Today we’d like to introduce you to Kenzi Lewis.
Alright, so thank you so much for sharing your story and insight with our readers. To kick things off, can you tell us a bit about how you got started?
People see the music now. They see the stages, the cameras, the songs, and they assume I’ve always been confident. The truth is, music found me long before I ever found myself.
My mom loved me fiercely, and my stepdad adopted me and raised me as his own. He gave me the stability and love that every child deserves. But every other weekend, I still had to go to my biological father’s house, and that was never a place that felt safe.
The person who was supposed to protect me became someone I feared.
Some of my earliest memories are filled with abuse and confusion. My biological father would put me on stages to sing while I was just a little girl. People thought they were helping a child chase her dreams when they dropped money into the tip jar. They were told it was for my college fund. It wasn’t. That money was spent on drugs and prostitutes. I learned at a young age what it felt like to have your gift exploited instead of protected.
Even through all of that, music became the one place where I felt free. I grew up singing at jamborees all over Kentucky. It was the only time I felt like I could breathe. At fifteen years old, I auditioned for American Idol and earned a Golden Ticket to Hollywood. The following year, at sixteen, I did it again and made it to Hollywood for a second season. Those moments gave me hope that maybe there was a different life waiting for me.
But trauma doesn’t disappear just because opportunity knocks.
As I got older, I carried wounds that I didn’t know how to heal. I found myself homeless at different points in my life, wondering where I was going to sleep and how I was going to survive another day. Survival became more important than dreams.
I entered relationships that repeated the same cycles of abuse I had known as a child. Domestic violence became another chapter in my story. Abuse isn’t always visible at first. It starts with manipulation, fear, isolation, and slowly convincing you that you deserve less than you do. Before you realize it, you’ve forgotten who you are.
Depression followed me for years. There were nights when I cried myself to sleep and mornings when I prayed I wouldn’t wake up. There were moments when I attempted to end my life because I truly believed the pain would never stop. Looking back now, I realize I wasn’t trying to end my life as much as I was desperately trying to end the pain.
I searched for anything that could numb what I was carrying. I experimented with drugs, hoping they would silence the trauma, even if only for a little while. They never did.
As an adult, there were seasons when I was so desperate financially that I turned to sex work to survive. That isn’t something I’m proud of, but it’s part of my story, and I refuse to hide it. When you’re living in survival mode, you make decisions you never imagined making. I know what it’s like to choose between your dignity and paying the bills. I know what it’s feels like to believe you have no other options. I also know there are countless people carrying shame for the very things they did just to stay alive. They deserve compassion, not condemnation.
Then I became a mother.
Everything changed.
My children became the reason I kept fighting when I didn’t have the strength to fight for myself. Becoming a single mom forced me to choose every single day what kind of legacy I wanted to leave. I couldn’t change what had happened to me, but I could change what happened after me.
Healing wasn’t instant. It came through faith, through counseling, through difficult conversations, through choosing forgiveness without pretending the abuse never happened, and through learning that my value was never determined by what had been done to me.
Music became my testimony.
Every song I write carries pieces of the girl who survived abuse, the teenager searching for hope, the woman who experienced homelessness, domestic violence, depression, addiction, and unimaginable shame, and the mother who refused to let her children inherit the same pain.
People often ask how I made it through.
The answer is that there were many days I didn’t think I would.
But somehow, God kept reaching into the darkest moments of my life and reminding me that my story wasn’t over.
Today I don’t share my past for sympathy. I share it because somewhere there is another little girl who doesn’t feel safe. Another single mom wondering how she’ll feed her babies. Another survivor hiding bruises. Another person convinced they’re too broken to be loved. Another woman carrying shame for the things she did just to survive.
I want them to know what I finally learned.
Your worst chapter does not have to become your entire story.
I am not the little girl who was exploited.
I am not the abuse.
I am not the homelessness.
I am not the addiction.
I am not the domestic violence.
I am not the sex work.
I am not my suicide attempts.
I am a survivor.
I am a mother.
I am an artist.
I am a woman whose scars became songs.
And if God could bring purpose out of my life, then there is hope for anyone reading this who believes they’ve gone too far or fallen too hard.
Redemption is real. I am living proof.
Alright, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome?
It definitely has not been a smooth road. Long before I ever stepped into the music industry, I survived childhood abuse and spent every other weekend at my biological father’s house, where I never felt safe. My mom loved me deeply, and my stepdad adopted me and raised me as his own, but I still had to face my abuser throughout my childhood. Ironically, he was also the one putting me on stages to sing. He would tell people the tips they gave me were going toward my college fund, but instead he spent that money on drugs and prostitutes. Music became my escape, but even then, I was being exploited.
I grew up singing at jamborees across Kentucky and earned Golden Tickets to Hollywood on American Idol at both 15 and 16 years old. Those experiences gave me hope that music could become my future, but the road ahead was anything but easy.
As an adult, I experienced homelessness, domestic violence, severe depression, suicide attempts, and periods where I turned to drugs trying to numb years of trauma. There were also times when I turned to sex work simply to survive financially. Those are not chapters I’m proud of, but they are part of my story, and I believe healing begins when we stop pretending the hard parts never happened.
The music industry brought its own heartbreak. One of the producers I recorded with while I was still caught up in partying ended up sexually assaulting me. I walked away from that situation and lost every song I had recorded with him. Later, after recording one of the most meaningful songs of my career about motherhood, that producer removed the song because we had never signed paperwork. Losing music that came from such personal places was devastating.
Being a single mom and a woman in the music industry has been one of the hardest battles of all. I’ve been taken advantage of, promised opportunities that never came, and hurt by people I trusted. I turned down record deals in the past because they weren’t right for me, and I was screwed over more than once by people in the industry. There were so many moments I wanted to quit.
But every setback strengthened my faith and reminded me why I started. At 31 years old, after years of fighting through trauma, raising my children, rebuilding my life, and refusing to compromise who I am, I finally signed my first record deal. Looking back, every obstacle became part of the testimony behind my music. I don’t write songs because life has been easy. I write them because I know what it’s like to survive, and I hope my story reminds someone else that they can too.
Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
I have never been able to separate my life from my music because they’ve always been one and the same. I wrote my first songs when I was around five years old, recording them onto cassette tapes and mailing them to my uncle in California, who is also a songwriter. By the time I was twelve, I was writing constantly, and to this day I still average around three songs every day. I’ve written thousands of songs over the years because songwriting isn’t just what I do..it’s how I process life.
One fun fact about me is that I can pick up almost any instrument and learn to play it by ear. I was never formally trained, but music has always come naturally to me. Whether it’s piano, guitar, or another instrument, I love figuring things out simply by listening.
Growing up, I sang at jamborees all over Kentucky before earning Golden Tickets to Hollywood on American Idol at both 15 and 16 years old. Around that same time, I was invited to appear on The Ellen DeGeneres Show, but I made the difficult decision to pursue American Idol instead because I believed it was the right step for my music career. I also competed in a national singing competition alongside Sabrina Carpenter, where she placed first and I finished second. Looking back, it’s incredible to see where both of our journeys have gone.
Before either of us had record deals, Kane Brown and I used to make videos together in my living room. Neither of us knew what the future would hold, but it’s been amazing to watch both of our careers develop over the years.
I moved to Nashville in 2013 to chase my dream of becoming a songwriter and recording artist. It hasn’t been a straight path. I’ve lived what feels like several different lives. I’ve worked blue collar jobs.. welding and working 12’s in a factory..I’ve owned a farm where I cared for horses, goats, chickens, and other animals, doing the work myself because I genuinely love that lifestyle. I’ve also experienced the complete opposite end of the spectrum. I’ve been homeless. I’ve lived on the streets. I’ve sold drugs during some of the darkest seasons of my life just to survive. I’ve bounced from place to place, including spending time living in St. Louis while trying to figure out who I was and where I belonged.
Every season of my life, whether it was beautiful or heartbreaking, has found its way into my music. That’s why my songs feel so personal. I don’t write from imagination..I write from experience. Many people know me for songs about domestic violence, motherhood, faith, healing, and redemption because those aren’t just topics to me. They’re chapters of my life.
At 31 years old, after years of setbacks, heartbreak, and rebuilding my life, I finally signed my first record deal. More than any accomplishment, what I’m most proud of is that I never stopped writing. Success didn’t come overnight, but neither did my story. Every chapter..good and bad..gave me another song to write and another reason to keep going.
Any big plans?
My biggest goal is to keep making music that reaches people who feel alone. I hope to spend the next several years releasing as much music as possible, touring, and building a career that is rooted in honesty instead of image. If my songs can help even one person choose to keep going, then I’ve accomplished what I set out to do.
Beyond music, my heart has always been with survivors. Having lived through childhood abuse, domestic violence, addiction, homelessness, and depression, I know firsthand how difficult it is to find help when you’re trying to escape. When I finally left my abusive relationship, I called multiple domestic violence shelters, and every one of them was full. I was fortunate enough to stay in a safe place for a few weeks, but not everyone has that option.
One of my biggest dreams is to create a nonprofit or safe place where women, children, and anyone escaping abuse can go without worrying about where they’ll sleep or how they’ll afford therapy. I would love to provide free counseling for survivors and partner with hotels so victims have an immediate safe place to stay when shelters are full. No one should have to choose between staying with an abuser or sleeping on the street because there isn’t room at a shelter.
I also hope to write a book one day and eventually see my life story turned into a movie..not because I want attention, but because I believe people need to see that healing is possible. If someone can watch my story and realize they aren’t too broken to start over, then every painful chapter will have been worth it.
More than anything, I want my legacy to be bigger than music. I want people to remember that I used the platform God gave me to love people, give hope to survivors, and create opportunities for others to heal. If I can leave this world knowing that someone is alive, safe, or smiling because of something I built or a song I wrote, then I will consider my life a success.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://ffm.bio/kenzilewis
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kenzilewis
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/share/19M1HLTEmo/
- Youtube: https://youtube.com/@kenzilewis
