Help Keep Me Safe, Housed, and Healthy for the Battle Head

Hello Friends,

I hope you and your loved ones are well. I’m writing with an urgent and deeply personal request.

I have reached the limits of what my close friends and chosen family — many of whom are also Black, queer, and struggling — can give. I am now turning to you: the families who’ve trusted me with your children, the colleagues who’ve witnessed my commitment, and those who believe in a more compassionate and just world.

For 20 years, I’ve poured my heart into caring for children — many of yours. I’ve been the calm voice after a scraped knee, the patient listener to a hundred bedtime questions, the steady presence when comfort was needed most. It has been my joy to give your children the gentleness and care I did not always have growing up.

Some of you also know me as the founder of Rebel Cause Inc., a nonprofit serving the most marginalized — undocumented, LGBTQ+, Black, food insecure, unhoused, and formerly incarcerated neighbors. Over the years, we’ve distributed over $500K in emergency aid, built mutual aid networks, and delivered food, art, and resources directly to those who needed them most.

Others, we once shared deep intimacy and love. Though time and distance have passed since we parted ways, I still hold you fondly in my heart. I still wish to protect the children, to see an end to poverty, violence, and inequality. I still want the very best for you all.

I’m facing the most precarious moment of my life.

I am a Black, queer, undocumented woman from Jamaica, living in the U.S. under DACA until early 2026. Because of the current political climate, many employers see me as “temporary” and are reluctant to hire me. This has left me in constant financial instability, with the looming possibility of deportation.

At age 12, I came to the U.S. after surviving extreme violence in Kingston, including the murder of my mother. Eight years ago, during a long wait for my DACA renewal, I became homeless in Boston. The stress and lack of care led to my diagnosis of schizophrenia, alongside PTSD from the violence and abuse I endured. For years, I lived with daily voices telling me I was unworthy and night terrors replaying past trauma.

Two weeks ago, I finally found the right treatment plan — and for the first time in eight years, I am free of these symptoms. I feel hope again. But I am running out of time.

In September, I am marrying my best friend and partner. Through marriage, I can apply for permanent residency — but the process requires an immigration lawyer and legal fees I cannot cover alone. I must raise $5,000 for legal costs and additional funds to catch up on rent, utilities, and essential bills to avoid eviction during this process.

If I am deported, I will be sent back to unsafe conditions in Jamaica, without access to mental health care, housing, or community — a return that would endanger my life and undo years of healing.

If I have cared for your children, worked alongside you, or touched your life in any way, please consider making a donation. Every contribution — no matter the size — brings me closer to safety and stability.

If you cannot give, sharing my campaign is also a powerful gift.

With love and gratitude,

Kera