Amara Everlasting: “To see how much it has risen again and come around, and that it is building something entirely new, it’s really powerful. I feel a lot of hopefulness around it.” Lucy Gellman Photo.
When Amara Everlasting needed emergency food aid during the Covid-19 pandemic, the New Haven Pride Center was there to help them apply for SNAP. When Ryu was looking for a lifeline to navigate the world as a trans man—and help others do the same—the Center created that space, and then watched it flourish under his care. When Ken Belisle began their search for queer community as an adult, the organization was there, with open doors and a warm welcome.
Wednesday evening, all of them brought those stories to 50 Orange St., as over 150 people filled the Pride Center with joyful conversations—and a few questions about the future—at a community open house that marked the next chapter in the space’s slow and deliberate reopening. Buoyed by a sense of cautious optimism, community members mixed and mingled for over two hours, with a registration line that at points spilled out the door and onto Orange Street.
It marks the first time in three months that the Center, which furloughed staff and closed its doors in late February, has welcomed back members of the public. It was made possible by an emergency fundraising campaign called “Project Phoenix,” which raised $500,000 from the community in a little over a month (roughly half of that came from an anonymous donor; read about that here). In April, the Center announced that it would “soft” reopen in May, with a more formal reopening in June.
On Wednesday, they said that “soft” reopening would in fact likely take place in June. The board, still something of a skeleton crew, currently includes Hope Chávez, Nick Bussett, Chloe Lasky, Chris Freimuth, and John Stachniewicz. Bussett said that community members hoping to get involved, whether on the board or as volunteers, can contact him at nbussett@gmail.com.
“Honestly, it’s very emotional,” said Lasky, who has been on the board through years of tumultuous financial transition, and was devastated earlier this year when the space, facing significant IRS debt and an absence of consistent leadership, was forced to temporarily cease operations. “I’m relieved that the community was able to pull this off and felt strongly that the organization was needed.”
As Lasky buzzed around the space, connecting with old and new attendees alike, fellow board members talked through the finer details of the Center’s reopening and near future. Before formally reopening to the public, both Bussett and Freimuth explained, the board needs to install an interim director who can keep the organization afloat, even on a part-time basis. The board is finishing interviews with two candidates for that position, Bussett said.
They will begin “hopefully in June,” he added. When they do, the priority is reopening the Center’s emergency food pantry and clothing and hygiene closets, which prior to February saw weekly traffic at very high levels. Then, as members bring services and programming back online, the board will relaunch its search for a permanent executive director.
“I think it’s really important to bring in new, fresh energy, and new leadership with new ideas,” Bussett said. “And to set a strong foundation for the next executive director. We’re excited.”
The Center has been without an executive director since April 2025, when Juancarlos Soto left the organization after steering it through years of financial transition (read more about that here, here, here and here). Last November, longtime nonprofit administrator Edward Summers stepped into the role, but resigned later that month after just a week in the position.
Bussett said that the Center also needs a full- or part-time fundraiser, whether that’s a grants administrator or a director of development or a different role. Since Soto’s departure last year, noone on staff has done significant fundraising, exacerbating financial strain already on the organization. In February, that strain was the reason the Center closed its doors, disclosing a $200,000-plus debt to the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) that it had never before communicated to the community.
Top: Ken Belisle (right) and their friend, Ariel. Chris Freimuth, one of the newest members of the board.
As attendees filled the space Wednesday, nibbling on snacks that had materialized in the large, multi-purpose central room, many of them expressed hope for the Center’s future, and gratitude for the organization’s renewed commitment to building, nourishing, and defending LGBTQ+ community. Belisle, who grew up in New Haven, pointed to its importance as a space for queer people to connect with one another in the real world, rather than on a dating app or website.
Growing up in a conservative family, “I didn’t really have that [LGBTQ+] representation,” Belisle said. When they were in high school, however, the Pride Center began to grow its programming after hiring an inaugural paid director. It opened Belisle’s eyes to a vibrant and safe space, including for young people in the city.
“Now, it’s a space to find community as an adult,” they said. Like a growing number of young people, Belisle wants to meet people in person, instead of online. After years of pandemic-enforced isolation, it just feels right. As the Pride Center reopens, they’re hoping that it will be one of those cherished third spaces (as it has been for so many people in the past).
Nearby, Benny Almaguer made his way through the room, taking it all in. Last year, Almaguer moved to New Haven from central California to become the campus director of operations and education at the Porter and Chester Institute in Waterbury. He was just in time to experience the last dregs of winter weather, which came on even stronger this year, just as the Center began to wobble publicly.
Dolores Dégagé Hopkins (center) with Emperor Lyum Troi and her wife, Jennifer. "It's incredible. Talk about a comeback."
When he started learning more about the Pride Center, “I was sad to see the direction it had gone,” he said. But after the board announced Project Phoenix earlier this year, he was equally thrilled to see the community rally around it. Now, he wants to know how he can best support the space as a member of the wider community. When asked if leadership was part of his interest, he described himself as “board-curious.”
“For me, it’s about making sure that the people who are coming feel supported,” he said.
Nearby, musician and music therapist Shannon “Oli” Kiley said she was equally excited to see the Center move towards opening its doors back up to the public. Prior to February of this year, Kiley was working with staff to launch a music therapy program at the organization. Those plans froze when the board announced plans to furlough staff and temporarily cease operations.
“It was devastating to hear that,” Kiley said, pointing to the impact of funding cuts on the wider nonprofit and creative community, where the margins are often already razor thin and general operating dollars can be hard to come by. Then earlier this month, she and musicians played a special set at Spruce Coffee, specifically to raise dollars for the Center.
“It’s been amazing” to see the Center work toward reopening, she said. “I’m just so relieved, seeing the groundswell of community support.”
Amara Everlasting, who leads the Decolonial Sex Worker Justice Empowerment Project, was also feeling ready for the reopening—and deeply grateful for the Center’s continuation in a community where need within the LGBTQ+ community feels especially high right now. “They’ve just done so much to help the community,” they said. In the past several years, they’ve attended support groups and community events at the organization.
Ryu, who asked that his face not be photographed.
During the Covid-19 pandemic, Soto—then the director of case management and support services at the Center—helped Everlasting seek out the emergency resources they needed, including applying for SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) benefits that provided literally livesaving nourishment.
Last year, the Center again played a pivotal role in their work, as the 50 Orange St. space became a home base for the anti-femicide group Vivan Las Autónomas, which folds artmaking, poetry and performance into its work, which is focused on both trauma-based healing and ending femicide in (and well beyond) the state of Connecticut.
Last year, Vivan held artmaking sessions for its annual Día de Muertas event in the Center, a night to honor fallen sisters like Lizzbeth Alemán-Popoca, Roya Mohammadi, Tina Lloyd, Hailey Miller and dozens of others. Everlasting was glad to be there as both a vendor and a speaker—and later went on to host a World AIDS Day commemoration at the Center the following month.
When the news broke about the Center earlier this year, “it was disappointing for sure,” they said, adding that they’ve been impressed in the past by the space’s support for Black and Brown queer people in past years, and are hoping to see more of it in the near future. “It’s the only pride center in Connecticut that has a more grassroots, community feel. To see it just go flat was really sad, really frustrating. Because I’m like, C’mon! This could have been prevented.”
“To see how much it has risen again and come around, and that it is building something entirely new, it’s really powerful. I feel a lot of hopefulness around it.”
Look at these gorgeous humans! Jennifer (JHD) Heikkila Diaz and Kirill Staklo.
On the rainbow-patterned pavement outside of the Center, TransHaven’s Kirill Staklo called the Center’s reopening a net positive for the city, particularly at a moment when LGBTQ+ lives are under attack on both the state and federal level.
In the past year alone, Staklo has watched not only a violent politics of erasure and an increase in anti-LGBTQ+ policy on the national level and in state legislatures across the country, but also the loss of gender-affirming care at two major hospitals in the state and a rise in LGBTQ+ youth who are in crisis and have reported mental health issues and suicidality.
“In the current political moment, a pride center reopening is a positive,” Staklo said. Currently, he and fellow members of TransHaven know firsthand how hard it can be for an LGBTQ+ community space to survive—and how equally crucial that survival is.
Back inside, Ryu made a beeline for Maggie Goodwin, who for years has been a leader in the Rainbow Elders Support Group. Six or seven years ago, he started leading a trans masculine support group, where the community “can talk about anything and everything.” During the Covid-19 pandemic, the group transitioned to Zoom meetings, and has remained virtual since. Even with the Center closed, it still meets, as a grassroots initiative that Ryu has kept going.
“It’s needed, especially with the current regime,” he said.
When the Center announced in February that it would be closing, “I went through a mourning period,” he said. He knew that the IRS debt alone, close to a quarter of a million dollars, would be difficult to raise. And then, miraculously, he watched the community band together for the space. “To see it come back, literally like a phoenix, that was amazing.”