Thirty years ago, my younger sister was diagnosed with schizoaffective bipolar disorder. I know what it feels like to desperately need help and not be able to get it. What followed was 30 years navigating a broken system. Hospitalizations, arrests, psychiatric holds, and multiple stretches on the streets. Three years homeless through brutal winters, where she nearly died more than once. After our mom passed away, my dad and I became her warriors, fighting the broken system over and over to keep her alive. We successfully fought for civil commitment three times. Most people don't get that kind of tireless advocacy.

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Through three decades of fighting for my sister, I sharpened one critical skill: standing up for those who cannot stand up for themselves.

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I've spent more than two decades building restaurants rooted in Slow Food. Red Agave, El Vaquero, Asado Grill, Asado Bistro, June at Midtown. And a clothing line, Katie Brown Los Angeles, rooted in Slow Fashion. I've served on entrepreneurial boards and mentored founders and business students. But nothing compares to the fire I feel for Scorpion Creek Ranch. Because I know what it takes to save a life. And I know how to build systems that actually work.

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Today, my sister is stable. She has her own apartment, takes care of herself, goes to the YMCA, rides her bike. But her story is an anomaly. Most homeless youth don't have advocates like my dad and I. Rather than receiving the stabilization they need, they perish.

 

My focus now is clear: get homeless teens off the streets by providing them with the most healing, nourishing, and inspiring environment conceivable. So they have the highest chance at the life they deserve.

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It's going to take everything we've got, and a village willing to believe. But we can do this. And we will.