By Jay Straus
Published June 2022
Since October of 2020, the dormitory at 139 University Ave W in Waterloo, commonly known as UA, has been turned into “interim” or “transitional” housing.
When first looking at this idea, which we believe to be a unique enterprise, focus was on the labels of interim or transitional. The housing side was through the lens of a roof and a door, the physical aspects.
What we have learned since we started is that the emphasis needs to be on the word housing. Housing, not of the physical space, but more in line with what we would think of as Home. We came into this project with the idea of helping to stabilize individuals and move them along to permanent housing. We now realize that for many of the individuals at UA, this could and needs to be a long game. For people struggling with their mental health, substance use disorders and trauma, making UA their home means they can find success in being able to continue to live indoors.
For many at UA, if there was a bounty of affordable housing, having them move to these locations would in many cases lead to inevitable failure. This is a different vision of housing first, where people are supported in individual units. The truth is that most property owners would not be able to deal with the behaviors and struggles of the chronically homeless. The “middle-class” image of what housing looks like does not need to be the goal for everyone.
In the early days of the pandemic, the Region of Waterloo and The Working Centre realized that we needed to find creative ideas to help the chronically unhoused find a place. The Hammer Building owned by WCRI, was selected as a location. In September of 2020, I was hired to help lead a team of people to host and house 80 of the hardest to house individuals in our region. We started by hiring 27 individuals, most of whom had no experience with this community. A very diverse group of people with the common goal of wanting to be a part of something meaningful. The team included engineers, New Canadians, professionals, students and many other different backgrounds. Some had lived experience, some in recovery, some having been homeless themselves. What we did find as a commonality was a desire to be a part of something bigger. For some of us, this population and their struggles were brand new. It was a challenge for many of the people working at UA to find the grace necessary to work in this environment. There were many comments made about “these people need to change”. One individual in particular has been with us since we started, and this type of comment was common to hear from them. About a year into the program, they shared with the team, “when I started I used to say that these people needed to change, it turned out that I was the one that needed to change”. I have to admit hearing them say that did bring some tears of joy.
Tears are not a stranger to UA. We have experienced tremendous highs and lows since we began. We have seen great loss. Five suspected overdose deaths of people that had called UA home. Some died here, others out in the community. Each death unique, eliciting different emotions and reactions. The first one woke us up to the reality of the opioid crisis. The shock of the first death that took place in the building. Discovering the individual days after they died, feeling at fault for not having been there to respond sooner, and ultimately the acceptance that the individual used alone in their room, and that if we are going to be angry, to direct our feelings towards the toxic supply of street drugs. Nevertheless, we carry on – the people that work at UA and the people that live at UA. A community has formed in this building. Supporting each other, laughing with each other. COVID has made this more difficult, yet community has formed. We see it more now than at any other time in our short history. Seven women are in the midst of moving to the new supportive housing provided by YWCA. Moving from our “temporary” housing, to a more permanent place. We see how others support these women as they prepare for their move, and we see it in the hesitancy these women carry into a new building, with new people around them. Will they have people that they can trust, rely on to care for them, and watch their backs? Having this at UA, creates a time of excitement and fear as they move on.
We take comfort from simple joys that we get to be witness to. The sharing of a joke, witnessing the kindness shown to each other as they share. To see a person who lives here have the moment of self-awareness to address their mental health concerns. We also see the major wins. Having gone from responding to an average of 7 overdoses a week when we opened, to having responded to 8 in the past 3 months, while overdoses continue to happen at alarming numbers elsewhere in the community is impressive. Could it be that the small amount of stability and support, gives people hope, a desire for more?
