At least four days a week, Qing, a 24-year-old black gay man, buzzes into an unassuming, century-old high-rise near New York University in lower Manhattan. Squished between an upscale fitness center and a Lebanese eatery, the building’s double glass doors are blank. Its dimly lit hallway appears to lead to a freight elevator. The only clue to what’s inside is a modest sign over the entrance, identifying it as “The Hetrick-Martin Institute.”
When the elevator doors open onto the third floor, the building’s drab exterior falls away like Dorothy’s first Technicolor step into Oz. Here, at the Institute (or HMI, for short), the walls are splashed with rainbow murals, a pointed reference to its work helping New York City’s gay youth. Qing comes here to work on his freelance fashion designs, eat a hot dinner at its cafe and participate in group discussions like “In the Clear” on Tuesdays, where homeless youth share tips on steering clear of rain and snow, or “Neutral Grounds” on Thursday, which focuses on HIV (for kids both positive and negative) and the stigma surrounding the disease.
“Most of the time, if I need a safe space to go to, a place to digress, just to feel cared for and loved, I will always come to HMI,” he tells NationSwell, sitting in a classroom at HMI.
The son of a“deadbeat dad” that was in and out of prison and didn’t “want to change or help himself,” Qing (who asked that his last name not be used), grew up in rough part of the Washington, D.C., area, with his mother and sisters. Homeless for a five-year period, Qing drifted through eight different schools by the time he reached eighth grade. “Sometimes I feel like I’m destined to be like my dad,” he worries before adding, “I use my past as my motivation.”
Qing left his family in Virginia to pursue his fashion and design dreams in the Big Apple. As a child, he escaped life’s commotion by sewing or sketching outfits. “I want to have my own fashion house one day,” he says. “They have an open studio [at HMI], which I can’t find anywhere else. The space, the materials, the proper tools are there to use: my mannequins, fabric, pattern paper.” Recently, he painted, glittered and bedazzled a shoe to turn it into a flower pot. He shipped it home as a gift for his mom.
“Here at HMI, I actually learned how I am more, how I want to be. I came to understand that I live in color and that I don’t have this monotone life, I guess. We always learn to walk in your truth. I practice that every day — being more authentic — like myself all the time,” he says. When visiting certain New York City neighborhoods, like Harlem, people would stare at Qing. “Now, they respond differently. If you show that you respect yourself and love yourself, they will treat you the same way.”
The Hetrick-Martin Institute was founded in 1979 when Dr. Emery Hetrick, a psychiatrist, and his partner, NYU professor Dr. Damien Martin, heard about a 15-year-old runaway who was beaten and tossed out of a group home because of his sexuality. Outraged, they mobilized advocates and welcomed LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and questioning) youth into their West Village living room. (The organization, formerly the Institute for the Protection of Lesbian and Gay Youth, was renamed in their honor when both died from AIDS.)
“It was a very different planet. This was a time when ‘homosexuality’ was in the same paragraph as mental retardation in the [American Medical Association] Journal,” says Thomas Krever, HMI’s CEO, a native New Yorker who previously ran gang intervention programs in Brooklyn and knows firsthand what it’s like to be young and gay. He praises recent significant gains, but acknowledges that homosexuals are still a long way from equality. (For instance, you can read national headlines about a judge in Utah who took a 1-year-old girl away from her lesbian foster mothers, how Houston voters rejected an ordinance protecting gays from discrimination or the latest on Kim Davis, the Kentucky clerk who became a poster child for Christian conservatives for denying marriage licenses to gays. Even in the liberal mecca of New York City, slurs are hurled at same-sex couples walking in Central Park.) And as Krever points out, “I can get married on Sunday and fired on Monday in more states than not.”
HMI has sometimes been pigeonholed as an after-school program for gay youth, but Krever articulates a much more comprehensive vision, inspired by Hetrick and Martin’s initial outreach. At its location on Astor Place, which it co-inhabits with Harvey Milk High School, a public transfer school for kids who were bullied at other schools, HMI wants to create a safe space for 13- to 24-years-olds to be who they are, “where they can get information that is accurate, maybe meet somebody that looks like themselves and has a similar history and experience the rites of passage that this population doesn’t have,” Krever says. (“I know for myself, at high school prom, I was dancing with my [female] date but staring longingly at the boy I had a crush on,” he says.) “It doesn’t mean teaching them fear and how to deny who they are, but how to navigate a system that is not tolerant and accepting,” Krever adds. Through discussion groups, career readiness classes, health programs, academic enrichment and extracurriculars, HMI encourages the 2,000 youth who come through their doors annually to thrive. In the process, it may also shift the opinions of hundreds of thousands of others who witness the teenagers’ successes.
Like the wraparound model at Harlem Children’s Zone, HMI focuses its work on the young person as a whole, addressing homelessness, substance use and risky sexual behavior as symptoms of underlying trauma, rather than as isolated problems. Five counselors provide rigorous therapy for LGBTQ kids who are struggling with their sense of self or are frustrated by feelings of repression and a thwarted desire for certain social interactions.
“Through those double doors in the counseling wing, you have young people that are literally in crisis, with therapists and social workers who are getting at complex trauma and a history of mental health issues,” says Rofofsky.
A typical session might start with a young person revealing his desire to come out to his parents. A counselor will respond, “How about the goal is not whether you’re going to come out or not, but why don’t we explore all the areas in your life that could be safe or unsafe?” As the conversation unfolds, they might explore the details of what coming out would look like at home, in the neighborhood and in the classroom. Often, the teenager may indicate other issues. Worries about a parent getting physically violent upon the revelation of their sexuality, for instance, might lead to more sessions about any underlying childhood abuse.
Some discussions happen in a group setting, like the ones that Qing attends, or through an art therapy class, which 21-year-old Kahdija, a straight ally from Brooklyn, enjoys. Kahdija first heard about HMI from her older sister, who came out as bisexual. She was scared and unsure of what to expect when she first took the elevator up, but she walked in and found a lot of “very flamboyant” guys — all dancing. “I’m here everyday, even on Saturday,” she says. “Yesterday, I stayed at school to finish up work and I kept looking up at the clock to see if I had time to make it to HMI.” When NationSwell visited HMI, Kahdija was finishing up a painting of a snake, refining the colors so that the reptile’s skin was dark with shade in all the right places.
Kahdija says participating in discussions has already changed her viewpoints. A few blocks from where she lives in Flatbush, she once saw a transgender woman harassed by a man yelling obscenities. Kahdija, across the street, watched in horror, but remained silent. After spending time at HMI, she’s now ashamed by her inaction. If she were faced with the same scenario today, she says she’d tell the guys off and suggest the woman go inside where she’d be safe.
It’s precisely that kind of leadership and understanding of the challenges faced by LGBTQ youth that Krever wants to see. He still vividly remembers his first months on the job in 2003, when members of the Westboro Baptist Church (who hold the infamous “God Hates Fags” signs) planned a protest outside the Institute’s doors to mark the start of the school year. Exiting the nearby subway station, Krever heard a roar and his stomach dropped in fear. He turned the corner to discover that the noise came from more than 500 supporters who had made a human chain to allow safe passage for the kids. “It’s how I knew I was at the right place and at the right time,” he recounts tearfully in his office. “I long for the day when it’s not a big deal when another CEO says he’s gay,” Krever says. Today’s not that day, but with HMI’s work, it can’t be far off.
Tag: Harlem
This Exciting Program Moves Struggling Students to the Head of the Class
The statistics are troubling. Only about 16 percent of students in Harlem pass the New York State English Language Arts exam. And just 31 percent of children across New York City pass it. But one group is changing that.
The Reading Team, a Harlem-based literacy organization, is working to make children who are at high risk of reading failure active and excited learners. And it’s finding success: In 2015, 80 percent of Reading Team children passed the New York State English Language Arts exam.
How are they doing it? By making literacy relevant to every activity. Watch the video above to see how the organization uses computer coding, chess, and more to support the children’s success in school and in life.
Meet the Harlem Native Who Is on a Mission to End Poverty in America
“Government is not ‘a system’,” says Elisabeth Mason, co-founder of Single Stop, USA. “It’s lots of systems. And what we care about are the people.”
The East Harlem headquarters of Single Stop, the nonprofit that Mason helped establish seven years ago, invites at-risk Americans from all walks of life to pay a visit. There, representatives demystify the labyrinthine process of accessing aid — quickly determining which public benefits and safety-net programs (from local to federal) their low-income clients may qualify for. And depending upon eligibility and needs, they may be connected to private charitable organizations, too. Through coordination of disparate programs, the organization aims to stabilize individuals and families, eventually lifting them out of poverty and into the middle class.
Mason has spent practically her entire life in East Harlem. Her father, a teacher and playwright and her mother, a social worker, were theater lovers of limited means and wanted to find an affordable way to live in Manhattan. Shortly after the 1968 riots, when Mason was a baby, the family moved into a dilapidated row house that they purchased for $6,000.
Mason’s parents were educated, giving her opportunities unavailable to most of her neighbors. Winning a scholarship to a top-notch Manhattan prep school, Mason’s childhood was divided between playing with her Harlem friends and attending school with, as she puts it, “millionaires’ and billionaires’ children.”
“This is a great blessing,” says Mason, speaking of her divergent childhood experiences, “when you want to do something around economic inequality because it means that you can understand all sides of the puzzle and you know how to talk to different people about that puzzle. But as a child, certainly, you feel at one time like you fit in everywhere and you fit in nowhere.”
While finding her way in the world after high school, Mason continued to rub shoulders with the elite and underprivileged alike, studying at Columbia and Harvard and working for six years in Central America, assisting street children. Her deep connection to East Harlem remained, however, and she returned, settling with a family of her own in a house two doors down from her childhood home.
Co-founding Single Stop is her way of addressing poverty in America — something she has witnessed her entire life. Annually, the U.S. allocates about $750 billion on a variety of safety-net programs, but many low–income Americans are unaware of what they are eligible for or don’t have the time or resources to jump through the hoops to apply for different programs.
Single Stop has expanded rapidly, existing at more than 113 locations (many at community colleges, since they already serve large low-income populations) in eight states. According to its website, Single Stop’s efforts have helped 1 million households access about $3 billion worth of existing benefits.
But Mason wants to do more, faster. Single Stop is currently developing software that will allow clients to screen themselves for benefits they might qualify for. This won’t eliminate the need for the human interaction that will still be available at every Single Stop location, but it should vastly expand the service’s reach.
“We never solve anything in society by talking about how hard it is to do or that it’s impossible,” says Mason. “Do I think alone we can end poverty in America?” she continues. “Probably not. Do I think with what we are doing we could actually significantly reduce it? Yeah.”
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How This Nonprofit is Helping Harlem Students Eat Healthy
As summer kicks off students and teachers are escaping the classroom for some much-needed time soaking up the sun. But a nonprofit and its partnering school are instead using summer vacation to expand its organic garden program — and they need your help.
The Edible Schoolyard NYC (ESYNYC) works with public schools to build organic gardens and teach cooking and healthy eating to some of the city’s underserved areas. Kicking off this month is its crowdfunding campaign, “Rooting for Harlem,” to maintain the program in East Harlem at P.S./M.S. 7 and Global Tech Middle School.
The campaign has raised $7,700 so far, but is looking for a total of $50,000 to add new components to its 4,000-square-foot raised bed courtyard garden and rooftop garden, perched atop one of the city’s building-lined blocks. The money will be used to plant fruit trees and build a willow arbor, as well as update infrastructure like installing new wooden and metal planters for the lower and upper terraces, an irrigation system and benches. The other half of the funds will go towards supporting the teaching staff, who teach growing in and out of the classroom as well as preparing and cooking garden-fresh meals. The students also run a neighborhood farm stand as a part of an after school program that will reopen in September, bringing the same fresh fruits and veggies to their community.
This is not the first city garden ESYNYC has built. The group launched a half-acre, organic experiential garden at P.S. 216 in Brooklyn’s Gravesend neighborhood. Transforming a former parking lot into a leafy refuge, the garden also houses a greenhouse and a stand-alone building that now serves as a kitchen classroom where students learn about preparing and cooking fresh feasts from their own garden.
“Every dollar we raise brings one more edible education lesson to our kids, one more plant, one more positive, healthful, joyful experience,” said Executive Director Kate Brashares. “Every dollar makes a difference in improving a child’s health.”
P.S./M.S. 7 receives federal funding as a title I school, and 100 percent of the students receive free and reduced-price school lunches, according to Edible Schoolyard. More than one in five kids live in temporary housing or are homeless, one of the highest percentages in New York City. The diverse neighobrhood of East Harlem faces challenges similar to other urban communities, including 37 percent living below the poverty line and 30 percent in low-income public housing. The community also faces major health issues. One-third of adults are overweight, one-third are obese (the highest in the city) and 13 percent are diabetic.
As students head home for the summer, it’s important they’re taking their knowledge of cooking and healthy eating with them, and even more important that the Edible Schoolyard may continue its mission in the area. The Crowdrise fundraiser will last through July 17 and interested donors who offer $10 or up will be invited to the official opening ceremony in September.
MORE: From Garbage to Greens: How This D.C. Lot Plans To Make History
What Can We Learn From the Horrific Harlem Blast?
Bad pipes have big problems. Old pipes are less efficient and use more energy. Leaks from eroded pipes can also contaminate the environment and impact air quality. And in the most devastating of cases, problematic pipes can take down entire apartment buildings, cause serious injuries and even claim lives, as the horrific East Harlem natural gas blast (presumably caused by leaky pipes) demonstrated last week.
The problem with pipes is their finite lifespan. And while authorities are still trying figure out the exact cause of the Harlem blast, it has brought much-needed attention to New York City’s aging gas and water mains, some of which are more than 100 years old.
MORE: 9 Surprising Infrastructure Innovations Happening Right Here in America
Simply put, we need to replace, repair or upgrade our cities’ aging pipelines. It may sound like a dramatic fix, but when it’s a life or death situation, this action is critical. When there’s a gas leak, fumes escape and a room can become a ticking time bomb, ignited by anything — from a lit cigarette to a flickering light bulb.
The tragedy in Harlem is proof that we need to fix leaks before it’s too late, especially in older cities like New York, Boston or Philadelphia. New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio, a proponent of infrastructure repair, has said that the federal government needs to provide more aid to cities for this problem.
But there are additional reasons why the whole country should be investing in pipeline upgrades. As Grist pointed out in a recent report, doing so would not only prevent future disasters, but the environment and the economy would be better off as a result, as well. According to the report, natural gas leaks cause methane, a potent gas that’s “between 20 and 85 times as powerful a greenhouse gas as [carbon dioxide]” to be released into the atmosphere, driving climate change.
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As for the economy, repairing the nation’s existing pipeline infrastructure — an estimated $18 billion investment — would create many more long-term jobs than the (controversial) Keystone XL pipeline, according to a study released by the Economics for Equity and Environment and the Labor Network for Sustainability (via HuffPo). That’s 300,000 total jobs across all sectors or nearly five times more jobs, and more long-term jobs than the KXL, the report states.
While it may not be easy or glamorous, it sounds like repairing the country’s pipelines shouldn’t be such a pipe dream.