A couple of years ago, I experienced the profound impact of addiction within my own family. We had recently laid my brother-in-law to rest, knowing that without our support, he could have been homeless. These moments ignited a deep desire within me to comprehend this intricate and all too prevalent human struggle. Consequently, I resolved to address it through my work as a photographer and reconnect with my journalistic beginnings. 

I grappled with how to respectfully document this difficult, true story, honoring the individual without taking advantage and, ideally, offering inspiration. I wanted to focus on an individual rather than the broader situation to achieve this. 

 I was introduced to Kimberly through a friend, Reverend Jay Voorhees, who had been closely involved with this community. For her privacy, I’ll use only her first name. Kimberly had recently joined Community Care Fellowship as a Resident Navigator after successfully completing their program. This program empowers Nashville’s homeless population by offering transformative services such as housing, employment, career counseling, and mutual support. The following quotes are from my conversations with her over a period of 3 to 4 months.

“My parents, my mom was an addict. She used with me while she carried me so you know she was pretty heavy into alcohol at that time. Drinking and ya know some pills but basically it was drinking. I can remember, like I was like five years old I had climbed up on the table I guess. You [know] those globes that used to go over the light fixtures in the houses. The old-school ones that you know. Well, I guess I had climbed up on the table and reached. I must of tried to do something up there with that light fixture. It must’ve been messed up or something and I think I was trying to fix it. Well, when I hit it or something it fell and shattered all over my head. It’s the first time that I had ever seen my dad cry. He came in and she was passed out drunk see[s] me sitting on the floor and crying and this and that.”

Tattoos are daily reminders of her past and future aspirations.

“I didn’t do anything during high school. Didn’t date, went to football games occasionally stuff like that. But my senior year you know I did the sports medicine, so I had to go to basketball games and football games and stuff like that was about the furthest I got out of the house. My dad didn’t want me dating. He wanted me to finish school go to college and get married. He had my life planned out and tried to keep me sheltered. Instead, it blew up in his face. He wanted my life to be good. I hate that because I really now wish I would’ve stuck to it. But I wouldn’t have learned the things I have, I wouldn’t have gone through the things I have.” 

A moment of solitude in her
apartment, Kimberly draws strength and comfort from her faith to conquer
numerous challenges that have defeated so many.

“Wanting to go to my cousins more and more and my mom and dad was like. You know like what are you doing? Because they didn’t know I smoked pot. When I did I’d stay over at Jamie’s house. Well they showed up one day and I was over there. I was drunk and high. Oh, I got in so much trouble.
I was rebelling pretty much. When I started staying over there at Jamie’s house I started slacking off of my job because I started using cocaine and crack. I was working … so my mom and dad would give me money seeing I was working. “Hey, dad can I get some money until I get my check.” Everything that I was getting is going to that guy Sam [drug dealer] that I met over Jamie’s. He was my first love. I started hanging out with him. Getting real close to him. He had a bad crack habit.”

Kimberly revisits the site of her former homeless encampment under a bridge, now enclosed by a fence.

“[When] I was 21 years old. I remember my aunt Louise called me and she said you need to come get your mom and take her to the hospital. She’s not responding. So my dad had to go over there and we got her and he carried her to the car. Then we took her to the hospital. On the way to the hospital she died on me and I resuscitated her and brought her back. She went back out again. We didn’t have Narcan then. She had that fentanyl patch on over her heart and I had no idea that she had it on. My Louise didn’t tell me. Got her to the hospital and then they had to revive her. They ended up putting her on a respirator. That was what was keeping her alive. The hospital said that if you take her off the respirator she’s not going to live. ”

Surrounding herself with family
photos and memorabilia in her apartment fuels her motivation.

“I wouldn’t trade my kids in for the world you know. I’m happy though and I feel much better since I went on that trip [to visit children]. I needed that. I went down there once already you know, about a month ago. This one was different, so I got to see my daughter. I was just amazed more than anything you know to see her. It was almost like it was almost like another me, but like image of me almost. She’s 19 so I can see myself in her. I’ve had the boys and all that you know and seeing my daughter I was just like wow I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I think she was kind creeped out.
You know, I said when you’re ready now I’m here waiting [to talk]. I didn’t want to push her. ”

Kimberly engages in conversation with a resident at the Community Care Fellowship where she is currently employed. Later a troubling discovery was made that the resident had relapsed into addiction and homelessness due to the influence of her boyfriend.

“I lived in Ohio till I was like 3 or 4. I was as little but I know that we went back-and-forth and finally we settled in Arizona and that’s where I ended up finishing school, I graduated high school from there. It’s actually in Marana right outside of Tucson. I told my dad if you bring me back to Tennessee schools I’m gonna drop out because I hated it. I tried one semester there and I hated Tennessee schools and I hated it, I hated. It was all [about] the clicks and everybody was you know and I wasn’t in the click. But I went back to Arizona and I graduated third in my class…”

Leaving her apartment for work is a daily privilege she deeply appreciates.

It’s truly an honor to share Kimberly’s story. Her courage and determination in sharing her experiences are truly inspiring. Her account was both heart-wrenching and ultimately enlightening, as it shed light on the factors that led her to addiction and homelessness. I am so encouraged by Kimberly’s progress and her journey towards building a life she couldn’t have imagined a few years ago.

This is part of a documentary currently being exhibited through October at the Sidney Johnson Gallery Madison Street United Methodist Church 319 Madison Street Clarksville, TN.