With new digs and funding, a local nonprofit is helping queer and trans residents find safety, and a path off the streets. by Anna Del Savio

In October, Portland’s first day center for unhoused queer and trans people opened in Southeast.

The Marie Equi Center’s new Brooklyn neighborhood day shelter is intended to welcome visitors “just coming in to regulate their nervous systems in the space and hang out, or to get connected to our peer services,” center director Katie Cox said.

“We say that we’re a really LGBTQ-affirming city and space, but the services and the infrastructure have needed more support,” Cox said. The new funding, which comes from Metro’s Supportive Housing Services tax revenue via Multnomah County, “feels like folks putting their money where their mouth is,” Cox added.

Peer support and community health workers are on-site to offer basic wound care, emotional support, recovery mentoring, health education, referrals, and assistance navigating social service systems. But the 13,000-square-foot Trans & Queer Service Center also has space for visitors to come in off the street to simply sit and decompress. 

For many unhoused people, “you don’t have a safe place to be during the day where you actually feel welcome and your whole nervous system has a chance to relax and just be,” Equi program director Madeline Adams said. “So much of what we do as humans to heal or to overcome what we’ve been through requires, as a baseline, an environment… where we can come back to a semblance of having all of our faculties.”

A large room at the front of the building hosts community events that run the gamut from karaoke nights to crash courses on budgeting and cleaning for newly housed folks. 

Smaller rooms are used for one-on-one meetings with community health workers who provide emotional assistance, harm reduction, basic first aid, recovery support, health education, help navigating over services and systems, and gender-affirming referrals. 

“That can look a lot of different ways, but the goal of it is to walk alongside folks, to help them address barriers as they come up and access the resources and supports that they need,” Cox said.

Before the move—which also came with a name change from Institute to Center—the Marie Equi Institute primarily offered services out of an office in the Q Center on North Mississippi Avenue.

Scarlet Meadows first came to the Q Center two years ago for the free food pantry, but found her way into the Equi Institute’s office.

The institute’s peer support workers “helped me out a lot emotionally with the stress of being a new mom as well as being part of the queer community,” Meadows said. “There were days where I went there just to be, because it was a safe space.” Meadows ended up in Portland when their housing plans fell apart en route from Kentucky. From the Equi Center mentors, Meadows found spiritual and emotional support, and help navigating bureaucracy like Medicaid enrollment. 

“Sometimes I would go there specifically to make a phone call, just to have that support and someone who knows what questions to ask,” Meadows said.

Meadows hadn’t sought out peer services before coming to the Equi Center.

“I was still dealing with a lot of trauma and kind of stuck in my own head about certain things,” Meadows said. 

Peer health workers at Equi “move at the speed of trust,” Adams said. Rather than jumping right into tasks, workers have to build relationships with their houseless clients before those clients will open up about their needs. The bigger space allows staff to connect with visitors who need more time before opening up to a peer worker. 

When Adams was houseless, one of the hardest parts was that “people just couldn’t comprehend what I was dealing with or why I wasn’t housed,” she said. “It was always just so awkward and you could tell that people didn’t want to hear. The last thing you want to do in that situation is to ask for what you need, because by the time you reach someone that’s going to say yes, you’ve already learned that it’s not really safe to be asking.”

A decade of Marie Equi

The Marie Equi Institute was founded a decade ago, named for “Doc” Marie Equi, a lesbian doctor and activist working in Oregon in the early 1900s (and the namesake of the local lesbian bar Doc Marie’s). The institute was created to provide queer and trans-specific primary care, right after Oregon Medicaid started covering gender-affirming care. Many of the Equi Institute’s clients came to the organization after fleeing other areas of the country where there wasn’t access to gender-affirming care, Cox said.

Center director Katie Cox Anna Del Savio

The center has seen a growing number of visitors who came to Portland to escape anti-LGBTQ legislation and violence in other states.

When the pandemic hit, the institute had just hit pause and started to reassess operations after their clinical director took medical leave.

The institute joined the C(3)PO coalition, which created three outdoor tent camps for homeless Portlanders early in the pandemic. Starting in sheds in the C(3)PO villages, the Equi Institute built up a community health program working “at the intersection of homelessness and public health,” Cox said. 

Last fall, the Multnomah County Board of Commissioners approved $3 million in funding for day shelters, including $830,000 to the Equi Institute, in preparation for Portland’s public camping ordinance taking effect. But the institute didn’t get the contract from the Joint Office of Homeless Services until March. The funds had to be spent by the end of June, leaving just a few months for the center to find a new location and use up the money. 

The institute signed a lease in June and got to work on renovations with Gensler, an architecture firm that also led the renovation of the Rose Haven day center. 

The building has showers, laundry services, a gymnasium, food pantry, kitchenette, computer lab, reading nook, and art space. 

Cox said staff are working on plans to use the gym as an overnight shelter during severe weather.

“We know this is going to be a big learning curve for us, having our own building,” Cox said.

Thanks in-part to the SHS funding, the Marie Equi Center has doubled in size to 15 staff, including a new peer services coordinator and a center operations coordinator. The center ended up spending $752,000 from JOHS last fiscal year and was awarded $857,000 for the current fiscal year.

A Homelessness Response Action Plan finalized by the city and county earlier this year specifically calls for more culturally-specific services, including the creation of a shelter for LGBTQIA2S+ adults.

Existing culturally-specific providers like the Marie Equi Center “know what their communities need, are doing what their communities need, and just need that funding piece and support from their partners in government to be able to make that happen or do more of it,” JOHS equity manager Emily Nelson said.

Part of a continuum

Cox wanted to add a housing navigator to the center’s expanded team, but the Joint Office didn’t award enough funding to cover that position in the current fiscal year. 

“As we expand day services and expand shelter, we have to make sure that we have ways to connect folks to permanent housing through day services and shelter,” Nelson said.

Cox said the center’s peer workers struggle to connect clients with housing services that are safe and affirming for queer and trans people. 

One of the hardest parts of the work “is the heartbreak of knowing exactly what people need and deserve and not being able to get that to those people in a real way,” Adams said.

Transgender houseless people are less likely to find shelter. Nearly 54 percent of transgender houseless people are unsheltered, compared to 39 percent of cisgender houseless people, according to the National Alliance to End Homelessness. 

The new day center won’t only serve people while they’re living on the streets or in a shelter. Trans and queer people face disproportionate discrimination in housing, both in affordable housing and market-rate rentals, so support is needed for newly housed people.

“If it’s not the rental company discriminating against you, it could be other people in the building, and then your new home is starting to feel very unsafe,” Cox said. Having a queer or trans peer who can offer support in navigating those challenges “increases the likelihood that folks are going to be able to stay housed,” they said.

“As people navigate the transition from being unhoused to being housed, they often feel like they lose their community of folks that they were living with unsheltered,” Cox said. “The more we can start to bridge those gaps early on and create that community building, the more successful we’ll be at keeping people housed.”

For more information, visit www.marieequi.center. 

Today, we hear from unhoused people in the East Bay on their role in the presidential race. Then, photos and voices from the lives that are swept up when an encampment is cleared.

On this edition of Your Call, we’ll get an update on how San Francisco is handling its unhoused population during #COVID19. Last week, advocates staged a protest outside of Mayor London Breed’s house to demand more hotel rooms for people without homes.