Lisa's Story
A long-time community member, Lisa is recognized more for her chronic addictions than for her bouts of homelessness. She talks openly about her addictions, the difficulty in finding safe shelter, and her creative method for relieving stress. While she speaks to having spent nights sleeping out of doors, in the women's shelter, or in the RCMP holding cells, she never once makes reference to herself as a homeless person. Yet, she spends her days downtown, talking to locals and tourists alike, the sidewalks becoming an extended living room where she is happy to host anyone who is interested in holding a conversation. Despite living in a more rural centre, safety is still a concern for those who know Lisa. Research looking into the survival strategies of homeless women in larger centres notes that “[a]s a masculinist space, 'the streets'‟ present a variety of dangers to homeless women” (Huey & Berndt, 2008, p. 178). For Lisa, however, the streets become a refuge, a place with a familiar safety to them. She tells me that she leaves the place she stays often by 5 a.m. and is on her way downtown, where she stays for most of the day.
All of Lisa's photographs include people. Taken in the downtown core of Revelstoke, the photographs showcase how Lisa has turned a very public space into a private one. The majority of Lisa's photographs appear to be taken with the individual appearing to the left of the frame. In only two of the photographs does the subject appear towards the centre of the photograph (Images, p.33). What is particularly interesting is that, by placing the subject towards the left of the photograph, Lisa has allowed a better view of the spatial aspects of the photograph. In examining her photos it appears she is taking the picture as the subject is being greeted, and the relationship between Lisa and the photo subject is displayed (Images, p. 30). No photographs were taken of the place she stays on a regular basis, yet the manner in which the photographs are taken showcase many of the areas where she goes during the day.
Despite the fact Lisa is not recognized as being homeless by herself, or other community members, she lives in substandard conditions and has been a victim of violence. While safer, more suitable accommodations were obtained for her, she spent only a handful of nights there before leaving for good. “Like I said a hundred times before,” she tells me, “I have never lived on my own.”
During our interviews, Lisa does make reference to spending some nights outdoors. These nights outside are either directly related to violence at the places she stays: “He‟s on a drunk and […] so, therefore I don‟t give a flying fuck, I'm just gonna get whatever I can grab and get out of there”; or to being locked out: “I had a few beers and I was locked out and I was cold.” Lisa says when she has found herself locked out, she has sought refuge in a variety of places including the dugout at the local ball diamonds, the women's shelter, or even the RCMP holding cells if she is drunk enough to warrant an arrest by local police officers. “I always manage to find somewhere warm,” Lisa says. She continues:
"The women's shelter, I've been there quite a few times. I showed up there one day and I had a few beers and I was locked out and I was cold and so I was, “Hell with it, I'll go to the shelter.” They [shelter worker] says, “You've been drinking, we're not supposed to let you in.” I says, “Fine, I'm gonna sleep in your driveway.” They says [sic], “Oh, you're really upset.” I says [sic], “Either you let me in or you phone the RCMP and they'll throw me in a drunk tank and I‟ll have somewhere warm to sleep.” I said, “I am locked out. I did not choose to come here on my own; I didn't have any other options at this point.'”
What is particularly interesting about Lisa's story is her ability to recreate spaces from her childhood in order to cope with stressful situations. When she feels angry she'll “[g]et my six-pack, sit at the river and then throw rocks […]. This is bone head, this is so and so.” Her creative stress relief came as the result of growing up in a large French Canadian family in Northern Ontario.
"My older brother used to get–well, there's nine of us–but, my older brother, and there's seven younger than I and we used to say, '[name removed] pissed me off, [name removed] pissed me off, they're twins; [name removed] pissed me off, [name removed] pissed me off, they're twins, and they're only two years apart, so you've got four little doos that can drive you bananaroos. So, let's go to the river and throw rocks. It takes away the anger, the frustration."
Sarah & Gerry's Story
Sarah and Gerry share their story from a slightly different perspective. The couple has made the decision to leave Revelstoke after struggling to find their place in the community for a number of years. Their nomadic journey is not uncommon, as the “lack of social services forhomeless people will usually require forced migration […]” (Cloke, Johnsen & May, 2007, p. 387). Revelstoke lacks in numerous formal services often available to the homeless in urban settings including shelters and soup kitchens. Having experienced homelessness in the larger urban setting of Edmonton, Alberta, Sarah is able to make a number of comparisons regarding the spaces – or rather lack of spaces – for the homeless in rural centres like Revelstoke. Both Sarah and Gerry admit to long struggles with addictions. During our conversation, they pay particular attention to issues of food – in particular food storage, especially that of meat. Sarah and Gerry did not take part in the photovoice aspect of this project, as they left Revelstoke the day after their interview took place.
On the day I interview Sarah and Gerry, they are getting ready to leave Revelstoke.
“I think it's time to move on,” Sarah says. “We have good memories, there were good people. But, I think it's just time to make that change and move on because it‟s not working anymore.”
The couple also reveals that living in a rural centre has made it difficult to start anew, as it can be difficult to escape the stereotype of addict that they.ve worn for so long. “You go to look for a job, it's like, what's the point,” says Gerry. “You can't really stay clean and that.”
Sarah and Gerry's bouts of homelessness are both extensive and cyclical, running the gamut between absolute, hidden, and at-risk. They are perhaps most notorious for the local newspaper coverage they received while living in a shed; this was media attention, they say, they would have preferred to avoid. The summer prior to that, they spent living in a tent. “There was [sic] three of us at the time, out at the dump road, but not right at the dump,” says Sarah. “We had a campfire, of course, when we could, and a little stove. We had everything we needed ---
“--- Lots of blankets,” Gerry interjects.
“Yeah, lots of blankets,” says Sarah.
While Revelstoke is often seen as a beautiful place, a far cry from the dangers faced by homeless in urban centres, Sarah and Gerry reveal that, for the homeless, there are still safety concerns in rural areas – in particular sharing spaces with wildlife. “Well there was one [black bear], and he was small enough he got to know us. He didn't really bother us, but now he's back. He's big,” Sarah says, referring to a bear that would sometimes come into their camping spot along the dump road.
While no longer sleeping outdoors on the day I interview them, Sarah and Gerry were still homeless. “We stayed at our friend's last night on the couch there, and even couch surfing we hated it because we felt like we were always imposing and getting in their way,” says Sarah.
“Either a day or two, then try to find another one [place to stay],” says Gerry.
Sarah and Gerry did manage to find refuge on a friend's couch, but they also admit they had spent a number of nights sleeping outdoors. “They [other people] can't see us, so that's a good thing. But, when you wake up, well we were under the bridge where the train is, so we didn't get very much sleep. But, it's the only place that we were sheltered enough that no one could see us, that kind of the thing,” Sarah says.
“And the rain couldn‟t get to us,” Gerry says.
Their decision to move is a difficult one. Both alcohol and drug addicts struggling to get clean, Sarah and Gerry reveal they feel “guilty by association” as many of their friends still struggle with addictions. I ask if they believe there are more homeless in Revelstoke than people think. “I think so,” Sarah says. She continues:
"We just don't know where they're all at. Like every day we go out and we see people with suitcases, backpacks, those great big ones, and you can tell. You just know that they're nowhere […]. You see tents all over. Like, if we go for nature walks, people are tenting out all summer and it wasn't just for the fun of it either."
"Yeah," says Gerry. 'Cause you'd see people and it'd be like, 'Weren't you here three days ago?' 'Yeah.' 'Weren't you here like three weeks ago?' 'Yeah.'
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