Hello, I’m Yves. This article highlights a remarkable community initiative focused on supporting those in desperate need. While it’s commendable to see the residents of New Orleans unite in their efforts to aid the homeless, the existence of such centers serves as a stark reminder of the ongoing challenges in America. I remember living in New York City during the difficult early 1980s, just after its financial crisis. Back then, single room occupancy hotels provided affordable lodging, helping many individuals stay off the streets. The undeniable truth remains: the rising cost of housing is a major factor driving homelessness.
As for substance abuse, former prosecutor David from Friday Harbor has pointed out that what is referred to in the UK as “sleeping rough” often contributes to drug use, as individuals turn to substances for coping. A friend of mine once spent three nights on the street on a writing assignment in Australia. Even in that brief time simulating homelessness, he struggled to sleep and resorted to accepting an unknown substance to help him rest. Consequently, the perception that drug use causes homelessness often misrepresents the true relationship between the two.
By Aneri Pattani. Originally published at KFF Health News
To an outsider, the rundown Family Dollar store in the Lower 9th Ward may seem off-putting, adorned with graffiti and littered with cans and debris in the parking lot. The store’s location amidst vacant lots and dilapidated buildings symbolizes the enduring devastation faced by this impoverished neighborhood since Hurricane Katrina.
However, once inside, the store transforms into a welcoming sanctuary. Twinkling string lights illuminate racks of donated clothes, and shelves brim with children’s books, allergy medicines, and toiletries. A section of the room is sectioned off with curtains, featuring a stage for musicians and a vibrant neon sign representing roller skates for the weekly free skate nights.
This space operates as a free thrift store, a walk-in pharmacy, and a venue for punk shows, all encapsulated in the mission of being “a radical community center,” as stated by Dan Bingler, the individual who oversees the establishment.
Bingler, who works as a waiter and bartender, founded a mutual-aid group known as the Greater New Orleans Caring Collective. The building’s owners permit him to utilize the space, provided he covers the water, electricity, and trash costs.
Every Monday evening, volunteers from various community organizations gather here — some of whom previously operated in the parking lot before the store opened. They provide free screenings for sexually transmitted infections, basic healthcare, hot meals, and sterile supplies for individuals using drugs.
Bingler succinctly states their mission for the space: “We’re committed to serving the community.”
Despite being operational for several years, this space has gained even greater significance recently, especially as the Trump administration has cut funding to numerous social service organizations and adopted a confrontational stance towards homelessness and drug use. In Washington, D.C., the administration has displaced homeless encampments to push individuals off the streets and out of the city. Nationally, calls have been made for mandates that would require those using drugs to attend treatment programs, while harm reduction strategies deemed essential by public health experts have been denounced.
The community hub in New Orleans — named the Fred Hampton Free Store after the renowned Black Panther activist known for uniting diverse groups to advocate for social change — aspires to provide refuge amid these sweeping transformations.


This endeavor operates without federal or local funding, grants, or donations from foundations, Bingler shared. It is a powerful example of neighbors assisting neighbors, an act that brings him to tears as he expresses, “It’s truly a remarkable experience to share this space.”
Every item available inside is graciously provided by local residents or organizations. Bingler shared an instance when a hotel undergoing renovations contributed 50 flat-screen televisions.
On nights when the store is open, it often welcomes over a hundred visitors, according to Bingler.
On one fall evening, numerous individuals explored the available clothing and over-the-counter medicines. Some gathered outside on the grass, engaged in conversation while looking after their bicycles or grocery carts laden with their belongings.
James Beshears visited the harm reduction group in the parking lot to collect sterile supplies for injecting heroin and fentanyl. He shared that although he had been in treatment for years, he relapsed after his doctor relocated and referred him to a pricey clinic that charged $250 a day. He noted that street drugs were more affordable than treatment.
Desiring to quit, he explained that until he finds affordable care, places like the free store are crucial for his survival. He believes that without it, he would have “one foot in the grave.”
Another man in the parking lot awaited the arrival of Aquil Bey, a paramedic and former Green Beret renowned for assisting individuals in overcoming healthcare barriers. As soon as he spotted Bey’s black Jeep, he hurried over.
“I have stage 4 kidney disease,” the man stated, mentioning his scheduled treatments but struggling with transportation.
“Please do me a favor,” Bey replied as he unloaded tables and medical supplies from his vehicle. “When our team arrives, come see us. We may be able to arrange transportation for you.”
Bey founded Freestanding Communities, a volunteer organization dedicated to providing free basic medical care and referrals for individuals who are homeless, using drugs, or part of other vulnerable populations. His team is consistently present at the free store.
That day, Bey and his team connected the man seeking kidney treatment with low-cost transit options. They also conducted blood pressure and blood sugar checks for interested visitors, treated infected wounds, and scheduled appointments for patients lacking phones.
Another man with a leg injury informed Bey that he was sleeping on the cold floor of an abandoned naval base. Noticing a mattress in the free store’s furniture section, Bey and a volunteer carried it out, secured it on top of a vehicle, and delivered it to where the man was staying.

“Our goal is to identify the barriers people face and creatively work towards solutions,” Bey expressed.
The clinic inside the free store assisted Stephen Wiltz in accessing addiction treatment. Having grown up in the Lower 9th Ward, he reported using drugs since he was 10.
Filled with frustration from discriminatory treatment by doctors who blamed him for his addiction, Wiltz was initially hesitant to visit any rehabilitation facility. But after years of developing trust with the volunteers at the free store, he felt safe relying on them for guidance.
At the age of 56, he shared during a phone interview that he was experiencing sustained recovery for the first time in his life.
These dedicated volunteers “cared for people who had no one else to care for them,” he remarked.
As dusk fell on that autumn evening at the store, a punk band began setting up for a performance across from the medical clinic. The lights dimmed, and the music erupted — a vivid reminder that this space is anything but an ordinary clinic or community center.
As Bey continued consulting with a patient suffering from gout, he remarked, “I’m getting used to the noise. Sometimes, I even enjoy it.”

