From Hiding to Healing: Coach Dee’s Journey to Self-Acceptance

I first met Coach Dee on April 5th at the Resource Center’s 27th Annual Toast To Life fundraiser, where she was being honored with the LGBTQ Award. Even before she stepped up to accept her recognition, her presence said it all. She didn’t just walk in the room—she shifted it. That night, she wasn’t just being celebrated. She was embodying the very thing so many people in the room were looking for: proof that freedom is possible and representation (especially in the LGBTQ community) matters.

“I didn’t know it was going to come to this level,” she says. “But now that we’re here? I’m ready. Let’s get it.”

For years, Coach Dee was the one behind the curtain—handling crises, guiding people through chaos, helping them breathe again. With over 15 years in mental health and social services, she carved out a path in government agencies, nonprofits, and transitional care centers. She was the first call when life broke down. The fixer. The calm in the storm. Especially for those who looked like her—Black, queer, and chronically underserved by the very systems meant to support them.

But here’s what most people didn’t see: the healer needed healing, too.

“I was good at helping people,” she says. “But there was so much of me I hadn’t accepted yet.”

Like so many of us that grew up in Black southern-rooted families, Coach Dee grew up wrapped in scripture and expectations. A preacher’s kid in a lineage of ministers, she was raised to serve, to shine, and to suppress anything that didn’t fit the church’s mold. And as a queer, masc-presenting Black woman, she learned early on how to perform light while hiding the shadows.

“I was out, in a relationship, living life—but I was still hiding so much of me,” she admits. “Even with all the work I was doing for others, I hadn’t really accepted myself.”

Eventually, that duality cracked. You can only carry everyone else’s truth for so long before your own starts demanding air.

Her revolution didn’t come with explosions. It came with a pen.

Journaling had always been a refuge—her childhood lifeline when voices got loud and feelings went unspoken. But as an adult, those pages started turning into something else. Raw. Brave. Necessary.

“Writing gave me the space to express what I couldn’t always say out loud,” she says. “Growing up, if I said how I felt, it turned into yelling or tension. But when I wrote it down, it landed differently.”

That release turned into her first book, a gut-punch of a manuscript Coach Dee’s Playbook: Five Ways to Become a Chmapion of Self-Love. True. Vulnerable. And terrifying.

“I was scared as hell,” Dee confesses. “Not just about what people would think. I was worried about what my family would say. But I had to tell my story—not to blame anyone, but to finally heal.”

When she released it, the fear gave way to freedom.

“It felt like a weight was lifted,” she says. “And people got it. They saw themselves in it. And that’s when I knew—this is bigger than me.”

That one book became three. A fourth is on the way. And somewhere along the line, she realized she wasn’t just telling her story—she was helping others tell theirs, too. Her clients started writing. Publishing. Speaking. Detox Life Coaching was born.

She stepped away from the security of systems and created her own lane. Not just a coaching business—a healing movement. Detox Life Coaching is where mental health, spiritual care, and unapologetic truth collide.

I’ve often said that Coach Dee is my spirit guide in radical transparency—because when it comes to keeping it real, neither of us knows how to hold back. During our conversation, we dug into her work with Resource Center, a longtime community pillar that’s been serving Dallas since 1983. But under the leadership of Cece Cox, the organization has made deliberate strides in showing up for Black communities in ways that feel visible, vocal, and grounded in accountability.

When they tapped Coach Dee for help, they didn’t sugarcoat the ask. And in today’s political climate—especially in a city like Dallas—that kind of request could easily be misread as performative or even opportunistic. After all, we’ve seen it too many times: white-led institutions suddenly launching “equity initiatives” that tokenize Black and Brown communities just to check a box or look good in a grant report.

But Coach Dee and I share a belief that our influence, our networks—our social capital—can’t be bought. And this time, it was different. Resource Center is backing up its words with action. You can see it in their hiring. You can see it in their campaigns. You can feel it in how they show up. The CEO, CeCe Cox isn’t playing around. And she shares Coach Dee’s unapologetic approach for demanding proper resources for all members of the community.

That kind of authenticity is hard to fake—and honestly, it’s the reason Coach Dee and I even crossed paths in the first place.

“It seems like everything I’ve done has been rooted in mental health—my own, first and foremost,” she says. “And that’s what led me to help others.”

But the real shift? It came when she made a private promise to her inner child.

“I told her I’d be the parent she never had. That I’d protect her. Make her feel safe. And I’ve never let that promise go.”

The journey wasn’t pretty. Especially coming from a faith background that taught her queerness was something to hide or heal. But Coach Dee carved her own theology—one rooted in grace, not shame.

“I had to stop giving a fuck about what other people thought,” she says bluntly. “I had to choose me. And when I did, I started attracting people who were ready to do the same.”

Now, her impact ripples. From queer youth in South Dallas to mothers breaking cycles of trauma, Dee’s not just coaching—she’s teaching people how to come home to themselves.

She remembers one client in particular. A queer mom who brought her daughter to a Dallas Wings game and later tagged Coach Dee in a post that stopped her cold.

“She said, ‘Coach told me—once you heal you, you’ll heal your daughter.’ And now, her daughter is blooming. That’s legacy to me.”

Legacy Through Liberation

Coach Dee’s journey isn’t about chasing perfection or performing for approval—it’s about doing the real, messy, transformative work that leads to healing. Not just for herself, but for everyone who comes after. Her mission is rooted in liberation: the kind that makes room for the next generation to live lighter, freer, and more fully themselves.

What makes her impact so powerful is that it doesn’t stop at the LGBTQ+ community. Coach Dee shows up for executives, parents, hetero-normative clients, and anyone who’s ready to confront their pain and rewrite the narrative. She offers a space where vulnerability is strength, and self-love is the foundation for generational change.

“Everything’s not going to be perfect,” she says. “But if we do our healing now, our kids don’t have to suffer the way we did. They get a different kind of chance. That’s the legacy I want to leave.”

Coach Dee never set out to be a symbol. But symbols are born when people choose to live loudly, honestly, and unapologetically in a world that tells them to stay quiet. That’s the work. Not perfection. Not performance. But liberation—for ourselves, our communities, and the future we dare to imagine.

She’s not just coaching. She’s re-parenting her younger self, telling the truth others are scared to say, and building a future where visibility, healing, and power are non-negotiable.

Coach Dee isn’t asking for permission. She’s leading—unapologetically.