Today we’d like to introduce you to Erin Fraser.
Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
The road has been anything but smooth. Honestly, there were times I wasn’t sure I’d make it. When I was released from prison in 2009, and that was my last time, I was starting completely over. I didn’t have a car, I didn’t have money, and I didn’t have many people who believed in me. And I get it… Why would they? My past didn’t exactly make me look like a safe bet.
I was on disability and was told more than once that I would never be able to hold a job, that I was unemployable. When I asked about programs to help me go to college, I was discouraged and told that those opportunities were for people who “really needed them.” That kind of hopelessness can crush a person, but for me, it sparked something. I didn’t want my story to end there.
So, I started rebuilding my life one small step at a time. I went back to school. I did not always have a stable place to sleep, but I kept moving forward. I surrounded myself with people who saw my potential when I couldn’t see it myself. Over time, those small steps led me to a life I never imagined possible.
Even now, as a leader, the challenges haven’t gone away; they’ve just changed. Working in behavioral health and housing is not easy. There are days it feels like we’re trying to solve impossible problems with not enough resources. But the same lessons I learned early in recovery, resilience, consistency, and community are what keep me going.
When I look back, every obstacle taught me something about perseverance and grace. I used to be the person nobody believed in, and now I get to lead an organization that exists to believe in others when they’re at their lowest. That’s what makes every struggle worth it.
Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know about your work?
I touched on some of this earlier, but my work really centers around transforming how we think about recovery, housing, and healing. I’m the Executive Director of Benilde Hall, a nonprofit in Kansas City that provides transitional housing, substance use treatment, and mental health services to men, many of them Veterans, who are experiencing homelessness. We don’t just offer shelter; we offer stability, dignity, and a pathway toward long-term recovery and independence.
What I’m most proud of is the culture we’ve built. Benilde Hall isn’t a place where people are judged by their past; it’s a place where they’re believed in for their future. Many of our staff members, including myself, have lived experience with the same challenges our residents face. That creates a level of authenticity and understanding that you can’t train. Our team leads with empathy, accountability, and the belief that recovery and responsibility can go hand in hand.
Professionally, I specialize in program development and relationship building. My organizational focus has been on building systems that are both clinically sound and deeply human, where staff feel supported and residents feel seen.
What sets me apart, I think, is that I lead from lived experience. I know what it feels like to start over with nothing, and I know what it takes to keep going when it feels impossible. That perspective keeps me grounded. I don’t see this as just a job; it’s a calling. And every day, I get to witness people rediscover their own worth and potential. That’s the heart of everything I do.
How do you think about luck?
I’m not sure I’d call much of my story luck. It’s been more about people and purpose. For a long time, I thought I just had bad luck. I went through addiction, homelessness, and incarceration, and it felt like every door that could close, did. But with time, I’ve come to see that every hard season led me to the right people at the right time.
There were people who believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself, professors, mentors, friends, and even strangers who saw something in me worth fighting for. They challenged me, supported me, and reminded me that my story wasn’t over. That wasn’t luck to me; that was grace.
Even in my work at Benilde Hall, I see that same kind of divine alignment. The right people keep showing up: staff who are passionate, residents who want recovery, and community partners who truly care. It’s a reminder that none of us do this work alone. In fact, we are stronger together.
If I’ve had any good luck, it’s been having the right people placed in my life exactly when I needed them most. They helped me rebuild, grow, and eventually become someone who could help others do the same. So, I’d say luck played a role, but it showed up wearing the faces of people who refused to give up on me.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.benildehall.org
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BenildeHall
- LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/erindfraser/
