Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Rashida Hughes. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Rashida , looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. We’d love to hear the backstory behind a risk you’ve taken – whether big or small, walk us through what it was like and how it ultimately turned out.

The Risk That Led to My Purpose

One of the greatest risks I’ve ever taken was walking away from a stable, full-time job in downtown Chicago to follow a passion rooted in both pain and purpose.

I am a 20-year survivor of domestic violence.

For two decades, I lived in silence — enduring emotional, physical, and psychological abuse in a marriage that slowly chipped away at my identity. I kept showing up for everyone else while quietly suffering behind closed doors. But when I finally broke free, I made myself a promise:

If I survived this, I would spend the rest of my life helping women who are still in it.

Years later, that promise became a calling. I took a leap of faith and left my job in the city to volunteer at a local domestic violence shelter. I didn’t know where it would lead or how I would make ends meet — but I knew I had to be closer to the women and children I felt called to serve.

Soon after, the shelter saw my dedication and created a position just for me. I spent nearly a year preparing and serving three meals a day to survivors and their children. The work was meaningful — but I knew in my heart that it wasn’t enough. I wanted to help women transform their lives, not just feed them for the day.

A New Chapter

While I was still on leave from the shelter, I applied for a role at South Suburban PADS, an organization serving individuals and families facing homelessness. I started in June 2023 as Shelter Operations Manager, overseeing meal services, clothing distributions (like new winter coats), and more. Many of the people we serve are survivors of abuse and trauma — and I see myself in so many of their stories.

But my heart never left domestic violence advocacy. That’s where my true passion lies.

That season also brought a divine opportunity that deepened my calling even further.

My First Lady at church invited me to assist her with her women’s ministry. She not only supported me — she gave me a space to share my vision. She later founded S.H.E. Ministry — Surrender, Heal, Evolve — and I had the honor of being part of it. Her belief in me helped me believe in myself. That experience reminded me that my purpose wasn’t just personal — it was spiritual.

Living the Mission

In addition to my full-time role, I serve as Co-Chair of the Board for Inellas Restoration Center in Maywood, IL, and I mentor women through WINGS, a powerful organization supporting domestic violence survivors.

These leadership roles give me the chance to use both my lived experience and professional insight to help shape programs that are by survivors, for survivors.

Looking Ahead

My ultimate dream is to open my own domestic violence shelter — a place where survivors can do more than just escape.

I want to create a true haven where women can heal, grow, and rebuild. A space that offers:

Counseling

Legal assistance

Job training

Housing support

Childcare

…and a path to permanent stability.

Why This Work Matters

This isn’t just a career.
This is my life’s mission.

As a survivor, I understand the fear, the shame, the helplessness — and the barriers that keep women from leaving. I also know the courage it takes to rebuild.

But what’s missing in the current system is compassion beyond policy — and programs shaped by real voices, not just systems.

The decision to walk away from a comfortable job and into this work wasn’t easy — but it was necessary.
It was the risk that led me straight into my purpose.

I am living proof that survival is not the end —
It’s the beginning of something powerful.

And one day soon, through my own shelter and organization, I’ll be helping other women and children start their new beginnings — with love, safety, dignity, and faith.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

For those who may not know me yet, my name is Rashida Hughes — a 20-year survivor of domestic violence, a passionate advocate, a wife, a mother of seven, and a proud grandmother of three.

After surviving years of abuse, I made a promise to myself:
If I ever got out, I would dedicate my life to helping other women do the same.

I held onto that promise through every hardship, every moment of fear, and every silent prayer. And on April 22, 2020, I kept that promise by walking away from my abuser for good — a decision that saved my life and completely changed it.

That day became the foundation for my purpose.

How I Got Into This Work

My path into this field wasn’t planned — it was personal.
I didn’t choose this mission; it chose me through lived experience.

I know what it feels like to have nowhere to go.
I know what it’s like to be told:

“There’s a waitlist.”

“Your case isn’t urgent enough.”

“Because you’re married, you both are going to jail.” — even when you’re the one bleeding.

And I know the deep pain of hearing that your suffering doesn’t “qualify” for help.

But here’s the truth:
Abuse is abuse — whether it happened 5 days ago or 5 months ago.
If someone wants out, they don’t need judgment or red tape — they need support.

That belief is what fuels everything I do.

What I Do

Today, I serve as the Shelter Operations Manager at South Suburban PADS, where I provide critical support to individuals and families experiencing homelessness — many of whom are also survivors of domestic violence.

I also serve as Co-Chair of the Board at Inellas Restoration Center in Maywood, IL, and mentor women through WINGS, another incredible domestic violence organization.

I’ve even had the honor of sharing my story and raising awareness on WVON 1690 AM Radio, which was a moment I’ll never forget.

Through it all, I provide more than meals, coats, or resources.
I provide compassion, because I know what it feels like to have no one.

What Sets Me Apart

What sets me apart is simple: I’m unstoppable.

I’ve walked through the fire — and came out stronger, not bitter.
There were moments when I could have lost my life, but God kept me here for a reason.
And that reason is this mission.

I’m not just someone doing the work —
I am the work.
I’ve lived it. I’ve survived it.
And I use that experience to serve women in a way that’s real, raw, and relentless.

What I’m Most Proud Of

Without a doubt, I am most proud of getting out.

Walking away was the hardest — and best — decision I’ve ever made.
That moment gave me my life back.
And now, I get to spend that life helping others reclaim theirs.

What’s Next

To my followers, supporters, and community:
With God’s will, I will be opening my own domestic violence shelter and organization very soon.

A place where:

No one is ever turned away

No story is ever dismissed

Every woman is met with love, safety, and a path forward

This is more than a dream.
It’s a mission. It’s a movement.
And it’s coming.

So stay tuned — because this is only the beginning.

Let’s talk about resilience next – do you have a story you can share with us?

A Story of Resilience: The Day I Took My Life Back

For 20 years, I lived in an abusive marriage. From the outside, most people wouldn’t have guessed the pain I carried behind closed doors. But inside my home, I endured physical, emotional, and psychological abuse that slowly stripped away my confidence, my voice, and at times, my hope.

There were countless nights when I prayed for strength. Countless mornings when I questioned if I’d ever find a way out. The cycle of abuse makes you believe you’re powerless, that you’re trapped. And for years, I believed that lie.

But something inside me refused to die — a spark that whispered, “This is not how your story ends.”

That spark became a fire on April 22, 2020, the day I walked away. It wasn’t a decision made lightly; it was terrifying. I left everything familiar, stepping into uncertainty with nothing but my faith and a fierce determination to survive. I remember standing at the door with my heart pounding, my hands shaking — but also feeling a strange sense of peace. Because in that moment, I was finally choosing me.

That day became my turning point. It wasn’t just about leaving; it was about reclaiming my life. About saying, “No more.” About believing that I was worth safety, worth love, worth a future.

From that day forward, resilience became my compass. I went from being a victim to being a survivor — and then to being an advocate. Every time I speak out, every time I help another woman escape, every time I mentor a survivor, I’m living proof that healing is possible.

Today, I’m remarried to a wonderful man, surrounded by our blended family of seven children and three grandchildren. I’ve built a life rooted in service — managing shelters, sitting on boards, mentoring survivors — and working toward opening my own domestic violence shelter, where no woman or child will ever be told, “There’s no room.”

My resilience didn’t just save me. It gave me a mission. It turned my pain into a purpose so much bigger than myself.

What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?

For a long time, I believed I had to suffer in silence.

I believed that if I was strong enough, I could fix everything on my own. I believed the lies my abuser — and even some people around me — told me:
That I wasn’t good enough.
That no one else would want me.
That when he hit me, I wasn’t supposed to put him out.
I even had people lie to my parents to cover up his abuse.

That was the lesson I had to unlearn:
That I didn’t deserve help.
That I didn’t deserve love.
That I had to earn safety.

When you’re in an abusive relationship for 20 years, like I was, those lies begin to shape your identity. You start shrinking to fit into someone else’s definition of who you are — or who they say you’ll never be. I stayed quiet. I poured myself into everyone else’s needs, but never my own. And when I finally found the courage to reach out for help, I was met with waitlists, doubt, and dismissiveness — as if my pain had to meet someone else’s standards before it was valid.

It only reinforced that false belief:
“Maybe it’s not bad enough.”
“Maybe I’m not worth saving.”

But over time — through prayer, deep reflection, and the kind of pain that wakes you up — I began to realize something:

Help is not something you earn. It’s something you deserve.
Love isn’t something you suffer for.
And strength doesn’t mean staying — it means knowing when to walk away.

On April 22, 2020, I did just that. I walked away from the life I had known for two decades. That was the moment I finally unlearned the lie that I was unworthy.

Since then, I’ve made it my life’s mission to help other women unlearn that same lie. Whether it’s through my work in shelters, mentoring survivors, sitting on boards, or preparing to open my own domestic violence shelter — I want every woman to know this:

You are worthy of help.
You are worthy of love.
And you are more powerful than your pain.

Contact Info:

• Facebook: shida hughes