Meet Daismar
“Homelessness is living in a state where a lack of foundation, a support system, or home permeates the reality of your existence.”
Why do we judge a book by its cover? To what degree do we truly know someone by a mere glance at them, only absorbing what we can see with the naked eye? It is fascinating to me how, as a society we are quick to judge, quick to assume what we do not understand. My story, my experience as a junior at Texas Christian University was an unforgiving reminder of the common phrase “this could never happen to me”. One moment, I had a house, a roommate, and a place to call mine.
How do we define a home? Is it 4 enclosed walls and a roof over your head? Perhaps a strong support system that is the firm foundation upon which you thrive? My definition and understanding of what home means was redefined when I found myself homeless at the beginning of my junior year at TCU. Texas Christian University, which carries prestige, reputation, a $70,000 annual price tag, and a vast student body of people who have never worked a day in their life, never had to worry, and quite literally had many things handed to them on a silver platter.
I was drawn to TCU because of the rich promise of opportunities, a quality education, and a path to success. Going into my undergraduate career, I was aware that I would encounter fellow students whose background looked a little different than mine. Unlike other students at school, I would often sell clothes for gas money or drive around doing Favor runs trying to make sure I had enough money for food or my credit card payment. If I ever treated myself to something nice, it would automatically be put on a payment plan because I could never afford to pay it in full. I was ashamed to ask for help and oftentimes felt alone wondering if anyone else was living through the same circumstances.
See, the reality is that I am the daughter of two parents who moved to Texas in the early 90’s from Ponce Puerto Rico with the hope to provide a better future for themselves and the children they would soon raise in the world. My father is a military veteran, and my mother bounced around from job to job, working in retail stores like Marshalls, a loan company, and even owning a small party equipment business at one point. I grew up living rather comfortably, residing in a typical suburban home and attending a Catholic private school all the way up until I graduated and left for college. What I didn’t see were the countless hours of hard work and sacrifice that my parents went through to provide the life they had dreamed of creating for myself, and my brothers.
Life is like the seasons, there are ebbs and flows, peaks and valleys, and abrupt changes that happen throughout the journey. Finances are one of those areas where dips and peaks often occur as changes and new commitments come to fruition. Beginning in 2021, I was informed that my dad would be going to Taiwan on a 3-year assignment for his job. The news didn’t come as a surprise, as my dad was deployed to different countries throughout my childhood and always left to pursue contracting opportunities outside of the country to make ends meet. What came next was unprecedented, as what was supposed to be a simple reunion turned into a complete nightmare and a temporary separation period for my family. June of 2021, I boarded a flight from Austin Bergstrom Airport to Chicago O’Hare, excited to see my cousins and thereafter, reunite with my dad. The plan was to spend a week with my mom’s brother in Indiana and fly to Taipei to reunite with my father and spend the summer with him. Three or four days into being in Indiana, we received a heartbreaking call - Taiwan had shut its borders to foreigners and would only be allowing citizens or those with a resident visa to enter. The COVID-19 pandemic had spiked again, and the country was merely taking precautions to protect its people. This is the beginning of my story of how I experienced a temporary period of homelessness.
For a few days, I frantically called embassies all over the country, even calling the embassy in Hawaii. I was desperate to find a way to get back to my dad. My parents had sold my childhood home and turned in our apartment keys, meaning there was no property or place to call home back in Austin. Simply put, we were stranded with nowhere else to go and no plan besides residing in the basement of my uncle’s home.
The rest of the summer, I spent in a rental car driving around the Midwest with my mother and brothers. We were eventually placed in a hotel - a place my family would call home for the next 6-8 months.
From Indiana all the way to New York, we had traveled over an expanse of 8 states to bide our time and waited patiently with the hope of good news. Even amidst a plethora of wonderful moments and making memories with my family, I yearned to settle down somewhere and have a place to call home. After all, many who travel become homesick for a reason - we yearn for the safety and security that homes often bring. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to visit my father until the following summer. The one element that kept me going was the promise of my return to campus for my junior year of college. With a house, a roommate, and sorority recruitment on the horizon, I felt I had something good to look forward to. Little did I know I would be faced, yet again, with a displacement in my housing situation upon my return to Fort Worth.
My roommate and I had briefly toured a home within walking distance of campus, a quaint, older home with character. Since residents were living in the house at the time, we were unaware of the lingering problems within the home that would end up with my roommate eventually moving out as well. The house I had toured a few months prior was not what I came face to face with on that hot summer day in August. With skeletons positioned in the planters, trash lining the front, and water leaks; the house was not in ideal conditions for move-in. Absolutely appalled by the nature of the home and the landlord’s refusal to understand and address our concerns, the lease was broken, and I found myself, yet again, without a home.
You may be wondering why I considered myself to be homeless when I had so many friends offering to take me in and provide shelter or why I couldn’t just stay with family. The truth is, I had no family within a 500 mile radius and my definition of “home” had become heavily altered. The story doesn’t end there, because I was displaced once more, rendering me to live in my car until I was provided with further support.
My best friend in college, Kenzie, had offered for me to stay with her while we both went about sorority recruitment. With a suitcase and a mini throw from Target, I was fully prepared to call her apartment “home” until my circumstances changed. Every day was a struggle as I walked into a house of girls full of excitement and joy as we prepared for another recruitment season. Deep down I was miserable, depressed, and unable to go about my usual activities. Sorority recruitment seemed so trivial and meaningless in light of what I was experiencing in my life.
I would monitor my email waiting for confirmation that FrogBucks, a form of currency with my student meal plan, was activated. Using FrogBucks meant I could eat out at designated places such as Einstein Bagels or Smoothie King without paying out of pocket. At the start of recruitment, I had about $200 to live off of. With the cost of eating out and living expenses rising
dramatically, this amount of money would only stretch for about a week or so if managed correctly.
When my friend Kenzie was out of her apartment, I’d wash up and get ready in the bathroom of Ascension Coffee just down the road from campus. I would pray that no one would recognize me or ask why I had a change of clothes. The experience felt so humbling and I questioned how I got to this point in the first place. My car had become my sanctuary, my second home. Pushing over 85,000 miles and worn down by wear and tear, Sonic the Hedgehog was still kicking. Sonic was the name I affectionately coined my car as my car was a 2016 Chevy Sonic. With its roll up windows and aux cord, the car had a distinct charm and character.
Within a couple of days, I became ill and came down with what I initially thought was a sore throat. After receiving confirmation that someone near me was infected, I went to the TCU Student Health center to get tested. Within a couple of hours, I received the dreaded phone call from a nurse; I had been infected with COVID-19. I was advised to vacate Kenzie’s apartment and go elsewhere. I was asked if I still had family in Austin, but the reality was that my family was living in a hotel room in Houston and I couldn’t risk getting them sick as well. The only place I could stay in was my car as I had no other family and could not fathom putting my friends at risk of becoming ill.
Unsure of where to go, I got in my car, drove to Whole Foods, stocked up on water and frozen acai bowls, and awaited further instructions. I prepared the back of my car as my makeshift bed, hoping that the parking lot I found was safe enough to sleep in. Unwilling to accept the situation I was in, one of my friends who was a Resident Assistant at the time called the head of the housing department at TCU. Upon being explained my situation, he arranged a temporary living situation. Take note there was a hotel that was typically used for students infected with COVID-19, however as a junior listed as living off campus, this option was not offered until my friend advocated for me.
After spending hours in my car and accepting my fate, I was granted a temporary reprieve. I moved into a Springhill Suites hotel room with my suitcase in hand, grateful I had a place to stay and something to call home. Reflecting back on my experience, it isn’t an orthodox experience of what one would define as homelessness, but it taught me a lot about my resilience and altered my definition of home. How do we define a home?
Home is not just a physical residence as I believe it encompasses more than just four walls and a roof over your head. A home is a sense of safety and belonging; it is in the people that provide support and understanding.
Today, my life still feels the lingering effects of my experience in 2021. Housing insecurity and lack of support is not something that one can quickly turn the page on. I still find myself reflecting on my junior year of college - the regret, guilt, shame, and effects of burnout still creep into my mind from time to time.
This past year, I was faced with another harsh reality: both of my parents being unemployed at the same time. My mother runs a small business that is not profitable and after 2 years, remains largely unsuccessful. With the current recession and the oversaturated market of fashion, she was forced to move to a smaller location as rent was not something she could afford. My father was let go from his job and remained unemployed for over 2 months right before the start of the holiday season. Due to this shift in my family, I took on the mantle of paying for our rent, electricity, and water bills. Meanwhile, I was still covering healthcare costs and hospital bills after being diagnosed with an autoimmune disease.
The possibility of becoming homelessness became all too real when we fell behind on rent. In the span of 3 months, our electricity was shut off 3 times and our water was cut twice. In January during my last LSAT (Law School Administration) attempt, the Wi-Fi was cut due to the bill not being paid. I was 10 minutes into my exam. Unfortunately, I had no choice but to reschedule my exam as I had already been exposed to the test questions.
While these circumstances remind me of my experience in 2021, I am much stronger because of it. Being homeless and lacking support taught me that with the right tools and perseverance, you can overcome the obstacles and curveballs that may come your way. Even though I still struggle with support to this day, there is hope on the horizon. I was able to score better on my LSAT and have been accepted into a couple of law schools. Every day, I wake up knowing that my experience isn’t in vain. I get to be a part of a family, a tribe of people that has had their own set of cards dealt to them. COACT has been that support, that source of stability that I have always yearned for in life. To anyone who reads my story and sees themselves in my experiences, I want to express that there is always a silver lining. The dark times are a lesson and not a life sentence and your breakthrough is closer than you think.