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SPOTLIGHTING LGBT HOMELESSNESS: Alston House celebrates a decade in operation
LGBT youth shelter named after slain D.C. activist

‘We are dealing with homeless youth that are isolated and rejected by the community,’ said June Crenshaw, executive director of the Wanda Alston Foundation.
This story is part of our contribution to the 2018 #DCHomelessCrisis news blitz. Local media outlets will be reporting and discussing stories about ending homelessness in the nation’s capital all day. The collaborative body of work is cataloged at dchomelesscrisis.press.
The first LGBT youth-focused shelter in D.C. is continuing its legacy of serving one of the most vulnerable demographics.
The Wanda Alston House and Foundation, now in its 10th year of service, serves LGBT individuals ages 16-24. The residential home-turned-shelter currently houses eight people, and hundreds have been through its doors over the last decade. The house is named after the late Wanda Alston, a D.C.-based LGBT activist who was murdered near her home in 2005.
Individuals enter the program based on their level of vulnerability and what kind of care the city’s homeless management providers think will best fit that person’s circumstances. The facility provides 24-hour support for residents through counseling, mental and medical health services. Tuition assistance and professional development is provided and other life skill services such as learning how to balance a checkbook, shop for groceries and manage a credit score are also offered. Residents receive three meals a day, clothing and toiletries as well as other necessities like Metro cards.
Full-time staff is trained, culturally competent and trauma-informed to ensure that all residents are supported. The operations manager and case manager work full-time at the house to make sure that everything runs smoothly and a clinical supervisor is also full-time to provide assessments and connect residents with the support they need.
The staff works together as an agency and as individuals to connect with the youths and help them cope, give support and help them navigate their lives. Sometimes that can be difficult and residents can respond by acting out.
“We are dealing with homeless youth that are isolated and rejected by the community,” says June Crenshaw, executive director of the Wanda Alston Foundation. “They’re forced to survive some unspeakable situations. Most, if not all, arrive having experienced some severe trauma. This can show up in less-than-positive ways like addiction, inability to cope with stress or not being able to navigate positive communication skills. But they’re human and they’ve had to endure circumstances that most of us couldn’t survive.”
Crenshaw, a self-identified “old-fashioned” lesbian and woman of color, says most youth in the program are women of color.
“When I started in this role two years ago, a resident came to me and said she never saw a person that looked like me in a leadership role. That stuck with me,” she says. “I’m proud to be a brown woman of the community that’s working hard to make things better.”
The program at the Wanda Alston House is slightly different from the programs at other LGBT shelters, she says. There are certain requirements that the residents must participate in that help them accomplish their personal goals within the 18-24 months they live there.
“We provide connections and care in all the ways that a person would need,” Crenshaw says.
After leaving the house, individuals stay connected to the care at the facility for 90 days-six months. Staff continues to support them however they need it — like buying groceries, clothes or Metro cards and finding housing and employment as well as providing case management to help them navigate other support and services available.
Crenshaw says there’s an “epidemic of LGBT homelessness.” Around 50 percent of the homeless youth in D.C. are LGBT-identifying. At the Wanda Alston House, residents “talk and share experiences around being treated differently, misgendered, disrespected, attacked and discriminated against.”
She says the city is committed to the youth but that in homeless centers that are not culturally sensitive to LGBT people, “grave mistreatments” can occur.
“Our population is trending as the most affected by homelessness and mental health issues,” she says. “We have a responsibility to do better by our youth, make sure they stay safe and are allowed to thrive. Facilities like ours are needed as long as these circumstances exist.”
The facility costs slightly over half a million dollars to run each year and most comes from local government offices such as the Mayor’s Office of LGBT Affairs. Grant dollars are used to run the shelter and pay staff, but that doesn’t cover all the expenses. They also rely on fundraising and the LGBT community and allies to support them. Donations amount to 25 percent of the budget.
Although D.C. has some of the most progressive laws in the nation and has been widely noted as one of the U.S. cities LGBT individuals can feel most open and supported, the competitive job market and high cost of living creates difficulties for LGBT people. LGBT people of color are more likely to be unemployed and represent a large portion of impoverished individuals and victims, Crenshaw says.
D.C. has the highest number per capita of LGBT individuals compared to other American cities. Crenshaw says not enough of the resources the city provides for homeless people are going to LGBT organizations and there is a lot of work yet to be done to resolve this epidemic.
The Wanda Alston House, however, has survived the turbulence of 10 years of operation and Crenshaw says they are ready and looking forward to at least another 10.
Just as humans have always had meals, queer humans, too, have enjoyed meals. Yet what is it that makes “queer food” distinct?
At the beginning of May in Montreal, the Queer Food Conference 2026 sought not to answer that question, but to further interrogate it. The conference united scholars, activists, artists, journalists, farmers, chefs, and other food industry professionals for three days of panels, workshops, discussions, and, yes, meals, in an inclusive, thoughtful, contemplative-yet-whimsical environment, taking a comprehensive view of the landscape of queer food.
The two organizers – Professor Alex Ketchum, at the Institute for Gender, Sexuality, and Feminist Studies of McGill University in Montreal, and Professor Megan Elias, Director of Food Studies & Gastronomy at Boston University – met in 2022 when Elias acted as a peer reviewer for Ketchum’s second book, “Ingredients for a Revolution,” a wide-ranging history of more than 230 feminist and lesbian-feminist restaurants, cafes, and coffeehouses from 1972 to the present in the US.
Elias, taken by the book and its exploration, invited Ketchum to speak at one of Elias’s courses, at which pastries were served and feminist bread making was baked into conversation. Elias floated the idea of co-organizing a queer food conference – and a hot 24 hours later, Ketchum said yes, with plans sketched out, from grants to topics to speakers. In parallel, the duo started to conceptualize “Queers at the Table,” a book based on their work (published last year).
The conference, the book, the research: their work is, in part, grounded in the question: What is queer food? True to queer theory, each has her own nuanced response as drivers of their research, challenging the traditional and looking beyond norms of food studies. Ketchum’s view is that it is grounded on food by and for the queer community, in specific histories, and especially in the labor behind the food. Elias posits that queer food is at the intersection of queerness and culinary studies, beyond gender norms and binaries, back to the societal basics of queer food as part of queer humans always having meals. “Queer food destabilizes assumptions about food, gender and sexuality, making space for a wider range of relationships to food,” she says.
The academics’ professed enthusiasm, however, rarely reached beyond small circles.
“I regularly attended big food studies conferences, but almost never saw presentations about gender identity beyond women’s roles,” says Elias about her prior work, and when her students would ask for additional literature about sexuality and food, results had been sparse. Ketchum echoed this gap: When she was in graduate studies, she received hesitation from leadership about her chosen field of study. By 2024, however, queer food as an area of study and practice had grown, whether in popular culture or well as in publishing, setting the stage for the first Queer Food Conference in 2024 in Boston. Their aim at that even was to launch the subfield of queer food studies into the mainstream, so that fellow academics, students, and those interested in the space could convene, “creating space for others to build,” says Ketchum. “People were enthusiastic.”
Once Ketchum and Elias published “Queers at the Table” in 2025 (notably, gay author John Birdsall also published a book examining queer identity through food last year, “What Is Queer Food?”), they laid the foundation for the 2026 conference in Montreal. This edition was an “embodied” conference, inclusive of various ontologies in queer food studies: theory, labor, art, taste, an interdisciplinary, expansive grounding.
Topics ranged from cookbooks and influencers to farming and land movements, bars and cafes, brewing and baking, history and sociology, writing and printmaking, healthcare and community, and centering marginalized – especially trans – voices.
Naturally, food was centered. The conference’s keynotes were not academics, but the chefs themselves who created the food with their own hands that attendees ate over the three days. “Not to disregard a pure academic space,” says Ketchum, “but to not have food in a room when we talk about food would be wild.”
Jackson Tucker, a Distinguished Graduate Fellow at the University of Delaware, said that “What I found [at the conference] was a genuinely diverse gathering: scholars who did grounded social research but also practitioners, organizers, and people who had never thought about an academic conference in their lives and didn’t need to. That mix is the soul of this whole project for me. Without the people who are out in the world doing queer food, the conference wouldn’t exist.”
Ketchum – her home being Montreal – also worked to fold in community-driven events so that attendees could get a taste of queer food in the city outside of classroom walls; for example, attendees participated in a collaborative evening pizza-making class at a queer-owned pizzeria.
The interdisciplinary nature of the conference led to sharing of research, thoughts, activities, and planning. There was a “value of bringing people together of different backgrounds, which leads to richer discussion,” she says.
Elias picked up on this theme: “I saw people bonding and connecting and believing in Queer Food Studies,” – one of the central goals that Ketchum noted, further legitimizing a nascent field. As both professors continue their research and leadership, they envision a continued layering of centering the queer experience and community through the shared value and study of food.
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Gay Men’s Chorus celebrates 45 years at annual gala
‘Sapphire & Sparkle’ Spring Affair held at the Ritz Carlton
The Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington held the annual Spring Affair gala at the Ritz Carlton Washington, D.C. on Saturday. The theme for this year’s fete was “Sapphire & Sparkle.” The chorus celebrated 45 years in D.C. with musical performances, food, entertainment, and an awards ceremony.
Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington Executive Director Justin Fyala and Artistic Director Thea Kano gave welcoming speeches. Opening remarks were delivered by Spring Affair co-chairs Tracy Barlow and Tomeika Bowden. Uproariously funny comedian Murray Hill performed a stand-up set and served as the emcee.
There were performances by Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington groups Potomac Fever, 17th Street Dance, the Rock Creek Singers, Seasons of Love, and the GenOUT Youth Chorus.

Anjali Murthy, a member of the chorus and a graduate of the GenOUT Youth Chorus, addressed the attendees of the gala.
“The LGBTQ+ community isn’t bound by blood ties: we are brought together by shared experience,” Murthy said. “Being Gen Z, I grew up with Ellen [DeGeneres] telling me through the TV screen that it gets better: that one day, it’ll all be okay. The sentiment isn’t wrong, but it’s passive. What I’ve learned from GMCW is that our future is something we practice together. It exists because people like you continue to show up for it, to believe in the possibilities of what we’re still becoming”
The event concluded with the presentation of the annual Harmony Awards. This year’s awardees included local drag artist and activist Tara Hoot, the human rights organization Rainbow Railroad as well as Rocky Mountain Arts Association Executive Director, Dr. Chipper Dean.
(Washington Blade photos and videos by Michael Key)































Equality Prince William Pride was held at the Harris Pavilion in Manassas, Va. on Saturday, May 16.
(Washington Blade photos by Landon Shackelford)















