When your own family shuts the door on you, where can you turn?
Trinity Haven hopes to be an answer. The Indianapolis-based nonprofit is one of the only institutions in the nation with the sole mission of housing local queer youth facing homelessness or instability.
Young queer adults are particularly susceptible to housing insecurity — 2.2 times more so than their non-LGBTQ+ counterparts, according to a 2018 University of Chicago study. Familial rejection, it found, is a major contributor.
In Indiana, Republican Gov. Mike Braun signed a bill in 2023 that forced the state’s public educators to out transgender students by notifying their parents when they request to be called by a different name or pronoun. The ACLU of Indiana criticized the measure at the time, noting that trans youth “face a real risk of rejection by the adults who are supposed to care for them when they disclose their gender identity.”
In a tumultuous time for LGBTQ+ youth, Levi Wagner, Trinity Haven’s director of programs, says the work they do has changed lives.
“When we provide housing with no strings attached, people choose strings,” he said. “They choose to create more stability for themselves. They choose to get mental health services … They choose to get an education or find a job, because they want that stability to continue long term.”
Up to 40% of the nation’s homeless youth are LGBTQ+. Traditional shelters can often be unsafe for them, and might even turn them away. According to Trinity Haven, more than 100 queer youth sleep homeless in Indianapolis every night.
The organization was founded to address this “secret crisis,” Wagner said. The group was born in 2017 after members of Trinity Episcopal Church realized they had an unused house on their property. After researching, organizing and splitting from the church altogether, Trinity Haven opened its doors in mid-2021 as a nonreligious nonprofit, completely unaffiliated with their original namesake.
Their programs have been full ever since.
Short-term and long-term options
The organization has two programs: a long-term version and a short-term one. Under practical and legal constraints, they only take applicants from Indiana aged 18 to 24. Their admissions are first come, first served.
The long-term program lets residents stay up to 2 years in a house owned by the nonprofit with eight other participants and a resident assistant. The four-story, 7,500 square foot property features a kitchen, a garden, a small gym and a few large communal spaces. Residents get their own private bedroom but share a bathroom with one other person.
They each get $40 a week for personal groceries, which the program further supplements by buying pantries of food for the house every week.
But with only two years to get residents on their feet, Trinity Haven sets strict guidelines. To stay, participants have to regularly attend therapy, which Trinity Haven funds. They keep a list of queer-friendly providers to make that easier.
The program also schedules mandatory training sessions taught by local volunteers. There are two for each day of the work week, with subjects ranging from sewing to financial literacy to building healthy relationships. If a resident has work during a training session, though, they’re allowed to miss it; work takes priority. As the young adults progress through the program, they can opt to miss sessions more frequently.
Residents also have to do house chores, and either have to be employed or apply for work as much as possible.
There have been 55 young adults who’ve participated in the program. The average length of stay, Wagner says, is about 15 months.
Their short-term approach, the “Collaborative Housing Program,” vets and trains local host families willing to open up their homes to applicants. Length of stay for this program typically ranges from one week to 6 months, though they’ve had residents stay for longer.
The impact has been tangible. Under Trinity Haven’s roof, Wagner says, residents have gotten high school diplomas, driver’s licenses, college degrees, jobs and, most critically, more permanent housing.
“We help meet the young person where they are to provide them with the stability that they need to think about their future,” Wagner said.
But with a waitlist of over 90 young adults, they fight an uphill battle in a state that’s become increasingly more hostile to its queer and transgender residents.
What the support can do
Once an applicant gets in, Wagner said the nonprofit keeps working with young adults as long as they see growth. While they might “exit” residents that threaten the safety of other participants, “there’s not really a time that we would say, like, ‘we’re giving up on you,’” he said.
He told the story of one kid in their short-term program who started out “catatonic.” He stayed with them for 19 months — far past the typical 6-month limit.
“He would be interacting with us, and then we would ask a question he didn’t like, and he would completely shut down,” Wagner said. The kid — who had been kicked out by his adoptive parents — didn’t have his high school diploma, struggled to hold a job, and heavily relied on Trinity Haven’s support.
But with that support, he found his footing. When he lost his job due to a lack of reliable transportation, he found a new one, got his driver’s license and even bought a car.
“Two years ago, he couldn’t have told you what his plans were for tomorrow. And now he’s planning out his entire future with friends and community.” Wagner said.
The man gets dinner with his former host family about once a week and keeps them updated on his life. They still give him advice on new obstacles, like filing taxes.
There are challenges, of course. Residents often come with pretty severe trauma, Wagner noted. Their brains aren’t fully developed, he said. Their attention spans are short.
While Trinity Haven’s new resident assistant — a former participant themself — can help bridge the gap between parties, Wagner indicated that their most useful tool is just communicating directly with participants on their level. Being kind. Being accommodating. Being clear. It makes all the difference.
“These young people are not asking for a handout,” he said. “They’re not problems that need to be solved. They’re human beings who happen to love somebody or express themselves in a way that is a little bit different than mainstream. But they just want to live a life that is fulfilling and happy. And when we can support them, they can have that fulfilling and happy life.”
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Max Tendler is Mirror Indy’s Dow Jones News Fund digital reporting intern. Contact her at max.tendler@mirrorindy.org.
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