In North Minneapolis, where abandoned homes serve as makeshift shelters and overdose rates among Black residents soar higher than anywhere else in the state, a small, modestly funded organization is quietly transforming the way Minnesota addresses addiction and survival.
Locals at the Capitol visit the Anything Helps booth.
It’s called Anything Helps, but the name doesn’t do justice to its scope. Born out of necessity and vision in 2010, the organization has become one of the few community-run harm reduction programs in the state. Its mission is deceptively simple: meet people where they are—literally and figuratively—and let them lead their own recovery.
“The disparities here are, I’m pretty sure, still the worst in the nation,” said Miles Hamlin-Zamoiski, founder of Minnesota Overdose Awareness (MOA), which laid the groundwork for the Anything Helps drop-in center. “If you’re Black in Minnesota, you’re seven times more likely to die from an opioid overdose than a white person.”
According to the Minnesota Department of Health, opioid-related deaths rose 43% statewide between 2019 and 2021, with fentanyl present in 90% of those cases by 2022. And while overdose deaths among white Minnesotans have begun to decline, deaths among Black, Indigenous, and Hispanic communities are rising. In particular, Indigenous Minnesotans now die from opioid overdoses at nearly eight times the rate of their white counterparts.
Founded by Hamlin-Zamoiski as he transitioned out of incarceration, Anything Helps was initially focused on helping people reenter society and reduce recidivism. But as Hamlin-Zamoiski and his peers—many of them formerly incarcerated—became increasingly involved in overdose prevention through MOA, the mission deepened.
“We said, ‘Why don’t we do what nobody else has done?” Said Brian Warden, now the harm reduction director. “Let’s have a harm reduction organization and a recovery organization cohabitate in the same space.”
That cohabitate space, built in North Minneapolis, includes a safe use area, nursing office, laundry, hygiene access, Narcan distribution, and drop-in services for unhoused residents. It was designed to match criteria outlined in Minnesota’s 2022 Safe Recovery Site legislation, which supports facilities that aim to prevent overdoses while respecting the dignity of people who use drugs.
“We weren’t offering treatment,” Hamlin-Zamoiski explained. “But people still asked us for it. They trusted us. And we were just as happy to help them the twentieth time as the first.”
At Anything Helps, there’s no pressure to get clean before accessing basic resources like showers or socks. The focus isn’t conversion, it’s conversation.
“This isn’t about pushing people through diagnostic criteria,” Warden said. “It’s about letting them steer their own recovery. We ask them, ‘What do you need today?’ And if they say housing, or a vet for their dog, or a mental health provider, we try to get it. That’s harm reduction.”
This model contrasts sharply with many mainstream services that require sobriety or force clinical milestones. “We’ve had people who live in their cars, people working full-time who can’t afford housing in Minneapolis,” Warden added. “You’re not going to get sober if you don’t have a place to live. That’s just facts.”
Their client-centered model is showing results, not just in community trust, but in tangible outcomes: lower overdose rates, higher engagement in voluntary treatment, and increased access to housing and public benefits.
Much of this work unfolds in ZIP code 55412, a largely Black area with the highest rate of overdose deaths for Black Minnesotans. But unlike downtown encampments that make addiction visible, the crisis here hides in plain sight.
“There’s a misconception about North Minneapolis,” said Hamlin-Zamoiski. “People are ‘using’ in grandma’s house, in abandoned homes. Just because it’s not out in the open doesn’t mean it’s not happening.”
The challenge, they say, isn’t about access, it’s about awareness. One client who recently began Suboxone treatment didn’t even know the medication existed until last year.
“How do you access something you don’t know exists?” Warden asked. “An ounce of education is a pound of prevention.”
To address this, the organization has partnered with the Minnesota Department of Health and others to gather and release data about opioid use in BIPOC communities. A new report slated for release on May 26 will provide detailed insights from Minnesotans of color who have direct experience with addiction and treatment.
Even as the need grows, federal and state funding for harm reduction remains tenuous. The Biden administration’s proposed cuts to Health and Human Services, leaked in early 2025, could threaten Medicaid and other vital supports.
“If they cut Medicaid, that’s going to disproportionately affect the people we serve,” Warden said. “We’re just starting to move from conversation into action, finally collecting data, identifying problems, and trying to solve them. And now we’re watching the funding get pulled away.”
Still, Anything Helps presses forward. Its Northside facility was built with the intention of qualifying for Safe Recovery Site funding. “I may not be with them anymore,” Hamlin-Zamoiski said, “but I hope they apply and get a big grant. Because that place was always about community.”
In addition to daily services, the organization carries on a powerful tradition: Minnesota Overdose Awareness Day, now entering its 15th year. Scheduled for August 28 at 7 p.m., the event includes guest speakers, Narcan training, and time for families to honor loved ones lost to overdose.
“We try to make sure we’re honoring the folks who are forgotten,” Hamlin-Zamoiski said. “Because when we get caught up in statistics, we forget that every number is somebody’s child, somebody’s mother or brother. This work is personal. My mom died of addiction in 2007. I do this for her.”
As Minnesota grapples with how best to address the opioid epidemic—balancing recovery with enforcement, public health with politics, Anything Helps offers a model rooted in trust, respect, and radical accessibility.
“We don’t need to reinvent the wheel,” Warden said. “We just need to make sure everyone has access to it".”
