Ryan Berg's experiences as a residential counselor and subsequent caseworker for an LGBTQ foster program in New York City have shaped No House to Call My Home, which tells the stories of the many kids Berg came to know at his job. Rodrigo takes unnecessary risks--including going to Central Park to pick up older men for sex--in order to feel more alive. Barbara needs to make a plan for what she will do when she ages out of the system; her father will support her only if she agrees to dress like a woman. Christina picks up johns with an interest in trans girls because they make her feel accepted.
Individually, any one of these young men and women has lived through more hardship than any one person should have to face. Collectively, though, their stories combine to reveal a deeply flawed system that is failing the most at-risk youth in the United States.
"People prefer to ignore tragedy unless there's redemption in the end," writes Berg, but No House to Call My Home does not allow that. There is a lot of tragedy here, and very little redemption. But if the system--and by default, the larger population--can look at the issues that surround LGBTQ youth through a different lens, one that acknowledges the "interconnectedness of systemic racism, homophobia, transphobia, and poverty," perhaps we can start to enact change. The first step is recognizing that there is a problem--and it is impossible to read No House to Call My Home without seeing that as plain as day. --Kerry McHugh, blogger at Entomology of a Bookworm