For the first twelve years of my life, I was abused sexually by family friends, preachers, teachers—people who were supposed to protect me and be trustworthy. After my first voluntary sexual encounter at thirteen, I became pregnant and was forced to give up my baby girl. During this time my only brother—a bright light in my life—was murdered.  

At 15, I was homeless, hungry and addicted to drugs. I traded degrading sexual favors for shelter and food. One day I looked in the mirror and saw a demon in my reflection and a customer took me to Children’s Hospital. I got clean, went to college and spent the next four years drug-free.  

Then I met the wrong guy. He encouraged me to try crack cocaine “just once.” Just once was all it took. Instantly addicted, I ended up on the street. I learned how to prostitute myself to get money for drugs. That’s all I did every day, all day. It’s easy when you’re numb.
 
After seven long years walking the streets without food, hope or a place to rest my head, I grew tired of hurting. Tired of being hungry. Tired of jumping in and out of cars, degrading myself, feeling like I was worthless, that no one loved me and that I had nowhere to go.
 
One day, I prayed to God. “Please give me a reason to live.” And a few weeks later, he gave me a baby boy. With a heart full of purpose and love, I reached out for help, found support and started treatment for PTSD. I got back on my feet and became a sober and stable mom.
 
Wanting to pay my joy and gratitude forward, I founded Life Beyond the Streets.  

Now my life’s work, along with raising my wonderful son, is spending every waking moment doing whatever humanly possible to help the hundreds of women who are trapped in that degrading and dangerous life.