07/29/2026
Defending Home: Fighting the False Narratives About Our Community
Recently, I applied for a manager/supervisor position with a well-known home healthcare agency. Professionally, I knew I was more than qualified. Personally, I felt confident and ready to step into a role where I could truly make a difference.
The initial response was quick,. Within an hour of submitting my resume, I received a call for a phone interview. The next day, I was sitting across from the interviewer for an in-person meeting.
But the conversation didn’t stay on my qualifications for long.
When the interviewer noticed my address, she stopped. "Oh, you live in Pembroke," she said.
I told her yes, I’ve lived here for over 50 years.
Then came the question that shifted everything: "Well, do you feel safe?"
Startled, I asked her why she would ask that. Her response was immediate and sweeping: "Because Pembroke has a high crime rate. My staff is afraid to go to Pembroke. They don't feel safe, and they won't take assignments there."
At that moment, my interview stopped being about my decades of experience or my capability to lead. Instead, it became a defense of our community.
I stood up for my home. I looked her in the eye and told her the truth: the outside perception of Hopkins Park/Pembroke is wrong. Is any community perfect? No. Do we need consistent, dedicated policing? Yes. But are we at a point where an entire region should be redlined by an agency, leaving our residents without the critical care they deserve? Absolutely not.
I even offered to work closely with the agency to bridge the gap—to help them understand the community, address their staff's fears, and create a pathway to safely and effectively serve all of our residents.
Needless to say, I didn't get the job.
To be completely honest, I don't care about the job. What I care about is this community.
This experience exposed a much larger, incredibly painful reality about how outsiders view us, and the devastating consequences of that bias. Right now, I have a godson who needs to come home, and his mother is desperately trying to secure the home healthcare he requires. Because of generalized fear and unexamined stereotypes, agencies are turning their backs on families just like his.
When an organization decides an entire zip code isn't worth their time or their safety protocols, they aren't just making a business decision—they are abandoning vulnerable human beings. They are letting unchecked stigma dictate who gets to heal and who gets left behind.
Hopkins Park/Pembroke has a deep history, a rich legacy, and neighbors who look out for one another. We are one community, and we are worth fighting for. It is time for these corporate entities to look past the false narratives, see the real people living here, and live up to the mission they claim to stand for. Our residents deserve care, dignity, and respect—nothing less.
