The start of my homelessness
This is the truth as I see it.
My homelessness started years before I left home.
When I was young growing up in Brooklyn, New York, I was about 13 years old and I was coming home from school and a guy asked me if I needed a ride home.
I told him, “No, I don’t know you.” But then I got in the car anyway.
He raped me. Then he took me home and gave me a $100 bill.
When I got home I told my mother and she was very upset.
When my father came home, my mother told him I was raped. He was upset and angry and he beat me. I tried to fight back. We got into a big fight.
Then they took me to the hospital.
Three months later, we moved down to North Carolina and I did not like it there. When I was 16 I ran away from home and went back Brooklyn. When I got there I had no place to stay so I was homeless.
For the next of 22 years of my life I was in and out of mental hospitals and in and out of jail and prison. If did not have a place to stay I’d do something to get myself put in jail or prison, so I could have a place to stay. This is the truth.
It all started when I was 13 years old.