“Standing in the gap”
At CTHRA, we live by four words that define everything we do:
Standing in the Gap.
But what does that really mean?
It means we show up when others don’t.
It means we move toward the crisis, not away from it.
It means we meet people where they are in alleyways, encampments, bus stops, motels, and moments of unimaginable pain and we stand with them, in that space where judgment ends and humanity begins.
To stand in the gap is to recognize that there are still far too many places where care doesn’t reach. Places where people are forgotten, criminalized, or pushed aside because they use drugs, how they look, or where they live. It’s in that space between need and neglect, between risk and response that we plant our feet and refuse to move.
When we hand out naloxone, we’re standing in the gap.
When our nurses clean wounds caused by xylazine, we’re standing in the gap.
When we distribute safer use kits, give someone their first HIV test, or simply say, "You matter,”
we are standing in the gap.
It’s not glamorous. It’s not easy. But it’s essential.
Because in that gap between systems and survival we understand lives are on the line.
And someone has to be there.
We don’t always have perfect solutions. But we have presence.
We have people who show up again and again.
We have outreach teams who brave the cold, the chaos, and the quiet despair to deliver not just supplies but dignity, compassion, and hope.
This is what harm reduction looks like.
It’s love in action. Its Radical Love . It’s justice with sleeves rolled up.
It’s a refusal to let anyone be forgotten just because they’re hurting.
So when you see us on the road, in the streets, at the edge of what the system considers “too far” know this,
We are there on purpose.
We are standing in the gap.
Because that’s where the work is.
That’s where the people are.
And that’s where healing begins.
Blog Post and updates on moments will be hilighted here! stay tuned
It all begins with an idea.
This isn’t just a blog. It’s where the real stories live. The moments that shook us. The things we carry. The people who taught us what it really means to show up. Here, we’ll share what doesn’t fit into reports or headlines. The nights the van ran out of kits but not compassion. The time someone came back for their 5th Naloxone refill and called it “hope in a box.” The grief, The fire, The tiny victories and The big ones, too.
You won’t find polish here. You’ll find truth. From the curbs, the clinics, the corridors of survival. So stay close.
Come back often. Because what happens in this work deserves to be witnessed. This is where we tell it Raw, Honest, and Loud.