For safety reasons, we must remain anonymous.

I am a 21-year-old Black woman living with my mother in a house that is not just abusive, but physically unlivable. This isn’t a metaphor. This isn’t an exaggeration. This is our day-to-day reality.

We are trapped in a home where the most basic human needs — using the bathroom, bathing, staying warm — have become daily survival tasks. On top of that, we live under the control of an abusive parent, with no safe or quiet way to leave without risking retaliation or sabotage.

I’m asking for help because we cannot keep doing this alone.

What Our Living Conditions Are Actually Like

Our bathroom does not function.

The toilet is broken and sinking through the floor. It cannot be used. The bathtub does not drain — anything that goes into it backs up and floods. Because of this, we have been forced to create our own ways to survive.

When we need to bathe, we fill pitchers in the sink and wash ourselves there. When we need to urinate, we do it in the tub, one after the other, letting it fill slightly. My mother then has to carry that waste by hand and dump it into the sewer drain in the basement.

When we need to defecate, we have no choice but to use heavy-duty construction bags. We add kitty litter to control the smell, tie them off, and throw them out with the regular trash so the side of the house doesn’t reek. This is not occasional. This is every day.

The house itself is falling apart. There is severe mold. There are rodents. There are holes in the ceilings and walls. Some rooms are so broken that cold air from outside comes straight into the house. Even in winter, there are areas that never warm up. We’ve had to block off sections of the house just to keep the cold from moving freely through it.

The basement regularly backs up with sewage from the city. My mother has had to clean it by hand.

This is the environment we wake up in. This is what we come home to. This is what we are expected to survive in quietly.

The Abuse & Control; Why We Can’t Be Identified

The abuse in this home comes primarily from my father, but there are other adults in the house who are also abusive. The abuse has been verbal, psychological, financial, and has turned physical in the past. Earlier this year, I had to couch-surf for months after my father came home drunk and attacked both me and my mother.

Even though I am 21, I live under constant surveillance and control. I have had to live a double life just to work, move, and survive safely. You don’t leave an abuser by announcing it. You leave quietly — if you’re lucky.

There are also real safety risks tied to exposure. One family member in the house works within the government welfare system. Another has connections within the community that give them influence. Because of this, seeking traditional assistance, benefits, or public exposure has always come with the risk of interference, retaliation, or having our efforts blocked before we can get out.

That is why anonymity is not about shame or secrecy. It is about safety.

Financial Entrapment — Including My Education

My mother is in her mid-50s and works freelance cleaning jobs, babysitting, and caregiving work. Because of personal circumstances that I cannot share publicly for her protection, she cannot pursue corporate or traditional employment. Whatever money she makes is quickly drained back into supporting the household and the abusive parent. There is no room to save.

I work part-time retail and currently make very little — often between $40 and $80 a week. I’ve applied to hundreds of jobs, but transportation barriers, instability, and constant monitoring make consistency difficult. Every attempt to get ahead feels like it collapses under the weight of survival costs.

Education was supposed to be my way out.

I made it to college, but the instability at home followed me there. During my first year, I experienced a severe trauma that completely derailed my ability to function academically. I was sexually assaulted by someone I considered a “friend” my very first month of the semester. At the same time, I was being controlled financially and prevented by my father due to fears of his “reputation” from accessing proper financial aid when I needed it most. My mental health got worse, my grades fell through, and despite my one chance at pulling myself up from the bootstraps on academic probation, I failed again. My aid was pulled from me completely, and I was suspended academically from my university for a year. Though that termination was only for that temporary period, my aid being pulled accumulated significant debt to my university.

I now owe approximately $16,000, which has blocked access to re-application and access to my credits/transcripts. Until that debt is addressed, I cannot transfer schools, re-enroll, or move forward with my education. It is another form of entrapment — one that keeps me stuck in the same unsafe environment with no clear path forward.

This is not about irresponsibility. It is about trying to survive abuse while still believing education could save me.

My Mental Health

Living like this for years has destroyed my mental health.

I started self-harming around age 13 as a response to the psychological abuse and environmental stress of this house. I have attempted to take my life multiple times in the past — not because I wanted to die, but because I could not see a way out and could not take the pressure anymore.

I am still here because I am trying to survive. But surviving is not the same as living.

The longer we stay here, the more damage is done. This fundraiser is not just about moving — it is about preventing further harm and giving us a chance to heal somewhere safe.

Why We Are Asking for Help Now

We are not asking for luxury. We are asking for a chance to leave safely.

We need help with relocation, temporary housing, transportation, deposits, and basic stability so we can finally get out of this environment. Part of that stability includes beginning to address the education-related debt that is currently blocking my ability to move forward with my life.

We have been trying to endure silently for a long time. We are exhausted. We cannot do this alone anymore. The structural damage gets worse by the year, and the abuse and control are more exhausting by the day.

If you are reading this, please know that your support — whether through a donation or sharing this — could be the difference between us staying trapped and us finally being free.

Thank you for believing us.

Thank you for helping us live.