“I lost my shoes running out of an indoor gunfight.”

That’s not just a line—it’s a reality from one of the darkest, most chaotic days of my life. Back when I was strung out, homeless, and barely hanging on in Memphis, there were only a handful of people who didn’t look at me with disgust. Even fewer who fed me, who sheltered me, who loved me when I couldn’t love myself.

Big Red was one of them.

You’ve probably seen me talk about her before—“Big Red,” the one who became our unofficial armed security when we started reclaiming our block. But what you may not know is why she means so much to me.

When I was sleeping in alleys and running from dope boys and demons, her sister gave me a roof. Red made sure I ate. No conditions. No judgment. Just love and loyalty from two women who’d seen hell too and weren’t gonna let me die in it.

Fast forward to a few years ago—we found each other again on the same streets we barely survived. We hugged like siblings reunited after war, because in a way, that’s exactly what we were.

Since then, Red has housed homeless veterans and survivors of trafficking—in her own home. No nonprofit. No glory. Just a woman who knows suffering and refuses to let others go through it alone.

And now, she’s the one who needs us.

Big Red was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. She’s tough as nails and stubborn as ever—refuses to ask for help, doesn’t want to feel like a charity case. But she’s got a mountain of doctor’s appointments ahead, and no reliable way to get to them.

So we’re stepping in the way she once stepped in for me.

We’re trying to raise $2,500 to either buy her a simple, reliable vehicle or get one donated—something that can get her from Point A to Point B without breaking down on her way to and from docs.

This isn’t about charity—it’s about honor. It’s about taking care of one of our own. One of the fiercest protectors and quiet heroes I’ve ever known.

If you can give, do it here.

If you’ve got a working vehicle you can part with, message me.

If you’ve ever been carried by someone during your worst—and you’ve got the chance to carry them now—you already know what to do.

Because love remembers. Loyalty remembers. And we don’t let our people fight their battles alone.