JacQuay, an Austin native, is an entrepreneur. After completing 18 months of subsidized employment with READI Chicago, he now runs a home maintenance service, a cleaning service, and has worked for the last three months as the general manager at a restaurant. Maintaining three steady jobs is impressive no matter who you are, but this feat is even more remarkable given that just a year and a half ago, JacQuay had never pictured himself in such a stable situation.

JacQuay was first exposed to violence when he was 9 years old, when someone from his neighborhood put a gun in his hand. He was first arrested on a gun charge when he was 11, setting him up for a lifetime of continued arrests and barriers to housing and employment.

“My background makes it hard to find anywhere to live or to work,” JacQuay said. “The State doesn’t want to house you anywhere but prison. They say you have a second chance after you serve your time, but no one will give you one.”

JacQuay said that once a person or system labels you as a criminal, it becomes difficult to remember that you are more than that. With no family to take him in and no access to social services, JacQuay grew up bouncing between couches and cars—in fact, the 33-year-old has dealt with housing instability since he was 15. He said it was difficult watching his friends worry about what party to go to on the weekends, while he worried about where his next meal would come from and how he could prevent the people around him from discovering that he was homeless.

When a READI Chicago outreach worker first approached him about joining the program, JacQuay said he wasn’t interested—he could make more money on the street. Eventually, though, he decided that the risk was no longer worth the fast money.

“Honestly, I started coming to READI Chicago because I wanted to stay out of trouble,” JacQuay said. “During the day time when people are out, you’re bound to run into trouble. Everyone here knows me, and I just didn’t feel safe.”

At first, JacQuay found READI Chicago’s cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) curriculum repetitive. JacQuay did not feel like he was getting anything out of CBT, until one day he got into an argument with a friend that convinced him that CBT is a viable solution to Chicago’s violence epidemic.

“I’ve had arguments with people my whole life, and the old me would always escalate everything or go back and retaliate because I wanted a distraction from everything going on in my life,” JacQuay said. “But then a couple months ago, in the middle of an argument, I caught myself trying to think of a replacement thought (a coping mechanism taught to READI Chicago participants in CBT) to calm myself down. At this point, after being in READI Chicago, I can’t even see myself getting into a fight like that. Everyone looks like a little brother or a big brother to me now.”

In addition to helping him and his peers deal with conflict and impulse control, JacQuay said CBT is helping both individuals and communities heal from trauma.

“I had never really talked to anyone before about any of the stuff that was bothering me,” JacQuay said. “In my mind, if no one knew about it, it was all fine. It’s different now—I’m not hiding. I live my life out in the open. I want people to see what I’m going through because it might help someone else.” 

More than that, JacQuay believes READI Chicago is helping to heal the Austin community. Despite having finished his 18 months and graduating from the program, JacQuay still visits READI Chicago’s Austin location often, inspired by seeing young men coming together in love and healing, united in their common goals.

“I want people to know that change happens when you want it,” JacQuay said. “Not because you believe in it or think you deserve it, but because you want it and you take the steps necessary to make that change. That’s what we all need to do together.”