A ‘Place’ for all
Drop-in site at Kindred church provides haven for homeless LGBTQ youths
When Moony’s mother kicked her out of the house at age 17, she had nowhere to go.
For months, she slept in abandoned cars and apartments.
“Anywhere I could find,” said Moony, 20, whose last name has been omitted to preserve her privacy. “I didn’t have any clothes.”
But last February, a friend suggested she visit Montrose Grace Place, a drop-in site that serves as a haven for LGBTQ youth and those experiencing homelessness in the Houston area.
Housed in Montrose’s Kindred church, the center welcomed Moony, who identifies as lesbian — offering fellowship, food, clothing and engaging activities, like poetry writing sessions, which helped express herself.
It changed her life, said
Moony, who visits the center weekly.
“It’s a safe place. The moment you come through the door, they welcome you like you already been there,” Moony said. “I don’t miss a day.”
Within three months, the Mississippi native secured housing through Grace Place. Now, she’s on the job hunt.
For many young people like Moony, the nonprofit site has been a refuge — solace when there’s nowhere else to go for the night.
Every Monday and Thursday, dozens of youth ages 13 to 24 flock to Montrose Grace Place to congregate, decompress and take advantage of its many resources. Festivities on “youth night” begin around 6 p.m., with hot coffee and a hearty sit-down familystyle dinner prepared by volunteers — followed by a smoke break, which often gives way to music and sometimes, dancing, said program director Chaunteion Hall, 25.
“It’s not a party, but it can feel like a party,” Hall said.
Each night also features an interactive activity, like arts and crafts or bingo, followed by a peer-led discussion — a chance for youth of all genders and sexualities to connect and feel heard, Hall said.
“They need support and they need people to listen to them,” said executive director Courtney Sellers, 33. “We tend to not listen to people experiencing homelessness. Often, society thinks they know better, and that goes doubly for youth.”
Resources, such as bus passes, toiletries, a monthly legal aid session and a list of shelters, are also offered.
“If the shelter can’t take them in, we provide a shelter for them for a night,” Sellers said.
And there’s also time to shop through Tracy’s Closet, a vibrant wardrobe and accessories stash stocked for nearly every scenario. There are feminine and masculine clothing and beauty supplies — helpful for those who have recently started transitioning; professional attire for job interviews; natural hair care and hygiene products; and home goods, like sheets and towels, for those moving into a new apartment.
“It gives them a chance to hang out, get out of the cold, be mentored and shop with other people who came out of homelessness,” Sellers said.
The closet, a testament to why Grace Place exists — to provide a safe place for youth to express themselves as they come into their own — is also a homage to Tracy Williams, a Black trans woman who frequented Grace Place before she was murdered in 2019. She was the third reported trans woman murdered in Texas that year.
“That was our first big loss as a community, as a family. We renamed the closet after her because the closet was her favorite place,” said Sellers, noting that Williams’ best friend Asia Jynaé Harmason-Foster, another Black trans woman who frequented Grace Place, was also killed in 2020.
With transgender homicides on the rise — the Human Rights Campaign reported in November a record high of 45 trans murders in 2021 — Grace Place’s promise of safety and privacy for visiting youth is paramount, Sellers and Hall said. This means no one outside of staff and volunteers is allowed in during Grace Place’s Youth Night — newspapers included.
“We’re protective,” Sellers said. “That’s a promise we’ve made to the youth for the past 10 years, and it’s unwavering. … No one’s breathing down their neck. They come here for an escape. This is a place where they’re affirmed.”
Though the nonprofit has no distinct religious affiliation, Grace Place was founded in 2009 by members of the Grace Lutheran Church, an LGBTQ-affirming church formerly hosted in Kindred’s building. The founders had experienced homelessness themselves and wanted to provide a space for young and LGBTQ people to congregate at night, Sellers said. They opened Grace Place’s doors in 2010 to one person.
A little more than a decade later, the site, which is funded through a combination of grants, community donors and corporate sponsorship, has welcomed more than 1,500 people, emphasizing fellowship and community.
In 2020, as the pandemic uprooted daily life in Houston, Grace Place used grant funding to distribute $100,000 in cash to youth, assisting them with housing, food, clothing and emergencyrelated costs.
And last year, the site served more than 3,000 meals and distributed around $15,000 in transportation assistance, with an average of 25-30 people attending each youth night. While a handful of those who attend Grace Place are returning youth, there’s always one or two newcomers, Sellers said, and regardless, “somebody is expecting to see you on Monday and Thursday, and we’re happy and hope you walk through the door.”
This can come as a relief to many youths fleeing toxic environments, including sex trafficking, abuse, abandonment or homelessness. According to a 2021 report by the Coalition for the Homeless of Houston/Harris County, 3,055 people experienced homelessness last year.
The exact number of homeless youth in Houston, however, is difficult to pin down, Sellers said.
The population can be hidden and transient, with some not wanting people to know they’re homeless or risk being put into the foster system, Sellers said. Others, including those over the age of 18, might not sleep in shelters or on the streets, where most people experiencing homelessness are counted by organizations. Still, unhoused youth are out there, Sellers said.
“They’re in jobs. They’re in schools,” Sellers said. “There are youth experiencing homelessness and housing insecurity who are out there who you don’t see. It’s such an important population that needs assistance, especially youth that’s queer and trans — and there’s so many barriers there.”
Hall said many young people who visit Montrose Grace Place have been turned away from family or don’t have a positive connection with relatives.
“They might have run away. They might be over the age of 18. Some say their home life is toxic or it’s not affirming, and that’s a story we hear pretty regularly,” she said.
Others have experienced a lack of transitional support after aging out of foster care, said Hall, adding that “once you turn 18, you’re really on your own.”
According to the National Foster Institute, around 50 percent of the nation’s homeless population has spent time in foster care and around 20 percent of young adults in foster care become homeless the moment they’re emancipated.
For the LGBTQ community, the statistics are direr.
Despite LGBTQ youth making up about 7 percent of the population, a 2014 survey of 138 youth homelessness human service agency providers found that 40 percent of youth who were experiencing homelessness identified as LGBTQ. African American and Native American youth were disproportionately represented among this population.
At Montrose Grace Place, 90 percent of attendees are people of color; 75 percent are Black, 50 percent identify as LGBTQ, and nearly all are experiencing homelessness or housing insecurity, with most noting that they stayed in a shelter, with a friend or on the street the night before they visited Grace Place, Sellers said.
The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development defines homelessness as a family or person who “lacks a fixed, regular and adequate nighttime residence,” which includes residing at night in a place that is not meant for human habitation and living in a shelter or transitional housing. For youth specifically, categories of homelessness include those who are staying with friends but cannot stay there for longer than 14 days, those who are being trafficked or are trading sex for housing and those who left their homes because of abuse or threats of abuse and have no alternative housing.
Sellers says Grace Place aims to provide space without expectations for these youth, as well as those who might be couch-surfing — moving place to place — or unsure where their next night will be.
“Here,” Hall said, “they can just exist.”