Thrift store. Clinic. Roller skating rink. The center becomes a radical” lifeline amid homelessness and drug crises.

Thrift store. Clinic. Roller skating rink. The center becomes a radical” lifeline amid homelessness and drug crises.

From the outside, the abandoned Family Dollar store in the Lower 9th Ward looks intimidating. The parking lot is covered in graffiti and there are aluminum cans and trash everywhere. It sits on a street lined with other vacant lots and dilapidated buildings — symbols of the ongoing devastation that this neighborhood, one of the city's poorest, has suffered since Hurricane Katrina.

But inside, the store is a welcoming oasis. Twinkling fairy lights decorate shelves with donated clothing. Shelves and bins are overflowing with children's books, allergy medications and toiletries. Curtains line one side of the room, where there is a stage for musicians and a neon sign with roller skates for weekly free skate nights.

The space is part free thrift store, part over-the-counter pharmacy, part punk show venue — and entirely “a radical community center,” said Dan Bingler, who runs the place.

Bingler is a waiter and bartender in the city who founded a charity called the Greater New Orleans Caring Collective. He said the building owners allowed him to use the space as long as he paid the water, electric and trash bills.

On Monday evenings, volunteers come from other community organizations — some who set up in the parking lot before Bingler opened the store. They provide free testing for sexually transmitted infections, basic medical care, hot meals, and sterile syringes and other supplies for drug users.

The purpose of the space is simple, Bingler said: “We’re going to make sure we’re providing for the community.”

Although it has been open for several years, the space has become even more important to this community in recent months as the Trump administration has cut funding for many social organizations and taken an aggressive approach to homelessness and drug use. In Washington, D.C. The government razed tents to force people living on the streets to leave the city. There have been calls at national level to force people who use drugs into treatment. She has denounced harm reduction - practices that public health experts say keep people who use drugs safe and alive but that critics say encourage illegal drug use.

The New Orleans community space — named after the famed Black Panther activist known for bringing together diverse groups to fight for social reform, Fred Hampton Free Store — is intended to be a refuge amid this sea of ​​change.

It receives no federal funding, state or local grants or money from foundations, Bingler said. "It's just about neighbors helping their neighbors," he said through tears, adding, "It's really nice to be able to share this whole space with others."

All items included are provided by people or organizations in the community. Bingler said a local hotel that was undergoing renovations once donated 50 flat-screen televisions.

The store is open in the evenings and often more than 100 people come by, said Bingler.

On a recent fall evening, dozens of people searched for free clothing and over-the-counter medications. Others sat outside on the grass and chatted while keeping an eye on their bikes or shopping carts full of belongings.

James Beshears stopped by the harm reduction group in the parking lot to pick up sterile supplies that he uses to inject heroin and fentanyl. He said he had been receiving treatment for years but relapsed after his doctor moved away and he was referred to a clinic that charged $250 a day. Street drugs are cheaper than treatment, he said.

He wants to stop. But until he can find affordable care, places like the free store are keeping him going. Without them, he said, he would have “one foot in the grave.”

Another man waited in the parking lot for the arrival of Aquil Bey, a paramedic and former Green Beret known for helping people overcome obstacles to health care. As soon as the man spotted Bey's black Jeep, he ran towards it.

“I have stage four kidney disease,” the man said, adding that he was scheduled for treatment at a hospital but had difficulty getting there.

“Do me a favor,” Bey said as he unloaded folding tables and medical equipment from his car. "When our team is here, come visit us. Maybe we can get you some transportation."

Bey is the founder of Freestanding Communities, a volunteer-run organization that provides free primary health care and referrals to homeless people, drug users or members of other vulnerable communities. The group is constantly present in the free shop.

That day, Bey and his team provided access to low-cost transit programs for the man in need of kidney disease. They also performed blood pressure and blood sugar checks for anyone who wanted them, cleaned infected wounds and called clinics to make appointments for patients without phones.

A man with a leg injury said he slept on the concrete floor of an abandoned naval base. Bey noticed that there was a mattress in the furniture section of the free store. He and another volunteer pulled it out, strapped it to the roof of a car and brought it to where the man was sleeping.

“We’re just trying to find all of these obstacles” that people face and “find ways to eliminate them,” Bey said.

The free store clinic helped Stephen Wiltz explore addiction treatment. He grew up in the Lower 9th Ward and had been using drugs since he was 10 years old.

Fed up with discrimination from doctors who blamed him for his addiction, Wiltz said he was hesitant to enter a treatment facility. But after knowing the volunteers at the free store for years, he trusted them to point him in the right direction.

At 56, Wiltz was in sustained recovery for the first time in his life, he said during a telephone interview in the fall.

These volunteers “took care of people who had no one to take care of them,” he said.

As the sun set on the store that fall evening, a punk band began setting up for a show across the street from the clinic. The lights dimmed and music blared – a reminder that this was no ordinary clinic or community center.

Bey continued to consult with a patient suffering from gout.

“I’m getting used to the sound,” Bey said of the fast drums and loud power chords. “I like it sometimes.”

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