By Chrissy M. Thornton
When I think about my journey with The Arc Baltimore, it didn’t start in a boardroom, or with a title or even indoors. It started in the streets of Baltimore…cleaning the city’s bus and Metro stops.
Fresh out of college at Morgan State University, and armed with my degree in Sociology, I joined The Arc Baltimore as a Policing Supervisor in their Landscape Department. Our team had a contract with the Maryland Transit Administration, and every day my route stretched from stations at Mondawmin Mall to Pennsylvania Avenue, through Upton, past State Center, and down to Lexington Market. We swept, cleared and cleaned, but that was never the whole story.
I was serving as a “job coach,” standing side by side with people who’d been told all their lives what they couldn’t do. I watched them daily prove every stereotype wrong – showing up, working hard and taking pride in a job well done. What I was observing wasn’t just work. It was dignity.
My time doing this certainly reshaped me. I had lived a pretty sheltered college life, sticking close to the East Baltimore campus apart from singing in churches across the city with the Morgan State University Choir. Walking some of Baltimore’s most vulnerable streets with my crew, I began to see the city differently. I saw hardships, yes – but also resilience, community and what became familiarity. I didn’t know enough to be fearful, and the communities began to embrace me being there every day. And even though I was the coach and trainer, I was the youngest member of my crew which was comprised completely of individuals living with intellectual and developmental disabilities and I distinctly remember that my team took care of me. They showed me how to use the equipment and protected me from harm when I was too naïve to identify it. They showed me deference and at the same time wrapped me in an unexpected kind of family. They let me lead, but they also showed me love. That season of my life was special.
Years later, some may say that I’ve come full circle because I now serve on The Arc Baltimore’s Board of Directors. I’m still carrying those memories of the daily grind of people who asked for nothing more than a fair opportunity to participate in life. Now, though, my job is to coach the general public and generate enough empathy to make sure others can access that same dignity and sense of belonging I witnessed firsthand.
The Arc Baltimore’s story is much bigger than mine. More than 75 years ago, four sets of parents met around a Baltimore kitchen table because they refused to accept that their children should be hidden away. In those days, children with developmental disabilities were often institutionalized – separated from their families and denied futures. Those parents dreamed bigger. They built a grassroots movement that grew into The Arc Baltimore all because they had the courage to make sure inclusion became the expectation, not the exception.
That legacy is why today’s children who receive services from The Arc Baltimore can dream of college, careers and homes of their own and can receive the support they need to be successful. But the fight is far from over. Just this year, Maryland faced a $3 billion budget shortfall, and the state proposed slashing nearly half a billion dollars from developmental disability services. For families who rely on residential support, grants and community programs, it was a devastating possibility.
I watched advocates – families, providers and people with disabilities themselves – pack the square in Annapolis. They told their stories. They refused to be invisible. And because of that, nearly $300 million was restored. Supplemental budgets added hundreds of millions more to preserve critical services. Advocacy worked. But it was a reminder of how fragile progress can be, and how easily some would balance budgets on the backs of our most vulnerable friends.
At the federal level, the threats are no less real. Medicaid – the program that makes independence possible for so many – is constantly at risk of cuts or restrictions. Waitlists for services already stretch for years, while the workforce that provides daily support is strained by high turnover and low pay. The ground is always shifting, and organizations like The Arc are constantly fighting to hold it steady.
For me, this isn’t just policy – it’s personal. My job with The Arc catapulted me into a lifelong career of serving others. It showed me the difference that consistent supports can make in someone’s life. And in my work with Associated Black Charities, I see the parallels every day. Whether it’s fighting for digital equity, pushing for housing investment or training the next generation of leaders, it’s all rooted in the same truth: people deserve the chance to define their own lives with dignity, opportunity and possibility.
That’s why The Arc Baltimore’s newly launched Foundation to the Future campaign means so much to me. It is more than a fundraising effort and awareness campaign – it is a statement of belief in what’s possible. It says that our community values inclusion not just as an ideal, but as a daily practice. It promises to safeguard the services that have opened doors for decades, while also pushing forward with innovation, new opportunities, and a vision of opportunity for this community for generations to come.
I invite you to connect with me to explore how you can support this mission work and stand with the organization as it steps into the future. Together, we can strengthen the vision of those parents who once dreamed of a world where their children were included.
My past with The Arc Baltimore absolutely defined who I became. I thought I was there just to support others but actually walked away having learned so much. When I look back at those early mornings on Baltimore’s Metro line – I understand now what the experience was really teaching me. It showed me that vulnerability and strength can exist side by side. It showed me that justice is not delivered in speeches, but in the everyday acts of showing up, protecting one another and believing in each person’s worth. It showed me how much Baltimore communities mattered, how much each person on my crew mattered and also how much I mattered. It gave me an understanding of how much responsibility I have to lift my voice in advocacy for us all.
I became someone who knows my calling is to empower a society where everyone is valued and where the most vulnerable among us are never left behind.
That is what “full circle” looks like.