When Christine Mumm walked the short stretch from the Cambridge Multi-Service Center to 116 Norfolk Street to sign her lease, it became the most meaningful walk of her life. Just the day before, she had been sleeping under a makeshift shelter in the woods surrounded by danger, struggling to maintain her recovery, and barely holding on. The moment she stepped into her new apartment, everything changed.
“I walked into this space and thought, ‘I own this.’ I had gone from carrying everything I owned in a backpack to having a bed, an Instant Pot, even drawers. I moved my furniture four different times just because I could.”
Christine’s path to permanent housing was anything but linear. Born and raised in San Diego, she waited tables and bartended through college, largely supported by the grandmother who helped raise her. After her grandmother fell ill, Christine became her caregiver until her passing, an emotional loss that marked a pivotal turning point.
Christine was born into deep grief. Her father, Christopher, whose name she proudly carries, was killed before she was born. Her mother, strong and spirited, struggled with challenges of her own, passing away when Christine was only 12. Still, those early years were filled with love. “My mom took me to AA meetings, so I knew the Serenity Prayer by the time I was six,” Christine recalls. “She was funny, warm, and real. I do have her sense of humor and, I hope, her resilience.”
After years of surviving without stable housing, including cold nights spent underneath railroad cars and on shelter floors, a turning point came in 2022 when a friend she met in a psychiatric hospital urged her to come to Boston. With a one-way plane ticket and no clear plan, Christine took a leap of faith, especially having never been to Massachusetts.
What followed were long waits for services, time in treatment programs, and deep losses, including her close friend Ruqiya, a fellow survivor who died of an overdose only months after being housed. “She had already survived so much. It broke me. That’s what happens when the system doesn’t wrap around people enough once they get housed.”
Christine bounced between shelters, warming centers, and dangerous outdoor spaces. As a woman in the system, she faced constant harassment and risk. “At one shelter, I picked a spot on the floor to sleep, and a man kept snuggling up to me. The staff told me to find another place. I never went back.”
Eventually, through the tireless support of her case worker, Joseph Mosby, Christine secured a unit at 116 Norfolk Street, a newly modernized supportive housing site operated by the Cambridge Housing Authority (CHA). “Joseph let me cry in his office. He let me rant. He showed compassion and told me I was doing everything right. I hadn’t heard that from anyone in a long time.”
Now, Christine is not just surviving, she’s thriving. With a permanent roof over her head, she’s able to rest, cook, crochet, participate in harm reduction initiatives, and consider the future. “For so long, I was in survival mode. Now I can rewire my nervous system to learn how to live and not just survive.”
Even the simplest things feel profound: taking long showers, cooking scrambled eggs, moving boxes out of storage and into her own drawers. “It was cathartic. “I had been sprinting for so long that I finally allowed myself to rest. During my first month, I just slept, over and over. I gave myself that. We won’t be swept away.”
Christine is eager to give back. She wants to support the programs that supported her and advocate for more services specifically for women, she wants spaces that feel safe, welcoming, and dignified for those in need of support.
“To CHA, I say this: Housing is incredible because, when done right, it can prevent many avoidable deaths. Providing a roof and stable home base is the foundation for a more meaningful life. I’m very grateful, but there’s still work to be done. Without being housed, I wouldn’t be able to do the work I’m passionate about. I’m thankful to have that keystone.”