Triumphs and unexpected trials in the life of a student-athlete
Homelessness is something we all take for granted. It’s safe to say most folks pass our unhoused neighbors every day without a second thought. Homelessness and the people experiencing it are often stereotyped, stigmatized, and judged – if they are not completely ignored.
What some may not realize, is that a lot of people aren’t too far removed from the issue. The National Alliance to End Homelessness reports that homelessness has been on the rise steadily since 2017. In Los Angeles, the latest point-in-time count estimates that there are roughly 75,500 unhoused people across the county.
Back in 2016, when I was just 14 years old, I was one of those people.
I grew up in South L.A. as the oldest of three siblings. When I was 3 years old, the bank foreclosed on my grandmother’s house, where my family had been living. This forced us all to move into a small, one-bedroom apartment in Long Beach. Times were tough and to say we were poor would be an understatement. Still, my mother never wanted any of us to ever worry about what we could or couldn’t have.
Shortly after my sister was born in 2014, my parents ended their relationship and my siblings and I went with my mother. Unfortunately, we didn’t really have anywhere to go. My mother’s family consisted of about 14 people – all of whom were living in a cramped two-bedroom apartment. There wasn’t really any room for us, so we all crammed into my mom’s Dodge Magnum.
“Why me? Why us?” I would ask myself.
I would go to school every day feeling ashamed, hoping no one would find out about my living situation. I isolated myself from my friends, because I was too embarrassed. Still, we didn’t have much time to wallow in self-pity – my family and I had other things to worry about, like where our next meal would be coming from.
Although discussions about the future focused on what was coming next rather than what was coming later, my family encouraged me to pursue my hopes and goals. They reminded me that anything was possible, so long as I set my mind to doing it – so that’s what I did.
My mother was my biggest cheerleader, celebrating all my academic and athletic achievements no matter how small. Her tokens of affection – a piece of candy or a simple note – meant the world to me and gave me the drive to do more and achieve greater things. Eventually, my mother landed a salaried job and she reconciled with my father. We found a house to rent and things seemed like they were starting to turn around, but I still had bigger dreams in mind.
I wanted to go to college but knew college tuition wasn’t something my family could afford. I played basketball throughout high school and knew it could be my ticket to higher education. So I focused my energy on becoming the best student-athlete I could be, putting in hours in the gym and on the court to perfect my game.
The hard work paid off eventually, and I landed a full-ride scholarship to Dominguez Hills, where I am not only a key piece of the women’s basketball team but also the sports editor for The Bulletin.
My story of experiencing homelessness has helped me to become a more determined individual. I worked hard to overcome challenges to make it where I am now, but I also realize that I was lucky to have had the love and support of my family all along that journey.
It’s easy for people who have never experienced the insecurity and instability that can come with homelessness to dismiss what that reality is like for some people. Being mindful of the blessings we have should not only foster empathy for our unhoused neighbors, but also motivate us to see homelessness as a call to action – a problem in need of our best solutions.
Yesterday, it was me; tomorrow, it could be you. Communities rise together and the only way that happens is if we lift each other up, remember our shared humanity, and take care of the most vulnerable people among us.
