Central OAC

by Camille Frink

When I describe my job to friends and family, I say that I help people experiencing homelessness get access to important documents. And in reality, this is mostly true. I spend a lot of time doing paperwork, calling vital records offices, and problem-solving birth certificates that are difficult to obtain. Because these documents have a real impact on our guest’s lives and are sometimes the only thing standing in the way of them obtaining housing, or getting a job, or staying in their transitional program, it is easy to tell myself that this is my (and the OAC’s) purpose: we get documents.

But this is an oversimplification. Beyond the other tangible work we do for our guests–connecting them to resources, organizing and providing their mail, providing interview clothing and employment support, and connecting them with our partners for housing assessments and food stamp assistance–the true nature of our work is intangible. 

Recently, we hosted a Friday bingo event with several of our guests, some of whom recently obtained housing, some of whom are still experiencing homelessness, and some of whom are newly experiencing homelessness. On paper, events like bingo do not serve a tangible purpose. None of our guests are closer to obtaining housing or getting a job after one of our Friday events. Some of them have already achieved stability. But Friday bingo was an opportunity for me to reflect on the intangible effects of our work.

The OAC is a place where everyone, especially those caught in a system and a world of dehumanization, gets treated not only as a person, but as a valued member of our community. We build trust with guests who have been let down in the past. We restore hope. We provide a listening ear. We call guests by their name. We create a community that guests who now have their own apartment still feel called to be a part of. We learn from each other and treat each other with kindness, recognizing that even if we live in a world that often feels designed to make us forget each other’s humanity, we can choose differently. This is how we serve with purpose.

by Makane Kane (WLU SHECP Intern)

I’m a Poverty and Human Capabilities minor at Washington and Lee University, and through my coursework I’ve studied countless theories about respecting human dignity while addressing poverty. I’ve also volunteered with organizations that take different approaches to serving individuals, and I’ve learned that what often determines the impact they can make is the willingness of others to give their time, resources, and financial support.

Interning at COAC this summer has allowed me to contribute to a meaningful cause by helping people take important steps toward rebuilding their lives. The support we receive from our community makes it possible to serve our guests while honoring the dignity of every guest who walks through our doors.

One of the most valuable ways you can help our guests move forward is through your donations. We can develop programs, recruit volunteers, and build systems of support, but those efforts are only possible because of the generosity of people who believe in this mission.

Some of my most meaningful experiences at COAC have come while helping guests obtain
identification cards, birth certificates, and complete other essential paperwork. These tasks may seem simple, but they often become an opportunity to listen. While waiting for forms to be processed or discussing the next steps, guests have shared their stories with me, the hardships they have endured, the people they have lost, the dreams they still hold, and the future they continue to work toward. Those conversations have reminded me that every person who comes to COAC has a unique story, and no one should be defined solely by their current circumstances.

As I encourage you to donate, I ask you to resist seeing these men and women simply as “the homeless.” Instead, see them as individuals with names, talents, aspirations, and the
determination to build a better future. Your donation is not just helping someone survive another day; it is helping someone pursue a purpose beyond the streets of Atlanta, or beyond the streets of any community. That purpose may be finding a home, securing employment, continuing an education, a family, or simply having access to food, clean clothing, and the stability needed to begin again.

By supporting COAC, you become part of a cause that respects people not for where they are today, but for who they are and who they have the potential to become. Your generosity helps us provide more than services; it helps us restore opportunity, hope, purpose, and dignity.

Help us continue serving our guests with compassion and respect. Together, we can ensure that every person who comes through our doors is treated with dignity and given the chance to take the next step toward a life filled with purpose.

by Izzy Clinger (Georgia State Intern)

When I came to Central Outreach and Advocacy Center as a social work intern, I don’t think I truly grasped the full meaning of what a community can mean to a person’s journey. The sheer reach of it–the impact that it creates for not only the whole, but the individual.

Yet as I stepped into the center for the first time, I think I instantly knew that I was walking into a family. Not just the staff, the incredible people who walk into work everyday not just out of necessity but out of a love for what they do, but the people who come into the center seeking services, clothes, or just a person willing to hear them out.

I have had several guests speak to me about their stories. The places they’ve been or
haven’t been, the people they’ve known, what they’ve seen, who they’ve lost. I’ve already been
told by guests numerous times that since their homelessness began they’ve never felt as if
anyone gave them help–until coming to us. One guest had even said they had seen three other
social workers and didn’t feel like they had any more support until they came here.

I think I started to know what community meant to this place after that. It was
everything–it was greeting everyone who walks into our doors with respect, dignity, and a
welcoming atmosphere. It was regular guests who came in just to use our facilities and say hello.
It was staff knowing guests by their name, and not as another number on the list of people who
need services. It was the advocacy meetings held by our staff that offered our guests a way to
voice what they never had the opportunity to.

Our community is our guests. We are the voices and the shoulders they can depend on.
But as always, a community goes both ways. Our guests do so much for us–they teach us,
educate us on what it is like to live their lives, and give us a reason to come to work every day.
Because for a community, I’ve found no greater place of belonging and welcomeness than the
OAC.

by MiKayla Wilson (Georgia State Intern)

When I began interning at Central Outreach in September, I didn’t fully understand how complex the burden of homelessness is or what it truly takes to alleviate it. I also hadn’t grasped how deeply entrenched the cycle of being unhoused can be, and how difficult it is to break.

Many of the guests I work with express that when they finally receive their birth certificate or Social Security card, they feel like they’re “someone again.” These essential documents don’t just confirm citizenship; they restore a sense of identity and dignity.

At Central Outreach and Advocacy Center, we help unhoused individuals obtain vital records like birth certificates and IDs. While this may seem like a small or routine task to many, it is actually a critical step toward stability. Without proper documentation, it becomes nearly impossible to access employment, housing, or basic services. Helping guests reclaim these documents is often one of the first and most important steps in overcoming homelessness.

This work directly reflects our Mission in Motion: we open doors to overcome and prevent homelessness. For many of our guests, obtaining these documents is that first door, one that leads to opportunity, independence, and a pathway out of homelessness.