The Sidewalk Issue by The Link Newspaper

VOLUME 42, ISSUE 04 April 2022 thelinknewspaper.ca

THE SIDEWALK ISSUE

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Contents

VOLUME 42, ISSUE 4

THE SIDEWALK ISSUE

EDITORIAL

HOSTILE ARCHITECTURE

WHAT GRAFFITI ARTISTS DO IN THE WINTER

COMIC: THE CITY STAYS THE SAME

PHOTO SERIES: MONTREAL’S MURALS

LIVING IN A GENTRIFIED NEIGHBOURHOOD

HIDDEN GEMS FOOD MAP

SOUTH ASIAN WOMEN’S IMMIGRATION STORIES

POETRY

PERSONAL ESSAY: LIVING IN A COLLECTIVE HOUSE

PLAYLIST: FRESH TUNES FOR A STROLL

FICTION: ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROAD

REM CONSTRUCTION IN CHINATOWN

DISADVANTAGES OF LONG COMMUTES

POETRY

MAYOR VALÉRIE PLANTE’S SOCIAL HOUSING PLAN

LOCAL BUSINESSES SHAPING THEIR COMMUNITIES

PHOTO SERIES: EXIST IN RESISTANCE

“Waiting for Mohammad” since 1980

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EDITORIAL

Editorial: We Are the People That Make Up Montreal Montreal is one of North America’s most romanticized cities. From the Mount Royal Cross, to the cobblestone streets in the Old Port, to the numerous thrift stores and cafés lining St. Denis St., these sights make it easy to forget that Montreal is not a view on a postcard. The city hosts a vibrant yet shifting community. Living in Montreal is about acknowledging the people that live in each of the 19 boroughs, and the unique challenges each area faces. Our unhoused population grows every day, and little to no accommodations are made to better their living conditions. Construction workers are forced to work on multimillion-dollar city projects by the very same government that ignores their pleas for fair hiring rules. Quebec language laws—such as Bill 101—are also to be considered, seeing how they restrict our immigrant communities, especially Ukrainian children enrolling in school. On both a federal and provincial level, the entire Montreal community grows tired of our governments’ fake promises, and locals continue to fight for better wages, better living conditions, or any topic they deem relevant enough to mobilize around. Whether it rains or snows, you will most likely see people out in the streets protesting for their rights weekly. It does not matter how big or small the crowd is, and it does not matter how close to Montreal the topics are. Montrealers will be heard. Advocacy is not only about causing a reaction, but about garnering

support and attention from the people who have the power to make a change. Our voices may be loud enough to initiate a shift in the wind, but if they are not, our government can be sure that we will come back to tackle the topic again, as seen by the Maple Spring. Ten years after the initial 2012 student strike, students and education activists came together anew to demand free education for all. The fight was ignited once again, and the protest that took place on March 22 will be far from the last. At the end of it all, when the tribunal doors close, our voices will be tuned out and left on the streets where we can only hope that our cries for a better future will be heard loudly enough in hopes that our government chooses to care for its population. We hope to bring awareness to these issues by letting the people of Montreal speak for themselves. These are the people you walk by every morning on the way to your 8 a.m. class or 9 to 5 job. These are the people you see biking on St. Laurent Blvd. with a bag full of spray cans, or the kids on the sidewalk you see waiting for their bus. In the end, whether we’re students, medical practitioners, artists, construction workers, or transit drivers, everyone shares at least one thing in common: we’re all struggling to keep our footing on this crowded, concrete island, but it’s by uniting, and pushing for advocacy that we will be seen as more than a population census statistic. We are the people that make up Montreal.

Photo Stella Mazurek

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Controlling Public Space: When Does Architecture Become Hostile?

Cities often implement hostile architecture to deter what they deem as unwanted behaviours Olivia Piché Photos Olivia Piché From the Notre-Dame Basilica to St. Joseph’s Oratory, Montreal is home to many architectural masterpieces. However, all across Quebec’s largest metropolis, through its streets and in its parks, hostile architecture is integrated into the city’s urban design. Hostile architecture, or defensive design, can be defined as measures put in place to prevent unwanted use of public spaces. Whether it be armrests in the middle of benches, rocky or uneven pavement, unusual individual seat designs, or even the lack of public amenities, defensive design is a way of policing space. These features, or lack thereof, are meant to make public spaces uncomfortable for long periods of time and limit what some city officials consider anti-social or undesired behaviours. It’s sewn right into Montreal’s urban design, directly targeting vulnerable members of the community, and begs the question: Are public spaces truly for all members of the public? Defensive design is often masked by trendy architectural shapes or even buried under false intentions to make T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A

spaces more accessible. This is seen when city officials say leaning rest stops are more accessible for the elderly, or armrests on benches are there to help with mobility. While at times these features can enhance accessibility, the intention behind the design is what will make it either inclusionary or exclusionary. Armrests that are too low do not help with mobility issues, nor do they have to be in the centre of benches. This sort of design is fueled by the direct intention to drive vulnerable members of the public and marginalized groups out of these spaces. Adri Stark, senior project manager for Park People, explained the unhoused population, among other marginalized groups, is most vulnerable to the dangers of hostile architecture. “Defensive design in parks is harmful because it can push unhoused community members into more precarious or dangerous places,” she said. “For example, if spikes are suddenly installed on a park ledge that a person usually relies on for sleeping, they may be forced to seek shelter in more

NEWS

isolated spaces, like back alleys, where research shows they can be exposed to increased safety risks.” Harassment, sexual assault, verbal abuse, among other risks, are some of the dangers that can be more prevalent. Stark added that beyond the physical dangers defensive design poses on unhoused community members, it can also be psychologically harmful since “it shows a lack of respect for their basic well-being.” Founder of DefensiveTO and McGill planning, policy, and design PhD student Cara Chellew said defensive design can send a message of who belongs, which in turn is part of the larger systemic problem. “When you use design [...] and make it more uncomfortable to be in spaces, especially [for] people who are experiencing homelessness, it removes them as who we see as part of the public,” -Cara Chellew she said. “We can’t address issues like poverty or urban inequality if we don’t see the problem.” Chellew explained that while some spaces are intentionally designed with certain groups in mind, such as playgrounds for children, there is no need to send a message of exclusion. “Not all spaces are going to be for everyone, but we don’t need to be putting in infrastructures that are going to exclude people,” she said. “Everyone should be allowed to be in public with other people and [experience] all the benefits that happen when you see people, [are] seen, [are] part of the public. These are all important things.” She explained a large part of defensive design is the lack of amenities in public spaces which discourages the public from staying too long. “They might not have public washrooms, they might have pavilions that don’t have an overhang for people to go seek shelter from the rain,” she said. In making a space uncomfortable for some, Chellew emphasized that it ultimately makes it disagreeable for all. “The lack of these resources affects seniors, families, and people with disabilities. [...] In creating a more defensive or hostile space for some, it actually affects everyone and disproportionately so for people who are more vulnerable.” She added that intersecting identities need to be taken into account when thinking about inclusive spaces. When considering mobility and accessibility when designing urban spaces, Chellew used an example of unhoused community members who can at the same time be the ones with disabilities. Designs in urban

planning must be guided by community needs and community desires, she explained. Dr. Ipek Türeli, Canada’s research chair in architectures of spatial justice and associate professor at McGill, explained control over public space is exerted by a select group. Türeli likened it to controversial statues and monuments that have recently been called to be removed. “They claim public spaces, but they have been installed by the privileged few,” she said. “We usually see that it’s the powerful few versus everyone.” Türeli said defensive design can be larger than deficiencies in urban furniture, and that it can be analyzed as a whole concept. Buildings and facilities can be equally as hostile if entrances communicate difficulty in accessibility, or if a purchase is required to enter, she explained. “I don’t think we have enough reasons to feel good about ourselves,” Türeli said on inclusive spaces in Montreal. She explained urban designers have the responsibility to bring the voices of those who are not represented to the table when making decisions on public space. According to Türeli, the step forward towards inclusive spaces is diversity in designers.

“Everyone should be allowed to be in public with other people and [experience] all the benefits that happen when you see people, [are] seen, [are] part of the public. These are all important things.”

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p. 6: Several metro stations in Montreal have unique designs for seating, but are rarely comfortable for long periods of sitting. p. 7, Top left: Defensive design is often discrete and only noticed by those who are being targeted and pushed out of these spaces. Top right: Arm rests that are too low do not help with mobility and are often designed to prevent people from laying down. Bottom: Ledges often have bumps, or even spikes, which can discourage loitering. “If design professionals come from diverse backgrounds and come from communities who experienced issues in access, then they will prioritize these experiences,” she said. Türeli pointed to a larger picture when talking about the issues of defensive design. She believes it starts with education and access to urban design education. “The key is really to diversify our designers [and] design education, [and] who has access to design education and to the profession.”

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NEWS

FRINGE ARTS

Fresh Graffiti Is Proof of Artistic Life in the Dead of Winter Despite the cold, Montreal artists express themselves through street art Hannah Sabourin

Even in the winter, vibrant murals, paintings, and posters appear on the city’s monochromatic landscape. The colours are a reminder that artists still create in the cold. In black coats, thick scarves, and wool tuques, Montrealers walk with their heads down. They protect their faces from icy winds and scan the ground for puddles of salted slush—a mixture that eats away at leather boots. Before crossing the street, they might look around for oncoming traffic and catch a glimpse of a freshly painted wall. In that brief moment, before lowering their heads once again, they peer into the worlds of street artists. Montreal is a living canvas onto which artists express themselves, treet art is proof of life in the city. There is a distinction between graffiti and street artists. Graffiti art is illegal. These artists do not seek permission before they write on city walls. The SPVM fines graffiti artists who fail to receive consent from building owners. Street art, however, is a legal practice. These writers—a term for graffiti artists—use walls that the city reserves for painting. Community members and building owners often commission street artists to paint in urban spaces.

There are several legal graffiti walls around Montreal. The St. Charles Arena in Pointe-St.-Charles and the de Rouen tunnel in Hochelaga are two places where writers freely experiment with their art. In Montreal’s winter months, temperatures often drop below -20 C. For this reason, artists like AdidA Fallen Angel choose not to work outdoors in the winter. He finds it is difficult to create something meaningful while simultaneously fighting off the cold. During cold months, he paints on skateboards, works on indoor murals, and creates non-fungible tokens. He describes his art as “a mixture of typography, geometrical shapes, and soul-loving vibrations, surrounding the concept of universal love.” Born in Israel, AdidA started as a graffiti artist in 2012. At first, he created art on large sheets of paper and glued them on city walls at night. “I started to get the high that you get from being in the street. From having people taking photos of your art. I got hooked,” he said. Since 2016, when AdidA permanently settled in Canada, he became a street artist. In warmer months, he paints in the de Rouen tunnel weekly. When-

ever he approaches the tunnel wall, he has no idea what he will create. “When you see me paint, it looks like I’m dancing—that’s because I am,” said AdidA. “I’m dancing because I’m having fun and because I don’t know what’s going to happen. I can just let go and enjoy myself. By the end, I see something that I never knew I could create.” Through street art, AdidA learned to create something out of nothing. He also learned to walk away from his art knowing other writers will paint over his work. Over the years, his work has attracted the attention of neighbours who commissioned him to recreate his mural work on canvas. He also uses the winter to prepare for Montreal’s summer street art festivals. AdidA participates in the annual Canettes de Ruelle and the Under Pressure graffiti festivals. Even though many street artists choose to wait out the cold months, others continue to paint outdoors as much as possible. Originally from France, street artist ADI came to Montreal to practice his art and to enjoy life. His abstract art is about dedication, hard work, and community building. In nearly all of his pieces, he incorporates his name in creative ways; he alternates between bubA P RIL 2022

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ble and geometric letters. “I try not to think too much about my art. I just like to create. It’s more about hard work—paid or unpaid—and the friendships I make along the way,” said ADI. “In my eyes, there is no such thing as pure talent. There is only hard work.” This belief pushes him to continue painting outdoors, no matter the weather. Another Montreal-based artist, Boris Biberdzic, creates street art all year round. In his work, he experiments with figurative, abstract, and mid-century modern styles. He also incorporates a lot of geometric shapes and bright colours. “I really enjoy the physical aspect of being on a bigger canvas and not being constricted, and just throwing paint around and not worrying about being neat,” he said. Even though Biberdzic wears mittens to protect his hands from the cold, he still tries to work fast to protect his hands from the wind. He likes to paint in the winter be-

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cause it presents a challenge. When pressed for time, doubt dissipates from his mind, and he can tap into his creativity. Haste also ensures that paint doesn’t freeze in the can. Adrenaline is a component of Biberdzic’s process. “The process takes off the pressure of creating a perfect piece. So it just becomes a creative outlet, and it enables me to experiment,” he said. For each piece, Biberdzic is inspired by the physical infrastructure onto which he paints. “You’re investing in that space, and you’re living in it—something that you wouldn’t have done if you were passing by. So you get to learn what kind of people live in the area,” he said, referring to painting in urban spaces and communities. Even though he paints outdoors in the winter, Biberdzic has his limitations. “Minus 10C is maybe the lowest I’ll go. Lower than that, it’s just stupid to go out at that point,” he said. In partnership with MU, a Montreal mural production company, Biberdzic painted indoor murals for schools last winter. MU is a network of Montreal-based street artists dedicated to beautifying the city. The company’s mission is to transform

Montreal into an open-air art museum. Even if their murals erode from harsh winter weather or get covered with layers of paint from fellow artists, these Montrealers find satisfaction in using the city to amplify their voices. All three artists look forward to the summer months, when the city comes alive with various street art festivals like the MURAL Festival, the Under Pressure Festival, and the Canettes de Ruelles Festival.

p. 9 Photo courtesy AdidA Fallen Angel Above: Photo courtesy Boris Biberdzic Below: Photo courtesy ADI Right: Photo courtesy ADI

COMIC

By Maria Chabelnik

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Brick Walls, Spray Paint, and a Myriad of Stories How murals display Montreal’s identity, culture, and history Myrialine Catule

> To honour Oliver Jones, a renowned Canadian jazz musician, muralists Dan Buller and Five Eight collaborated to create this art piece in 2014 in Little Burgundy.

A representation of the diversity of gender, colour, and mobility between people within the same community. The artist Burn Toast painted this street art in 2020 in collaboration with Lights & Free at the corner of Jeanne-Mance St. and Sherbrooke St. W T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A

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The mosaic Spirale des possibles was completed by Laurence Petit and Christian Robert de Massy in 2010. The residents of the Jeanne-Mance housing project contributed to the conception of the mosaic in Ville-Marie.

< The mural Holding Together was made by Caitlin McDonagh and Ryan Thompson in 2020 at the corner of Durocher St. and Jean-Talon St. W.

< The mural presents a health care worker and a patient embracing each other in a warm hug. Patrick Forchild named it Nous Aussi to honour the hard work of health workers during the COVID-19 pandemic. He placed it on the outside of the Jewish General Hospital. A P RIL 2022

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The mural Jazz born here presents Oscar Peterson, a famous Montreal pianist. Gene Pendon made this posthumous art instalment in 2011 to honour him five years after his death. The mural is located in his childhood neighbourhood: Little Burgundy. >

> The street artist Monk.E created this mural in 2015 and modified it in 2016 for the MURAL Festival. It is situated on a building facing a parking lot hidden near St. Dominique St. and Maisonneuve Blvd.

This piece of street art is situated at the corner of de Bullion St. and Ste. Catherine St. E.

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PHOTO SERIES

Philip Adams and Angel Ezequiel Herrera Lopez collaborated on Cessez Le Feu in 2016, currently situated across de Maisonneuve Blvd.

< Moises Frank and Monk.E collaborated to create this art piece for the 2021 edition of the Under Pressure graffiti festival at the corner of Hôtel-deVille Ave. and de Boisbriand St. Photos Myrialine Catule

< At the corner of Chatham St. and St. Jacques St., the art collective Artducommun created this mural on the frontage of the Kamouraska housing cooperative in 2017.

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Rent Insecurity Negates Affordable Housing Renovictions are landlords’ last resort to run tenants out of affordable housing Gabriela Vasquez-Rondon

ooking at decades old housing prices as opposed to I live in a sixplex, and my apartment is on the top today’s rates is a shocking reminder of the impact gentrifica- floor. Before he moved out, the tenant living on the first floor tion has had on Montreal. More than urbanization, the differ- asked me if I wanted to take over his lease because he didn’t ence in prices highlights the devastating effects of inflation want the new landlord to raise the rent of the ground floor. and reflects how city folk have continuously been chased out His lease was $850 a month, a higher price than mine because of their homes. of his shared access to the backyard. When my landlord came I’m currently renting an unfurnished, nothing-in- over to make my acquaintance, I asked her how much she cluded, one-bedroom apartment. Although I’m paying $815 would be renting the first floor apartments and she replied, a month, I need to cover the cost of electricity and internet “$1,400 per month.” She’d be making repairs to supposedly myself. When the first of every month arrives, my bill sur- explain the higher price. passes $1000. My landlord had already established herself as a When the annual rent increase was announced—an greedy building owner, so when all the tenants recently reestimated 1.28 per cent—it felt like the hike in housing prices ceived an email about potential repairs, the first thing that would be my biggest challenge came to my mind was the when deciding to renew my possibility of being evicted. I may not be living with a nest of It is now confirmed that the lease, but I was wrong. In February, I was cockroaches anymore, but one al- building will undergo repairs, made aware that my rent which means my fear of potwould be raised to $825 after ways manages to crawl back into entially being evicted on the May 31, but the renewal of my my walls, asking me to pay more for illegal grounds of faulty repairs lease was up in the air when I is currently the source of many was told of my new landlord’s rent. stresses. intended renovation plans. In Montreal, you hear of Those plans all lead to a potenlandlord horror stories all the tial renoviction—a tactic used by landlords to hike rent prices time, and I have a few of my own from my past studio apartby legally evicting tenants under the guise of renovations. ment. I may not be living with a nest of cockroaches anyThe landlord who previously owned my building more, but one always manages to crawl back into my walls, was a French nudist hippie. He would take care of leaky pipes asking me to pay more for rent. and install new floors without the threat of renoviction. That My apartment is located in Verdun—one of the last all changed when he sold the building and moved out of the affordable boroughs—which is the main reason why my first floor apartment. housing situation is inexpensive compared to other neighWhen my new landlord introduced herself to me, bourhoods in Montreal, such as those located closer to the she inquired about the possibility of relinquishing my own Downtown area. utilities in favour of hers. In my own home, I was asked to With its overpopulation of coffee shops, expensive give up my stove, washer, and dryer. I asked my landlord vintage stores, and money-hungry landlords, the Downtown if making such accommodations meant raising the housing area is not only one of the city’s most identifiable gentrified price, to which she said yes. In the end, I would be subjected boroughs, but also one of its most expensive. For example, the to an inevitable rent increase. rent of an unfurnished three-bedroom apartment in March T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A

OPINIONS

was, on average, $3,178 per month, as opposed to February, where the monthly housing price in the area was $2,464. In the 1990s, a three-bedroom apartment in Montreal went as high as $565. In the 2000s, the rent cost approximately $654, and in the 2010s, it was raised to $865. Today, housing prices are looking more bleak than ever. As a renter, seeing such surges in living costs is disconcerting, and gives me little faith in our government’s stance concerning affordable housing, which is a necessity rather than a hypothetical. Whether someone is facing a renoviction, or a student is unable to find a good price for an apartment—even while considering living with a roommate—these examples are a reminder that Montreal’s housing crisis is urgent. I shouldn’t have to fear, year after year, about having to find a home in the city that raised me.

Top: Old-Port and Downtown area as seen from the NotreDame-De-Bon-Secours chapel. June 16, 1964. Created by Henri Rémillard. Source: BAnQ Bottom: Building in Outremont. Jan. 30, 1976. Created by Paul-Henri Talbot. Source: BAnQ

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bitchin’ bites:

hidden gems in montreal m

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a. DonDonYa, 1433 Bishop St. b. Nifular, 1923 Ste. Catherine St. W. c. Kazu, 1844 Ste. Catherine St. W. d. Cachitos, 3 Ste. Catherine St. W. e. Arepera, 73 Prince-Arthur St. E. f. Au 14, 14 Prince-Arthur St. W. g. La Luncheonette, 4271 St. Jacques St. T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A

h. Tacos Frida, 4350 Notre-Dame St. W. i. Sapa (végé), 4074 St. Laurent Blvd. j. Tacos Tin Tan, 3828 St. Denis St. k. Amigo, 1027 St. Laurent Blvd. 2nd floor l. Palme, 1487 Ste. Catherine St. E. m. Drogheria Fine, 68 Fairmount Ave. W. n. Mama Khan, 4147 St. Denis St.

F E AT U R E

Perspectives on Immigration From South Asian Mothers South Asian mothers look back on their experiences immigrating to Montreal Reina Ephrahim When Primrose Knight immigrated to Canada in August 1990 from Colombo, Sri Lanka, she was escaping a country wrought by civil warfare. “It was a very tough time because of the bombings happening near my house,” she said. She moved to the capital city of Colombo a mere three months after her mother’s passing in 1989, and was surprised one day by the sudden arrival of her two sisters. Upon arrival, they explained that it was no longer safe to live in their hometown of Jaffna, located at the northern tip of Sri Lanka. From 1983 until 2009, Sri Lanka faced a devastating war that left the country divided just short of 30 years. The war placed the Sinhalese majority-led government opposite Tamil rebels, leaving a death toll of approximately 100,000. “I asked, ‘Why have you come here?’ [My sisters] said, ‘We cannot live at home. We are scared,’” Knight said. “From thereon, my brothers were trying to bring me to Canada.” The immigrant experience varies for a number of reasons, be they in an effort to declare refugee status due to ongoing political conflicts back home, marriage, work, or education. Having immigrated to Montreal at 28 years old, Knight was eager to start life anew alongside her two brothers who were already settled in the city. She had her typist abilities to fall back on, and was looking forward to furthering her education into a more specialized field of study. However, in an effort to pay back her travel and immigration fees, she was

Photos courtesy Primrose Knight

unable to follow through. “My plan was to study [in an advanced field in university] because I wanted a good job,” Knight said. “But unfortunately, my brother borrowed money from someone to get me here, and the best salary I could get at that time was about $5.30. So, I had to work [...] and earn enough money to pay him back.” Knight’s reality is not that much different from most immigrant families. Many new arrivals depend on their local ethnic communities, mutual friends, and already-settled relatives to help hasten

their immigration processes in an interwoven cycle of support. “I realize now that I am very sorrowful over the fact that I didn’t get a chance to [complete my] studies, even though my aim was that I would do so when I’d reach Canada.” The ability to further her academia was limited by the fact that school demands full-time attention—something Knight simply could not commit to due to her impending financial situation at the time. In essence, immigrating to the western world is sought after in hopes of A P RIL 2022

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having what has been depicted in media “Language is a major part of my The loneliness that follows imas a chance at a better life. In most cases, work, and I have since developed confi- migration is one that plagues most immihowever, the life dreamt of is not what is dence in my ability to speak to the people grant families. The departure from one’s put on the table, as seen in Knight’s case. in and outside of my circle and family,” home country affects departees and their Although she now lives a happy life with Roberts added. loved ones, both in their native and new her husband and two kids in the West IsMost South Asians arrive in residences. land, the yearning for what could have Montreal speaking their native languages “My mother, my brother, and been remains. and dialects accompanied by a working my sister—they are my whole life. LeavIntegrating into a new society knowledge of English—the language that ing some of your closest loved ones withcomes with its own set of challenges. The is taught in schools throughout South out looking back is not an easy decision language barrier is no exception—and Asia, which was once under British oc- for anyone,” Kaur added. something my mother can attest to her- cupation. From the very moment they are self. dropped off at the airport, daily Ophilia Roberts—my “Leaving some of your closest loved visits turn into phone and video mother—immigrated to Cancalls as the departee adapts to a ada in May 1998 from Lahore, ones without looking back is not an new life, void of nearly everyPakistan. Her family arranged easy decision for anyone.” one they’ve ever known. Needfor her to marry my father, who less to say, the change of locawas already living in Montreal tion leaves a dramatic impact. and whom they had come to -Hukamdeep Kaur “I don’t think there know through mutual friends was a day I did not cry at first,” This often means that South said Kaur. “It made it difficult since my and family relations extending between Asian immigrants usually know more husband, who was and still is my best both countries. She was 34 years old. “It was a smooth transition for than one language or dialect. friend, was working every day, and addAdding on another with the ed to the loneliness I could not share with me overall because of the way my husband gradually introduced me to the dif- French language is therefore often no anyone.” ferent facets of life here in Quebec,” Rob- easy task for them. Roberts shared a similar sentiIn 1997, Hukamdeep Kaur was ment regarding the homesickness one erts said. “I understood learning French 26 when she arrived in Montreal from feels post-immigration. According to as the way to assimilate into society.” Roberts began attending gov- Moga, a city located in the state of Punjab her, it is a feeling that one may feel for the ernment-funded French language class- in India. Like Roberts, she recalls her ex- rest of their lives because a part of them es at the Centre William-Hingston in the perience assimilating to the French lan- still lives back home. Park Extension area. She recalls attending guage. “I love my life today, and I am “I struggled with the language, thankful for the opportunities I’ve had class with people from nearly every corner of the world, including Turkish, Af- but my husband was always there with and continue to have since immigrating ghani, Eastern European, Lebanese, Mo- me, which made everything a thousand to Canada,” said Roberts. “But I also love roccan, Indian, Bengali, and Ghanaian times easier,” Kaur said. “Difficulties and dearly miss my family. It hits you explaining [myself] and understanding hardest when you hear of relatives passimmigrants, to name a few. Today, she looks back fondly other people was the biggest struggle ing away, or when major events happen on her days in French school, and often for me. But now, I am much much more in your family’s lives that you are forced finds herself reminiscing about how far comfortable as there is no more language to miss. Communicating with family is her language skills have come as a Que- barrier, and [I feel that] I am experienced what keeps us all going, especially at the bec citizen who has been working in re- and have a better understanding of the very start.” city.” tail for more than 15 years.

Photos courtesy Ophilia Roberts

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Montreal I love you but I have to leave By Caroline S. Denhez It is not light-hearted but heavy, As holey as your pavement and foggy as your winter suns I go where you throw what’s yours away Beyond the river, they drown, Those who love you yet, so much. I leave you my beautiful, but it is you who abandons me You, who prefers the new, the most beautiful, the healthiest, the most salient Ah! They court you, these gentlemen businessmen Promise you a great day, a place of choice, Cover you with pomp and flatter you, Don’t be mistaken Montreal, my beautiful, But soon they’ll sell you too To the highest bidder and throw The leftovers out with the bathwater, As you now throw away what’s yours. Montreal forever, it’s your postcard we’ll remember, None of your inhabitants, they’re just like the others, But your mountain, but your river, And everything that floats according to the St. Lawrence. Soon, like your big sisters, you’ll be drained of your waters, The ones who give you your colours and make your heartbeat. Hold them back Montreal, Like a mother Who refuses to see her children Grow up, And leave. Montreal, I love you, but I’m leaving you, You, who doesn’t want more of me than my brain, my hands Gotta leave my soul somewhere else Now And look ahead, head down.

Tides and Cracked Sidewalks By Christina Marando You’d all congregate on cracked sidewalks Joining in childhood rituals in your Soft new world. Just beyond The walls of your houses, home extends out To a tiny village of people, Your family. Sure, their words are different Maybe the fabrics, and the food But your stories are all the same.

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Things change, The familiar faces are pushed out. The sound of tomato sauce Being hand-stirred in a garage Is replaced with a fastidious silence. The stores your family and all the families Went to, whose owners lived Just up the street, is replaced with A mall full of stores Better suited for the neighbourhoods Just over. It draws them in like a tide, Inevitable. Water spreads out and Reshapes landscapes, With creeping tendrils It seeks out barren ground To bring its own definition of prosperity, Nevermind whatever ecosystem Had been established before its arrival. Desert life surely will drown In the presence of such a flood. But hey, that’s just what water does. You almost can’t be mad. When your nonna passes away, Your family decides to divvy up The costs of her whole life. Her home, where all your roots First touched down on this soil, It’ll be sold to someone Looking to tear it all down And build something better suited To withstand the tide Sweeping through. Your grandma’s house is washed away Like old driftwood By the same oceans that Furiously beat her boat When she first stepped onto shore. Someday in the future, You’ll walk by those old streets And see that what remains of The old neighbourhood is just a skeleton That’s already been encased in new flesh And you’ll feel a twinge Of familiarity, and loss When you see how they’ve filled in All the cracks in the sidewalks.

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5:27 p.m. By Celia Aceae He sits in the metro Pizza box and fries Stacked up on his lap Ignoring the eyes Of the noses of those Trying not to glare While weary mouths water Wanting a share Post work, post workout Faces appear sunken Host shadows all sallow Intestines shrunken Tiny tummies tucked Not unlike his own Hunger stored neatly Until they get home As their stomachs growl The glowering grows worse He sits there pondering Who will grab him first Photos Stella Mazurek

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A House to Write Home About What living in a collective means to me Stella Mazurek

ooking for COVID-19’s silver linings isn’t something I excel at, but if there’s one thing I can thank the pandemic for, it’s the knowledge it has forced me to accrue about myself. In March 2020, I returned to my home province of British Columbia. With school set online for the foreseeable future, that September I took the opportunity to move to Victoria, a city I’d always wanted to live in. It made sense—I would be living near enough to my tiny, middle-of-nowhere hometown of Powell River to visit occasionally, but far enough away to feel independent from my parents. The two houses where I lived in Victoria were instrumental to my understanding of what I value in the place I call home. In September 2021, when it came time for me to move back to Montreal, I had very clear dream criteria for my next place of residence. Accompanied with a series of photos akin to a Tinder profile—a film portrait of myself in a purple hydrangea flower crown, a photo of me dipping my toes into a baby blue glacial lake, a selfie with one of our farm’s Rhode Island red chickens—I posted a write-up to several Facebook housing groups. I was painstakingly honest. I was in search of a house that welcomed impromptu dance parties, regularly shared healthy meals, valued clear and open communication, and could offer consistent free hugs—all needs I became aware of through deprivations so severe they led to acute bouts of depression in Victoria. I quickly received a message from a member of a collective house seeking to fill a room. Hypnotized by T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A

Above: My first ever brunch at the collective back in September 2021. Right: Decor on the second floor common space, which doubles as the TV room. Photos Stella Mazurek my father’s tales from his formative co-habitation experiences, I knew at some point in my life I wanted to give communal living a go. The Zoom interview with the collective went so well I sent the deposit the following morning. Confident it was going to be the wild ride I had my sights set on, I packed up my room in Victoria with excitement. A quote from a novel I lived and breathed through during the summer, The Sky is Falling by Caroline Adderson, hung above my head as the golden standard for living in a collective: “The middle room was an aesetic’s cell

with a pitted green foamie for a bed, the end room a postered shrine to Georgia O’Keeffe and Frida Kahlo, reeking of incense. I went back downstairs to the kitchen, which also smelled but of a more complex synthesis—ripe compost, burnt garlic, beans on the soak […] I glanced at my socks with their dust and crumb adherents.” My first night at the Plateau-Mont-Royal collective would have made me turn around and run away had I not been exhausted enough to sleep on any given surface. When I finally pulled up at 2:30 a.m. I was welcomed by Jasmine West, who wishes to use a pseudonym for privacy purposes,

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and led me up the concerningly steep stairs to my third-floor bedroom. I had an idea of the square footage based on pictures, but nothing could have prepared me for the bed-lacking, closet-sized space I was presented with. I inquired about the whereabouts of the bed, and Jasmine appeared as clueless as myself. It turned out to be a questionably carpentered Murphy bed that when unfolded from the wall, graced the room with a whopping seven square feet of real estate left. The next morning, I tiptoed downstairs to suss out the situation I’d gotten myself into. The walls of the living room were collaged with a mosaic of protest pamphlets, cheerful postcards from past members, and psychedelic posters. The onslaught of visual paraphernalia extended to the kitchen, lit by sunlight streaming through the foliage of a thriving nursery of house plants—I wouldn’t have to worry about getting enough oxygen if I stayed. The smell of sautéing garlic greeted my nostrils and I smiled to myself. Instead of letting it burn however, its cook offered it up to me in a concoction of curried cauliflower and asked me if I’d like to join them on a trip to the Biodome. I gingerly sat myself down at the kitchen table (on a structurally questionable chair that would collapse from beneath me during a phone call with my best friend months later), and accepted their generous invitation with immense relief. I had made at least one friend in this house. In the days that followed, I gradually met the rest of my housemates. By the time my first bi-weekly Sunday brunch rolled around, I was starting to find my footing. The seven members welcomed me into the ways and workings of the collective with open arms. I was introduced to the rotating chore board of assigned cleaning and tidying tasks, the bi-weekly house meetings that supplemented the brunches, and the notion of the common fund we paid into for shared staples alongside our rent at the end of each month. The structures in place for maintaining productive communication and positive co-habitation eased the stresses I’d experienced in past living situations. Here, I always felt

heard.

I grieved when Tee Kundu, my first-morning garlic-cooking saviour, left at the end of October. But by then I understood that for many, the collective was a brief, transient home. By November, three out of the eight people in the house were new. The collective’s arms let go just as easily as they welcomed. Though I was sad every time someone left, there was celebration in every new arrival. I quickly learned that there’s never a dull moment when you live with seven people. It’s what I envision having seven siblings feels like—at times utterly chaotic, and at others eerily quiet. But every day is an adventure that presents new twists and turns to navigate. From false alarm bedbug infestations that warranted scouring every piece of upholstery and fabric in our possession, to riding public transit with cat hair coated chairs traded off Facebook in exchange for homemade vegan falafels, to dumpster diving missions rescuing bountiful hauls of fine French pastries. When asked about where I live, I took to describing it to friends and family as, “imagine you’re part of a circus troupe living in a hostel.” The Tuesday movie nights, Wednesday family dinners, and Thursday board game sessions made me part of the eccentric, colourful family of the collective. Sometimes, when I came home late at night, I took to standing silently in the living room for a handful of minutes in a meditative gratitude. What I love most about our home isn’t its endlessly stimulating environment or the fodder it provides for the novel I shall someday write (it will be purely fictional, wink, wink). Rather, it is the beauty of community. We are constantly tackling the problems that arise, together. Lord knows that in a crumbling Montreal rental apartment, there’s never a shortage of front door handles falling off or ovens locking shut mid-meal with food still inside of them. Whether it’s hauling a new couch to the second floor, unclogging a stubborn toilet, or seeking motivation to workout on an extra cold winter morning, there’s always someone willing to help. One time, when I needed to go to the ER, my housemate Emilia Clarke A P RIL 2022

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The living room, where dance parties are held, workouts get done, and the karaoke microphone is screamed into.

Details from the shared art desk located on the third floor, which is surrounded by shelves of materials and tools. Anyone is welcome to use the space to create, provided they leave it tidy for the next artist..

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kindly offered to spend her day accompanying me for moral support. My outof-province medical card would have drowned in my tears of frustration had she not been by my side as we trudged through the snow from one clinic to the next, until we found a hospital that would take me in. Living in such close quarters, your problems are hard to hide. However, someone is always willing to hear your troubles and impart their advice. Living alongside such a wide range of people means living alongside a rich assortment of skills, interests, cultures, knowledge, realities, backgrounds, and talents. The power is in the diversity. I’ve gotten to taste Bengali street food and Moroccan couscous, dance to Colombian DJ sets, and play theatre-therapy games all within the confines of our first floor. The constant exchange of culture and knowledge is an experience I would highly recommend. Maybe I would’ve ended up in a collective without the pandemic, but I like to give my heightened self-journey the benefit of the doubt, and cast it as a silver lining. Every day, the collective is my teacher. I am constantly growing, constantly learning. There are many reasons people choose to live in collectives—to meet like-minded people, to pay cheaper rent, to build a meaningful community, to share grocery costs, to work towards common purposes, to deconstruct oppressive systems. Communal living acknowledges that we are all parts of a whole. Although we like to imagine ourselves as independent, our actions are constantly affecting others. As humans, our existences depend on complex interwoven webs of being. The web our collective spins is at times a sticky one, constantly tangling and getting rearranged, but a good one.

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The

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by The Link @linknewspaper Graphic Aude Simon

Fresh tunes for a stroll Sidewalks - The Weeknd (feat. Kendrick Lamar) 10% - KAYTRANADA (feat. Kali Uchis)

Lauren - Men I Trust damn - Ada Lea I Won’t Bite - Sophia Bel Passive Aggressive - Charlotte Cardin Pitou - Les Louanges Bouge ton thang - Clay and Friends Peaches - Milk & Bone & Alex Lustig Everything Now - Arcade Fire Walking - Mary Mary

Fille de personne ll - Hubert Lenoir rt Les gens - Robert Robe

ouest side - lvytide Chanson pour Bérénice Einberg - Thierry Larose This Dream - Radiant Baby Will I See You Again? - Thee Sacred Souls

My Type - Saint Motel

Wanna hear more?

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ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROAD Mohammad Khan Graphic Joey Bruce It is 6:45 a.m. The metal beast comes to a grinding halt in the middle of the road, door opposite to where I stand. The crisp fall air only lasts for a moment until the bright yellow bus appears. I stare at the concrete gaps within the sidewalk, imagining myself crawling up inside them. A tiny boy in a tiny trench; the idea brings me comfort. Maybe it is the cold. Maybe because it is shielded. Maybe it is in reminiscence of the warmth of my bed. Raising my head as the honking starts, I wait a little too long yet again. I’m faced with crossing the chasm of a foreign world opposite the concrete sidewalks. The crunch of gravel beneath my heel is static to my ears, as I prepare to cross the distance that separates my two worlds. I am greeted by a slight nod or a faint smile as I walk towards my spot—a small gap between two seats covered with artificial aquamarine leather. I fill in the gap as I do, raising my knees, digging into the seat in front of me. I stare out the frosted window. “Wake up! Wake up! We’re here!” they say, as I peel my eyes from the now foggy window, groggily making my way out and onto the schoolyard. I pack away my favorite novel, I was always told that I read a lot, I felt that I read too much. Every pale face in the yard is peculiar, many unbothered, some receptive, and always a few staring a little too long before saying something. I fill the awkwardness with noise. It is easy to be clever. Their hesitation is cast aside through my agreeability. In the confidence I project, I make the others too comfortable. I stretch myself thin, clutching on to the curb by the tips of my fingers all the way down to my toes planted on the other side.

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I draw smiles because it is all I know how to draw. Maybe that’s why I failed art class. “Why are you angry today? You’re a lot more mature than that.” My confidence is rocked, my response a jumble of words I am unable to enunciate. I continue to stare downwards, thinking about the cracks in the sidewalk. I envied the liberty of the others, their lack of inhibition. The freedom with which they navigated their world. My world was not dictated through words, it was not read, written, or told. Mine was the smell of incense and fresh guava, the sound of frying pakoras, the sight of worn walls that have been my witness. They would never understand the luxury of a full lunch, the satisfaction of new clothes, or the joy of scraping the caramelized rice from the bottom of a pan of reheated leftovers. Maybe it is because they’ve never gone to bed hungry. Maybe because hunger itself is a foreign concept; something to be seen or heard on news channels projecting brown kids less fortunate than I. Maybe my own kohl colored hair reminds them of those kids, maybe that’s why they hesitate when speaking to me. I continue to read as the years go by, forcing myself to acclimate to this other world. I find in myself a certain awareness of their language. My mind is clearer and my tongue is sharper. I am no longer an alien figure, a foreign spectacle, a breathing exhibit to ogle. My fluency in their ways indicates “wisdom.” The precision of my punctuation commands respect. I am now a child given the position of a diplomat, apparently, an ambassador of nations. “Is this true? Is that how it’s done? Please correct me if I am wrong.” Being an adult at this young age is something I am familiar with, being a teacher for my teachers is not. I balance the representation of my entire culture, faith, and identity on the very top of my skull. The pressure is akin to 1,000 screaming kettles. I perform this dance pretty well actually, swaying from side to side, avoiding the drops of scalding water that spill from above. Sometimes, the steam condenses along the side and drips downwards towards my forehead. I can’t tell which kettle, I can’t tell why. *** It is now autumn again. The air is thick and my lungs feel heavy. A slight breath of wind passes by, and it smells faintly of ripe mangoes, rose water and dates. “Maybe it’s time to go back. I think I am ready.” I board the bus again, only this time, it is much smaller and hotter than I remember. My shirt is soaked in sweat and my knees almost buckle as I get up from my seat to leave. Every step I take feels as though I am walking on stilts. I say my goodbyes and wave at the driver as I get off. The bus departs, leaving a cloud of dust and the chasm below. I look across the road, opposite to where I once stood. I barely recognize the other side.

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The Devastating Consequences of Proposed REM Developments in ‘Protecting the neighbourhood is Chinatown more than just the buildings’

Mohammad Khan Photos Alexa Toguri-Laurin

rban planning experts, activists, and community visibility, accessibility, development, businesses, residents, members continue to oppose the development of the and overall community space. Réseau express métropolitain in Chinatown. Preservation of “They didn’t consult anybody, and I don’t underthe neighbourhood is beyond infrastructure; it’s about pri- stand [why] they just keep on imposing one design after oritizing human welfare. another. Every single time, nobody is consulted, so nobody The $10 billion automated light rail project that ori- likes it,” said May Chiu, a member of both the PCQ and CWG. ginally began in April 2018 is set to include the construcAccording to Chiu, the vacant lot at the intersection tion of aerial structures and a train station in the Chinatown of St. Laurent and René-Lévesque boulevards that the CDPQ community space located on the corner of St. Laurent Blvd. Infra has proposed for construction of the station is one of and René-Lévesque Blvd. very few community spaces The Caisse de dépôt et in the area. “I witnessed the disappearance of remaining placement du Québec Infra’s The privately owned lot plans were proposed to China- Chinatown in Quebec City. I am has been rented by the city town’s community members, and has served residents over but were met with criticism really hopeful that this doesn’t hap- the past years as a place for and rejection from many, in- pen in Montreal as well. To experi- artistic performances, food, cluding the Chinatown Worka night market, and even ence that loss again—that would be hosted Chinatown’s first ever ing Group. The CWG began as a soul-crushing.” Pride event last year. project from the Progressive Christopher Vaccarella, Chinese of Quebec and is curConcordia Student Union -Donny Seto rently “motivated to protect, councillor and sustainability preserve, and promote the committee member stated history and evergreen culture” of Montreal’s Chinatown and that local community members should be the ones to decide its residents. how the land should be used and how it should serve ChinaTheir recent efforts included a collaboration with town’s population. Heritage Montreal and the city council to curb real estate “That is the biggest plot of land, and that should be development affecting historical and residential areas along the community’s jurisdiction, what they want to see built with the city’s five-year action plan. there.” Over the past year, the group expressed their conWith the financial repercussions of the pandemic cerns to the city through multiple press releases and con- over the past two years, merchants and local businesses are ferences as designs for development were drawn. However, relying on the use of public spaces like the lot to attract and these designs were always made without community con- conduct business. sultation, which largely ignored the potential implications “We asked [CDPQ Infra], ‘Can you give us a design of brought forth. how this REM would look from the north [to the] south?’ Of These concerns include impacts on Chinatown’s course, they didn’t show [a design] because all you would see T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A

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Left: Construction next to the Chinatown archway. The CWG fears the development of the aerial REM will make the neighbourhood invisible and inaccessible.

Right: The vacant lot at the corner of St. Laurent and René-Lévesque boulevards that was proposed for the construction of a train station. The space has been used by community members for artistic performances, a night market, and Chinatown’s first ever Pride event. is a huge wall. You wouldn’t see Chinatown at all,” said Chiu. “It’s just really badly designed and we’re really afraid that it would choke off all business to merchants in Chinatown.” Community members fear the aerial development would hide and box-in the historical heritage site officially titled the “site patrimonial du Noyau-Institutionnel-du-Quartier-Chinois.” “If it was developed in its current form, not only would it be a physical barrier, but it would actually close off one of the streets into Chinatown. So Jeanne-Mance St. would be completely closed off, and Jeanne-Mance St. all the way to St. Laurent Blvd. would basically be almost a physical wall,” said Donny Seto, CWG member and Concordia urban planning lecturer. “Protecting the neighbourhood is more than just the buildings,” Vaccarella added. “Of course, developing in the city’s downtown is a good thing, but not at the expense of a cultural neighbourhood in the middle of it.” Like many others, Seto advocates for an underground REM instead, noting that if above-ground aerial construction plans were to follow through, the disruption and roadworks would last for two to three years, “[depriving] Chinatown economically.” During his childhood, Seto lived in Quebec City’s Chinatown, where he listened to his parents speak Cantonese openly and watched people celebrate cultural events, such as Lunar New Year. “It went from this hustling and bustling community to nothing, overnight. I witnessed the disappearance of Chinatown in Quebec City,” said Seto. “I am really hopeful

that this doesn’t happen in Montreal as well. To experience that loss again, that would be soul-crushing.” Seto fears the area would be turned into a heavy construction zone and as a result would have long-term repercussions on the neighbourhood. Apart from the added noise and accessibility issues that would arise, construction of the REM station could potentially promote further condo development and gentrification that would continue to hurt Chinatown. Seto stated many recent immigrants and senior residents live in the area to have a closer connection with their native languages and cultures. “This population is already on a fixed income, so any changes in housing prices will drive them out,” Seto said. The CWG is calling for building height and density reviews as development will raise costs of living and continue to impact an already vulnerable demographic. “Chinatown doesn’t need more density. It just needs better access to the population that is around it to reinforce it economically,” Seto added. “There needs to be some type of reflection in terms of how to promote accessibility to Chinatown, and this project, instead of promoting it, will actually do the opposite.” According to Chiu, CDPQ Infra responded positively to a recent request for community consultation, but a date has yet to be confirmed. The Montreal-wide REM project is set to be completed by the end of 2024. With files from Alexa Toguri-Laurin. A P RIL 2022

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STUDENT LIFE

The The Disadvantages Disadvantages of of Long Long Commutes Commutes to to School School The struggle of distance is real By Mariana Chajon Oliveros Concordia gathers students across all parts of the Greater Montreal area. While the choice to study at a university downtown might seem enticing for students who live outside the city, the commute can be quite lengthy. The Link spoke with students from the Greater Montreal area, and asked them about their relationship to the city. Zulfath Zarah Faiz, second-year psychology student Lives in: Dollard-des-Ormeaux, West Island Commute time: one hour 30 minutes During the commute, Faiz usually listens to music, or studies. However, she said she isn’t able to do much work on the bus. “Since I’m not very comfortable in the city, I have to [pay] more attention to my surroundings because of construction and other factors,” she said. Faiz recognizes how much this commute affects her. She said it is so tiring that once she gets back home, she isn’t able to do any work. “What I did this week is I woke up at 6 a.m., left [my] house at 6:45 a.m., got to school at 7:30 a.m., and I just stayed there studying all day,” she said.

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Kassia Scotti, first-year English literature student Lives in: Laval Commute time: one hour

Andrzej Fedorowicz, first-year computer science student Lives in: Candiac, South Shore Commute time: one hour 15 minutes “[Going back] is usually the harder part because I just wanna go home,” Fedorowicz said about how his commute affects him. Fedorowicz went to Dawson College, and said he finds the commute bearable because he’s been doing it for five years. However, the 2020 lockdown made him realize certain negative aspects of his commute. “The first couple of months of lockdown, I wasn’t complaining too much,” he said. “I didn’t have to wake up two hours in advance for an 8 a.m. class.” When it comes to experiencing student life on campus, he has changed his approach since his first semester. “Last semester I basically just went to class and then went straight back home, but this semester I started to do the opposite,” he said.

When she’s mentally prepared for it, Scotti does class readings during her commute. Otherwise, she tries to commute with her sister or a friend to make the time feel less exhausting. “Even at Dawson, I would line up my schedule to have at least a few classes with someone I could commute with,” she said. Scotti also mentioned how the length of her commute often results in her getting to class late. Because she has to get up at 6 a.m. or earlier for a morning class, and because it takes her longer to get back home at the end of the day, her sleep schedule is constantly irregular. This causes her punctuality to also be unpredictable. “The commute does weigh me down, which I didn’t realize until online school [began],” she said. “I had so much more time to do my homework and sleep regular hours. I didn’t like online school, but you don’t realize how many hours in the day you lose while commuting.” Since Scotti is so far from the city, she feels like she can’t control when she gets home at the end of her day. Because of this, she said she doesn’t like to waste time once she’s done with school, and prefers going straight home. Regardless of where these students reside, the struggles of their commute are shared.

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wandering afflictions By Mégan Le Stum “I fear she is afflicted with melancholy,” uttered a hushed voice across my door. Today, my delusions cast me in an old-timey movie. The doctor has left my room, told me nothing. He elucidates my fictional husband: “I fear she is afflicted with melancholy.” Alone, I sit and sigh.

Graphic Eva Wilson I sit, wander, and sway through the towers of my suburban castle dragging my fuzzy socks across the floors my pyjamas and robe billowing Always in between hunger and nausea good and bad mood giggles and tears shallow and deep breaths I fear this will never cease until one day I forget it ever happened never having found the solution never having found the cause Until of course it comes back and again, I wander my castle A P RIL 2022

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Montreal’s Social Housing Plan Taking Longer Than Expected to Get Off the Ground Why Mayor Valérie Plante’s plan might be too ambitious Allyson Brownie @BrownieAllyson Montreal mayor Valérie Plante has been talking about developing more social housing since she first ran for office in 2017. As of March 2022, the government has yet to reach even half of their objective to develop 6,000 social housing units by the end of last year. Growing concern has Montreal residents demanding the government to speed up the process. The number of households on the waitlist for government-subsidized units has risen to over 24,000. In the last year alone, 800 more households have been added to the list, according to Véronique Laflamme, organizer and spokesperson for Front d’action populaire en réaménagement urbain. Though construction has recently started on a $19.9 million social housing project in Outremont, many residents from other parts of the city remain worried. Evictions are becoming more frequent under the guise of needed renovations, while vacancy rates are at the lowest they’ve been in years. To top it off, Canada’s inflation rate has risen to 5.7 per cent, the highest it’s been since 1991, forcing many people to T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A

downgrade and move out of their homes and sometimes even neighbourhoods they’ve been living in for years. All without any security of finding an affordable place to move to. While Plante’s social housing plan is meant to offer a level of security among lower-income Montreal residents, there remains a lack of programs designed to help specific groups of people. “[The plan] needs to have targeted projects specifically to support the different types of problems, but it also needs to have general social housing,” said Catherine Lussier, who is responsible for the housing files in Montreal at FRAPRU. With a lack of social housing, private organizations and landlords can get away with discriminating against certain potential tenants, such as single women with children, said Lussier. These families are being faced with rent increases they cannot afford and left with no other choice but to move out and try to find something more affordable, only to be turned away or unable to find something in their budget— an issue that’s contributing to the growing population of unhoused people in the city.

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Kaïla Amaya-Munro, a Verdun city councillor and president of the Commission on Economic and Urban Development and Housing, also believes there needs to be more specific mandates put in place to help address the housing crisis. Amaya-Munro is helping with the development of the new responsible landlord certification, a registry that will require buildings with eight or more rental units to be registered online and renewed every five years. Amaya-Munro said she is set on making the new rent registry as sustainable as possible. She expressed concern for the younger generation and how they will cope with the increasing costs of rent. Her long-term hope is to expand the certification to eventually cover every rental unit in the city. “It’s a huge problem that we need to tackle from different angles, and social housing is one of the angles, but we also need to find ways to make landlords more responsible in their rent hikes,” she said. Initiatives such as the rent registry will provide some security for those currently in a rental unit, but concern over the slow development of government-subsidized housing is still heavily on the minds of those on the waitlist. Sonny Moroz, city councillor of the Snowdon district in Côte-Des-Neiges—Notre-Dame-De-Grâce, sees the rent registry as more of a half-measure. “When [the rent registry] goes into effect, which is maybe in five years, we are already going to be past the point of no return,” he said. “A version that would work better would be something that was less dependent on building bureaucratic structures, and something that allowed people to report more openly.” Plante’s government often points fingers at low levels of funding from the provincial government, but Moroz said it’s hard to nail down who is responsible for the slow progression of development. He said both the Auditor General Michèle Galipeau and Chantal Rouleau, the provincial minister responsible for Montreal, have expressed concern over the low number of social housing units developed with the amount of

money that has been invested. “They don’t want to give more money into a system that’s not producing numbers for them,” said Moroz. “So, they end up investing off island to produce the kinds of numbers they need to say that they did build provincially, and Montreal loses out.” Moroz also pointed out that some of Montreal’s demerged cities which are in the heart of the island, such as Plateau-Mont-Royal, Côte Saint-Luc, and Hampstead, aren’t obliged to abide by the city’s 20-20-20 bylaw. The bylaw requires new residential developments with five units or more to contain 20 per cent social housing, 20 per cent affordable housing, and 20 per cent family housing with a minimum of three bedrooms. On March 22, Finance Minister Eric Girard presented the highlights of the newly tabled Quebec budget for the 20222023 year. To promote access to housing, Quebec is devoting $634 million over six years to increase the supply of social housing. This new budget will make it possible to complete the development of 3,500 new social housing units under the AccèsLogis program. Amaya-Munro worries this is still not enough to cover all of Montreal’s boroughs, and Moroz said the concern is trying to get development to catch up with the number of households on the waitlist. “Let’s say in a magical world we’re going to build three times as much affordable housing as we do social housing to get through the numbers faster. The needs for social housing aren’t the same for affordable housing and those 24,000 people are still going to have those same needs. They aren’t going to be able to enter the market through affordable housing,” said Moroz. The right intentions are there, and there is no denying that everyone wants the same thing: accessible social housing. But government officials are quick to lay the blame for the slow turnaround on other people and departments, leaving no one to be held accountable in ensuring that the plan actually gets off the ground and running. A P RIL 2022

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A Walking Tour of the Cultural Cornerstones That Brighten Montreal Communities Shining a light on some of Montreal’s family-owned restaurants and shops Olivia Integlia Photos Olivia Integlia Montreal is known for its multiculturalism. Little Italy, Greektown, and Chinatown are among the many neighbourhoods blossoming with their respective culture and heritage. A tour around the city quickly brings to light these communities and their traditional, family-owned shops and restaurants. The first stop on the tour is Park Extension. According to Centraide of Greater Montreal, a community organization that gathers information and resources for municipalities across the island, this area is one of the city’s most impoverished and has the highest immigrant and visible minority populations. Upon entering the neighbourhood, the Statue of the Greek Immigrant can be seen as a tribute to the area’s history. The statue, completed in 2017 by sculptor Giorgos Houliaras, displays a father, a mother, and their child, holding suitcases as they look ahead to the world facing them. Greek immigration accelerated in the 19th century due to poverty and political tensions in Greece, as stated in the government of Canada Greek immigration archives. While the Greek population is slowly declining, many immigrant families from India, Bangladesh, and Pakistan continue to settle in Park Extension. This neighbourhood has historically been a transitional place for immigrants to settle upon arriving in Canada, given the widespread diversity and access to socioeconomic resources, T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A

Traditional Chinese restaurant Mon Nan, located at the corner of St. Dominique and de la Gauchetière E. as explained by Université du Québec à Montréal communications professor Yanick Farmer. A closer look into the neighbourhood reveals many family-owned shops and businesses. Souvlaki Village Grec, a traditional Greek restaurant located on Jean-Talon St. W. facing Athena Park, is a prime example of this. Nikolas Panitsas, the owner, said the restaurant has been open for 47 years. Panitsas explained that over the years, he has become friends with all his customers and prides himself on creating a hospitable environment. “We try to make [customers] feel like they are at home,” he said. Yet, over time, the neighbour-

hood has changed. During the mid1990s, following Quebec’s first referendum, many Greeks began to move out of Park Extension towards areas like Laval and Dollard-des-Ormeaux, explained Panitsas. Many business owners left the neighbourhood because of high housing costs, said Panitsas. Aside from that, the installation of the new UdeM campus gentrified the neighbourhood, according to the Centraide of Greater Montreal. The clientele of the restaurant also changed. “There used to be a lot of Greeks and Italians. Now it is more multicultural,” said Panitsas. Slightly east of Park Exten-

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sion is Little Italy, a region consisting of traditional Italian restaurants, grocery stores, and boutiques. Cortina Shoes, located on St. Laurent Blvd., is right in the heart of the neighbourhood. Immediately upon entering the shop, the smell of leather fills the air. The shoes showcased are different from most other shoe stores in Montreal, explained co-owner Robert Puglisi. He said the store imports shoes almost exclusively from Europe. Over time, Cortina Shoes has secured a loyal customer base as individuals continuously come back to buy new shoes for major milestones in life, which include weddings and anniversaries. “The people that come in know us,” he said. “We become friends with our clientele. Some of them we’ve known for 25 years. So, they might just stop by to say hi.” Caffè San Simeon, an Italian coffee shop opened in 1979 and located on Dante St., has a similar atmosphere and shares the same sense of familiarity between business owners and their customers. “We keep the tradition alive,” explained barista Tonino Naccarato. The coffee shop is small with only a few tables for customers to sit. Many people walk in for a shot of espresso and leave. Naccarato proudly points to the plate of zeppolis, a type of traditional Italian pastry, available behind the counter. The air smells like freshly brewed coffee as a line of people tightly squeeze into the restaurant, waiting to be served. Naccarato knows all his customers’ orders by heart, despite only working at the café for a little less than a year. Meanwhile, customers sit around with friends and family, laughing carelessly on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

The next stop is Côte-desNeiges, a neighbourhood pulsating with large Filipino, Jewish, Black Anglophone, Eastern European, North African, and Latin American communities, among others. Aliments Exotiques, a grocery shop located on the corner of Victoria and Bouchette streets represents this diversity. Nitharshana Sinniah said her father and his siblings opened the store in 2006 after immigrating from Sri Lanka. She used to work in the store stocking shelves and bagging items. She has great childhood memories working in the store. “We sell products you don’t get anywhere else,” she said. In accommodation to the large Asian and Jamaican communities, specialty foods are sold. She proudly spoke about how delicious the Jamaican patties are. “The whole community knows [our family] because of the store.” Authenticity is an important quality in a business, said Joe Lee, owner of Mon Nan, a traditional Chinese restaurant located in the heart of Chinatown. The restaurant was first opened in 1982 by his father and uncles, and later passed on to him. Yet, Lee’s restaurant has its fair share of challenges, among many, facing the community. He said he is likely the last generation of his family to take over the business. “Just finding young chefs is very hard, especially in a Cantonese restaurant.” He said the younger generations tend to open fusions which integrate North American influences. Lee is also trying to simplify the restaurant’s menu to adapt to the changes. He believes doing so will make the restaurant more appealing and accessible

to the public. Chinatown as a whole is struggling, explained Lee. “There are no immigrants coming,” he said. “There is nothing really in Chinatown that will attract people when you have so many little Asian communities everywhere around Montreal,” he said. He explained that Chinese shops and restaurants are now appearing near Pie-IX, Jean-Talon, and across downtown. Despite these realities, Lee is hopeful the neighbourhood will readapt. “I think Chinatown has that potential if we get that hype.” These communities continue to be supported by business owners. Many of them quoted determination, hard work, and loyalty, as the reasons for their success. “Especially being in a business, you need to have these qualities,” said Lee.

Left: Barista Tonino Naccarato says Caffè San Simeon keeps the Italian tradition alive. He prepares coffee for his loyal customers. Right: Cortina Shoes, located on St. Laurent Blvd., sells authentic Italian shoes for every occasion in a person’s life.

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p. 38, Bottom: A Canadian flag was lit on fire at Lionel-Groulx metro station during the Protest Against Police Brutality on March 15, 2022. Photo Gabriela Vasquez-Rondon

p. 39: Confrontations between police and protesters occurred throughout the Protest Against Police Brutality on March 15, 2022. Photo Gabriela Vasquez-Rondon.

4 5 out 1: Student protesters camped in Concordia’s Hall Building from 6 with March 22 to 25 in solidarity McGill, UdeM, and UQAM. Photo Caroline Marsh 2: Riot police at the Freedom Convoy and counterprotest on Feb. 12, 2022. Photo Caroline Marsh

3, 4: Hundreds of students gathered at Place du Canada on March 22 to demand free education and paid internships. Photo Caroline Marsh

5, 6: Protesters hold signs at the Rally in Support of Ukraine in Montreal on Feb. 27, 2022. Photo Robyn Bell

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est protest protest protest protest protest protest protes 1 p. 38, Top: The Ottawa Convoy up 2 close: Nationalism and conspiracies dominate an atmosphere of 3 partying. Photo Caroline Marsh

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