"The world is a better place when I take up space": A Conversation with Marc Typo
"The world is a better place when I take up space": A Conversation with Marc Typo
It's time for a new interview! Next up: MARC TYPO, creator of Raising Myles.
Our interview series features interesting people with something to say that the world needs hearing. Let me know what you think—we’ll continue to experiment and evolve along the way. 🙏
Introducing Marc Typo
I’m not sure how I first noticed Marc’s work online, but I loved the concept right away. He describes his weekly newsletter Raising Myles as “a first-time dad writes letters to his newborn son, Myles, sharing the joy he didn't experience himself with the world.”
Here are a few highlights from Marc’s bio:
Marc Typo is a first-generation Haitian American, born and raised in Brooklyn, NY. He is a former educator with over 10 years of experience teaching students to fall in love with reading. He holds a Masters from Teachers College, Columbia University, and a Bachelors from University at Buffalo. Since becoming a father, he has found a newfound purpose in sharing the love he has for his son with the world through writing him letters weekly. Marc currently resides in Birmingham, Alabama, with his wife and 10-month-old son.
Naturally, we’re more interested in the person behind the impressive bio. And since this is
, I’m interested in how people think about wellbeing in general.
So let’s have some questions and answers with Marc! (There’s also a short audio recording from him—scroll down for that.)
Qs & As with Marc
What does mental health and wellbeing mean to you?
I’ve been seeing a therapist almost every Tuesday for the past three years. It’s a space, just for me, that no one can hold because, frankly, they should not have to. When I realized my partner then, now wife, as amazing as she is, isn't responsible for, nor can help me navigate all the baggage I've amassed in my twenty-something years of living, I knew I needed help. Therapy taught me how to process my big feelings.
I know I’m okay when I don’t have to rationalize my feelings. As basic as it sounds, it’s grounding to know we all have a set of emotions—one no better than the other. I’ve learned it’s okay to cry just as much as it is to smile. It’s okay to be angry just as it is to be happy. So when I feel these emotions come up, I allow myself to feel them in my body, so I can make choices when my lid isn’t flipped. In turn, I’m able to receive and let others experience their emotions in their fullness as well. This is all easier said than done though.
Going to therapy is how I show up for myself. The more I take care of myself, the more space I have to take care of the ones I love because you can’t pour from an empty cup.
What is your primary or most important message?
The world is a better place when I take up space. Shrinking myself does nothing but rob the world of the purpose I was put here to do. Who am I to let my ego or imposter syndrome get in the way when there is someone out there who is waiting to receive what I have to offer? When I step into my purpose, the planet benefits from it.
What’s something contrarian or highly unusual that you passionately believe?
“There is a tribe in Africa called the Masai, and instead of greeting each other with "How are you?" They say, “Casserian Engeri,” which means “And how are the children?” The Masai believe that monitoring the well-being of their children is the best way to determine the future health and prosperity of their whole society.” (Source)
I believe globally, the world should adapt the way of the Masai tribe: in everything we do, we should center the children. When we center our children, our schools will be better, bombs will cease to fall from the sky, mass shootings will no longer happen, people will not starve, poverty will have no home, homelessness will face its eviction, our incarceration systems will focus restoration and healing, and ultimately we will live longer and fuller lives. We will treat and deal with one another differently because of the children.
If we cannot answer the question, “How are the children?” with “They are well,” then we must pause and reevaluate what we are doing. If we are not investing in the children of today, who will take care of tomorrow?
Marc’s Audio Recording 🎙️
I usually ask our interviewees to make a short audio recording in addition to the written questions. This isn’t a long podcast interview, it’s just one minute long—so you don’t want to skip it. Here’s the one from Marc! ⬇️
Okay, back to some more Qs and recommendations!
What’s difficult for you right now? What are you struggling with?
I never cared to be remembered. But
wrote this poem once that really captures how it feels now that I’m a parent.When I die, I hope
that my sons
are too elderly
to carry my coffin.
- Sherman Alexie's Life Span
I am so full of joy and love that I think about not being here to see it all through. I think about my own mortality—a lot. The average lifespan for a man is 77 years old, 73 if he’s Black—this means if God is playing statistics, I have less than 40 years left to see this all through.
I want to be here when my son starts to walk and talk. I want that moment when parents hide their tears on their child’s first day of school. I want to be there for the part where the seeds of imposter syndrome start to fester, so I can hold him and let him know that he is enough. I want to come home every day for the next twenty-something years, so I can ask him how his day went. I want to be there when he has to deal with the weight and beauty that comes with Blackness. I want to see him walk hand in hand with the person he chooses to do life with and have them over for dinner. I want to babysit his kids, and laugh with them when I show them his diaper pictures while he’s on vacation. I just want to be here.
Even though he’s not even a year old yet, I write him letters weekly because I am trying to write myself into a future I cannot guarantee I’ll be in.
What is a simple thing (or 2-3 simple things) we can do to be better?
Center the children in everything we do.
Normalize hearing the truth and changing our minds.
Read books from authors who do not look like you, so we can cultivate empathy.
Lastly, what are a few things you’d like to recommend to our community?
Art: If I am a writer, my brother Wesley is an artist. His portraits remind me that no matter how many times we do the same thing, there’s still beauty in the nuance. He visited me last year and drew a family portrait of me, my wife, and my son, Myles before he was born (see below).
Community: The Cookout Library - When I was a teacher during the pandemic and wanted my kids to get access to books, my co-teacher and I created a virtual library for them.. I took that same idea and created a virtual library to celebrate and build community with and for Black writers on Substack. I dream of a world where everyone's voices get to be celebrated, and in my corner of the planet, this is how I do that.
TV: The former teacher in me loves Abbott Elementary so much.
Music - Soulection Radio
Substack:
- and her beautiful Snaps
- ’s poem To Be Gazan During Ramadan
- Martha reviews books from around the world, perfect for cultivating empathy.
Big Thanks to Marc!
Be sure to check out his newsletter,
, and give him a follow on Instagram.Finally, let me know if you were able to read the interview! More of them are in the works, so be sure you’re subscribed—and stay tuned. 🙏
This could be a book! An Asian comic wrote the story of her career beginning and the story of meeting their father and organized a book called DEAR GIRLS. Life lessons for all of us. The best way to learn is from anyone’s honest story.
“How are the children?” is a wonderful and important greeting. Starting from that question helps remind us to prioritize the kids. And I think you are right that many of the other problems in society can be better addressed when we center the children, or recognize that we were all once children. Thank you.