STIGMA IS A SILENT KILLER FOR THOSE ON THE STREET
Homelessness isn’t an inevitability in our communities, Jeremy Hunka says.
Close your eyes and picture your last moments of life. As you contemplate your dying hours, what do you imagine? You likely hope to pass peacefully surrounded by close family members, resting secure in the knowledge that you are loved and cherished. You don’t imagine dying alone, slumped over a hard Tim Hortons table, surrounded by customers who don’t notice your dying breaths.
That is the cold tragedy confronting Metro Vancouver this week, following reports that an elderly homeless man named Ted slowly died in a West Broadway restaurant, alone and suffering for hours in plain view of customers who came and went.
The fact that Ted, who was in his 70s, was not just sleeping, but in medical distress and dying, reportedly went unnoticed for up to 12 hours until another homeless man noticed the emergency and alerted staff to call an ambulance. It is an unspeakably sorrowful incident, a shameful mark on our city, and a wake-up call for a region that otherwise considers itself world class.
If you think this is an isolated incident, think again. In fact, the homeless crisis and its deadly consequences continue to spiral and expand to new areas.
The City of Vancouver’s homeless count this March found at least 2,181 homeless souls surviving on Vancouver’s streets — another record high. That followed the 2017 Homeless Count in Metro Vancouver, which found a whopping 30-percent increase in homelessness since 2014, and counted 3,605 people without a safe place to call home.
This crisis is not confined to the inner city. The problem is exploding in new hot spots: Delta, Langley and the Tri-Cities saw homelessness double, and numbers surged in places like the Fraser Valley and Surrey. More troublingly, 21 per cent of the homeless population was 55 and older in 2017, up from about 10 per cent in 2005.”
The results are deadly: at least 70 homeless British Columbians died in 2015, the last year provincial data is available. What does this all mean?
Unless this trend is changed, suburban coffee drinkers will one day wakeup to another preventable death outside — or inside — their favourite restaurant, where vulnerable neighbours seek safety or warmth in the absence of adequate shelter or supports. Are you ready to come across a dying neighbour next time you go for a macchiato? We must, and can, do better. To be clear, governments are making some welcome moves on the homeless file. The City of Vancouver’s push to build 600 modular housing units, the provincial government’s push for a poverty reduction strategy, and the federal National Housing Strategy, to name a few.
These are positive steps, but their impact is months or even several years away, and they are no match for the crushing affordability crisis that pushes an estimated five people into homelessness each week in Metro Vancouver, as vacancy rates fall below one per cent and rents continue to rise.
Crucially, these measures have not addressed the crippling stigma that is so often cast on people like Ted. Sadly, some homeless neighbours are so accustomed to being avoided or judged in public that they would rather withdraw from society, even when they’re suffering, than ask for help and risk feeling the pain of being ignored, unwanted or shunned.
When people feel unwelcome, they may not speak up, and that often prevents people in dire straits from seeking help, even when they may be dying before our eyes.
I don’t know exactly what happened in Ted’s life to trap him in homelessness, nor do I know exact circumstances around his death. I do know that people who knew him, like respected homeless advocate Judy Graves, say he worked most of his life, was diagnosed with cancer, was not struggling with addiction, and was one of hundreds of seniors now homeless because they can’t afford rent. I also know that most of my formerly homeless friends became so not as a result of laziness, but through a difficult sequence of events that often includes tragedy, trauma, grief, mental anguish, or battle with addiction that derailed their lives and paralyzed their progress.
With supports, they were able to again see themselves as valuable men and women, rebuild their lives, and now contribute to our region in amazing ways.
Did Ted feel valuable in his dying moments?
Although I’m fortunate to have a front-row seat to people transforming their lives every week, I know others sometimes shrug off homelessness as an unfortunate inevitability. But homelessness won’t reverse until we change that mentality, demand action from every politician, vote on the subject, and take actual personal steps consistently in our individual lives to end the crisis — like volunteering or donating to good organizations. Only then will we have enough adequate housing, emergency supports and compassion to remind every Metro Vancouver resident they matter. People like Ted deserve that.
Are you ready to come across a dying neighbour next time you go for a macchiato?
JEREMY HUNKA