DENVER — An open bag of white bread sits out on the counter next to a jug of fruit punch, a coffee pot and a knife covered in mustard. Staff members put sandwiches in bags, pour coffee into plastic cups and scoop chicken noodle soup into paper bowls as they call names of customers.
In some ways, Denver’s Network Coffeehouse is just like any other coffeeshop. In most ways, it couldn’t be more different.
Some patrons are asleep, enjoying the only warm space they’ve had in days. Others chat it up with staff members about whatever’s going on in their lives. One man just got into housing. Another broke up with his girlfriend.
Outside of this coffee shop, many of these customers are screamed at, arrested and have their belongings sold daily. They simply need a place to feel safe.
The scene at Network Coffeehouse is messy: most frequenters are unhoused and have to lug their belongings everywhere they go to ensure the items are not stolen. Many haven’t had access to a shower in weeks.
But Network’s loyal staff and customers wouldn’t have it any other way.
“The core of our mission and ministry is kinship. Just building healing and relationships and we know that takes a long time,” said Katy Owens, a shift lead and communications manager at the coffeehouse. “Often, for folks experiencing homelessness, we know there’s been a breakdown of trust or a breakdown of family relationships and so we hope to be able to foster a space that can recreate those friendships and relationships.”
Colorado Voices
Network Coffee House provides a safe space for the unhoused
Network Coffee House — a small house in Denver’s Capitol Hill neighborhood — is hard for staff to describe in words.
It’s not a traditional coffeeshop. There is no money, no fancy lattes and no special branding. But every person who walks in is greeted with a smile and a handshake or hug. Staff know names of regular attendees, and the ultimate goal is to build lasting relationships with the unsheltered folks who use the space.
“You either get it or you don’t. It’s really not for everyone, housed and unhoused alike. But if you fit, you fit well and you’re family,” said Lee McClure, Network manager. “The idea is when you’re here, that this is your living room, this is your home, and we're all completely equal here.”
While Network primarily serves individuals experiencing homelessness, it’s not a service organization. Free food and coffee are almost always available, showers are available on occasion and staff provide advice, but those who run the place try to avoid the “caseworker/client” relationship, as they believe that creates power dynamics that make it hard to build trust and love.
Instead of trying to “serve” people, Network staff are there to make friends with people experiencing homelessness.
“We’re not here to fix anything. We’re here for the relationship and the connection,” McClure said. “When you get down and you get into the shift, you don't want to be anywhere else.”
Network was founded 40 years ago as a gathering space for those who didn’t otherwise have one. Decades later, McClure is proud that the “shop,” has kept its authenticity and stuck to the goal: no judgement, no power dynamics, no currency, just love.
“It takes a lot of listening and a lot of showing up and just being present with people,” said Owens, a former homelessness case manager. “If I can just show up, even if we sit together in silence, it can help build that friendship and that relationship.”
While working as a case manager, Owens said she struggled to maintain genuine friendships with clients because of heavy work loads and a requirement to maintain certain degrees of separation. At Network, Owens plays board games, gives out hugs and cracks jokes with those who come into the coffee house.
“I think its really important to just be able to slow down, see people’s humanity and just sit with each other and respect that dignity,” Owens said.
Stichz, a housing-impaired person and regular at the coffee house, said she keeps coming back because of the loving environment staff have provided.
“It’s more homey than gong to any of the other drop-in places,” Stichz said. “It’s the love that they’ve put into the building that makes you want to keep coming back.”
Stichz has paranoid schizophrenia and is prone to violent outbursts, but knows Network is a place she can go and either be left alone or embraced in love.
“Even after we get our housing, we still come back to visit the people that work here,” Stichz said. “It’s nice to see that there are still good people in the world.”
Alison Berg is a multimedia journalist at Rocky Mountain PBS. You can reach her at alisonberg@rmpbs.org.
William Peterson is a senior photojournalist at Rocky Mountain PBS. You can reach him at williampeterson@rmpbs.org.
