Miranda Scott: West Coast, Best Coast
I have always been a traveler. As soon as I was old enough to fly on a plane by myself, I was off to New York. I am so grateful for what I have learned from being born and raised in South Carolina, but I have always known it would not be home forever. Last year, I had the opportunity to visit Seattle, Washington. I fell in love with it and never wanted to leave. As summer of ’22 approached, I knew I wanted to spend it there, so I figured out a way.
I saved up for months and searched everywhere for job opportunities. Finally, I found Jubilee Women’s Center. From May to August, I worked alongside the staff caring for residents in several different ways. Residents were mostly domestic violence survivors or women recovering from addiction, as well as low-income women in the community. I ran a boutique where they could come to “shop” for clothes, free of charge. I provided resources for them, such as personal hygiene products, access to a phone, and help navigating bus routes. Every day was a new challenge.
During my time at Jubilee, I was forced to face some of my own fears and trauma, and I often found myself in moments of reflection, which is not unusual for me on a normal day, so you can imagine how intense they felt in this setting. I remember my first crisis call with unsettling vividity. A crisis call refers to someone in danger calling for immediate help. The phone rang, so I closed the book I was reading and answered the call with the greeting I had been practicing. On the other end was a woman speaking in a hushed, hurried tone.
“I have to talk quickly; I won’t be alone for long.”
I automatically knew she was in distress. Jubilee was not an emergency shelter, so when calls like these came in, I had to redirect them to other resources, which proved to be very difficult for me. The woman told me that she was living with her cousin who was very abusive, and she needed somewhere to go immediately.
“Unfortunately, we are not an emergency shelter, but I can give you some other options that might work for you.”
I tried to speak as quickly as possible, and in that moment, I realized she was desperately seeking help, and the help was me. It was an overwhelming amount of responsibility that I had never felt before.
After I read out two other options, she said, “I’m sorry. I have to go. I’m sorry.”
I was filled with dread. I knew that once she hung up, I would never know what happened to her. More than anything, I wanted to give her the address for Jubilee and tell her there would be a spot waiting for her. But I could not do that, and I felt as though I was failing her.
Over time, I became accustomed to the work there, but I had to grapple with the fact that most complications were completely out of my control. The number of women who are in abusive situations, homeless, or struggling with addiction with truly nowhere to go is staggering, especially in a city as densely populated as Seattle. Logically, I knew this. Emotionally, I was not ready to see a different helpless, pleading face every single day. Hearing these women’s shaky voices in person and over the phone, trying to understand their situations, trying (and sometimes failing) to help, led me to feeling extremely heavy for a while.
On top of that, living over 2000 miles away from home without my family or my car or my bed was already too much for me to cope with. The line between comparing struggles and just being immensely grateful that I am physically safe was difficult to balance on. I struggle with coming to terms with my own feelings and experiences while simultaneously validating and advocating for people I know who have gone through the same things.
I searched for control in every little thing until I learned to be okay with not having it. I obsessively studied my bus routes, I created a daily routine with my favorite coffee shop, I kept my all my personal spaces and workspaces completely clean. This line of work is unpredictable, messy, and ever-changing. However, it allowed me to make space for gratefulness and peace, understanding that I am so privileged to be as stable as I am. Jubilee helped me understand that trauma comes in all different forms, each can be just as painful as the next. It is possible to be gracious with yourself and your journey while also understanding you have privilege in some ways.
Aside from the ways my time at Jubilee enriched my self-awareness, I think it helped prepare me for working with survivors in the future. Because that population is one I knew I had a passion for, I was extremely nervous that once I got thrown into the deep end, I would crack under the pressure. In the end, I believe I thrived. Every moment like the ones I have described struck my heart and changed me as a person. They inspired me to never stop trying to help or save people, even if I just get through to one person. One person would be worth it.
Martha’s House, one of the residential buildings on the property
Miranda Scott is a senior Psychology major with a minor in Human Services from Abbeville, SC. In the summer of 2022, she completed an internship at Jubilee Women’s Center in Seattle, Washington. She will be graduating in May 2023. After graduation, she plans on working with domestic violence survivors in the area before moving to Seattle.