we can expect young people to care about what we know, we have to show them how much we care about who they are.
That work eventually led to the #MillionMaskMovement, which grew from a simple activity I first used with young men while filming the documentary The Mask You Live In. On the front of a paper mask, students wrote what they allowed the world to see. On the back, they wrote what they were really carrying. When they anonymously shared those hidden words; anger, sadness, pain, missing my dad, the room changed. Young people who thought they were alone suddenly realized how much they had in common.
Today, my work has expanded from directly mentoring young people to also helping educators create the conditions where connection can happen. Through professional development, workshops, speaking, and the tools we’ve developed at the Ever Forward Club, I help teachers reach the students who can sometimes be the hardest to reach. I know how exhausting that work can be because I’ve been that teacher.
In 2023, I received the U.S. Surgeon General’s Medallion from Dr. Vivek Murthy, the highest honor the Surgeon General can bestow upon a civilian, recognizing our work advancing mental health and well-being. It was an incredible honor, but I see it less as a finish line and more as confirmation that this work matters.j
After more than two decades in education, I’m still learning, which is part of why I wrote Diary of a Confused Educator. My journey has taken me from engineer to teacher, administrator, mentor, nonprofit founder, speaker, and advocate, but the heart of the work hasn’t changed: helping people take off the masks that keep them disconnected and creating spaces where young people and the adults who serve them and know they don’t have to navigate life alone.
Alright, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome?
It definitely has not been a smooth road.
One of my biggest challenges has been learning that purpose doesn’t make the path easy. Sometimes it actually makes walking away harder.
I’ve left jobs and environments that were comfortable because I knew I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. I’ve experienced school systems where bureaucracy got in the way of supporting young people. I’ve worked in environments where leadership didn’t understand or support what we were trying to build. I’ve had to leave students I deeply cared about because staying in an unhealthy environment was no longer sustainable.
Then there were the moments no educator can really prepare for.
In 2015, a middle school student came into my office and handed me a letter telling me he was planning to end his life. I remember looking at that young man and realizing that all the policies, procedures, and training in the world couldn’t tell me exactly what he needed emotionally in that moment. What I could tell him was, “I got you. I’m here.” Later that year, he gave me another letter thanking me and telling me that without my support, he might not still be alive.
Moments like that changed my understanding of what it means to be an educator.
There have also been financial challenges. When I left my school administration career to run the Ever Forward Club full-time, I didn’t have some giant funding package waiting for me. I had savings and approximately three months to see whether I could make it work. I took the leap anyway.
I’ve wrestled with self-doubt, burnout, fear, ambition, and the pressure of feeling responsible for too much. I’ve had ideas that didn’t work the first time. I’ve underestimated how difficult it is to scale something built on human connection. I’ve had to learn that caring deeply about people doesn’t mean I can carry everything for everyone.
And maybe one of the biggest challenges has been recognizing that I am still wearing my own masks while helping other people take off theirs.
That’s why I call myself a “confused educator.” After more than 20 years, I don’t pretend to have education, or life, all figured out. I still have questions. I still make mistakes. I still have days when the goal seems impossibly far away.
But I’ve learned that confusion doesn’t mean you stop moving.
The work is about continuing to show up, continuing to listen, and continuing to build spaces where people feel safe enough to tell the truth about what they’re carrying.
For educators especially, I want them to know this: the student who frustrates you the most may be the student who needs connection the most. Sometimes what looks like defiance, apathy, or disengagement is a mask covering something we haven’t taken the time or haven’t yet been given the tools, to see.
My life’s work is helping educators look behind that mask, while reminding them that they deserve support, connection, and encouragement too.
Ever Forward.
Great, so let’s talk business. Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
The Ever Forward Club started back in 2004 during my first year of teaching. Looking around my classroom, I saw so many brilliant young men who were struggling — some academically, others socially, and some doing fine on the surface while falling apart on the inside. I wasn’t interested in putting labels on them as “good” or “bad” students. All I kept thinking was: I see so much more in you than what you’re allowing the world to see. That spark is how our very first support groups were born.
Here’s the honest truth: I never set out with a master plan to build a nonprofit. In fact, I didn’t even know what one was. A generous woman wanted to donate to our work and told me we needed non-profit status. I remember asking her, “What is that? Can’t you just give it directly to the school?” She wanted to ensure the support went directly to our young men, so I stepped up and figured out what it took. Teaching called me, and this mission called me. I’m in this work by calling, not by a corporate roadmap and as a founding executive director, that makes every step deeply personal. A big part of my own personal growth has been learning not to take it personally when funders say no.
What we’re known for: Our work was featured in the documentary The Mask You Live In, which has reached millions of viewers globally. We had already been quietly doing the work on the ground since 2004 before the film was released in 2015. That documentary opened a major window for us showing me that the vision was far bigger than Oakland and the Bay Area. My goal is to serve youth everywhere by inspiring and equipping educators to lead this work in their own spaces, because the role of a teacher is just that powerful.
What we specialize in: Creating safe, authentic spaces where young men can remove their emotional masks and speak openly about how they’re really doing.
What sets us apart: Traditional nonprofit models often just collect grants and deliver services. I believe in partnering with schools so they invest in their own solutions. While no school is ever turned away for a lack of funds, we ask them to invest something into the process, turning a one-time event into lasting transformational culture.
What I’m most proud of, brand-wise.
The #MillionMaskMovement. It all started with an unexpected phone call from an educator who had watched a five-minute clip of the documentary and tried the exercise with her students. She called to tell me the activity felt unsafe, and I was taken confused because I had not instructed anyone to use the activity. So that meant she had tried it without understanding the foundation and context required to create a safe space. But that single, challenging conversation sparked a global campaign. It’s incredible to watch how quickly people connect with an activity that seems almost too simple to work.
I’m also deeply honored that in 2023, U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy awarded us the Surgeon General Medallion at the Kennedy Center in D.C., recognizing our commitment to youth mental health and emotional well-being through the #MillionMaskMovement and Ever Forward Club.
Kennedy Center Video: https://youtu.be/QlcInwUfiLc?si=uwFCX-0BVRecGrtH
What we offer:
The Million Mask Movement — our self-reflection tool. Anyone can make a mask at millionmask.org.
School assemblies and workshops for young people.
Professional development for schools that need quality training for their teachers.
A coaching program for educators, launching this fall 2026, to help teachers navigate the classroom — and take care of themselves while doing it. Educators are givers by nature, and many don’t do enough of the self-care it takes to show up as their best selves.
Advocates for Young Men — a free online community of teachers, parents, administrators, counselors, and coaches who care about young men.
The Global Young Men’s Conference, held here in the Bay Area each November, with an open invitation for organizations anywhere to host their own event. We provide the tools and resources; they host events in their own communities.
If there’s one thing I hope your readers take away, it’s this: we aren’t trying to be anyone’s savior. Our mission is to inspire, educate, and empower you to take action right where you live. You don’t have to quit your job or start a non-profit to make a real difference. Take your son, your nephew, or their friend to the park, grab a bite to eat, and just talk openly about how you’re really doing. You can do that today. If every man who is able stepped up in that simple way, no young man would ever feel isolated. As long as we wait until we can do everything before we do something, our communities will keep struggling while our youth call out for support the only ways they know how.
What was your favorite childhood memory?
When I was about nine or ten years old, my grandfather decided I was finally mature enough to work alongside him. He took a chance on me, bringing me on to help around his house. We spent long summer days building wooden fences, pouring concrete driveways, and tackling whatever physical work needed to get done. I had never worked that hard in my life, feeling the heavy physical weight of every honest day’s effort.
My grandfather was also my pastor, so his presence in my life carried immense meaning. I miss him deeply. What stays with me most from those summers was the quiet pride of waking up early, working hard, sharing lunch, and coming home knowing I had built something real. Earning my own money to buy my own school clothes gave me a profound sense of dignity and purpose. That experience shaped my work ethic and showed me the value of showing up fully every day.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.everforwardclub.org
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/branchspeaks
- LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/ashantibranch
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@everforwardclub
