Guest Post: Community in the DTES

This guest post is written by my lovely friend Jenny who lives and works in the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver. I couldn't think of a better person to write about community in the DTES so I asked her to write whatever was on her heart and mind about it. PS: Jenny is also a very creative and talented artist. Creative and talented is an understatement. Take a look at her work here.

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When I first moved to the Downtown Eastside I had high expectations for how I was going to usher the Kingdom of God into the ‘hood. Maybe I expected to see fireworks, but it didn’t quite happen that way. I had a few lofty ideas about how the Kingdom would come in this place. But then I realized the God has been here all along, and I was to simply partner with Him in what was already happening.

I wouldn’t say that my saviour complex subsided as easily. 

My involvement in the neighbourhood started five years ago as a university student, eager to give to ‘the poor’. After graduating, I moved to an intentional Christian community. I learned that the most valuable thing I had to offer was my time, so I invested what I could with my neighbours. I mostly just wandered the streets, ate free food and engaged in conversation with every single person who talked to me. Note: this is a good way to become a fixture in any neighbourhood.  

After a month of community living, I got a job at a non-profit community centre in the area. I moved out of the house and into an apartment with a roommate. I lived with less people but my community expanded dramatically. At work I was seeing at least a hundred and fifty people a day. In the beginning I struggled with my various roles. At Servants I was a missionary. With my current job I am a Community Development Worker. Both positions have an implied power. I yearned to be just another person in the neighbourhood, joining in the everyday struggles and burdens that come with the territory, but also participating in the celebrations of small victories.

The other night a man approached me while I was chatting with a friend in front of the bottle depot, “You sure don’t look like you belong here.” He smirked. I think he was trying to scare me. “Oh, but I do. I’m from the ‘hood, just ask Bobby”, I nodded at the guy sitting in a wheelchair. “Yep, she’s from the ‘hood. But not in that way. She’s normal.” I cringed, another label I have to live with. Sometimes you have to accept things graciously and not put up a fight. 

I have since come to terms with my niche in the neighbourhood. It looks different in some situations but mostly I want to be consistent in how I act and who I am. I want to see God move in all areas of my life; especially the areas that overlap with my community.

This summer marks my third year of living in the DTES. My pursuit to invest in people has resulted in beautiful friendships, as well as raw experiences. The deeper we go into community, the messier it gets. I champion the need for vulnerability but when it comes down to it, I’m not always willing to participate. Once a friend told me that we had known each other long enough and she wanted to help me because I was always helping her. It threw me for a loop, I was so comfortable in my role as helper/provider that I didn’t know how to receive it from someone else. In Community and Growth, Jean Vanier writes that he is “struck by how sharing our weakness and difficulties is more nourishing to others than sharing our qualities and successes.” 

Two years ago a great man passed away. Ricky was the epitome of community in the Downtown Eastside. He was the friendly face that everyone, and I mean everyone, knew. I took part in his memorial march. Never have I felt so completely undone in public. The crazy thing was that I felt safe enough to weep. I stood with friends from church and the street and we grieved, together. It is a beautiful thing when we can breach barriers of social hierarchy and connect as brothers and sisters.

There is beauty in the midst of pain here. And sometimes, by God’s grace, the former outweighs the latter.