Trevor's Story
The youngest of all the participants in this project, Trevor was instrumental in demonstrating the importance of a pre-established relationship between researcher and participant. During our interview, Trevor revealed he was taking part “as a favour” to me for the help I'd given him through the Housing Outreach Program. Trevor has experienced multiple levels of homelessness in both rural and urban contexts. From this he has the ability to speak openly about the plight of the homeless, including that of the rural homeless who are faced with additional barriers including a lack of public spaces in which they are welcomed. He speaks of a past which includes gangs and an addiction to cocaine, and showcases knowledge of skills necessary for survival. Central in much of his spoken text is the theme of money: it becomes obvious in viewing his spoken text that for Trevor a continuing barrier to successful long-term housing has been an inability to find a legitimate source of income.
In looking at his photographs, it becomes apparent they are framed in a manner that speaks to his “out of sight, out of mind” mentality of survival. In only one of the photographs does a person appear, and then they are not the central focus of the picture, as one may have to look several times before seeing the individual. Trevor tells me all of the photographs he's taken are of places he has previously slept while homeless in Revelstoke. He did not want to take pictures of the car where he was sleeping in at the time of the interview. What is interesting is that the photographs are taken from the perspective of someone looking into the spaces, rather than someone occupying the actual space. The majority of the photographs are dark, giving voice to a feeling of being hidden away. The theme of money, which is central in much of Trevor's spoken text, is also showcased in one of the photographs. In this particular photograph, the focus appears to be on a set of stairs. Yet, much like the photograph with the person, after looking several times, there is another layer to the photograph. In this case, it is a reference to money – seen as a dollar sign, written on the side of a wall.
At the time I interview Trevor he is living in a parking garage, spending his nights sleeping in a friend's car. It is autumn, and the temperature is dropping to near or below freezing at night. “The car doesn't even start, so it doesn't get started up to get heat. I crawl in, pull the blankets over,” he tells me. Once a week, Trevor finds refuge sleeping on a friend's couch–the same friend who lets him sleep in the car. “When his dad's out of town, he lets me use his couch, which is pretty well Saturday. I got a few places, good friends of mine, where I go and shower pretty well every day.”
Trevor tells me that it is his experience of having been homeless in the suburbs of Toronto which make him well-versed in deciding which spaces would make the best temporary living accommodations. “It's out of sight, out of mind,” he says. It is also his experience with big city living–and especially, he alleges, exposure to gang activity--that caused him to move to rural B.C. a few years ago. “I just had to get away from everything I was in,” Trevor says. Among his biggest motivating factors for moving was “[w]atching my friend get his brains blown out.”Like many other homeless individuals, Trevor struggles with addiction. Although he claims to have straightened up, he says there is still an assumption he does drugs. “Even now that I don‟t, people assume I do. They always think I'm a drug dealer or something like this because I'm always at the bar. Whether or not I'm drinking, I'm always at the bar.” However, Trevor admits that he has sold marijuana while homeless.
"Getting food was selling pot, because it was the only reliable income. 'Cause at any given point and time, somebody wants a bag of weed, so it was easy and it got me by 'til I found a job. Almost every time I found a job I'd stop selling weed and then I'd lose all my customers. Then I'd lose my job and then when I'd try to make money again [selling marijuana] I lost all my customers."
When I was first introduced to Trevor in the summer of 2009, he had been sleeping in a storage locker. “That was like my main sleeping spot, when I could get in there,” he tells me. While Trevor managed to photograph some of the darker spaces he has occupied, he often speaks to the romantic notion of rural homelessness. He tells me that when he first arrived in Revelstoke, he slept in a tent pitched underneath the TransCanada Bridge. “It [TransCanada Bridge] goes down into [a] little bay area. I was way down there with my tent,” Trevor tells me, “It's such a beautiful spot to wake up. You wake up and you look across and you hear the birds.”
Trevor spent a month camped out on the river bank before finding temporary housing with a friend. When this fell through, Trevor found himself homeless once again, this time finding refuge in the storage locker and other spots.
Alex's Story
While Alex has only been in Revelstoke for two years, he has also experienced homelessness in a larger, urban setting. This experience gives him a point of comparison when talking about being homeless in Revelstoke. As is common with many homeless individuals, he has experienced homelessness on a multitude of levels–absolute, hidden, and at-risk. He speaks from a place of experience, and in particular focuses on the relationships and networking needs of rural homeless. While these networks play a key role in Alex's survival, in particular his reliance on family connections, it is also part of the reason behind the “lack of absolute homelessness” in rural centres (Bruce, p. 67). In exploring Alex's spoken text it is important to keep in mind his own views on homelessness. His definition of a homeless person as being “someone that's outside and not in a house” is central not only to how he views homelessness in general, but how he speaks about his own experiences. He does not refer to his time in the motel room when speaking to his homeless experiences; rather, examples are given only of nights he spent outside.
I sit across from Alex, prying answers from him. Despite agreeing to participate, he is less than forthcoming in divulging personal stories about his homelessness. I know he moved to Revelstoke in February of 2008 and I know he is currently living in a motel room, which is being paid for in exchange for work being done for the owner. Putting his story together from beginning to end, however, is difficult. Alex reveals that when he first arrived in Revelstoke, he had been staying with family. However, when they stopped getting along, he managed to find a new abode, complete with room and board.
“They [people he was rooming with] packed up and moved. I was left homeless,” Alex tells me. When he found himself homeless he stayed “down by the river,” something he found to be “not very pleasant.” When asked about deciding on the best place to sleep, Alex tells me he decided to sleep under the Big Eddy Bridge because “[i]t would be easy to get my dog over to [my family] so I could go to work until I could get myself a place. And more cover to hang tarps off or whatever.” Alex reveals during the three months he spent camped out under the bridge, he met other homeless individuals. “Most of them were transients, hitchhiking through. So they were in the same boat I was, so they were very friendly,” Alex says.
This wasn't Alex's first time experiencing homelessness, as he tells me he was also homeless in Kamloops, B.C. Asked to compare the two areas, he said: “Kamloops is more drier [sic] so we don't get as much rain as we've gotten here [Revelstoke]. There's [sic] not as many places to go like drop-ins or hostels or anything like that.” Alex reveals that in smaller communities there is a stronger reliance on networks available to the homeless, although sometimes those supports can depend on how well family and friends get along:
"You know, I've seen in other families where they'll bend over backwards to give 'em the clothes off their back and I've seen other families that are – not to be ignorant – but, I've heard people tell family members to fuck off, things like that."
Being homeless, Alex tells me, is not something he chooses. “I know of a couple other individuals in town here who are homeless. I've heard them say, 'It's my personal choice', but, I don't want to be homeless here.”
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