Archives for September 2018

This is the September Blog Post by Artist-in-Residence Lindsay Wong. For a downloadable PDF version of this post, complete with photos, click here: September Blog Post

Author Douglas Coupland once wrote, “Vancouver is the square root of negative one. Technically it shouldn’t exist, but it does. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.” With the torrential rains and the greying skies of September, I’ve always felt there was a gloomy sadness only associated with Vancouver, yet unlike Coupland, I sometimes imagine living in other places. Maybe because I was raised in the city’s suburbs, I admittedly miss the glittery chaos of New York City, where I lived as a graduate student.

I think a lot about the emotional geography of place when I’m writing, and cities are no longer flat backdrops, but become frenetic pulsing characters in my work.

A location becomes a placeholder for memory and powerful stories continue to form.

Locations often become defining characters themselves, marked by distinguished characteristics.

During our September workshop, participants and I worked together on creating a collective map of our everyday geographies. “Where did you come from today?” I asked, and each participant used a pushpin to anonymously mark their home location in relation to the CSO on Fraser Street.

By making a profound connection between each of our commutes to The CSO, I wanted to discover a commonality, a shared story.

I then posed the open-ended question: “What do you love about Vancouver?” The enthusiastic answers included Stanley Park, Kitsilano Beach, delicious sushi, Vancouver’s “Big City atmosphere”, the kindness of its residents, easy access to the skytrain, and of course, our famous cultural obsession with ice hockey. Some workshop participants even noted that The Nam was a particular Vancouver favourite: a restaurant of great historical and cultural significance, a vegetarian place originating from the 1960s. Others said that Sushi Moon on Fraser was another culinary passion, and described the food as the “best thing about Vancouver.”

Yet when I posed the semi-playful, imaginative question about whether workshop participants and JHS staff would continue to live in Vancouver if they could live anywhere in the world, there was a compelling blend of answers. Nearly half of the staff and clients felt that Vancouver was their rightful home, yet others wanted to leave immediately if they could afford the move.

Karen, a staff member at JHS, admitted that “Vancouver is pretty alright,” while Caitlin said that she was ‘born in Vancouver” and has “never left or travelled outside of it.” Both Karen and Caitlin could not imagine ever leaving permanently, while Rory explained that the “Lower Mainland has lots of fun stuff to do.”

Some of the workshop participants cited Halifax, Nova Scotia, and Kingston, Ontario as their primary go-to-places, especially because of the East Coast’s friendlier people who enjoy chatting with out-of-town guests. To which Robert declared that “Kingston is the Harlem of Canada!” and the workshop table erupted into loud, sustained laughter.

Having never been to Kingston, I was unable to give my opinion. I had a friend who once studied literature at Queen’s University; however, she often remarked that she found the isolation of Kingston to be disturbing.

As a recent transplant to Vancouver, DIna misses the authentic, close-knit community of Calgary, where she said that people are less standoffish and more welcoming of strangers. If she could move anywhere in the world, she’d live in Damascus, the capital of the Syrian Arab Republic, explaining that it’s a beautiful city with a history of art and war, but it was modern before the year 300 BCE.

“We need to build more of a community in Vancouver,” Dina said. “We need a place for people to gather and just have potlucks.”

Wesley wanted to go up north to Powell River, where residents on disability are given a cheque for $2000/month. ‘Rent there is only $300/month, so I could afford way more!” he said, looking excited at the prospect of relocating.

Daren mentioned Australia because his family lives there, and he misses them regularly. Sidney would move to Tofino because it offers her tranquility and peace. “It’s like being on the edge of the world,” she said, nodding.

But Sandra, a staff member at the CSO, says that she “just loves Vancouver.” Her family would visit the city in the summer as a frequent holiday destination, and after relocating to the west coast for school, she doesn’t ever think about returning to Calgary, despite her “struggle with weather and rain.”

What is significant to note was that some outreach workers at JHS have found their passion and life purpose in Vancouver. The city’s escalating homeless population, combined with clients with mental health needs and physical disabilities, require dedication from social service providers. Outreach workers at JHS agreed that social problems in the city are culminating, as is the divide between rich and poor, young and old, apathetic vs. compassionate.

As a location, as a literary character, Vancouver’s defining features include a plethora of social issues and its edgy, often raw and gritty atmosphere. In my upcoming memoir and in a short story collection, I depict Vancouver as a place of diaspora, a tumultuous locale where family traumas haunt my characters, like vengeful ghosts.

“I am needed here,” Jennifer, an outreach worker, explained to me seriously. She smiled contemplatively as she examined our extensive mapping project before placing her pushpin onto the board. “In Vancouver, I just need to be here, more like socially needed. It’s as if I have a calling here. There are really dark things going on, like Riverview–how they put homeless people on a bus from Saskatchewan and send them here. I need to be in Vancouver because I can help people and make a huge difference in their lives.”

Blog readers, what do you love about Vancouver? Would you leave if you could live anywhere in the world?

Drop-in Storytelling and Comics Workshops will be held on Wednesdays Oct 3, 17, and 24 at the CSO on Fraser Street from 1-4 PM. Come for snacks and community!

*Names of participants have been changed to protect their identities.

RECOMMENDED READING (BOOKS THAT ARE SET IN VANCOUVER)

Stanley Park by Timothy Taylor
The Jade Peony by Wayson Choy
Hey Nostradamus by Douglas Coupland
The Conjoined by Jen Sookfong Lee
Invisible Dead by Sam Wiebe
Anatomy of a Girl Gang by Ashley Little
Dead Girls by Nancy Lee
The Plague by Kevin Chong
How Poetry Saved My Life by Amber Dawn
Blood Sports by Eden Robinson
Diary of A Street Kid by Evelyn Lau
Simple Recipes by Madeleine Thien
Fighting for Space: How a Group of Drug Users Transformed One City’s Struggle with Addiction by Travis Lupick
In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts by Gabor Mate
Missing Sarah by Maggie DeVries

The following is the August Blog post by Inclusive Community Artist-in-Residence Lindsay Wong.

Story Gathering, Crime, and Homelessness

Three flashing cop cars surround us. A heavily bearded man that I recognize as a CSO user skips half-naked beside me on East Broadway and Ontario. He hums and sings loudly to himself. He tries to high-five me. I don’t know this man’s name, but he sometimes sells drugs to my neighbours in JHSLM housing.

On my way to work, I randomly happen to run into him on the street, where he’s having a moment of psychosis, grinning and bowing and waving to everyone.

“Helloooooo,” he shouts at the flashing cruisers.

“Take it easy,” a female cop says to him, and he finally kneels, prostrating himself on the sidewalk. She handcuffs him.

I step away from the scene and head off to teach a full day of college admission essays to wealthy high schoolers in the West End.

***

August has been an emotionally-intense month for both the participants of JHSLM housing and service users. My neighbours confess that they’re restless and anxious about the beginning of fall, which means starting new classes at community college or finding new jobs. Their fear is marked by escalating substance use, raw outbursts, and in-building tension at all hours. Furniture breaks. Doors slam. People scream.

I don’t know when the shift occurred from workshop host to “one of the dudes,” but I find myself helping those who struggle with literacy purchase used furniture on Craigslist, while helping others schedule appointments with my favourite tattoo artists in the city. I dispense math lessons whenever someone asks me to explain the difference between a gram and an ounce, as they’ve been “getting ripped off” when buying weed.

***

Homelessness in the Kensington-Cedar Cottage neighborhood and among JHS users have also increased significantly. According to The CBC, the homeless population has grown by 2 percent in 2018. Many of the story gathering participants are sleeping in front of my building, rotating between Kingsgate Mall and the grassy mound in front of Mount Pleasant’s funeral home.

In public, Crystal whimpers as she hugs an oversized teddy bear for comfort. Seconds later, she slathers thick lotion on red oozing sores. One morning, she and her partner, Joseph, fight openly on Fraser Street, flinging running shoes at each other, both of them sobbing. They use the parking lot of McDonald’s on Main Street as a public toilet. Their lives and most intimate moments are on display as passerbys walk by them, averting their eyes.

These story gathering participants and JHS users have nowhere to go after the CSO office closes.

It’s heartbreaking.

***
Our last workshop was particularly emotional. Maurice, a 67-year old, who has spent 17 years in jail for armed robbery and drug dealing, shares his incredible story. He’s been homeless for the last decade, barely surviving in Memorial Park.

“You know, I hurt so many people,” he says, shaking his head. “I physically hurt them real bad but also gave them PTSD. They can’t recover from what I did to them. I was struggling to make ends meet as a welder, and I turned to crime to get money. I inflicted violence in so many awful ways. But one day, I woke up and I suddenly got empathy. I didn’t have it before, but now I have too much empathy. I can’t think about what I did without feeling like a horrible person.”

Upon hearing this, another participant, Bobby, mutters “Fuck this!” as he quickly leaves the table. As he exits in an emotional whirlwind, he hurls his felt markers. I pick them off the floor. Bobby’s on probation for causing late-night disturbances in our building, and I think Maurice’s story affects him on several personal levels. Afterwards, Bobby doesn’t return to workshop.

When Maurice is finished speaking, Brenda starts sobbing. Large tears waterfall down her face. She suddenly confesses to shoplifting a pair of oval-shaped earrings at Superstore the other day, yet now feels consumed by her guilt.

“Have you stole before, Lindsay?” she asks me between tears.

“Not on purpose,” I say, thinking back to a few carelessly lost library books. While shoplifting is not one of my vices, I do jaywalk and sometimes drive over the speed-limit.

“Why did you steal them?” I finally ask her.

“I just wanted them,” Brenda mutters, rubbing her eyelids. “They cost too much money.”

“You just need to take care of yourself,” Maurice says, consolingly. “Just think about what I said. “This is why we need this program so people can talk and learn from each other. On the street, there’s nothing to do but drugs. Here you get to colour and meet nice people from all over and learn stuff. That’s what I told SFU when they asked me to give a speech on homelessness.”

Maurice continues, explaining how difficult it was for him to be unemployed and homeless, how the lack of dignity and starvation torment him and continue to traumatize him. While the JHS has found him housing and he’s incredibly grateful to have access to a kitchen and a bathroom, he still struggles with living indoors and sometimes feels a powerful inclination to sleep outside. Uncomfortable in a bed, he’s slowly adjusting to using furniture and eating home-cooked meals again.

I’m devastated to hear about his continuous struggle to adjust to indoor-living–a necessity that I don’t take as a privilege, but as an essential right. But with Vancouver’s rents continuing to become unaffordable for the general population, what will happen to those living on the margins? What will happen to the poorest citizens in Vancouver?

Maurice tells me that he’s so ashamed of his homelessness.whenever he thinks back to that particular decade of his life. He’s so ashamed of begging for money and allowing people to witness him at his most desperate and vulnerable.

“You guys saved my life,” Maurice says, seriously. “I really want to start an outreach program that will let me talk to homeless people to tell them about John Howard. I almost died out there this time. Just by accident, I was sitting in the back of the room and someone found me. I wasn’t going to make it. You know, Lindsay, winter is coming soon. A lot of people are gonna die.”

I worry about what will happen if Bobby loses his housing. He struggles with heavy drug use. He frequently screams and punches walls, disrupting other residents. I worry when I don’t see Crystal and Joseph camped in their usual spots and when they don’t show up at our story gathering workshop.

I worry about the workshop participants, as much as my neighbours worry about the upcoming fall.

***

At the end of the story gathering session, Maurice shyly gives me his artwork. He’s spent five hours painstakingly colouring orange and yellow daffodils.

“You guys really make my life better,” he says softly. He pauses, looking at the ground. Then he says: “I’m really glad I met you. You’re such a nice person.”

Thank-you Linsey, it reads. I tear up.

*Names of participants have been changed to protect their identities.

The following is Part 2 of the July blog post by Inclusive Community Artist-in-Residence Lindsay Wong. Click link below to read.

July Blog Post (Part 2)-Inclusive Community Residency