In the wake of a pandemic that sharpened old wounds, Southeast Brooklyn's most vulnerable residents—those living with severe mental illness, housing instability, and the quiet devastation of isolation—found an institution turning toward them rather than away. NYU Langone's EnTRy program, backed by a $5 million federal grant, represents a considered wager that healing begins not in clinical distance but in cultural proximity and sustained trust. Launched in February 2022, the initiative asks a foundational question that medicine has long deferred: what does care look like when it is built aroun
NYU Langone launches $5M peer-led mental health program in Brooklyn
The program addresses mental health crises affecting vulnerable populations, including youth experiencing early-onset psychiatric illness and individuals experiencing homelessness and social isolation.
Trust is so important to the success of this program
Mark
Why does it matter that the peer specialists have lived experience with mental illness themselves?
Mimi
Because someone who has been through psychosis or bipolar disorder can recognize the signs in another person in a way that a clinician, no matter how skilled, sometimes cannot. They also know that recovery is possible—they're living proof. That changes the entire dynamic of the conversation.
Mark
The source mentions joblessness and unstable housing as barriers. Are those being treated as mental health issues or as separate problems?
Mimi
They're being treated as inseparable. You can't recover from schizophrenia if you're sleeping on the street. The program recognizes that mental illness and social crisis feed each other. The recovery coaches working with young people on school and employment aren't doing that as a side benefit—it's core to the treatment.
Mark
Why was the digital divide such a problem during the pandemic?
Mimi
Telehealth became the default way to access care, but not everyone had a tablet, internet access, or the skills to use these tools. In a neighborhood like Sunset Park, where many residents are older, immigrant, or economically disadvantaged, that created a new barrier right when people needed help most. EnTRy is bringing tablets into the community and doing in-person visits to bridge that gap.
Mark
The grant is 20 times larger than previous funding. What does that signal?
Mimi
It signals that the federal government recognized this as a crisis requiring serious investment. The pandemic didn't create mental illness in Brooklyn—it accelerated it. Demand jumped 30 percent in two years. A $5 million grant is the system saying: this matters, and it's big enough that it requires real resources.
Mark
Why is early intervention for adolescents emphasized so much?
Mimi
Because the teenage years are when serious mental illness often first appears. If you catch it early, you can prevent years of suffering and dysfunction. A young person who gets support to stay in school when they're struggling with early psychosis has a completely different trajectory than one who drops out and spirals. That's the difference between intervention and crisis management.
Il Polso
- Psychiatric demand at Brooklyn's Family Health Centers surged nearly 30 percent during the pandemic, overwhelming a clinic already stretched thin across five decades of service.
- Severe mental illnesses—bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, psychosis—were compounding with joblessness, housing instability, and digital exclusion, trapping residents in cycles nearly impossible to escape alone.
- A $5 million SAMSHA grant—twenty times larger than any the organization had previously received—gave EnTRy the scale to hire psychiatrists fluent in Spanish, Mandarin, and Cantonese, alongside peer specialists and community navigators who shared residents' lived experiences.
- Early intervention for adolescents became a centerpiece, with recovery coaches embedded in young people's school and employment lives, treating stability not as a side effect of recovery but as its very architecture.
- Smart tablets and in-person outreach were designed to close the digital divide that telehealth had exposed, meeting people in their communities rather than demanding they navigate unfamiliar systems alone.
In the wake of a pandemic that sharpened old wounds, Southeast Brooklyn's most vulnerable residents—those living with severe mental illness, housing instability, and the quiet devastation of isolation—found an institution turning toward them rather than away. NYU Langone's EnTRy program, backed by a $5 million federal grant, represents a considered wager that healing begins not in clinical distance but in cultural proximity and sustained trust. Launched in February 2022, the initiative asks a foundational question that medicine has long deferred: what does care look like when it is built around the lives people actually live?
Southeast Brooklyn was already carrying a heavy mental health burden when the pandemic arrived and made it heavier. At the Family Health Centers at NYU Langone, psychiatric demand climbed nearly 30 percent over two years. People came in acute distress—grief, trauma, isolation—and many were turning to substances to manage what they couldn't articulate. The outpatient clinic, five decades old, was being asked to do more with the same resources.
In February 2022, NYU Langone launched EnTRy—Enhanced Treatment and Recovery—funded by a $5 million federal grant from SAMSHA, twenty times larger than any the organization had previously received. The program was designed for people with severe mental illnesses like bipolar disorder and schizophrenia, many of whom faced compounding crises: unemployment, unstable housing, and a lack of digital literacy that had left them behind even as telehealth expanded.
Medical director Hunter McQuistion brought a career rooted in community behavioral health and the social forces that determine who gets sick and who stays sick. He understood that clinical expertise alone wasn't enough—trust was the missing piece. EnTRy addressed this directly by hiring community navigators who shared the cultural and language backgrounds of Sunset Park residents, and by training peer specialists who had themselves lived through serious mental illness. These weren't symbolic roles. A peer who had experienced psychosis could recognize it in someone else. A navigator who spoke Mandarin could make the unfamiliar feel navigable.
Three new psychiatrists expanded services in Spanish, Mandarin, and Cantonese. For adolescents—the age when early signs of mental illness most often surface—the program offered recovery coaches who worked alongside young people on school and employment, treating those anchors not as separate from mental health recovery but as central to it.
The program planned to reach 150 new individuals initially, building toward a caseload of 1,000 over two years, bringing tablets into the community and conducting in-person check-ins to close the digital divide the pandemic had exposed. For executive director Larry McReynolds, the grant wasn't a reinvention—it was recognition. EnTRy gave a community institution the resources to deepen work it had already begun, in a place where the relationships were already real.
Southeast Brooklyn was already struggling with mental illness when the pandemic hit. Then the crisis deepened. Over two years, demand for psychiatric care at the Family Health Centers at NYU Langone climbed nearly 30 percent. People were arriving in acute distress—grief, trauma, anxiety, social isolation—and many turned to drugs and alcohol to manage what they couldn't name. The center's outpatient psychiatry clinic, which had been operating for five decades, was being asked to do more with the same resources. Something had to change.
In February 2022, NYU Langone announced EnTRy—Enhanced Treatment and Recovery—a new community-based behavioral health program funded by a $5 million federal grant from the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. The grant was unprecedented for the organization: 20 times larger than any previous SAMSHA funding they had received. The money would support a program designed specifically for people with severe mental illnesses like bipolar disorder, psychosis, and schizophrenia, many of whom faced compounding crises: joblessness, unstable housing, lack of digital literacy. These barriers didn't just complicate their mental health; they perpetuated it, trapping people in cycles that were hard to break.
Hunter McQuistion, a psychiatrist who had spent his career working in academic medical centers and public health systems, took on the role of medical director. His background was in community behavioral health, homelessness, and the social determinants of mental illness—the structural forces that shape who gets sick and who stays sick. He understood that clinical expertise alone wasn't enough. Trust was the missing piece. Many people in Sunset Park, the neighborhood at the heart of the program's focus, had reasons to distrust institutions. They needed to see themselves in the people offering help.
EnTRy hired community navigators who shared the cultural and language backgrounds of the residents they would serve—many of them Hispanic, Asian, and Arabic speakers. The program also trained peer specialists, people who had themselves received treatment for serious mental health conditions, to join the clinical care team. These weren't token positions. They were structural. A peer specialist who had lived through psychosis could recognize the signs in someone else. A navigator who spoke Mandarin could explain what was happening in a way that made sense. Both roles built the trust that had been missing.
The program added three new psychiatrists to expand services in Spanish, Mandarin, and Cantonese. It brought in clinical and administrative staff and peer specialists to treat individuals ages 12 and older. For young people, the program offered something particularly important: early intervention. Jon Marrelli, the program's manager, emphasized that adolescence is when the earliest signs of mental illness often emerge. Missing that window meant missing the chance to prevent escalation. EnTRy assigned recovery coaches to young people to help with school and employment—not as afterthoughts, but as central to their mental health recovery. Staying in school or keeping a job wasn't separate from getting better; it was part of getting better.
Telehealth had helped during the pandemic, but it had also exposed a digital divide. People without tablets or internet access, without the literacy to navigate apps, had fallen through the gaps. EnTRy planned to bring smart tablets into the community and conduct in-person check-ins, meeting people where they were rather than expecting them to meet the system halfway. The program would start with people already engaged with the Family Health Centers and reach an additional 150 individuals, building toward a caseload of 1,000 over two years.
Larry McReynolds, the executive director of the Family Health Centers, framed the grant as validation of what the organization was already trying to do. The SAMSHA funding didn't ask them to become something new; it allowed them to expand what they were already doing in a place where the need was greatest and where they had already built relationships. That distinction mattered. This wasn't a program being imposed from outside. It was a community institution being given the resources to deepen its work.
Citazioni salienti
We are working with a population that has been especially hard hit by the pandemic, and will be reaching out directly to people to connect them to the clinic and community organizations.— Hunter L. McQuistion, MD, medical director of EnTRy
Early intervention is critical for adolescents, when the earliest signs of mental illness can emerge. Focused support to stay in school or maintain employment is a critical part of a young person's mental health recovery.— Jon J. Marrelli, PsyD, manager of EnTRy
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