Robert John Butler and B. Mason Judy graduated from TWU last year; they work for the Portland Hotel Society.
Even if you haven’t heard of the Portland Hotel Society (PHS), you will likely know of the Downtown East Side (DTES). Bound by Vancouver’s Chinatown and historic Gastown, this infamous space is one of continual media exposure throughout the province as well as the nation. In this poverty stricken neighbourhood, prostitution, heavy intravenous drug use and mental illness are commonplace. It is an area where the majority of Vancouver continually turns a blind eye to because the problems are so great and solutions so complex.
What began as a grassroots effort in the early 1990s has become the premier provider of Single Resident Occupancy (SRO) hotels in the DTES, one that recognized the need for safe and affordable housing for those who would otherwise be living on the streets. The role of the PHS has grown significantly. They manage a myriad of different projects that benefit and try to enable more stable and positive conditions for those who call the DTES their home. Among other projects they have nine SROs with virtually no eviction policy, a rehab facility, homeless shelter and the controversial safe injection sites.
Since its inception, the PHS has been guided by a number of key philosophies, the most foundational being harm reduction. Harm reduction doesn’t impose values or judgments on lifestyle choices but instead seeks to “meet people where they are at.” In practice this reveals itself on the job through the provision of clean rigs (syringes) and other drug related paraphernalia all in an effort to prevent the spread of diseases such as Hepatitis C and HIV.
Robert John Butler:
During my time at university, I became interested in the marginalized individuals of society and preventative measures against the spread of infectious diseases. After graduation, I sought out Vancouver’s DTES and North America’s first supervised safe injection site and before long I found myself employed with the PHS at one of their many illustrious manors: namely, The Portland Hotel. Far from the ambitious dreams of saving the world by the almighty power of science, I am a lowly night clerk at what is essentially a mental health institution without the characteristic infrastructure of shrinks and straitjackets.
I am what my pay stub calls a “mental health worker.” In more colloquial terms I am a doorman, a porter, a pharmacist, a security guard, a verbal garbage can, a needle exchange facilitator and a cigarette vendor. These basic goods and services are provided in exchange for a cheque twice a month and a vantage point from which I can view the intricate social drama that occurs in the DTES around the clock.
Residents of the Portland Hotel are notorious for their severely complex mental health issues and instabilities. When placed together, these conflicting personality traits often create a chaotic environment with little or no order. At any given moment it is not uncommon to see residents pacing around the perimeter of the lobby like caged animals, or rocking to the rhythmic sound of their own laboured breathing. It is equally common to see them engage in hand-to-hand combat over scraps of tobacco or crack cocaine, spilling blood and tears the entire way.
However, these seemingly brazen displays of anarchy are not entirely without their own unique system of control. The activities that occur in the DTES are the personification of an entire lifetime’s worth of abandonment and mistreatment on the part of individuals’ families and society as a whole. It is the hidden hand of neglect so deeply rooted in the psyche of these individuals that drives them to unspeakable acts of desperation and I remind myself daily of this fact.
This places a significant degree of pressure on my part. It is difficult, if not impossible, for me to make up for a lifetime’s worth of trauma during my experience at the Portland Hotel. But it is important for me to remain focused on the act of embracing every individual on their own terms by rejecting the very thing that brought them to their troubled position to begin with: neglect.
Mason Judy:
This January I found myself looking for a job. Returning from a summer job in Alaska, I had moved into Vancouver with the hope of just getting a job. Before the holidays I sorted clothes and women’s undergarments at The Bay (I lasted two days) and did a month stint as a dishwasher in a Kitsilano diner. I decided that I could no longer handle just another menial job and Rob suggested I apply to the PHS. The account of his experience with the last few months of working in the DTES had triggered a desire for a job where I would not only be doing something, but doing something positive.
My experiences with the DTES prior to starting work in the area had been limited to passing through, attending concerts and the occasional protest. Essentially, I had the view of the average resident of the Lower Mainland who is not accustomed to a regular interaction with the people and the lifestyles prevalent in the DTES.
The last couple months have begun to expand the way that I view poverty and addiction. When you hear about the varying “ills” of society and live from a perspective where it is only a problem or an issue, it loses the humanity involved. Instead of perceiving the whole I have begun to see and meet people, who may have a mental illness or have experienced extreme hardship, but are still people, who are no different from myself.
My role at the PHS involves facilitating, making sure medication is taken, cleaning floors and handling any emergencies that arise. I was told in my first interview not to expect success or changes based on the typical idea of “progression,” and I don’t. I am a communications major: all I can do is go to work, ask people “how is it going?” and try to keep things in order.
To get more informed on North America’s only legalized Safe Injection Site, check out the Fifth Estate’s documentary online “Staying Alive.” http://www.cbc.ca/fifth
