Staff Spotlight: Judyth Ballesteros
JUDYTH BALLESTEROS: ATTENTION MUST BE PAID
IN THE MIDST OF FLUTTERING ANGELS’ WINGS
By Michael Kearns
Judyth Ballesteros is surrounded by angels–if you listen carefully, you might even hear their wings fluttering in her presence. It is almost impossible to avoid describing spiritual reckonings when detailing her story, tinged with religiosity, even though she doesn’t rely on perky platitudes to express her deeply held beliefs.
Let us pray.
The Gospel According to Judyth
I have always been a fighter.
I learn from my mistakes. If you teach me something that I didn’t know, I’m glad.
Finish my tasks.
I love the work that I do.
I help a lot of people, but they also help me.
I believe in myself.
I love human beings.
In spite of her petiteness, Judyth is a powerhouse. “I’m very private, I don’t like to be exposed out there.” During her eight years as a caseworker at Housing Works, she “never did social media. I don’t want to call attention.”
However, attention must be paid when it comes to Judyth.
“Helping others is something I like doing,” she says, almost nonchalantly. “It’s part of my nature.”
She is one of two Housing Works’ employees who has been there the longest (Geneva Ramos shares an eight-year veteran status.)
What has Judyth learned during those eight years? “I have learned a lot, becoming a better person. I have touched people’s lives like they have touched my life. I have learned about humanity: We are all different in our lives. We go through pain that makes us stronger. I have learned to take in the sensitivity of each person I encounter.
“Listening is so important, no matter how a person looks. Many participants have endured a lot of bad experiences: parents, prison, criminality. Maybe they didn't get the education they needed.”
“How you grow up is when everything starts.”
How did she grow up? Judyth arrived in America, homeless, in 1970, a refugee from Cuba. “They didn’t like us. We left our home country and never went back. We couldn’t take anything, only our bodies.”
Judyth and her mother got food and clothing in Florida and, thanks to La Libertad, connected to her family. “They would announce the people who arrived on the radio. My sister heard my mother’s name.”
“I was very small. I was thirteen. Didn’t speak English. My mother could barely support us in Miami.”
Eventually, they moved across the country to Los Angeles where social services were much more aligned with the family’s needs.
After high school, and various part-time jobs, Judyth worked in Security at the airport. “I rode my bike to get to work and got paid $1.59 an hour.”
Enter Ray Alvarez (Former Program Director at LAMP Community)
In a heaven-sent moment–cue the angels–Judyth was introduced to Ray. “He liked me,” she says, “he believed in me.”
“Ray was my mentor: the person who taught me to be a case manager. He taught me everything I know.”
Ray knew Judyth’s value more than she did. “I like the way you work,” he told her. And she “started going up and up and up,” she says.
What Judyth doesn’t dwell on are the parallel scenarios she experienced that have prepared her for her impressive career; the School of Hard Knocks is her alma mater.
Judyth landed at LAMP, working as a case manager at their Crisis Center on San Julian in Skid Row. “I met Mollie,” she says. “Oh. My. God.”
Mollie Lowery at LAMP Village (fifth person from the left).
It was a strong connection: “She was very direct. She looked at you and knew everything about you. She knew if you had a problem. I loved Mollie.”
After eight years of working at LAMP, Judyth’s sister passed, leaving her mother alone in Florida. “My sister was married with kids. I am a lesbian. I had been with another lady for ten years.” But their differences didn’t break the durable family bond.
“I had to take care of my mother,” she says with heightened conviction. “I told Mollie: ‘I have to go. I need a car. Now.’” Judyth not only walks the walk; she drives the drive.
She spent a decade in Florida “taking care of her and also working.” With her resume as a LAMP worker bee, she remained in the social services arena, working with Medicaid, and then at Cedars Sinai in Miami Beach for eight years as a Financial Assistant.
“Miami was behind,” she says. “I couldn't believe that place was so behind.”
“I had to go back. I drove myself to L.A. in a Smart car. I felt free, coming back home.”
She found herself working in Jacksonville at the Baptist Hospital. She also found herself in a domestic violence situation with a girlfriend; Judyth was forced to leave the abusive household and wound up homeless, living in her car in the parking lot of the Baptist Church for a week. Until she got her weekly paycheck. “I couldn't take anything with me,” she says, “the girlfriend was kind of violent.”
Back in L.A., managing her own case, Judyth found herself at a LAMP party in a Silverlake hangout. Upon her entrance, the partygoers cried out, “Judyth’s back,” but she was focused on “looking for Mollie.”
The two women connected. Mollie said, “Judyth, please don’t leave again.”
“I haven’t left.”
Re-Enter Celina Alvarez (Executive Director at Housing Works)
“I met Celina when she was eighteen years old. She was a receptionist, and I was a case manager for HIV/AIDS at AHF. They didn’t know what it was then. People were dying so quickly, with KS lesions all over their bodies.
“After that, I went to the Center as a case manager, and then I went to APLA, and I was finally at LAMP.”
When Judyth put in her application at Housing Works, for yet another case manager position, she re-met Celina.
“I put in an application,” she remembers. “Seven people, including Celina, interviewed me.” That was eight years ago.” Angels high-fived when she got the job.
Enter John Best (Former Program Director at Housing Works)
Judyth went to Mollie’s house “during her last days” with John and a group of men to help box items, preparing for Mollie’s death. “You’re the only woman here,” Mollie noted. “I was in denial; she knew she was leaving us and wanted everything to be in order.”
When she started at Housing Works, John “taught me everything,” she says, “about handling a crisis and what we could do better.”
Things have improved, Judyth points out. “When I was at LAMP, we had to look for clients on the streets. They would move from place to place. Now we can go meet them at their permanent housing. Much better.”
“I would like to work until I’m 68. Ray, Mollie, Celina and John are the ones who let me know how smart I am. They gave me the support, the strength.”
If you close your eyes and listen with all your heart, you just might hear Celia Cruz singing, “La Vida Es Un Carnaval.”
Amen.