One n ten, a Phoenix non-profit and LISC partner, serves a wide range of LGBTQ+ young people, many of them homeless, with food, hygiene supplies, resource navigation and a sympathetic ear. And during the darkest days of the pandemic, they helped clients understand that social distance doesn’t have to mean social isolation.
Abby Loza, operations manager for the Youth Center of one n ten, a Phoenix non-profit serving LGBTQ+ youth, made a heartening discovery at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic: the area’s Amazon drivers, delivering grocery orders to one n ten clients, were committed to helping her get food to young people in need, even if it meant meeting them on a street corner.
“A majority of our youth that accessed our food program were either currently without a home or couch surfing or kind of just bouncing from place to place,” says Loza. “We have trans folks that were asked to leave their homes when they came out, or it was just a very unsupportive home environment. But we also had folks that ended up losing their apartment or losing their job, and they didn’t have any money for food.”
The pandemic has been an economic and mental-health crisis affecting many, but it’s had particular and underrecognized impacts on LGBTQ+ kids. In a recent nationwide survey of LGBTQ+ youth ages 13 to 24 by The Trevor Project, fully 70 percent said their mental health had been “poor” most or all of the time during the pandemic. Eight in ten said their living situations had become more stressful, and only one in three found their home environment to be LGBTQ-affirming. The survey showed that youths’ access to spaces that do affirm their sexual orientation and gender identity was associated with lower rates of attempted suicide.
The safe and affirming spaces that one n ten provides for queer people ages 11 to 24 at its Downtown Phoenix Youth Center and satellite locations—places to gather, learn, and bond with supportive mentors and peers—can be life-changing, even lifesaving. When the pandemic struck and everyone hunkered down in their domestic pods, one-n-ten was forced to close its physical spaces. But the staff knew they had to find ways to keep their community connected.
They provided laptops and arranged WiFi access for some youth, and quickly brought all their programming to online platforms, including Zoom, but also to chat platforms that afford more privacy. They started a virtual parents meetup that’s been one of the organization’s most heavily attended. “I think that has been hugely helpful for a lot of the parents that have queer youth at home right now that are really struggling,” says Loza. “Because it gives them an opportunity to get questions answered. It’s a very open, good support group.”
One n ten’s food provision initiative, Lett’uce Eat!, not only addressed hunger (The Trevor Project survey found that 30 percent experience food insecurity) but also fed the community’s craving for positive interaction and belonging. Supported by a $70,000 grant from the City of Phoenix through LISC Phoenix, the program, in addition to coordinating grocery orders via Amazon, distributed complete meal kits bursting with fresh produce sourced from local farmers, many of them people of color and members of the LGBTQ+ community themselves. The kits came with healthy recipes reflecting one-n-ten clients’ dietary preferences and food cultures—veggie tacos, palak tofu, and Kwanza vegan peanut stew. The staff and one-n-ten youth would hop on video conferencing and cook together.
During a hard, lonesome time these meal kits nourished some 2,500 people—not just one n ten youth and their families but also households from the larger community and allied organizations. On Friday afternoons, anyone could drive up and get a kit. On Tuesdays, youth could check in at one n ten’s downtown location to pick up the meal packages, along with other items they might need—clothing, hygiene products, condoms, hand sanitizer, even stuff like skateboards. One n ten also raised funds for a Covid emergency fund, and has given grants to 115 young people who’d been engaged with the organization and were now experiencing hunger or housing insecurity due to COVID-19.
Loza says that, during the isolation and hardship of the pandemic, young people who’d been enthusiastically involved in discussions about sexual and gender identity asked for programming that addressed the basics of wellbeing. They wanted to talk about self-care. They wanted to hear about loving themselves even while navigating unsupportive environments. Loza has been a comforting touchpoint for many. On occasion, she says, a youth would come to a Tuesday resource day and confess, “’I don’t really know what I need, but I just wanted to talk to you so bad.’”
One n ten now has a plan to segue back to in-person programming, in areas from health and wellness to job readiness. Indeed, with the risks of contact currently easing as more people are vaccinated, these LGBTQ+ ‘tweens, teens, and young adults—and queer youth across the country—will at last be able to renew close-up connection with all the people and organizations that bring them love and acceptance as a baseline. That makes Pride Month 2021 an especially joyous occasion.