The line stretched out the door of the Phoenix Community Centre on a drizzly Tuesday afternoon. Inside, about two dozen volunteers bustled around folding tables laden with fresh produce, bread, and canned goods. But this isn’t your typical food bank.
“We’re creating a space where people can be their authentic selves while meeting their basic needs,” explains Jordan Williams, coordinator of the newly launched Rainbow Pantry program in Halifax.
The initiative, which opened its doors last week, represents the first food access program in Atlantic Canada specifically designed to serve 2SLGBTQ+ community members facing food insecurity—a growing crisis that disproportionately affects marginalized populations.
Statistics Canada reports that food insecurity affects nearly one in five households in Nova Scotia, the highest rate in the country. For 2SLGBTQ+ individuals, particularly trans and non-binary people, those numbers climb even higher.
“Many folks have experienced judgment or discrimination trying to access traditional services,” Williams tells me as we watch a volunteer help a client select groceries. “Sometimes it’s subtle—using the wrong pronouns or making assumptions about family structures—and sometimes it’s outright hostility.”
The program emerged from community consultations conducted by Halifax Pride and the Phoenix Youth Programs over the past eight months. Their research revealed significant barriers for queer and trans individuals accessing existing food services.
“What we heard repeatedly was that people would rather go hungry than face potential discrimination,” says Miia Suokonautio, executive director of the Phoenix Youth Programs. “That’s simply unacceptable in a society where food access should be a basic right.”
The Rainbow Pantry operates differently from traditional models. Clients don’t need to show identification or proof of income—often barriers for trans individuals whose ID may not match their gender identity. The intake process is designed to respect privacy while collecting only necessary information.
As I watch the operation unfold, I notice small but meaningful touches: pronoun pins for volunteers, all-gender washrooms, and private areas where people can discuss dietary needs or request personal care items.
Alex Chen, 24, visited the pantry for the first time today. “I’ve avoided food banks before because of anxiety around how I’ll be treated,” they explain. “Here, I didn’t have to worry about explaining my situation or defending who I am.”
The program has secured funding from the Nova Scotia Department of Community Services and several local businesses, enough to operate bi-weekly for the next six months. Organizers are already seeking sustainable funding models to continue beyond that timeline.
Critics have questioned whether specialized services are necessary rather than improving existing ones. Provincial opposition leader Claudia Chender addressed this during a press conference at Province House.
“While we absolutely need to improve all social services to be inclusive, the reality is that people are hungry right now,” Chender noted. “Specialized programs fill immediate gaps while we work on systemic change.”
Food security experts agree. Dr. Valerie Tarasuk of PROOF, a research team investigating food insecurity in Canada, explains that targeted interventions often reach those most vulnerable.
“The evidence shows that food insecurity among sexual and gender minorities is significantly higher than the general population,” Tarasuk says. “Programs designed with these communities in mind can be more effective at reaching those who otherwise fall through the cracks.”
Beyond food, the Rainbow Pantry offers something equally valuable: community connection. In one corner, a nutrition student from Dalhousie University discusses budget-friendly meal planning. At another table, volunteers help visitors navigate housing and healthcare resources.
“Food is just the starting point,” Williams explains. “Many people coming through these doors are isolated. Connecting them with affirming resources and community is just as important as filling their pantry.”
The program’s launch comes as Halifax grapples with an affordability crisis affecting housing and food costs. Recent data from Feed Nova Scotia shows a 40% increase in food bank usage over the past two years, with demand outpacing donations for the first time in over a decade.
City councillor Patty Cuttell, who attended the program launch, emphasized the municipal government’s support.
“This initiative aligns perfectly with Halifax’s food action plan and our commitment to equality,” Cuttell said. “We need creative, community-led solutions that meet people where they’re at.”
As the afternoon session winds down, volunteers pack remaining items for home delivery to those unable to visit in person. Williams tells me they’ve already served 78 households in their first two sessions, exceeding expectations.
Outside in the parking lot, I speak with Marian, a senior who traveled nearly an hour by bus to access the service. “At my age, I never thought I’d need a food bank,” she says, adjusting her rainbow scarf. “But knowing I can come somewhere and be respected as an older lesbian woman—that matters almost as much as the groceries.”
The Rainbow Pantry accepts both visitors and donations every second Tuesday at the Phoenix Community Centre. Those interested in volunteering or contributing can find information through Halifax Pride’s website.
As I drive away, the last of the day’s visitors trickle out with full bags and—perhaps more importantly—full hearts. In a province facing serious challenges with both food security and 2SLGBTQ+ support services, initiatives like this offer a blueprint for how communities can care for their most vulnerable members with both practical support and dignity.
