Tellingly, brightly colored flags adorn the door of our Makom walk-in centre today. An equally colorful, “female-led” receptionist welcomes all visitors with a big smile. On the table is a kit with nail polish, eyeshadow, and lipstick, free for anyone present to use. As cheerful as all this may sound, there is an enormous urgency for shelter and protection behind it. In a world that is often harsh and judgmental toward them. As it does every Thursday, Makom serves today as a walk-in centre for homeless LGBTIQ+ people and women.
Fernando (32) has Dutch and Dominican roots and grew up in the Caribbean island of Sint Maarten. He was twenty-two when he came to the Netherlands to study dance at the Amsterdam School of the Arts. “At first, it was a culture shock, but it turned out to be one of the best experiences. The program breaks you down only to build you back up again. They helped me identify mental blocks I didn’t even know I had and break through them.” Until everything changed in an instant for the man in his twenties. “In my third year of school, my mother passed away in Paris, and I had a week to take care of everything.” Through an online fundraiser, he raised 10,000 euros for the cremation. Despite that, all the arrangements cost Fernando a lot of money, which left him in debt and forced him to drop out of school. “I found myself falling into an ever-deeper hole. Over a period of two or three years, during which I tried to hang on without being able to grieve, my debts kept growing, and I was eventually kicked out of my home. I was homeless and had no idea where to go.”
Small family
Through the Street Alliance, Fernando ended up at our walk-in centre, AMOC-West, on Transformatorweg. “You’re inside somewhere. But I didn’t feel safe there at all, and I felt all eyes on me as a small Black man with nail polish on. I could also stay the night there, but I was afraid of what might happen and how I’d have to fight to survive.” Our small-scale overnight shelter for LGBTIQ+ individuals at Princehof turned out to be a more suitable place for Fernando. During the day, Princehof is a regular walk-in centre for homeless people, and at night, it can accommodate twelve people from the LGBTIQ+ community. Fernando has been staying here since October 2025. “Princehof has really been a relief. At first, I had to adjust. I’m not at all used to being homeless and living on the street. Mentally, I had so much to deal with. I kept crying because I was in a place like this and had countless breakdowns. But after a month or two, I realized that this place was better for me than most other places. Even though I didn’t literally have it, I could claim my own space here. People saw what I needed and left me alone. At Princehof, we help each other while respecting each other’s boundaries: what do you want to talk about—and what don’t you? That’s how we grew into a little family.”
Fernando, a visitor to the LGBTIQ+ shelter
Admitted for the first time
But today we’re at Makom, which serves as a regular walk-in centre every day of the week except Thursday—the special walk-in day for homeless LGBTIQ+ people and women. Here, social worker BeyonG is the constant guiding light. Fernando: “BeyonG was the first person I could really open up to. Not only did I feel heard for the first time, but also understood. Even though I’d told so many friends about it, it wasn’t until I spoke with BeyonG that I dared to let myself feel it. I pushed it away—the sadness, the fall. I didn’t want to fall into that abyss and lose the ability to function. Through BeyonG, I’m now enrolled in trauma therapy. I’ve changed from who I used to be. I used to be a social butterfly. But when my mother passed away, I fell apart. BeyonG is a major pillar in my life. I have plenty of friends outside the shelter, but at the shelter I’ve met such wonderful people with whom I don’t have to keep up a facade.”
Risky
What’s the biggest difference compared to a regular shelter? Fernando: “Your privacy as an LGBTIQ+ person. In a regular shelter, you’re scrutinized, followed, and teased. During the day, it’s stares, stares, jokes, jokes, and it just keeps getting out of hand. Also, everyone in a shelter like that is fighting for themselves. Everyone is jostling for their own space, which means people stop acting civilized. For LGBTIQ+ people, that’s risky. Most are very vulnerable. It was such a relief to move from AMOC-West to the LGBTIQ+ night shelter in Princehof. At AMOC-West, I could never be as much myself as I am now at the special shelters in Princehof and Makom.” Fernando is an extrovert and an artist, but he’s also authentically himself—and an introvert when he needs to recharge, he says. At two o’clock, he’ll be teaching a vogue dance class at Makom for the third time. That’s his way of giving back to the shelter. Just as Jessica (48) does by helping others and cooking at the LGBTIQ+ overnight shelter in Princehof. Fernando asks her to join them to share how he’s changed since the moment he arrived at Princehof. Jessica: “At first, he was very shy and withdrawn, but when he realized we treated him as an equal and got to know us better, he opened up more and more. We let him know he’s not alone. I also helped him with his medication and guided him to healthcare providers. I help wherever I can, as best as I can, even though I need help myself.” From being completely on his own, Fernando has transformed into “the momma” of the group, they both conclude, laughing hysterically. And Jessica is “the grandmomma”. Fernando: “We’re all here together. Once I arrived and my bed was already made. We also celebrate each other’s birthdays and sometimes give the staff a gift. We’re just a real family.”
Visitors Fernando and Jessica at the LGBTIQ+ shelter in the Makom walk-in centre
Otherwise, I wouldn’t have made it
Finally, Fernando candidly shares that he attempted suicide several times after his mother passed away. “I needed a moment to pause. If it hadn’t been for the LGBTIQ+ shelter at De Regenboog, I don’t think I would have made it.” Now Fernando has a sense of purpose again, but he had to work hard for it. “Self-care and self-realization, with the help of the people at Princehof and Makom. They also found a dance studio for me where I could rehearse. I used to dance 24/7. When I felt bad, I’d go dance, and I’d always feel better. So when that was taken away… Getting back to dancing had such a huge impact on my mental health. Without the people at Regenboog, I wouldn’t have had the energy and motivation to move forward. I’m so grateful to them for that.” Through our Back2Work project, Fernando is currently taking a programming and a design course. “I’m now doing things to improve myself in this situation. Ultimately, I want to resume my studies and earn my degree.”
Social Worker at BeyonG LGBTIQ+ Shelter
Less stress and greater safety
BeyonG (40), who is transgender, has been a social worker at the LGBTIQ+ shelters run by De Regenboog Groep since April 1, 2025. Prior to that, she helped set up the LGBTIQ+ night shelter as a day coordinator at Princehof. She has also worked at the LGBTIQ+ organizations Veilige Haven and COC. In 2017, she even won the Jos Brink Innovation Award (LGBTIQ+ emancipation). She is, in short, a true pioneer in the field of LGBTIQ+ rights. She has one big dream—or mission, really: a dedicated shelter or care farm for transgender people. BeyonG: “Since January 2025, we’ve been running the special LGBTIQ+ overnight shelter in Princehof, partly to show that this group needs its own walk-in centre. Having their own space and privacy really makes a difference: less stress and more safety. Especially for transgender people or if you’re very vulnerable.” BeyonG also talks about the sense of family at the special shelter locations. “Here, LGBTIQ+ people no longer feel alone. That connection is empowering. For example… During the day, Princehof is a regular walk-in centre. Then there are fifty men there, and the energy is different. When the overnight residents arrive in a small group as early as the afternoon, you can see them standing stronger together.” BeyonG notes that Princehof is safe, but you do notice microaggressions during the day.
Loss of trust
As a transgender woman, BeyonG also faces a lot of challenges herself. That’s why she doesn’t walk hand in hand with her partner in many parts of Amsterdam, she explains. “I’m making a conscious choice for safety. When I see groups of men, I’ll often take a detour. Not long ago, two guys spat on me and threw a bottle at me, just because I was walking by.” In her work, however, this actually helps her. “Because I’m trans myself, people often feel safe right away and open up to me. It helps build trust. Usually, you have to convince LGBTIQ+ people that there’s a system in place to help people like them. Because they’ve hit so many walls in the mainstream support system. First, they were rejected by their families. Then they were discriminated against and misgendered. As a result, their trust in support services has completely vanished. I’ve even seen people return to an unsafe country because they felt just as unsafe here in the mainstream support system.” “BeyonG wants to encourage people to keep believing in themselves. Sometimes it feels like we’re alone on this journey, but that’s not true. Know that we can get the right information and help.” At the same time, BeyonG believes there are too few places like Princehof and Makom, and she advocates with all her heart for a dedicated 24/7 LGBTIQ+ shelter.
Visitor and volunteer at the LGBTIQ+ shelter Juan
Active in the LGBTIQ+ community
Having long been aware of what was coming, Juan (42) left the U.S. three years ago. In the Netherlands, he ended up at our AMOC-Zuid walk-in centre. “That was the first step, before other doors to help opened up.” Juan talks about his experience as a gay man at this mainstream shelter. “I was okay because I can pass as straight, but others couldn’t. People who came across as more queer or flamboyant were harassed or even attacked outside. There’s too much trauma at the shelter. Russians, Eastern Europeans—they’re all severely traumatized. That’s not an environment for LGBTIQ+ people. I wasn’t in the closet, but I didn’t talk about it either. That’s why I was tolerated. When I realized how my community was being treated and started talking about it, it resulted in me being stalked and them vandalizing my bike. They’d let the air out of my tires and loosen the bolts.” The positive outcome was that people from the LGBTIQ+ community came to Juan and began to see him as a sort of anchor. “Back then, together with Anika, the site director of AMOC-Zuid, the idea for a focus group emerged. It then grew to include more and more days.” So when Anika wanted to launch this special Thursday at Makom, it was right up his alley, and he pitched in to help. In the U.S., Juan was just as active in his community. “There, I focused on the issue of homelessness within the LGBTIQ+ community and organized awareness events at the university. Five years ago, the “Don’t Say Gay” legislation was introduced in the U.S., which prohibits discussing sexuality or gender in schools. If teachers find out you’re gay, they’re required by law to tell your parents. And it’s only getting worse with initiatives aimed at curtailing care for transgender people. The next step is that people with disabilities, such as autism, will no longer receive the help they need to function in society.” His “different” perspective on the situation in the U.S. has resulted in Juan losing many friends. “There’s no dialogue anymore. I’m also no longer in touch with my brothers.” Juan lost his father to cancer when he was just eleven, and his mother passed away from Alzheimer’s a few years ago. In America, Juan took great care of his ailing parents. “Healthcare there is so poor. I always helped my mother shower, for example. My brothers didn’t want to do that: ‘They couldn’t see their mother’s breasts, could they? But the gay guy could…’”
De Regenboog Means a Lot
When asked how he feels about the support available for LGBTIQ+ people in the Netherlands, Juan replies: “Because their social networks often prevent them from ending up completely on the streets, there isn’t enough support. There are also people who have fled from other countries because it wasn’t safe to be themselves there, who are harassed and abused here by the very same community they fled from. It’s incredibly sad that there isn’t a dedicated shelter for them. And what happens then? They turn to alcohol and drugs. And so they find themselves not far from homelessness.” The fact that Juan receives help at De Regenboog and is able to help others means a lot to him. “It’s given me the chance to share a lot and stay busy. Otherwise, after my mother passed away, I would have sunk much deeper into despair. She was the last living person who gave me a kick in the butt. I don’t have anyone else left.”
The door to our Makom walk-in centre on Thursday
Statistics?
There are no known statistics on the number of homeless LGBTIQ+ people in the Netherlands. A study published in 2020 by Movisie in 2020 estimated that there are at least one thousand to two thousand homeless LGBTIQ+ youth (up to age 27) in our country. This same study revealed that their situation is extremely concerning: there are few safe spaces in shelters, and bullying, violence, and abuse are more common. In addition, homeless LGBTIQ+ youth are often rejected by their families, their immediate social circles, and/or their religious communities. Tensions can escalate if they wish to explore or express their LGBTIQ+ identity, making it no longer safe for them to live at home. This can happen even in a relatively stable home environment.
Since January 2026, an average of twenty visitors have attended the special drop-in day at Makom, fifteen of whom are LGBTIQ+ individuals and five are women. According to the ETHOS census published in October 2025, there are between three and four thousand homeless women in the Amsterdam region, of whom one hundred twenty (4%) live in public spaces and over eight hundred (24%) stay in shelters for homeless people. Many homeless women say they feel safer among other women and are more likely to take the step toward seeking help in such a setting.
Where?
Drop-in Day for LGBTIQ+ individuals and women at Makom
- Thursday, between 10:00 a.m. and 4:00 p.m.
- Van Ostadestraat 153, Amsterdam
Daily overnight shelter for LGBTIQ+ individuals at the Princehof walk-in centre
Text: Jola Gosen | Photography: Ewa Wielgat