Growing Through Concrete

When you grow up in foster care, you learn early on that your existence is treated like a file folder. You go from house to house, carrying your belongings in black trash bags, wondering why the people who brought you into this world couldn't keep you.

By my late teens, I had internalized that worthlessness. I turned to substances to silence the noise. That path led me directly to the pavement—homelessness, freezing nights, and the crushing isolation of being invisible to thousands of people walking past me every day.

“People look at the rose and marvel at its beauty. But they ignore the concrete it had to split open to get there. The split is painful. The struggle is dark. But the ascent is where our true power is forged.”

I am not standing here today because I was lucky. I am standing here because I refused to let the circumstances of my birth define the limits of my life. I found mentors who gave me a chance, and I committed to transforming my pain into power.

I AM THAT ROSE is the movement I wish I had when I was sleeping on cold concrete. It is a lifeline, a banner of pride, and a declaration that we are not defined by what we survived—we are defined by how we rise.