High school is hard for most kids — but for LGBTQ students, it can be far more isolating.

But for 10th grader Miyah Brooks, where she goes to high school makes all the difference. The promise of acceptance is exactly what drew Brooks to Harvey Milk High School.

“Being in a school like this is honestly just really healing," she said. "Just being able to really express who you are without fear of judgment.”

“My other school was really chaotic, which is fine, but it was not as welcoming," she added. “And it was just hateful, and you couldn’t really be open about who you were as a person or who you are for, like, judgment, for fear of getting into fights or being in danger.”

There are no obvious markers on the street outside Harvey Milk, which is situated inside a building in NoHo. While the school is open to all, it is the only public high school in the city designed for LGBTQ students — an alternative transfer school established in 2003 in honor of Harvey Milk.

The New York native and gay rights activist was assassinated in 1978, only 11 months after becoming the first openly gay politician to hold public office in California.

Decades later, Brooks and some of her fellow students say they still live with the threat of violence motivated by hate, and recognize Milk’s legacy to stand proud, no matter what.

“People have died just so this school could exist in itself," she said. "I mean, we’re named after a guy who got shot trying to be inclusive to everybody.”

Sitting in on a student discussion, it quickly became clear that Harvey Milk High School is a haven.

"They express and they imply that it’s OK to be confused," one student said. "And you can change your pronouns, you can change your name and they won’t bat an eye.”

One group member said just being respected was "a game changer."

“Where I come from in Queens, my old school, nobody respected me and what I identify as,” another student said.

As a member of the faculty, Natalie Velazquez teaches U.S. history and government, balancing academics and creating a nurturing environment.

“Harvey Milk feels like a family,” she said. “It's a small space. I have about 70 to 80 kids.”

Despite their youth, Velazquez said the students understand that they have a role in the LGBTQ community’s fight for civil rights.

“We had a couple of walk-outs this year," she said. "Probably at least four, where the students walked out. Activism is a growing part of our school community."

“They’re here in a safe net called Harvey Milk High School, but they’re fighting for all the kids that aren’t at Harvey Milk High School," Velazquez added.

That concern becomes truly evident when they talk about the current political environment.

“As an LGBTQ+ teen, I’ve seen a lot of suicides. A couple of my friends had killed themselves due to being outed and not accepted," a student said. "They were kicked out their homes and stuff like that. So, that’s a very, very big problem that we’re going to face just from the legislative stuff, talking about certain bills and stuff about not saying gay.”

And they agree that mental health issues are being ignored for teens who might really need help.

At 17, Brooks already knows she’ll be doing her part to help make life better for those who come after her.

"Where our society is going right now, we’re getting pushed back into where it’s more okay to be homophobic openly, and hate crimes are on the rise," she said.

Like Harvey Milk, the 10th grader is considering a career in politics, attending a school that is arming her with the support she’ll need to pick up the baton for the next leg of the fight.

“We have people here that know exactly what it’s like," she said. "And we have people from older generations as well who know how far we’ve truly come, teachers and counselors."

"We have to just be better and work to keep hope alive, even though every law that gets passed pushes us further back," she added. "We have come so far, and we can keep moving further.”