Parent Pack: Born in the Dirt

It didn’t start in a boardroom.
There was no funding, no office, no help.
There was a blanket. A broken hotspot. A woman who had just pissed herself in front of a man and still had the guts to wipe, walk, and begin again.

Parent Pack was built by her—Flameheart.
A mother. A fighter. A survivor.
She wrote its bones beside a church, in the dirt, with nothing but a child’s laughter, a 20-gallon tub of belongings, and a will to protect what the world kept trying to strip away.

This is not a nonprofit.
This is not a ministry.
This is a battle cry.
A survival map for every mother who has peed in a trash can, worn the same soaked shorts for days, and still fed a man dinner he didn’t deserve.

Parent Pack is for:

• The Parents who’ve had to pretend they don’t need to use the bathroom.

• The ones who clean disgusting kitchens they didn’t dirty—because their child needs a place to eat.

• The ones carrying everything they own in a tub, and still have room for hope.

• The ones who’ve had their bodies seen without consent and still hold their heads high.

No one owns you here.
No one speaks over you.
No one asks you to make yourself smaller to deserve help.

You are a parent
You are a warrior.
You are Flameheart—or someone just like her.

And this?
This is your goddamn pack.