A space to be
fully yourself.

Dear Friends,

I want to congratulate each and every one of you for your tenacity, your courage, and your unwavering commitment to keeping this center open and vital for all these years. What you have built together is a testament to the strength of your spirit and the depth of this community’s need.

I want to share with you why the center was opened — because the story belongs to all of you now.

I am a Licensed Clinical Social Worker. I came to Great Falls in 2007, working for Adult Probation and Parole through a contract with the Center for Mental Health. I had several LGBTQ clients, and they were candid with me about the lack of services in this community. When I asked my colleagues at the Center what had been available, they told me there used to be Wednesday night bowling — but that had stopped years before.

Later, after I opened my own private practice, a woman came in for her first appointment. The very first thing she said to me was, “Do you like gay people?” I was, I’ll admit, a little taken aback. I told her I liked most of them and had been working with LGBTQ clients for several decades.

Then I asked her why she would ask such a question.

She told me she had recently seen another therapist in town because she was experiencing stress at work — men who were verbally abusive toward her. She saw that therapist for about four sessions. In the fifth session, she finally shared what was weighing on her most: her partner was not being supportive. The therapist asked why she thought her partner wasn’t supportive. The client said, “Because she is a she. I have been in a domestic partnership with her for fifteen years.”

The therapist’s eyes went wide. She said, “You didn’t tell me when you first came in that you were a lesbian.” The client replied, “I didn’t think it was particularly relevant.” The therapist stood up and said, “Well, of course it is.” And then she escorted the client out of the room — mid-session — without a goodbye, without a referral, without a word of care.

That moment changed me. I decided then that no one in Great Falls should ever have to go through what that woman went through.

I was advised that a community center — a place for people to gather, to celebrate, to simply be themselves — would serve the community better than a clinical practice alone. And so, on March 15, 2015, the Great Falls LGBTQ Center opened its doors. A dear friend, Eric Gilmour, was there from the very beginning. Together we scheduled events, spread the word, and built something from nothing. That first year we had barbecues, health fairs, Monday night movies, and Safe Zone trainings for professionals, community members, and clergy alike.

My vision was always to hold the center open for a year and then hand it to the community — because this was never my center. It was always yours.

I graduated with my Master of Social Work in 1980 and opened my private practice in 1982. Shortly after, I received an invitation from the Gay and Lesbian Center of Santa Monica to see clients in my area who needed care — because, as they put it, “a gay epidemic is starting.”

Over the next ten years, I worked with ten young men. Every one of them had been diagnosed with AIDS, which at that time was a death sentence. The first thing that diagnosis did was out them — to their parents, their siblings, their wives, their children, their employers, their friends, and their lovers, many of whom left out of fear of contagion. And then came everything else: the visible decline of their bodies, and the slow, clear approach of death.

My own straight privilege died alongside them. I was overwhelmed by the grief they carried — a grief that left us helpless at times, and yet impossible to look away from. All ten of them died within the first two years. Some passed with family and friends at their side. Some passed with me and a small circle of people who loved them.

These young men inspired me profoundly. The way they changed, the way they grew emotionally, the grace and courage with which they faced the end of their lives — I have carried them with me ever since. I have always felt I owed them something. They taught me more about life and death than I could ever repay.

Opening this center was, in part, my way of honoring them.

I am so sorry I cannot be with you today. My back has other plans. But please know that in my heart, I am standing right there beside you.

You honor me. You honor Eric. You honor every person who ever walked through those doors looking for a place to belong.

Congratulations. Keep going.

With love and deep respect,

Tim Dallacqua, MSW, LCSW

Founding Member, Great Falls LGBTQ Center