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Zenda Daniels arrived in Arlington with her newborn after escaping domestic violence, financial abuse and a life reduced to day-to-day survival. The move did not immediately feel like a fresh start. It felt like another separation from everything that had already fallen apart.
Her path had included leaving an unstable home and work she could no longer sustain. Before reaching Arlington, she lived in a New York shelter, where her days revolved around intake appointments, case management meetings and the complicated work of finding safety through systems built for emergencies.
“Every day felt uncertain, but I refused to give up,” Daniels said.
Transitional housing became the next step. Temporary rooms, shared kitchens and neighbors facing their own uncertain futures offered shelter, but not yet permanence.
Domestic violence affects women across demographic groups nationwide. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention research shows that Black women experience higher rates of intimate partner violence victimization, along with overlapping economic and housing instability. Those pressures can continue long after an abusive relationship ends, disrupting employment, finances and access to stable housing.
For Daniels, the consequences were immediate and personal.
“My breaking point came when I realized survival alone was no longer enough for me or my daughter,” she said. “I needed to take back control of my future because I had my legacy watching me.”
A possible route forward emerged through Marymount University’s From Caregiver to Breadwinner program. Created for people whose careers have been interrupted by caregiving or crisis, the 12-week program covers IT fundamentals, artificial intelligence literacy and cloud technologies. Participants also receive certification preparation, mentoring and job-placement support.
More than 140 people have participated since the program began. It operates through Marymount’s Center for the Innovative Workforce with support from industry partners and, in part, a U.S. Department of Labor grant.
Jennifer Weiser, the center’s project manager, said participants often arrive with abilities developed through difficult experiences, even if they do not initially view those abilities as professional strengths.
“Participants come to us with extraordinary resilience, problem-solving under pressure, adaptability,” Weiser said. “What we try to do is help them recognize those skills as transferable, and then give them the structure and confidence to step into careers where those strengths are not only seen, but valued.”
Daniels had previously tried to teach herself technology skills, but studying without guidance left her feeling disconnected and overloaded.
“The hardest part was feeling overwhelmed and isolated,” she said.
At Marymount, the learning environment proved as important as the coursework. Instead of working alone, Daniels studied alongside people who also had experienced caregiving demands, instability or major disruptions.
She gradually became more active in the program and eventually led study sessions for classmates preparing for certification exams. The transition from student to peer supporter marked a meaningful change in how she saw herself.
Before entering the program, Daniels’ education and employment had repeatedly been interrupted. She had studied psychology and worked in customer service, nonprofit organizations and healthcare support, but circumstances beyond her control prevented those paths from becoming stable.
Shelter life and transitional housing demanded continual emotional, logistical and financial adjustments. Even progress could feel temporary.
“My life was centered around survival, motherhood, and trying to rebuild after extremely difficult circumstances,” Daniels said.
While at Marymount, she continued working toward certifications and regained confidence step by step. The most important change, she said, began with her sense of identity.
“For a long time, I identified mostly through what I had survived,” Daniels said. “The program helped me see myself differently.”
Stability now means more to her than simply avoiding another crisis.
“Now it means something much deeper,” she said. “It means having vision, structure, goals, and the belief that my daughter and I can build a safe and sustainable future.”
Daniels’ past remains part of her life, but it no longer defines the limits of what comes next. After years in shelters and transitional housing, she is working to create something lasting—and hopes her daughter will remember not only the struggle, but the stability being built after it.