Clarence’s Story: “Circumstances Do Not Define Who You Are”

Clarence – who introduces himself as “Brother Clarence”, grew up in Cowpens, SC, as the second of four kids. His mother was one of 20 brothers and sisters, and she raised him in the church, grounded in service and music. She had grown up singing with her siblings, and that was a central part of Clarence’s upbringing too. From his dad and paternal uncles, he learned to play sports, and also the allure of drinking and drugs.

“I was very athletic,” he says, “especially football. I was a cornerback, and I would get an interception and run it back for a touchdown. I was on TV, I was in the papers.” Clarence shares that as a junior, he had already been approached for a football scholarship at Clemson University when he got caught with a joint at school. He was expelled and his scholarship dreams evaporated. Not long after that, his parents separated.

For decades after that, Clarence’s life was shaped by substance abuse on one side, and his deep faith and desire for a purpose on the other.

After he lost his scholarship, his mother moved the family to Gaffney, South Carolina, closer to her relatives to give Clarence a fresh start, but, “I started getting in trouble. I started hanging with the wrong crowd and getting into stuff. I wound up going to two juvenile prisons.”

Clarence still managed to graduate, and he planned to join the military. He went to Fort Jackson to enlist and aced the tests, but the recruiter could see he was on probation.  “He told me, ‘Just go finish that. Your scores are good. Everything’s good. Just come on back when you get through.’ “

Instead, Clarence caught another charge, and this time he was sent to the state penitentiary for 5 years. “When we pulled up and I looked and I seen the 20-foot razor wire fences, I seen the guards up there with the guns — I was scared.” To make it through, Clarence leaned on his Christian upbringing and the music his mother had raised him with. He says, “They got a thing in prison called CIA, Christians in Action. So I’ve been singing all my life, going to choir. There was three or four of us brothers, singing hymns, and I brought some of the old black spiritual songs back. They let us sing for groups.”

After serving a year and a half of his sentence, Clarence qualified for work release, where he was trained as a electrician. He started as a helper, and shares, “Oh man, I was so excited. I mean, it was like me putting back on my football gear. I was going to work with my tool belt on, with my elbow pads, my knee pads, my hard hat. I felt like I was really in the service.” He worked his way up and became a certified electrician.

When Clarence finished his work release, he was hired as an electrician in South Carolina. The work was 7 days a week, and he succeeded for a while, but eventually he was let go for showing up to work hungover. This was a pattern that followed him for decades  — his work ethic, determination and demeanor helped him land jobs and succeed for a time, and then drinking and drugs derailed his progress.

That pattern led him to Charlotte in 2003. After asking around, he found a bed at North Tryon Men’s Shelter (then the Men’s Shelter of Charlotte). He had noticed a major construction site just a few blocks away, and the next morning he donned his gear and walked on to the site to ask for a job. He was hired onto the crew that built the Spectrum Center. “I’m not afraid of heights, and that was a big help,” Clarence says.

Around the same time, Clarence met Rhonda, who would become his wife for 18 years. They both struggled with drinking and drug use, but they were devoted to each other. “Her habit and my habit, when we got together, we had one big habit. We keep a place for a little bit, me working, but we got crazy stupid sometimes and don’t pay the rent. And then rehab,  then get a place back. But even on the street we stuck together, and we would start again.”

When Rhonda’s parents became ill in 2006, she and Clarence moved into their house and cared for both of them through the end of their lives. “When I met them, they weren’t too happy to have a black man in the family,” Clarence says, “and I surely never thought I would be helping them bathe or use the bathroom. But in the end, we were family.” After her parents passed within a couple of years of each other, Clarence and Rhonda stayed in the house for several years. It was paid for and had land and a fishing pond. It was a period of peace and stability.

Then, in January of 2022, Clarence was doing electrical work at a school and he fell 20 feet to the hard floor. He crushed his ankle and broke his back in multiple places. Mercifully, he was not paralyzed, but it was a difficult recovery and he is permanently disabled. In December of that same year, Rhonda died of an overdose. “I had brought her back before, but I couldn’t that time. I really tried,” Clarence recounts.

Clarence shares that after Rhonda’s death, her family gave him a few months to vacate the house, and their pastor helped him get a studio apartment on Sunset Road. His injuries meant that he couldn’t work, and he hadn’t yet qualified for disability income, but the apartment manager understood that he was awaiting a settlement from his accident, and they let him stay. Then the management changed, and he came home one day to find himself locked out.

For the first time since moving in with Rhonda’s family, Clarence found himself homeless in April of 2025. He created a home for himself in a seldom-used dumpster enclosure. He found a mattress and box springs and lifted them off the ground on old tires. For all the months that he was homeless, Clarence made it to church every Sunday. He sang, and he witnessed, and even helped a grassroots volunteer group that serve meals to unsheltered neighbors uptown. “I kept the faith,” he says.

“But the thing about my spot, it was still open,” he says, “There ain’t no roof.” When the snow and ice storms came in January 2026, Clarence thought, “Boy, you better get yourself to the shelter.” He sought shelter at Roof Above, where he learned that he had housing options. With help from his pastor, Dennis Benton, he had recently started receiving disability benefits, and that meant he could afford a place to live. In February 2026, after 10 months of sleeping outside, Clarence moved into his own room in a boarding house.

Since moving into housing, Clarence has devoted his time to service and ministry. He volunteers with Rice N Beans to serve a meal on the streets once a week, and with another group to serve breakfast on the weekends. And without fail, you can find him at Roof Above’s Day Services Center for every Worship Wednesday alongside Reverend Charles DiRico, singing and testifying. In May 2026, Clarence had the opportunity to sing with the Charlotte Symphony Orchestra as a part of a community choir organized by Roof Above. “God gave me that opportunity,” he says, “It was to his glory.”

“Music is in my blood, so I share it,” he says. “I want people who are outside to understand that that’s not who they are. It’s just where they are. There is always hope for another day.”