At a towering stature of six-foot-two and sporting a clean-shaven head and thick beard, Jason Sole leaves an unforgettable first impression. He strode into The Oracle office, hand outstretched, and I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. Almost immediately after our conversation began, it became apparent that the ex-con-turned-professor was warm, talkative and passionate about his work.

Sole has taught at Hamline in the Criminal Justice and Forensic Science department since June of last year and in a meeting of Neighborhoods Organizing for Change on Nov. 1, he was unanimously elected President of the Minneapolis NAACP.

The South Side of Chicago was Sole’s childhood home. At 18, he was arrested and jailed for carrying a firearm. At 21, he was arrested and jailed for the possession of 18 grams of crack cocaine. The things he experienced on the “mean streets” and in prison shaped his life and provided raw and powerful content and context for his memoir, “Prison to PhD” as well as his countless public speeches, rallies, lectures and trainings.

“I didn’t grow up with law enforcement officials that treated me well—I never had that. It’s easy for me to talk about how law enforcement perform unethically,” Sole said. In his time as a speaker and educator, he’s given talks to Las Vegas, Scottsdale and Dubuque police departments regarding violence that often involves a racial component.

Through his years of public speaking and activism, however, people (including law enforcement) have begun to see him as something greater than just another troublemaker.

“Now, instead of just respecting a story, they’re respecting my mind and that’s a totally different ball game,” Sole said.

As the newest President of the Minneapolis NAACP, Sole mentioned the electricity of his social activist background and affiliation with the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement.

“If you look across the country, we’re the most radical NAACP branch and we stand right next to BLM. We’re with [them]. We’re together,” Sole said. “You don’t see that anywhere across the country.”

The move to work so closely with BLM is bold and not without its critics.

“It causes trouble on a national level with the NAACP [because] they haven’t been taking those kind of stances,” Sole said.

Despite that fact, he isn’t the slightest bit thrown off by criticism.

“The alliance is only going to get stronger. We’re in the movement. I don’t have a problem saying I’m Black Lives Matter,” Sole said. “I don’t have a problem saying I support whatever [they’re] doing.”

Sole’s interest in and protest of cases like the Philando Castile and Jamar Clark shootings sit at the crux of his activism work.

“Even people who don’t want to believe that these things are happening—they have to listen to them because it’s been documented in so many different ways,” Sole said. “With Philando being killed, that brought about a new group of activists.”

Though these shootings are tragic, Sole argues that the climate is changing.

“Things are happening. Policies are being revised. People are being fired. We’re actually talking about racial equity. Protest works. It’s been proven—when people protest, things change,” Sole said.

In his time at Hamline, Sole has grown to believe that the students he teaches glean a special value from the experiences he’s had.

“The students are great. Even if we don’t agree and they don’t understand why I’m out there protesting and why I’m on the highway and going to get people after they get arrested. Even if they don’t understand, they know they can talk to me about it without me shunning them or making them feel bad about their views [because] I never take that approach,” Sole said.

He claims that the progress toward equity and justice can be started by something as simple as a conversation.

“Just be willing to create space to have discussions,” Sole said. “When you create that space, people show up.”

On top of his roles with the NAACP and BLM, Sole is fervently working to stop plans for a 165-bed joint Hennepin and Ramsey juvenile treatment center.

The facility would serve both Hennepin and Ramsey counties and be used to house youth who have been convicted of crimes such as drug possession or disturbing the peace.

“We’re talking upwards of $60 million on a new facility,” Sole said. “It’s a waste.”

According to Sole, there aren’t even 165 juveniles in the system at the moment, so the facility would be overly expensive and underutilized. After years of working in juvenile correctional facilities, Sole has seen firsthand that these kinds of facilities are ineffective and display a staggering rate of recidivism.

“This train is already going. It’s already in process to [be] built. It’s my job to actually show it’s not best practices,” Sole said.

Beyond his work as a professor, activist, author and seemingly everything else, Jason Sole has one ultimate, simple message that everyone can respect: “There’s a lot of hate in this world. I’m trying to bring love to it.”