With a new mobile testing and outreach van, GLIDE joins the OPT-IN effort to connect the most vulnerable to services

On a remote stretch of road just west on the Third Street artery that runs through San Francisco’s Bayview neighborhood, a young man is about to receive life-saving treatment.

The setting is anything but residential and yet full of makeshift housing—weathered campers, trailers and other vehicles, tents and lean-tos, all situated in an abandoned industrial landscape decorated over in graffiti and sectioned by torn chainlink fencing topped with razor-wire.

GLIDE’s Harm Reduction Community Outreach van makes a bright addition to these surroundings, the iconic orange heart on the front acting as a beacon of support to the neighborhood.

Frank Castro, GLIDE case manager and the van’s driver, has just pulled up in front of a slightly run-down mobile home with covered windows. Alix Strough, a nurse with the Department of Public Health’s Street Medicine unit, hops out of the GLIDE van and looks around. A moment later, the San Francisco AIDS Foundation (SFAF) outreach team pulls up, too, just in front of GLIDE. Roy and Damon step out of SFAF’s white cargo van, which sports a random assortment of stickers promoting harm reduction and decrying the war on drugs.

Greetings exchanged, the crew scans the area. The mid-September day is cloudless and unusually hot, already into the low 90s, and at first no one seems to be around. “Normally there would be more foot traffic,” says Frank, “lots more.”

On site in the Bayview, September 2019 (photo by Robert Avila)

This is the team’s usual Friday stop. For the past several months, they have been spending several hours here each week, and been well received for the services and support they offer the homeless people living in the area. GLIDE and SFAF typically divide up the services to maximize their time here, with SFAF offering syringe access, Narcan training and distribution, and other harm reduction services while GLIDE’s specially equipped van allows the GLIDE team to concentrate on testing and linkages to care.

Frank, in cargo shorts and a black GLIDE tee, opens the van’s sliding door. He has decided to keep the engine on today in order to keep the air-conditioning running. Inside the van, GLIDE Health Systems Navigator Khaiya Croom is arranging equipment by the phlebotomy chair, preparing the space for testing.

The van is equipped to test for HIV, Hepatitis C and Sexually Transmitted Infections (STIs). HIV and Hep C test results can be had on-site in a matter of minutes. With Alix onboard, the van can also offer rapid testing for syphilis, which alarmingly has been on the rise among women of childbearing years. As a nurse, Alix can treat STIs on-site as well.

Today, Frank has test results for someone he has been engaging with in this area. “When we see this person, I’ll let him know. At that point I’ll ask him if he wants to be in the OPT-IN program,” he explains, referring to the collaborative street outreach effort managed by the City’s Department of Public Health. “At that point, I’m his case manager.”

Alix decides to venture around the area and let people know there are harm reduction and testing services available. She and Damon load up a backpack with bottles of water and head down the nearby railroad track, respectfully pausing by the tents and camps scattered along either side to offer water (gratefully accepted on this scorching day) and let people know the vans have arrived with services for those who want them.

Across the street from the GLIDE van, beside a camper with a boat on a trailer, two men and a woman express their appreciation for the outreach, not only for the material support but for the judgment-free way in which it is offered.

“It’s amazing how looked down upon you are just because you live on the street,” the young woman tells Roy. “You guys all talk to us just like we’re anyone else.”

Back at the van, meanwhile, Frank is speaking with a young man with a neatly cropped beard who has ridden over on a bicycle. Alix has returned from the railroad track and joins the interaction. Afterward, she takes her laptop into a patch of shade as Frank relates the successful result: The young man has learned his status, and has agreed to sign up for treatment for Hep C.

Alix registers him with the Department of Public Health and will ultimately be able to administer his medication here on-site. Frank, as his case manager, will coordinate regular contact, offer emotional support, help with related challenges, and generally work to mitigate factors that could impede successful treatment.

In a matter of months, the young man can expect to receive treatment and eradicate the virus, all without ever having to enter a clinic or hospital.

“This is what our hope was,” says Frank, referring to the days of outreach before OPT-IN, “but this is the piece we needed. We needed a nurse.”

Project OPT-IN

OPT-IN arose to meet the challenge of reaching the most marginalized populations with successful health interventions and services for addressing the HIV and Hep C epidemics and other harms among the city’s homeless residents.

Funded by a five-year grant to the city’s Department of Public Health (DPH) from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the program joins DPH’s Street Medicine unit with two social service agencies with extensive experience working with the populations concerned: San Francisco AIDS Foundation and GLIDE.

It was GLIDE’s Director of Harm Reduction Services, Paul Harkin, who offered the name, which stands for “outreach, prevention, treatment and integration.” But the name also points to a fundamental approach, grounded in the harm reduction principle that health interventions must be invited and not coerced.

“We see our approach as meeting trauma-informed criteria with cultural competency and humility,” says Paul.

“Our staff genuinely get what’s going on in these populations and are respected by them for the way that they treat everyone. Any approach to the most vulnerable populations has to come with that perspective. The notion of using coercion or threats is a failing approach. It’s totally counterproductive. It scares people away from care. It adds to their trauma and it actually makes them more vulnerable and more at risk.”

For Paul, OPT-IN is the logical extension of the outreach GLIDE has long done in the Tenderloin and South of Market, and more recently in monthly visits to encampments across the city. Now, with the van, that citywide relationship-building runs five days a week in places like the Bayview, the Western Addition, and Haight Ashbury. This consistency, showing up regularly and reliably to build trust, is crucial.

“One of GLIDE’s strengths is our presence on the streets,” he explains. “That’s how you build up cred. You get to know people. We’ve only added to that with OPT-IN, by adding more outreaches, and increasing that engagement.”

Going where the need is

On the way back to GLIDE, Frank confers with Khaiya and Alix about an idea he has for maximizing floor space in the van to further improve the care they provide. Alix, in turn, updates Frank on the status of a pregnant young woman they know who had been living in a small RV. She’s at San Francisco General now, says Alix, and doing well.

The day invariably includes many such conversations, as well as the sharing of information with the public, distribution of harm reduction supplies, and other social interactions that increase trust, knowledge, solidarity and options between the outreach team and the people they serve. The hard stats for the afternoon: two people were tested, one person learned their health status, and one person was connected to treatment.

Treatment is a process, however. Increasing access for people on the margins to the range of available services, from clinics to pharmacies, is also a daily effort.

“That’s the other part of this job,” says Frank, “going to service providers, talking to the staff, letting them know the feedback I’ve gotten and seeing how receptive they are to a conversation about how we can make this situation better for our clients—how we can widen the margins for getting services.”

“We have a lot of resources in this city,” he says. “Our job here is being the grout between the tiles.”

Monday the van will be at another populated area in the Bayview, but each weekday the team makes a different regular stop across the city. These stops change only as populations move around. As that happens, the OPT-IN team adjusts its schedule accordingly.

That’s the mission, as Frank explains. “Paul told me: Go wherever our people are.” 

This story, by Robert Avila, Director of Communications, originally appeared in the Fall 2019 print edition of GLIDE’s Real Talk newsletter.

A dedicated volunteer whose legacy lives on through his bequest to GLIDE’s Daily Free Meals program

Longtime volunteer Jonathan Leong passed away on October 19, 2017, leaving a very generous bequest to GLIDE’s Daily Free Meals program. Just days after creating his living trust, he told his sister Bonnie, “A person dies. A great charity organization lives on and on, helping the poor and needy.”

A native San Franciscan who grew up in Chinatown, Jonathan gave his time and money to many nonprofits.

Jonathan was born near Vallejo and Mason streets, just one mile away from GLIDE. He attended Lowell High School and graduated from San Jose State University. He worked in San Francisco for the US Postal Service for nearly four decades.

Jonathan had a wide range of interests. He loved learning new languages and was fluent in Cantonese, Japanese, Spanish and German. Inspired by his father, Jonathan traveled all through Europe and Asia. He loved Montreal and went there annually to attend the International Jazz Festival. His favorite hobby was chess, and he was a frequent visitor to The Mechanics Institute’s famous chess room.

When Jonathan retired, he started volunteering at St. Anthony’s and GLIDE’s dining halls.

His sister Bonnie describes her brother as someone who was a big believer in community. He wanted to help those less fortunate, she explains, people who had less than he did. In addition to GLIDE and St. Anthony’s, Jonathan also supported the Red Cross and the Salvation Army, organizations that reflected his values.

“Volunteers like Jonathan are the heart and soul of what we do here in the Meals program, which is nourishing the body and soul every day,” says Daily Free Meals Program Director George Gundry. “We rely on them (up to 85 volunteers a day) for their generous donation of labor in getting food prepped and served for hundreds of folks a day, but it’s really so much more than that. The human connection made across this most fundamental social act, the offering of food to a neighbor, is a powerful experience for both sides. It’s impossible to measure, but you feel it here. I know Jonathan felt it. We all do.”

Jonathan completed his living trust and gave a copy to his sister, not knowing that he had only a year of life remaining. Jonathan’s legacy of love and support will live on through a substantial bequest gift he made to support GLIDE’s Daily Free Meals program. We are extraordinarily grateful and humbled by his generosity.

 


Terrell Henderson is GLIDE’s Senior Director of Legacy Programs. If you would like information on making your own legacy gift to GLIDE, you can reach Terrell at Thenderson@glide.org. Or visit GLIDE Planning Legacy.

 

GLIDE Volunteer serves a meal in Mo’s Kitchen

Introducing Marvin K. White

Starting in January, Marvin K. White will become the Interim Minister of Celebration at GLIDE. Many people in our congregation have experienced and recognized Marvin’s deep creative and spiritual gifts. He’ll bring those gifts along with his strong commitment to GLIDE’s mission of unconditional love and radical inclusivity as he continues to help lead Sunday Celebrations and be one of the leaders guiding us through an adventurous time of transition.

On December 16, Marvin led Celebration in honoring the spiritual legacy of San Francisco’s very own Disco Super Star – Sylvester. This marked the 30-year anniversary of his passing. Where better than GLIDE to celebrate Sylvester’s time on this earth and shine a light on his lasting impact and the example he left for us today? In the following interview, published originally in GLIDE’s Congregation Connect newsletter and slightly edited for clarity, Marvin speaks to his inspiration as a preacher and the importance of commemorating our queer heroes.

Who is Marvin K. White, MDiv?


A poet, preacher, an arts leader, an arts organizer and a public theologian—those are the kind of identities I lead with. That’s what it says on my mailbox—that’s how I want people to be able to find me.

On the inside, I am a 12-year-old kid who was raised by his mom and grandma. I was creative but not in a way that was encouraged, so I had to really come into it on my own. So, this extension of storytelling by preaching makes sense to me because I have always told stories to myself. I could always find a way to write myself out of an uncomfortable situation.

What was your inspiration for a Sylvester-themed Celebration?


He was a black gay church kid, he came out of the church, he was born in the church. If you listen to his music, it was still church. I want to celebrate and elevate our queer heroes.

 

In my practice, I am deeply committed to understanding what my role in the divine is and how to make sure that people who are interested in spiritual gifts, no matter what they are, that they find them. That I say something or do something to help them realize their gifts.

When I was 21, I saw Sylvester perform at the Castro Theatre with Two Tons of Fun. The person who took me told me “you need to know this is historic” and honestly, it just changed my life! I was ushered into the larger meaning of what Sylvester meant.

Paula at Sunday Celebration on Cecil’s 89th birthday, September 23, 2018; guest speaker Marvin K. White.

 

What do you believe Sylvester’s message to be?


You have to activate God on your behalf, and spirituality, and the divine. In a way that’s different from how we are taught in corporate and organized religion: that there is somebody you have to go through to get to it.

It reminds me of what Andy Warhol said, “Don’t think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it’s good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they are deciding, make even more art.”

One of the things I talked about on Sunday is that each of us is our own tabernacle. We carry with us this fire and this spark and this music that has been passed on to us (by folks who didn’t make it) and whether they physically hand it to you, or you dance with them once and they bumped it into you, or you guys were all on the same dance floor—I mean, that’s why the dance floor is like Pentecost. Everybody gets it at the same time—everybody starts talking in tongues, but everybody can understand each other. That’s what happened with Sylvester’s music on the dance floor.

People like Sylvester—a black, cross-dressing boy from L.A.—people without role models, even we can still come into ourselves. Then, in doing that, we provide inspiration to others to come into themselves as well.

Our identities are our pathways to spirituality. And to our divinity. [They are the] keys to get you into it—not locks to keep you out of it.

Marvin K. White preaching on Thanksgiving 2018

Marvin K. White preaching on Thanksgiving 2018.