Antoinette Roberts shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.
Hi Antoinette, thank you so much for taking time out of your busy day to share your story, experiences and insights with our readers. Let’s jump right in with an interesting one: What are you being called to do now, that you may have been afraid of before?
I Am the Town Crier.
I don’t whisper warnings.
I speak what others avoid—truths that rattle comfort and confront silence.
I stand at the edge of the city,
at the front of the church,
in the heart of the hood,
and I sound the alarm:
“Our sons are dying.
Our daughters are fading.
Our communities are full of silent screams that look like smiles.”
I’m not here for applause.
I’m here because grief gave me a mission.
Because some of us got tired of waiting for permission to speak.
Because many of us are doing the work—but more of us need to see it, feel it, act on it.
I cry out for the ones who are doing all they can and still feel unheard.
I cry out for the ones holding it together while breaking inside.
I cry out because there is power in the sound and we need more echoes, not more silence.
I am the town crier for the invisible and the overlooked.
For the warriors and the weary.
For the grief-stricken and the grief-denied.
For the ones doing the work in the dark while the world scrolls past.
I ring the bell with my pain.
I ring the bell with my purpose.
And I’ll keep ringing it until healing becomes louder than hiding.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Antoinette Roberts, mother, wife, pastor, business owner, and unapologetic voice for people who feel invisible. I am the “Town Crier” the one who refuses to stay silent when lives are at stake. I shout the truths others whisper about, because silence has cost too many lives. I founded The J Holman House: Where the Invisible Become Visible in honor of my son, Jermaine, who died by suicide at 18. His transition shattered my world and the world of many who loved him. It exposed a truth too many avoid ,that suicide doesn’t just happen to “other people,” and the pain doesn’t end when the casket closes.
We are one of the few nonprofits in the Georgia focused on both prevention and postvention. That means we not only work to preserve life by helping people recognize they have a reason to live before they become suicidal, we also show up for the people left behind when it does. We clean the rooms where the tragedy occurred. We train religious leaders to respond when suicide strikes their congregations. We create spaces where survivors can grieve without shame, heal without apology, and rebuild without pretending they’re “over it.” We are visible in the moments most people turn away because that’s when healing begins.
Outside of The J Holman House, I run ‘Trippin With The Roberts, a travel company where healing meets travel. We do this by creating travel experience groups and retreats that remind people they’re still here for a reason. Many are grieving, whether it’s a death, a loss of a marriage, a loss of a job etc. grief makes people get stuck and not create new memories. We make space for a “different normal” without guilt or shame. (info@trippinwiththeroberts.com)
Right now, I’m expanding The J Holman House through our Awareness Comes First™ campaign, preparing for our Say Their Name Suicide Awareness Walk Sept 13,2025 in Mcdonough GA. , and laying the foundation for our long-term vision—a 200-bed residential campus for displaced young men who’ve been forgotten by the system. We serve the Metro Atlanta area for now but we will become a worldwide name.
Being the Town Crier, I refuse to wait for permission to speak when a life hangs in the balance. I sound the alarm for the ones you couldn’t see, and I won’t stop until they know they’re worth saving. My story isn’t just about loss; it’s about refusing to let loss have the last word. I’m here so the invisible know that we see you, the hurt know they are not alone, and the living to remember they still have something worth living for.
Amazing, so let’s take a moment to go back in time. Who taught you the most about work?
The one who taught me the most about work was my son, Jermaine, and that lesson came at the highest cost. I learned you can live with someone every day and still not truly know them. I missed the signs on why he chose a gang in the first place. I was a nurse in New York City, working hard to give my children everything… but they didn’t have me.
Jermaine was a gang member, and it was rumored he had to kill to get out, so he chose himself. I saw his disobedience and defiance which I thought was the real problem, but I didn’t see his trauma or the cause of it. I didn’t recognize the pain behind his silence, the way his screams came without sound, and his desperate need to be seen. He was invisible in plain sight.
When Jermaine transitioned at 18 by suicide, I realized the work I was called to wasn’t about the paycheck I received but the presence I needed to give. Children don’t remember things; they remember time. And I will spend the rest of my life making sure fewer families bury their loved ones, and fewer invisible children slip through the cracks.
Jermaine taught me that the real work is not what you do, it’s how deeply you see, hear, and stand for the people you love before it’s too late.
What have been the defining wounds of your life—and how have you healed them?
The defining wounds of my life have been shame and guilt, shame for what I did and didn’t know or understand, and felt guilty for not seeing it which was too late. I didn’t give myself grace. I was a young woman carrying the weight of generational trauma, stumbling through young adulthood and early motherhood. I had my children because I wanted someone to love and love me back. But I didn’t know to look back and see if they were okay. I was too busy trying to make sure I was okay, even though I wasn’t. I was trying to navigate through chaos in my life, so imagine children doing the same without any instructions or guidance.
Healing came when I stopped running from the truth and let grace do its work. I became accountable, and I apologized for what I knew and for what I didn’t know. I live with no secrets now because you are only as sick as your secrets. Vulnerability isn’t my weakness, it’s my friend.
I was seen as the “strong one” in my family. Which means I can take a beating, a bashing and a licking and keep on going. I learned to swallow my pain and exist in chaos, and I taught that to my children as well. Today, I unarm people by telling my truth. My son is in the ground. I have nothing else to lose, so truth is what I stand on. Shame and guilt lost their power the day when I decided to tell the truth, even when my voice shakes. Even if I piss people who were involved, I don’t care because it’s needed to be told. That’s where my healing lives now in truth, grace, and a commitment to never hide again.
I think our readers would appreciate hearing more about your values and what you think matters in life and career, etc. So our next question is along those lines. What’s a belief or project you’re committed to, no matter how long it takes?
With me being the Town Crier, my lifelong commitment is to fight the silent killer most people overlook, ‘Invisibility’. You can cross every “t” and dot every “i,” you can be perfect on paper, surrounded by people, and still not be seen. You can be competing with comparison, social media, family, work, and still feel like you’re fading.
Invisibility is a root wound that medication, therapy, and surface solutions can’t always heal. People vanish right in front of us every day. In fact, the reader right now might be feeling invisible like if they disappeared, no one would notice or care, let alone miss them. That invisibility breeds loneliness, sadness, hopelessness, and the haunting thought that your existence doesn’t matter.
I believe in making everyone I encounter, rich or poor, color, age, gender, knows they are seen in an extraordinary way. Do you know how many people feel so invisible that they believe even God doesn’t see them? While, I am here to tell them it’s not so, we see you.
I will keep ringing this bell until every person who feels unseen knows they matter, no matter how long it takes or cries I make.
Okay, we’ve made it essentially to the end. One last question before you go. How do you know when you’re out of your depth?
Opening The J Holman House: The Place Where the Invisible Become Visible was one of those moments when I knew I was out of my depth. I struggled with God over this assignment because I understood the weight that came with it walking into the aftermath of suicide, holding space for people in their most shattered and vulnerable moments, and carrying their stories that will live in my heart forever.
I felt the limits of my strength sometimes, my resources, and my understanding. But I knew this wasn’t about my comfort it was about obedience. When I’m out of my depth, I lean into God, into community, and into the truth that I was never meant to carry this work alone. I cannot save everyone, but I can save many, and not in my own might. This is not about me.
I asked God, “Why Jermaine? Why me?” His answer was, “He is mine… and he transitioned so others can live.” Many people are walking dead living in passive suicide every day. They won’t take their life, but if they didn’t wake up tomorrow, they’d be fine with that. They are existing, not living. It could be your favorite family member, your favorite celebrity, your pastor, teacher, first responder, your child or even yourself.
I once heard a young woman say, “I don’t want to die. I just want the pain to stop.” And that’s the question I wrestle with every day, how do we stop the pain? We start by seeing the pain in the first place, by being present as we help someone get what they need. Not try to fix them or solve their problems but by supporting the process journey where they try to find peace and serenity.
This work is heavy. That’s why I go to therapy, why I practice self-care and soul care. I pour out for others, but I also let God and trusted people pour back into me because you cannot give life to others if you’re running on empty yourself.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.thejholmanhouse.org
