I Didn’t Create 1Voice—It Was Already in Me

Most kids bring home stray puppies.
I brought home stray kids.

That’s how my mom used to describe it when I was growing up. And she wasn’t wrong.
Even as a child, I was drawn to the ones nobody else understood—the outcasts, the misfits, the “troublemakers.” Not because I felt sorry for them, but because I saw them. I saw the spark underneath the layers of pain and chaos and bad choices. I saw people who just needed someone to care.

I wasn’t a privileged kid by any means. My parents struggled to make ends meet. But I grew up in a home full of love and support—and that made me richer than most. And maybe that’s why I couldn’t ignore the ones who didn’t have that.

Like Paul,
The gorgeous, blue-eyed boy I saw through my kitchen window when we were just 11 years old. He and his brothers wore the same dirty, ragged clothes day after day—not because they didn’t care, but because they didn’t have better. Their mom was abusive and neglectful. I’ll never forget the day she left them with a pot of crusty mac and cheese as dinner for four growing boys.

I started giving Paul my lunch money every day at school. My mom noticed I was always coming home hungry, and when I told her why, she didn’t hesitate. The next day, she sent me to school with $4—two for me, two for him. From that point on, my parents became his, too.

Eventually, so did I.
Paul and I moved in together at 19, married at 25. He’s an addict and a felon. He’s also my best friend. My heart. We’ve been through more than most, but we keep showing up for each other.

We have two incredible kids.
Our son is autistic. We knew he was different by the time he was three. The world tried to box him in, discipline the uniqueness out of him. But we never did. Now he’s an adult, and I’m proud of who he’s becoming.

Our daughter came out as pansexual at 17. Her partner is a beautiful soul we call Ky—she came to us with nowhere to go, and of course we took her in. Because that’s what we do. We’ve housed more people than I can count. Friends, family, people with nowhere else to go. If someone needs love, we make space.

I’m a veteran. A fighter. A mama bear.
And I’m done being quiet.

1Voice is my soul on a shirt.
It’s the loud reminder that everyone deserves to be seen. To be heard. To be loved. Whether you’re a veteran, an addict, LGBTQ+, autistic, a foster kid, a survivor, a caregiver, or just someone trying to survive a world that doesn’t always make room for you—you matter.

This brand wasn’t just an idea.
It was a lifetime in the making.

Want to wear what you’ve lived through?
Shop 1Voice and find the piece that speaks for your story.
And if you’re like me—if you see the spark in people when others only see labels—
welcome home.

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