*The names of all individuals who took part in this project have been changed out of respect for their privacy.*

Introduction

I have almost sat down when I notice the bench is not clean. Two empty tins and one glass bottle of beer have made the bench their home along with several waterlogged cigarette butts. I consider the space for a moment, as I carefully plant myself on the other side of the bench, so that I can eat my lunch and stare out onto the Illecillewaet River. Before starting my job as a BC Housing Outreach Worker, I would have perhaps blamed the left-over litter on local teenagers or disrespectful tourists. Instead, I acknowledge the fact that it is entirely possible the very bench I am sitting on was someone's bed the previous night. (Journal entry, Jameson, July 2009).

      Nestled between the Selkirk and Monashee mountain ranges, Revelstoke is a community in the British Columbia Interior with a population of 7,230 (City of Revelstoke, 2008), and the last place some would expect to uncover the plight of homelessness. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that in many rural centres the homeless go largely unnoticed, occupying spaces “not intended for habitation” (National Alliance to End Homelessness, 2007, ¶1). It is the lack of visible spaces used by the homeless in rural centres that result in the “false impression that rural homelessness is limited or non-existent” (Meert & Bourgeois, 2005, p.109). In Revelstoke, at least, there is recognition on some level that this lack of visibility is what impedes the small city from providing or seeking aid for its homeless residents. Rick, who is employed by the City of Revelstoke, says that:

"It's hard to make a big investment [on homelessness] because there's [sic] two people sleeping under a tree. Maybe there's 30 or 40 people that you never see, but because you don't see them, then people don't think the problem is that large."

     The invisibility factor has also made it difficult for those working in the social services sector to facilitate conversations surrounding the issue of rural homelessness with other community members. As Karen, a social services provider in Revelstoke notes:

"It is quite obvious at some community forums that some citizens do not realize the extent of homelessness in our community. For us who work in the social services sector, we know homelessness exists as many of our clients have no permanent address."

There appears to be an almost inherent desire to use urban homelessness as a marker, both when speaking to–and researching--rural homelessness. John, a now-former City of Revelstoke employee, admits he often thinks of homelessness

"[i]n terms of [the] Lower Mainland, where you see people who are sleeping in doorways and in the parks and things like that. And I don't think we have a lot of that because 1) our weather is not conducive; and 2) there may not be as many opportunities for either generating extra money or getting hold of surplus foods."

     However, John's (and others') thought process may be partly due to the fact that many community-centric studies on homelessness are geared towards accessing federal funding (Cloke & Milbourne) and the majority of this research “has an urban orientation, usually in relation to specific groups and to understanding the linkages and interactions amongst housing, services and homelessness” (Cloke & Milbourne, p. 77).

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Who are the homeless?

Perhaps one of the most difficult aspects of this project has been defining the homeless. There are a multitude of labels out there - absolute homeless, hidden homeless, homeless-at-risk, homeless due to crisis ... the list is never ending. Adding to the confusion is the inability to find agreement on an exact definition of homelessness from either government or academic bodies. Even posing this question to my interview participants has led to a muddle of confusion with answers to the question "how would you define homelessness?" ranging from belief that only people sleeping out of doors are truly homeless to a story one participant told about her interactions with a homeless woman who told the participant she believed all of British Columbia to be her "home."

This homeless woman, with the belief British Columbia is her "home" is most intriguing to me in terms of the concepts of space and place. I'm currently thinking of this simply off the top of my head, but it seems to me the majority of North American's think of a home as being a specific space, confined by four walls and a roof. However, perhaps for those who choose homelessness (perhaps more appropriately defined as a Nomadic lifestyle) the idea and concept of space is much different.

So ... are there really homeless in Revelstoke?

When I first began working as the Housing Outreach Worker here in Revelstoke, B.C. I was asked this question almost everyday. Even those who didn't ask would tell me "well, we only have one or two homeless people really." As a student of intercultural communication at Royal Roads University, this got me thinking: Why do we believe homelessness only exists in larger cities? Is it the way we communicate about homelessness in smaller centres? Is it the fact that most of the homeless population in small centres are categorized as either "hidden homeless" or "homeless-at-risk?" These questions are where my thesis project began. I also came to realize that it was the concepts of space and place, which would be of most benefit. As a society we create "spaces" and "places." As such I have been busy reading the works of Henri Lefebvre, David Harvey, Michael Foucault, and others.

Theory does not an entire project make, however. And, since I am not one who can patiently wait around until theory has decided to make its way happily into my realm of knowledge, I have also conducted a number of semi-structured interviews