The Struggles of Transitional Housing: A Safer Alternative to Homelessness, But Not Without Challenges
2024-11-03
Author: Charlotte
The Struggles of Transitional Housing: A Safer Alternative to Homelessness, But Not Without Challenges
When Steven found himself homeless in late 2022, he was at a loss for resources to help him secure temporary housing. Initially, he reached out to the Rock Bay shelter, only to be advised against it due to its classification as a “wet shelter,” which permits the use of alcohol and drugs.
At 37 years old, Steven, who prefers to only be identified by his middle name to avoid stigma, realized that he could no longer afford his two-bedroom apartment in Vic West. A few months prior, he had returned to Victoria from Vancouver to build a life with his then-fiancée. Plans for a wedding at the iconic Empress Hotel fell through when their relationship dissolved, leaving Steven with a steep rent of $3,000 per month, compounded by an injury that hindered his work as an office manager.
By October 2022, the soaring rental market in Greater Victoria averaged a staggering $1,767 for a one-bedroom unit, a 7.7% spike compared to the previous year. Desperate for shelter, Steven moved to a downtown facility, where he discovered he would need to pay around $600 monthly in program fees, inclusive of a dorm-style bed and meals. The reality set in: he was spending approximately $1,000 each month to be homeless.
Initially sleeping in dorms that accommodated up to twelve people, Steven described the environment as “nerve-wracking.” Lack of privacy, communal bathrooms, and limited facilities only exacerbated the challenges he faced while searching for work in administrative roles. Tensions among residents often escalated over trivial matters like the choice of TV shows, while deeper issues of substance abuse loomed large.
Despite these hurdles, Steven noted that roughly 30% of his fellow shelter residents were employed, sharing stories of how precarious circumstances had led them to this point. He empathized with individuals who had lost everything to disasters or health crises, reflecting on the struggles of many facing homelessness who are not grappling with addiction or mental illness. Critics argue that enhanced access to subsidized housing could prevent individuals from entering the shelter system altogether.
Steven’s transitional housing was not immune to challenges associated with drug use; although it enforced a no-alcohol-or-drugs policy, instances of substance misuse were not uncommon. He recounted incidents that underscored the environment’s volatility, including episodes of violence and the pervasive sense of despair that often enveloped residents. Sadly, some faced tragedies like suicides—people who appeared stable but ultimately succumbed to the overwhelming weight of their circumstances.
After months of adjusting to the shelter life, Steven managed to secure a private single-occupancy room and later found steady employment in early 2023. Yet it took a full year of applications—about 35 attempts—to find an affordable one-bedroom apartment. This new home costs only $600 more than his previous shelter fees, a significant achievement after navigating the complex landscape of homelessness.
Brenda Wadey, who oversees a transitional housing program at the Salvation Army's Addictions and Rehabilitation Centre, stated the program aims to empower individuals to stabilize their lives and achieve independence. While intended as a stepping stone, program limitations often leave residents trapped within the system, struggling to transition due to a lack of affordable housing options.
Frederick, a 74-year-old participant in the program, shared a similar journey that led him to the ARC after living on a sailboat. His experiences reflect the harsh realities that many face within the housing crisis, hindered by fixed incomes and escalating living costs.
Social agencies are increasingly recognizing the diverse needs of the homeless population. Amid a brutal toxic drug crisis, which claimed the lives of at least 1,749 people in B.C. in a single year, the focus has shifted to prioritizing individuals with the most substantial support needs. This shift underscores the urgent call for more subsidized housing and tailored support systems, as many residents battle not just the challenge of shelter but the complexities of addiction and social reintegration.
The question lingers: how can society better support those like Steven and Frederick, caught in a precarious cycle? The answer may lie in a comprehensive approach that enhances access to stable housing, mental health services, and community supports—an essential lifeline for those facing the daunting path out of homelessness.