"I don’t want a seat at the table. I want to build a new table."
A conversation with Darius Fequiere, Founder of Matiq Labs, on redesigning education systems from within — and why true transformation starts with community.
When Darius Fequiere says, “I don’t want a seat at the table — I want to build a new table,” he’s not being provocative. He’s being precise. Through Matiq Labs, he’s helping school systems design new ways of working — with students, families, and communities at the center.
Darius brings a rare combination of lived experience, system fluency, and design thinking to every engagement. He’s been a teacher, special ed administrator, nonprofit leader, and strategist. Now he’s building the infrastructure for deep, lasting change — rooted in community, curiosity, and the courage to listen instead of lead.
Interview:
Eric Ressler: You've worn a lot of hats — educator, strategist, designer, nonprofit leader. What experiences shaped your worldview and led you to start Matiq Labs?
Darius Fequiere: A few turning points stand out. One was the death of my father. I’ve always lived a life of service — to students, as a teacher and administrator — but always through someone else’s vision. After he passed, I realized I had a vision too. It was informed by the community around me. And when my lights go out, that’s it — so I decided to lean into the uncomfortable space and make something of my own.
Another moment came during the pandemic. I was a special ed administrator in L.A. at the time, and I saw how differently families with disabilities were navigating the crisis. We, as neurotypical educators, could pivot and be fine — but the families we served were left outside the conversation. They had insight, but their solutions weren’t seen as accessible or aligned. We talked a lot about supporting Black and brown youth, but I’d sit in rooms as the only Black man. That disconnect drove me to join Urban Ed Academy, where I was no longer the only Black person — but I was the only teacher. We scaled services and saw results, but poor leadership and a scandal derailed everything. Those experiences taught me that I had the heart, the leadership, and the community connection — so I needed to build something that reflected all of that.
Eric: You’ve helped guide orgs through major transitions, even sunsetting. What did you learn about leadership during those moments?
Darius: People underestimate how much power they hold in transitional moments — power that impacts people’s daily lives. At Urban Ed, the proverbial world was on fire. But I slowed down and really listened — to the 30+ fellows in our program, to my team, to our partners. We redirected funding to create scholarships and endowments so every fellow could finish their credential and master’s. 100% did. And every person I managed — mostly Black women, mothers, caretakers — landed in new roles. It would’ve been easy to focus on myself, but I wanted to choose others. That’s what service looks like to me.
"And when my lights go out, that’s it — so I decided to lean into the uncomfortable space and make something of my own."
Eric: You speak often about wellness and mental health in leadership. How are you staying grounded while doing emotionally heavy, systems-shifting work?
Darius: I won’t lie — there’s a bit of craziness I’m learning to live with. But the biggest thing is staying in community. I have to be transparent and authentically myself. I don’t watch the news, but I read and listen to it, and the state of the world is… unhinged. So I try to counter that by staying close to people who reflect something better — people who can say, “Darius, you should consider this.” That kind of feedback kills the ego and reminds me I’m not alone.
Eric: Matiq Labs is rooted in the idea of humane learning systems. What does that mean in practice?
Darius: It’s a different approach to learning — one that doesn’t start with an expert imparting knowledge to a novice. Instead, we recognize that people living everyday lives often have ideas and solutions that come from lived experience. At Matiq Labs, we create containers for that learning. We don’t come in with the answers. We help people test ideas, pilot new models, make mistakes, and learn from the process. We define success not by outcomes, but by what we learn — and how that learning drives our actions. That’s the framework of cultivating genius we use, always in proximity to community.
Eric: What typically brings organizations to seek your help?
Darius: Often, something has gone publicly wrong — discrimination, trauma, even violence. Schools aren’t equipped to handle compliance, system operations, and deep emotional repair at the same time. That’s where we step in.
The biggest shift happens when schools truly listen. One of my former students — she stood up to a teacher, got removed from class, and ended up in mine. I just listened. That experience changed her path — she’s now studying political science, trying to support communities like the one she came from. We didn’t have a guidebook for that. That was just values-based leadership. That’s what we try to help schools recognize: the answers are already there. You just need to listen and act on what you hear.
"We don’t come in with the answers. We help people test ideas, pilot new models, make mistakes, and learn from the process. We define success not by outcomes, but by what we learn — and how that learning drives our actions."
Eric: How do you know when a partner is really ready to do this work — not just checking boxes?
Darius: It’s not super scientific. I look for a few things: Do they understand their stakeholders? Do they collect feedback meaningfully — not just a one-time survey? Do they incorporate student or community feedback into evaluations and strategy?
One district we work with knows they lack diverse leadership. They’re not looking for Matiq Labs to be their song and dance. They want honest feedback and strategic partnership. That’s the kind of alignment we look for. We don’t have to agree on everything — but we do need shared understanding.
Eric: You’ve described your work as design-driven — but not visual design. More like systems, culture, and org design. What does design mean to you?
Darius: I think about design as power. Who am I designing for? Who am I designing with? What is the purpose of that design? From there, I look at both quantitative and qualitative data: Are people safe? Do they feel they belong? Are their ideas being tapped? Are they being consulted?
Then it’s about identifying spaces to run pilots — small experiments that lead to new practices. When someone asked me recently, “What’s the goal of this design lab?” I said: It’s not to solve your problems. It’s to identify pilots worth supporting and test what could become best practices.
Eric: Let’s talk about trust. You work with institutions that are deeply entangled in the current trust crisis. What does it take to rebuild credibility?
Darius: Honestly? That’s not our goal. If an org doesn’t believe in centering community voices, we’re not for them. We’re not here to build trust for people who don’t value that work.
A lot of leaders want to scale for the sake of growth — “times 10, times 12.” But when you scale too fast without depth, you make the same mistakes over and over. I’ve seen it in charters, in LAUSD, even at Urban Ed. I’m not chasing scale. I’m focused on depth and alignment.
"I think about design as power. Who am I designing for? Who am I designing with? What is the purpose of that design?"
Eric: If you had a magic wand to redesign one thing in the education sector, what would it be?
Darius: How we engage parents. Everyone says parents aren’t accessible — but they’re working, just like us. Their voices are critical, especially for Black and brown youth, undocumented students, foster and unhoused families. But we rarely invite them into system design. We’re afraid of what they’ll say. If I could change one thing, it’d be reimagining schools as places that engage and empower parents alongside students.
Eric: What are you most excited about right now for Matiq Labs?
Darius: Co-creation. So many people doing this work feel like they’re alone — like their struggles or successes are happening in a vacuum. We’re trying to change that. We’re connecting people across schools and systems to co-design new approaches. And we’re not waiting for permission. We’re building our own community. We’re not waiting for someone else to say we’re doing great work — we know we are, because we’re doing it together.
Eric: One of the last things you shared really stuck with me — about how priorities in this sector are often set by people far removed from community. Can you say more about that?
Darius: There’s a whole class of intermediaries that manage funding portfolios — and they live far from the communities they claim to serve. I was at a funder event — maybe five Black men in the room, two moderating. I suggested they join some of the community meetings we were running. The response? “Our comms team would never allow that.” They’re afraid the ED might say something that becomes bad press. That fear keeps them from learning, from proximity, from honesty.
I don’t want a seat at their table. I want to build a new table. And that takes foundations willing to talk about the work in new ways — and not be afraid to learn from someone who may not have institutional power, but has deep lived experience.
"We’re not waiting for permission. We’re building our own community. We’re not waiting for someone else to say we’re doing great work — we know we are, because we’re doing it together."
Eric: So how do we change that? How do we push philanthropy to show up differently?
Darius: First, we have to acknowledge that communities have always shown up. They've been funding the work themselves for decades. Any org — new or old — is inserting itself into a reality that already exists.
So we need to fund with, not for. Learn with, not for. And foundations need to get back to research and development — to testing, learning, iterating. Not just funding outputs, but investing in co-created learning.
The funders I respect are doing that: Stupski Foundation, San Francisco Foundation — leaders like Glenn, Malila, Brandon. They’re co-creating metrics. They’re planning to spend down. They’re giving 73% more to the people doing the work. That’s what this moment requires.
I’m not bitter. I’ve learned from every experience. And I see bright spots — but they’re rare. We need more of them.
Our Takeaways
Darius spoke to some of the intractable but deeply normalized conditions in our sector — the ones we’ve too often accepted as just “the way things are.”
Funders still set the priorities. But too often, we end up doing work for communities instead of with them.
Being brave enough to say “We’re not coming in with a solution — we’re coming in with questions” requires both bold funders and bold implementers. But that’s what it will take to unlock systems-level change.
Priorities should be driven by the communities we’re serving, not defined on their behalf.
I was struck by Darius’s unwavering commitment to that principle, even when it’s hard. His leadership is rooted in community, not ego, and that clarity shows up in everything he builds.
If we want to build systems that actually work, it’s going to take all of us questioning the old rules, staying honest about what’s performative, and pushing toward something better.
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Darius's line “I don’t want a seat at the table, I want to build a new table”, is more than a soundbite. It’s a challenge to reimagine who sets priorities, and how.
I was especially struck by his point that communities have always shown up, funding and leading their own solutions long before institutions took notice. That flips the common narrative, and it’s a reminder that genuine change starts with proximity, listening, and co-creation, not pre-packaged fixes.
Leaders like Darius model what it means to center lived experience without ego, and to focus on depth over unchecked scale. The result isn’t just better outcomes but a fundamentally different way of working.