A Volunteer’s First Day: What I Learned About Dignity

I walked into the shelter that morning with a tote full of hygiene kits and a heart full of good intentions. It was my first day volunteering with the Red Umbrella Project, and I thought I knew what to expect: smiles, gratitude, maybe a few tears. What I didn’t expect was how much I would learn—particularly about dignity.

I met a woman named Carla. She was quiet at first, standing slightly off to the side while others sorted through the products laid out on the table: sanitary pads, tampons, deodorant, shampoo, fresh socks. I greeted her gently and offered a small package. She paused, looked me in the eye, and softly said, “Can I choose for myself?”

That moment hit me.

I realized I was doing what so many well-meaning people do: assuming. Assuming I knew what she needed. Assuming she would take whatever I handed her. But dignity, I learned, is in the choosing. It's in being seen as a whole person—not as a problem to be solved, but as a human with preferences, pride, and power.

Later, I spoke with another volunteer who’d been serving for years. She told me something I’ll never forget: “We’re not just giving out products. We’re giving back control.” That idea—that something as small as picking your own brand of soap or asking for unscented pads—can restore a sense of agency, has stuck with me.

Throughout the day, I learned how important it is to approach every interaction with humility. I learned to ask, not assume. To listen, not lead. To give space, not pity. These women and teens are not defined by their homelessness. They are artists, mothers, survivors, dreamers. And they want to be treated with the same respect and care that anyone else would expect.

Dignity is not just a word—it’s a way of showing up. It’s the way we lay out items neatly instead of dumping them in a box. It’s the way we greet each person by name. It’s in saying, “You deserve the best,” and meaning it.

As I left that day, tired but full-hearted, I understood that volunteering isn’t just about giving. It’s about learning. And my first lesson was this: dignity is a right, not a reward. And in every bag we hand out, in every conversation we have, we have the opportunity to protect it, nurture it, and remind someone of their worth.

And maybe, just maybe, we’ll remember our own in the process.