[Piano begins playing] [Karen Dunston] I am Karen Dunston. I'm 55-year-old, a Black woman. I am a mother of two beautiful daughters, Latasha and Jasmine, and one precious Gabrielle, which is my granddaughter. I am a survivor. I am a conqueror. [Piano music fades] All I can say, I am community. Throughout my life, there has been a big piece of me out here. I was homeless at a very early age and not by choice. Eleven-years-old is a very young age to be in the streets, having to fend for yourself. I've been on substance abuse, smoking crack cocaine for a pretty good time. I know how it is to be and feel hopeless. I didn't know where to go or about services. There are some services and it is so important to be able to let folks know that there are other ways. I spent 13 years after losing my first child chasing crack from one place to another. After so much violence, it was time to surrender to the knowledge that there was a purpose for me. So many things happened and he just kept me going, kept me holding on. I had to say, "Well, you got to do something different." In 1998, I went to a place called Recovery King on my hands and knees. My mom hunted for me in and out, and she said, "There's this place where you can get help." I never understood when they said, "A person will never be able to do it until they are ready," until I was ready. Reverend Johnson, rest his soul, loved people and he opened the door asking, "What do you want to do?" I just said, "I don't know what else to do. I know I don't want that anymore and I need help," and I never looked back. Every day, I get up to go out this front door to touch someone else life by just being me. I know I do a job, but that's just me being me. It's my calling. I've been delivered from so many places, so I must do what I do. I just do it. Currently, I'm pretty much working out in the field a lot. I could see over 50 people a day, but my caseload could be as large as 150. Monday is my administrative day to do footwork for my clients. I use a Monday to do some applications online, food stamps, mobility, for a new ID, whatever service the clients need at the time. On outreach day, we do tabling on our mobile unit. In my truck, I have a little bit of everything. I'm always able to give you something to drink. I keep hygiene stuff there. I'll go through my clothes and my stuff that's been in my drawers I haven't touched in a year. I'll put them in little bags and give them away. If my brothers have stuff that's in good condition, I'll put them in there too. If I see someone, I give something to them and they appreciate it because they don't have anything. Now I really see myself having my own little organization. I want to be able to have a safe haven for women. I remember so many times when doors have been opened to me, but I've always been taken advantage of. We get taken advantage of in the long run because we don't have anywhere else to go. Even in these treatment facilities and some of these programs, there are terrible conditions. I want to be where there's more land, so I can bring my vision to fruition. I really foresee a big old garden and a big old house to help other women. I am going to do this. It would be called Virginia's House, after my grandmother. We called her mom. Our communities need a voice. Sometimes we can't cry out and we can't ask for help. Some folks just don't hear the cries, so we got to see them because they're not speaking. We got to listen to them, not just what's being said, but also what's not being said. When you are trapped, you think there's no way out, and this is what is destined for me. Then you ain't going to try to make steps. People always make promises that are broken. Some people need a little bit more help than promises. Some people need you to get them in the door. Make sure I'm solid. Don't just dump me and then roll out. I learned that you have to really take time to help somebody because they can't help themselves. When you are trapped, ain't nothing you can do but continue to do what it is that you are doing, especially if you don't know that there's another way.