Everyone Needs a Home

         Morning and evening, I passed the greenspace abutting the British Columbia Provincial Courthouse on Burdett Street. The first November day I observed 12 tents.  By week’s end, 24 tents in various colors, both singletons and multi-person, formed a crescent around an open space.  Whenever I passed, residents were raking and bagging leaves. Every morning, warmly-dressed residents sat in a circle talking.  By week’s end, about 40 people—more women and young people than I earlier saw—engaged in circle conversations.   
         I stopped across Quadra, at Anglican Christ Church Cathedral, where a parishioner who gave tours told me, “I’m sympathetic, I know those people need a place to live, but not there. I wish they’d go. The city needs a better plan.”
	I pieced together that for years Victoria’s homeless had intermittently formed tent cities on public ground and battled with courts and police for the right to pitch tents. They scored a major victory in 2008 when B.C.’s Supreme Court determined that, if sufficient shelter space was unavailable, the homeless may erect shelter. The rationale rested on the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms related to “life, liberty and security of person” because denying homeless people the right to camp would deprive them of sleep, something necessary “to any kind of security, liberty or human flourishing.” It was bolstered by the guarantee of equality before the law, because disallowing camping disproportionately affects the homeless.  Victoria translated this into Parks Bylaws that allowed camping on Victoria’s public lands between 7 p.m. and 7 a.m.
 	Victoria’s police often evicted tent occupants at 7 a.m. pronto. That exposed the homeless to inclement weather, hardshipped night workers by taking their daytime sleeping place, and impeded formation of “home.”  The past summer, Victoria city began exploring the feasibility of creating a permanent, sanctioned Tent City for the homeless where tents could stay put. NIMBYs opposed, the proposal withered, and the Tent City abutting the provincial courthouse began gathering. Because it occupied B.C. provincial land rather than Victoria city land, it didn’t fall under Victoria’s bylaws. Homeless could legally tent 24/7. 
         After a week, I walked into the center of Tent City. That seemed to operate like a key. All around, people emerged, talked with neighbors, cooked and shared food, raked leaves, re-staked tents, folded bedrolls, talked on cells, tied down bikes, or readied to leave. Residents were more diverse than I thought: roughly 40% female, 20% Indigenous, half under 35. 
         I nearly stumbled over a woman in her late 20s, wearing a blue parka and jeans, whose “Hi there!” woke me up. I introduced myself, “I’m an old guy who sometimes writes.” Seeing no objections, I asked, “Why’s Tent City here? Who chooses to live here and why?” 
         “Lots of people hate shelters. It’s about control. The worst is, after you’re settled, they kick you back out, no matter what your needs are, even if you’re medically fragile. Here, we set the rules. It’s safer, especially for women. And it’s ours. I’m Jane, by the way.” 
         “What d’you want?” I asked.
         “A place I can call my own, where the sun streams in, and a dog I can take on walks.”
         “Does Tent City have defined leadership?”  
         She laughed. “There’s someone who handles PR. Somebody else handles the protest.” 
         “Who’s handling the protest?” 
         “That’s Margaret,” she pointed to the greenspace’s rear. When Jane’s cell rang, she said, “I have to take this.” 
         A man around 45, in jeans and denim jacket, was tying down a tent. I caught his eye, “Where can I find Margaret?”   
         “She just left for an hour. You’re welcome to hang around. I’m Mark.” 
         After introducing myself, I asked, “What kind of support are you getting from the community?” 
         “Some sympathetic people spend a night. Law students are helping. And we get donations. To meet neighbors, we threw a block party.”
          “What’s going on when people are sitting in a circle?”
          “We have an all-hands-meeting, talking circles, daily at 10, rain or shine. If there’s a dispute, that’s where it’s worked out.”
         “You’re self-governing?” 
         “I’d call it self-management. You’re welcome to join our talking circles or observe.  Or you can pitch a tent.” 
         A tall woman handing out flyers was telling residents, “Drop by any Thursday about possible jobs.” 
         Mark’s personal campsite was littered with parts of every size, shape, and material. “Looks like you’re running a repair shop,” I laughed.  
         “Sort of am.”
         I noticed two wheelchairs. “Does a resident use a wheelchair?” 
         “I’m harvesting parts from discards.”
         “What’s your line of work?” 
         “I did condo rehabs until things slowed down. 
         Mark said he’d take me to Margaret in the law library. En route, he picked up a used syringe from behind the shrubbery buffering the courthouse.
         “You doin’ that without gloves?” 
         “It matters with these callouses?” He showed his palms, called to a resident, handed her the syringe, “Please dispose safely.”
         When we couldn’t find Margaret at the courthouse, Mark said, “Maybe she’s back at her tent.”  
         “How d’you describe what you have here?” 
         “An experiment in cooperative living.”
         After we exited the courthouse, he looked up and saw Margaret at the top of a long staircase.  Having heard we were looking for her, Margaret, who wasn’t a youngster, slid down the steel handrail abutting the staircase.  The handrail vibrated with such intensity that I feared it would shake loose.  
         “I’m the mayor of Tent City and interface with the law,” she introduced herself.  “There’s supposed to be a hearing tonight at the request of the landlord but we’re not invited. I’m trying to prepare, find out who asked for it, and get myself invited.”    
         “But how can there be a landlord? Isn’t this provincial land?” 
         “That’s why it makes no sense.”
         “What’re you trying to accomplish through protest?”
         “I don’t think of it as protest.”
         “Well, what’re you trying to accomplish?” 
         “It should be legal for us to pitch tents 24/7 on any public land, including city property, and allowed to stay put, without fear of being thrown out.”
         Across the street, a man around 35 headed toward us from her rear. Margaret turned when he said, “Hi, Mom. I thought you might want something to eat.” He handed her a sandwich and a 7-Up. After they agreed to talk later, he returned to his truck.
         “That was my son. Between my three sons, they pay $10,000 a month in taxes. They say, ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. So, Mom, what’s happened to the tree?’ I tell them, I’m doing this is for my grandkids, so their generation has the right and choice.”
          “How d’you react to people saying this looks like a refugee camp?” 
         “Do people really believe that? Have they ever seen one? I came to Canada as a refugee. I don’t see anyone welcoming new residents except ourselves. Nobody’s managing us; we manage ourselves. When conflicts arise, we deal with them democratically. We keep the park area clean. We even look out for passers through.”
         “Some call you socioeconomic refugees.”
         “Many’re here because of economic displacement, failed safety net, lack of affordable housing. We haven’t come to grips with the reality that climate change, poverty, and war make massive displacement the new normal. We haven’t come to grips what causes homelessness either.”    
         “What d’you want?” 
         “Some choose to live as nomads. The law should bless our choice. For others, there should be appropriate housing, where people are allowed to create homes without somebody running their lives.”
         I asked, “What if you said that all of us are on a pilgrimage in a strange place and own only what’s on our backs as we move toward the same elusive destination.” 
         “I’ll have to research ‘pilgrim’ to see if that helps our case.  I’ve got to go prepare for tonight’s hearing. Stop by any time for hot coffee.”  

***"

	 Provincial government announced plans to open temporary shelters and transitional housing to eliminate Super-Intent City (SIC). However, because SIC tended to attract the most marginalized and criminalized, its residents stood at competitive disadvantage in securing admission.  By Christmas, with 120 residents, it continued operating on principles of inclusive diversity, mutual support, and nomadic fluidity. Lean-tos became interspersed among tents. Reps of social service agencies visited daily. The Cathedral offered a warm place to escape winter’s coldest days, recharge cell phones, wash up, and use restrooms. Two deacons participated in talking circles. One editorialized, “Jesus would have been at home in Tent City.” 
       	 In January, provincial government asked campers to move to temporary shelters. Campers rejected temporary shelters as a solution to homelessness and invited provincial government to discuss “lasting, sustainable, meaningful” ones. Campers claimed shelters created health and safety concerns, especially for women, whereas SIC fostered mutual support, offered protection, and promoted belonging.  SIC leadership said the government sought to hide homelessness rather than create long-term solutions.  Meanwhile, NIMBYs wanted SIC’s occupants relocated to what amounted to internment camps outside the city.  
         Campers were given a February 25 deadline to vacate premises.  After campers refused to budge, provincial government applied for an injunction on, claiming campers were trespassing, defied orders to leave despite offers of other housing, and compromised health and safety by creating fire hazards, defecating in and around the camp, leaving used needles and syringes in the area, and engaging in criminal activity.  In April, Supreme Court Chief Justice Christopher Hinkson denied the injunction: “Any harms caused to tent city residents by displacement far outweighed the inconvenience caused by the existence of the tent city.” He specified SIC’s benefits: physical and mental health improvements; greater access to social services; improved physical safety due to the strong community and resulting on-site conflict resolution and crisis de-escalation; and, safe storage for belongings. 
         Opposition coalesced in May. Unsupported allegations were made that gang elements were dealing drugs and operating a bicycle chop-shop within SIC.  In response to complaints from parents, one deacon formally reneged the Cathedral’s support. In May, the fire commissioner claimed SIC failed to comply with safety orders.  Provincial government sought another injunction and announced purchase of a 147-bed facility, touted as permanent supportive housing.  In July, Hinkson ruled, “the encampment is unsafe for those living there and for the neighboring residents and businesses and cannot be permitted to continue.” SIC’s residents had to leave as soon as alternative housing was offered and SIC must irrevocably close by August 8. 
         In August, SIC residents and allies issued “collective demands for housing,” stressing resident self-determination and control.  After two months, residents reported their new housing was, “everything we hoped it wouldn’t be and much worse.” Basically, a jail. They continued demanding recognition of their rights as renters; cessation of criminalization; recognizing their rights to freedom of expression, association, and peaceful assembly; and ensuring rights to life, liberty and security of person.  In October, they reported that ten deaths occurred in new quarters compared to one at SIC in comparable time periods. They re-asserted, “We found home, community, safety, and security at [SIC]. Supportive housing does not live up to its commitment of support in an environment that puts surveillance and control ahead of social inclusion and collaboration."
         Hardly any former SIC residents lasted in supportive housing. The rest died, were evicted, or left “voluntarily.” Some received their first criminal charges while living there. Previously, Margaret, Jane and Mark fought for bigger societal changes. Jane was evicted with criminal mischief charges for taking action when she saw residents’ rights violated. She and Mark were soon homeless again.  Ironically, Margaret, the aging nomad, hung on longest.    
	“Everyone needs a home” became the rallying cry against supportive housing and in favor of inclusive tent cities and other alternatives.  Said SIC residents and allies: “Shelter mats will not solve the issue of encampments in parks because shelter mats are not housing. A shelter mat does not allow a person to improve their health, complicates rather than simplifies day to day functioning, and does not provide space for socializing, safety, or comfort. Shelter mats are the opposite of rights-based housing.”
         An article in The Guardian by the UN rapporteur on housing, argues that housing is a human rights issue: “Instead of viewing them as needy beneficiaries, objects of charity, or, worse, as criminals, [governments] must instead recognize that people who are homeless also have rights and are active citizens who should be involved in decisions affecting their lives.” 
         Everyone needs a home.




Jim Ross jumped into creative pursuits in 2015 after rewarding research career. With graduate degree from Howard University, in ten years he’s published nonfiction, fiction, poetry, photography, plays, hybrid, and interviews in 200 journals on five continents. Writing publications include Barrelhouse, Columbia Journal, Hippocampus, Lunch Ticket, The Atlantic, Typehouse, Wordpeace.