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By Amber Jackson ’21 MBA

My life has been punctuated by change.  I would never call myself a risk taker, but, on paper, it may look that way. With few connections and no roadmap, in my junior year of college, I dropped my pursuit of a law degree and decided to forge a career in television instead. I moved to Los Angeles weeks after graduation and never looked back; somehow I knew at 22 that if I went home, I’d never leave.  

Five years into that career, I felt I’d stalled, so I began looking into an MBA that July, started studying in August, applied in January and started my Kellogg journey the next fall.  Even then, heading to Evanston for an MBA was a six-figure risk.  I had built a life in Los Angeles in a career I loved — it was hard not to wonder if I’d regret my decision.  

But five years later, I felt the same joy as we cruised through campus.  The memories dotted campus like map markers: we passed the park where we held COVID barbeques, North Garage where I’d park on snowy mornings, the lot on Sheridan Road where we spotted the Oscar Meyer Wiener truck, and the wrap-around window on the second floor of Gies, where I’d stare at the blue expanse of Lake Michigan as I studied for consulting recruiting.  

A woman on top of a sign that reads Northwestern Kellogg
A masked Amber Jackson on the Kellogg sign on the first day of her second year as an MBA student.

Along with the memories, though, came the familiar doubts that I’d carried entering Kellogg. Professor Victoria Medvec’s reunion keynote was about one-way door vs. two-way door decisions. One-way door decisions are those you step through and with no turning back.  Two-way decisions are the ones where, if it doesn't work out, you can step back through (lower stakes, more room for error).  I’m no stranger to one-way doors.  Each time I step through one, I move with a sense of certainty. Some call it impulsivity, some call it intuition. I'd call it conviction.

Kellogg is the reason I live in Spain at all.  I moved to Barcelona for the first time in my second year for an exchange at IESE Business School, and it was a role I secured through on-campus recruiting that brought me back. Once again, I found myself staring through another doorway three months after graduation.

I had moved back to Los Angeles, the city I loved, and reunited with my friends, but I had learned there was an opportunity to work in Barcelona.  So I fought tooth and nail to get back, and I moved five months later.  Two weeks in, I shut the door behind me.

Barcelona felt like home. There's a feeling I've never quite been able to explain to people who haven't lived it: relaxed, fully myself and unburdened. Janet McDonald described it better than I ever could in her This American Life segment titled Notes From a Native Daughter: “I didn't know I was looking for that feeling until I found it.  I still experience myself as Black. It's just that that's not the center of my identity. It's not the first thing people relate to when I meet them here.”

In America, I'm often Black first. Here, I get to be American first.  So I put my belongings on a cargo ship from Los Angeles to Spain.  Four years later, it still feels like home.  Once again, my conviction paid off.  It’s that same conviction that’s led me to become an entrepreneur.  

A group of people with colorful clothing standing together outside
Amber Jackson (middle) alongside her KWEST co-leaders by the lake. They were originally set to lead a KWEST to Coast Rica but when COVID hit pivoted to a local experience, which turned out to be just as memorable.

Taking the leap

At the end of my first role after graduating, I had the option to return to the United States for a role or stay in Barcelona — the choice was clear for me.  While I won’t lie and say the next few months were easy, it was in this uncertainty that the idea for Penya, my startup, was born.

I felt adrift without the security of employment and struggled to find the resources I needed to live abroad, from lawyers to notaries to doctors. Once I realized these struggles were common, I set out to solve them. I never expected to be an entrepreneur — in fact, I never took an entrepreneurial class during my MBA, but my Kellogg education made this one-door decision feel like a two-door decision. 

The first person I called for advice was my friend and classmate Rob Hoffman ’21 MBA. He encouraged me to go for it, said I had all the tools I needed, and that this was a risk worth taking.  

Entrepreneurship is full of uncertainty. I still don’t know if I’ll ultimately succeed, but attending this year’s Reunion reminded me that every “risky” decision I’ve taken has reaped an outside reward. And it’s my Kellogg network that continues to inspire and encourage me during my founder journey.  

So much has changed in five years; many classmates trading drinks for diapers, but the Kellogg values shine through. Coming back felt like home, a palpable energy vibrating through the halls. I sat through a classroom session with Professor Jim Lecinski and marveled at the enthusiasm of the alumni, whether it was their first or 50th reunion.  I held the tiny hand of my classmate’s, Briana Pang ’21 MBA, baby as he bravely traversed the back steps of the Hub.  At the reception, Sofia Bilbao ’21 MBA and I spoke about our inverse immigration stories, our love of Spain, and the pains of immigrating somewhere new. These little moments reminded me just how much Kellogg has made possible. 

Kellogg gave me the knowledge to build a business, lifelong friends to support me through it and the courage to navigate the world as a Kellogg Leader. Los Angeles was the first place I’d built a home, Kellogg was the first place I’d found my people and now I’m proud to be in Barcelona, where I’ve found my purpose.

A group of people standing in a classroom
Amber Jackson (third from center) and some of her classmates with Don Dale. To celebrate one of their favorite teachers, they showed up with mini cutouts of his face and cheered him on.



Read next: 4 lessons from my Kellogg experience