This post is the latest in a series of articles from guest bloggers. Each week experts and activists in fields of homelessness and mental health explore some of the issues raised by a Here At Home film.

From NFB interactive, Here At Home is a cutting-edge documentary experience that offers a look inside At Home, a radical experiment to end chronic homelessness. Led by the Mental Health Commission of Canada, the experiment is the largest of its kind in the world. The theory it’s testing: there’s a way to end homelessness for people with mental illness and it starts with giving them homes.

For today’s post we matched the Toronto film, “Find My Way” with Eric Weissman, an ethnographic filmmaker whose recent book, Dignity in Exile, stories of struggle and hope from a modern American Shantytown, (Exile, 2012) recounts time spent in North America’s only legal shantytown, Dignity Village, Oregon.  His documentary film series, Subtext-real stories was featured as part of the Housepaint Phase II exhibition at the Royal Ontario Museum (2008).

In the summer of 2001, I was gathering video interviews with homeless folks on the streets of Toronto. That’s when I met Butch who had been in and out of jails and on the streets for several years. He had told me that the streets were not the same anymore; in 2001, there were a lot of “sick people,” people who needed psychiatric help but who had been all but deserted by the retraction of social and health services for the poor. Butch took me to the 24 acre plot of land at the foot of Cherry Street and Lakeshore Blvd. It was there that he and a handful of street people were building shacks in which to live. That they were building structures from waste materials and scrap, devising ways to heat their structures, living without plumbing, and more or less managing to keep up their crude homes was astonishing. Tent City as it came to be known, housed 115 people by the summer of 2002.  But the bad press that Tent City received focused on drugs, misreported children being born there, and painted the residents as undeserving criminals, a stroke of indifference that still colours conventional attitudes towards the street poor.  Tent City was hastily evicted and the grounds swept clean of any evidence of their existence in the Autumn of 2002.

Amidst the popular outcry against the evictions, the ex-residents of Tent City were later placed in rental supplemented housing units, commensurate with prior Housing First models that had been in place in several American cities since the 1990s.  I had filmed the rise and fall of the shantytown as others had done, but I kept on filming and doing interviews with ex-residents as they navigated the often-trying adaptation to conventional housing.  To date, I continue to interview with a few of the residents each year, just to keep in touch.  One of the most remarkable observations we had made over the years was the awareness that just keeping an apartment, that is keeping it clean, fridge full, and floors clean, as examples, sounds easier to accomplish than it really was, especially for people who had long histories of mental health issues, drug addiction, incarceration and emotional traumas incurred simply by living on the streets.

Recently, I have been working with Chez Soi participants in Montreal.  We have been developing a video resource for other members of the Chez Soi community to access, a sort of Chez Soi tools kit.  In the interviews, participants speak of the challenges of living in mainstream communities; the skills they require to manage money, take care of medical issues and to find work or school.  Most importantly, they speak to the camera and to us in such a way that others who might be struggling to adjust to housing can learn from their experience. In this light, they appear as capable, enthusiastic, discerning, if not, extremely grateful for their housing, and of course for the supports that the program brings them.  It is rare, in the mainstream press or in the literature, to understand the homeless, especially those with mental illness, as capable and deserving neighbours. But they are.  Sometimes, students and colleagues ask me whether I cut the video to produce an overly positive image of the resident because I might be in favour of the program.  There remains, often, a pre-logical conviction in the minds of conventionally housed people that the homeless are likely to fail at “normal” things.  So why does our work here with Chez Soi overwhelmingly show people successful at reclaiming conventional lives?

Byron’s self-filmed video stands out to me as an important statement about the importance of stable housing in the personal reinvention of psychiatric survivors that the general public finds difficult to understand.  That the footage is raw and “unaltered” is partly its strength, for we are afforded a chance to see what Byron’s world means to him, through his lens, and I might add, in an honest and sometimes personal framing.  There are moments when I want to turn away, when he hears his name called to him by forces unseen, or as he looks out the window at what we cannot see, but towards something that disturbs him – I want to ignore the fact that his reinvention runs precariously alongside the treatment of his disorder.  But, then I see his energy, his goal-setting strategies and his gratitude, and I have to ask myself, as I would ask any one who sees Byron, “Is there more we can ask from anyone?”  I am doubtful that many people, comfortably ensconced in their own homes would be willing to take videos of themselves for others to see, especially if the footage slots them into a category that is so often misunderstood as undeserving, or different, or other. Byron is brave. He is grateful, even patriotic.

The video that Byron made is free of the weight of aesthetic dogma and it comes to us as a raw and uncluttered invitation to understand better the capabilities of people who make a daily effort to overcome psychiatric challenges when they are afforded stable housing and supports. As an instructor at a major university, I would welcome Byron in my class anytime.  That is of course, if an education is as he says, “what’s calling me.” 11 years after they received housing, Brian, Terry, Penny and many others I know from Tent City have kept their housing and moved on to establish ties within their communities.  There was a lot of doubt surrounding that likelihood.  In the three years that At Home/Chez Soi has been helping people like Byron, it has already established that stable housing with supports is a start on the path to recovering lost lives for members of that important community.

The still above is from the Here At Home film, “I’d Rather Not Talk,” featuring a study participant named Viola. As Michelle Coombs of Elizabeth Fry Toronto noted in an earlier blog post, Viola manages to say as much with her silences as with her speech.

Winnipeg is one of the coldest cities in the world.   In “3 Hots & a Cot” Robert explains how to survive homelessness in a city where winter temperatures can dip as low as -40 C.

Lukas, a service provider with the At Home project, worked for years in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside. Returning to his hometown of Winnipeg, he found that circumstances for the city’s most vulnerable were just as bad there as they were in Vancouver.

This post is the latest in a series of articles from guest bloggers. Each week experts and activists in fields of homelessness and mental health explore some of the issues raised by a Here At Home film.

From NFB interactive, Here At Home is a cutting-edge documentary experience that offers a look inside At Home, a radical experiment to end chronic homelessness. Led by the Mental Health Commission of Canada, the experiment is the largest of its kind in the world. The theory it’s testing: there’s a way to end homelessness for people with mental illness and it starts with giving them homes.

For today’s post we matched the Winnipeg film, “I’d Rather Not Talk” with Michelle Coombs, Executive Director of Elizabeth Fry Toronto, an organization that supports women who are, have been or are at risk of being in conflict with the law. Michelle has over 20 years experience working directly and in leadership positions with marginalized communities including homeless and at-risk men and women, as well as with adults living with mental health issues.

Like so many women in similar situations, Viola barely has a voice and it is not surprising that we can hardly hear her speak her name.  Many Aboriginal women, especially in western Canada, share a similar story. We can only put together Viola’s story through the bits and pieces that she can share with bearable pain and fill in those terrible gaps that she can’t talk about. We know that Viola’s been on the street since she was a girl, that on the street she ‘did things she shouldn’t have’, that she has been in and out of jail and the foster care system where a foster parent went to jail for what he did to her and she ‘overdid it while using’ resulting in sickness. What we don’t know and only can imagine is why she can’t talk about her old man and what she did on the streets. We need only to look to NWAC Sisters in Spirit project to realize the violence that many Aboriginal women face.

There is an incredible void in Viola’s life. It is not solely because she has so many things that are too painful to talk about. For most women relationships are critical. For Viola most relationships seem to be a place of pain and violence. Her only friends are still using and she feels ‘left out’ as she moves on. Her only wish moving forward is that she can see her children again. She seems so disconnected from her family and her community – something that is so important and taken for granted for most of us. She does not know what her future holds and she is afraid of getting old, getting hurt but she is taking it day-by-day until she is ready to change something. For women, having an apartment is only part of having a home. For Viola there is a lot of healing to do and healing requires the support of people who are respectful and understanding of Viola and her story, can develop a trusting relationship with her and be there if, and when, her silences can be spoken.

This post is the latest in a series of articles from guest bloggers. Each week experts and activists in fields of homelessness and mental health explore some of the issues raised by a Here At Home film.

From NFB interactive, Here At Home is a cutting-edge documentary experience that offers a look inside At Home, a radical experiment to end chronic homelessness. Led by the Mental Health Commission of Canada, the experiment is the largest of its kind in the world. The theory it’s testing: there’s a way to end homelessness for people with mental illness and it starts with giving them homes.

For today’s post we matched the Moncton film, “Where I Belong” with Lisa Brown, Founder and Executive Director of Workman Arts in Toronto. Workman Arts is an arts and mental health company known internationally for its artistic collaborations, presentations, knowledge exchange, best practices, and research in the area of the impact of the arts on the quality of life of people living with mental illness and addiction.

I am very encouraged by Lise’s story and how the At Home/Chez Soi project has supported her in the way in which she wanted and needed the support.

The creation of art is often an isolating experience, particularly that of a painter. Most artists need quiet, calm psychologically safe spaces to work in.

Lise has found through having her own home and a supportive arts community, the perfect combination to a healthy and creative life.

For over 25 years, Workman Arts has provided a supportive arts community to artists living with a variety of mental illnesses. Like Lise’s mobile home and arts community, Workman Arts provides a psychologically safe space for artists to train, create and present. The artists develop their arts practices in a variety of disciplines from the Visual Arts and Media Arts, to Performing and Literary arts. Like Lise, these artists sell their work to the public as works of art.

Workman Arts member Melissa Bender says it like this:

“Show me a person with mental illness and I’ll show you a person with mental illness. Show me an artist with mental illness and I’ll show you an artist.”

And Lise, you have done just that. Your paintings are gorgeous. You are a fabulous artist. Please let us all know how we can see your portfolio and how to buy your work.

I would be privileged to have one of your works hanging in my home.

This post is the latest in a series of articles from guest bloggers. Each week experts and activists in fields of homelessness and mental health explore some of the issues raised by a Here At Home film.

From NFB interactive, Here At Home is a cutting-edge documentary experience that offers a look inside At Home, a radical experiment to end chronic homelessness. Led by the Mental Health Commission of Canada, the experiment is the largest of its kind in the world. The theory it’s testing: there’s a way to end homelessness for people with mental illness and it starts with giving them homes.

For today’s post we matched the Moncton film “Tea or Salt” with Susan McIsaac, President and CEO of United Way Toronto. In 2007 McIsaac received the National Award of Excellence from United Way of Canada–Centraide Canada and in 2012, she was awarded a Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee medal in recognition of her ongoing community service work.

Listening to Robert speak so candidly about living with schizoid personality disorder and the struggles he faces really drives home how important it is to have access to the right social supports and services.

Living with mental illness is challenging, especially when you are homeless and living without help. Robert talks about sleeping in parks, being exposed to the elements and fighting hunger many times. His reality has been one where he has had no money to afford the most basic of necessities like food or clothes. These challenges have only worked to intensify his situation.

Robert, like many others, is dealing with complex and often-times life changing issues.  Issues like inadequate income, education and social supports. Having access to vital supports and services that help people live healthy, strong lives makes the difference. Through the At Home/Chez Soi program we see why. The shift in tone and demeanor when Robert talks about the program is obvious. He credits it with saving his life. He’s had a place to sleep for the last two years – a home where he is building a life. He’s been able to take cooking classes which have given him new, and potentially employable skills. And he now has regular access to food from the local food bank. We see that Robert is not only surviving, he’s thriving in this new environment.

We all recognize that the causes of mental illness are deep-rooted. And while they are complex, support doesn’t have to be. We can develop and extend educational programs to foster awareness. Build stronger collaboration among agencies, communities, individuals, and families. Learn from our challenges and move forward on our successes. And provide greater resources to support key social services and programs. Everyone’s life is touched by mental illness in some way. And we each have a role in being more mindful, accepting and empathetic to others. Only by supporting one another can we build a stronger, healthier community for us all.

This post is the latest in a series of articles from guest bloggers. Each week experts and activists in fields of homelessness and mental health explore some of the issues raised by Here At Home.

From NFB interactive, Here At Home is a cutting-edge documentary experience that offers a look inside At Home, a radical experiment to end chronic homelessness. Led by the Mental Health Commission of Canada, the experiment was the largest of its kind in the world. The theory it tested: there’s a way to end homelessness for people with mental illness and it starts with giving them homes.

Because the study recently came to an end, we asked the Chair of the Mental Health Commission, Dr. David Goldbloom to reflect on the project as a whole. Besides his role at the Commission, Dr. Goldbloom is the Senior Medical Advisor at the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health in Toronto and a Professor of Psychiatry at the University of Toronto.

It’s hard to believe that just five years ago, the federal government made a decision to invest in the cause of homelessness among people with mental illness in a major way. And they turned to the newly created Mental Health Commission of Canada to design and run an unprecedented social experiment.

And make no mistake – this was a research study, carefully designed and executed, but one that had the potential to change the lives of the participants and to generate knowledge that could help many more people long after the study came to an end (as it did April 1, 2013).

If you were looking for a justification of the creation of the Mental Health Commission, At Home/Chez Soi was one. Here was a national body – not a federal, provincial or territorial government – who could operate outside of the constitutional framework of health to stimulate and lead an amazing collaboration.

Vancouver, Winnipeg, Toronto, Montreal and Moncton – each of them had a significant problem with homelessness among people with mental illness, with local variation in the nature of the problem. Try to imagine the challenge of recruiting people to participate in a scientific study when they were already homeless and facing various types of mental illnesses.

And yet, over 2,000 Canadians in these five cities chose to participate by being randomly assigned to either the experimental intervention or to treatment as usual. The experimental intervention, “Housing First”, involves very quickly providing people with a choice of furnished housing without first being treated for their illness, based on the argument that it’s hard to engage someone in treatment when they are on the streets and based on evidence from other jurisdictions.

For some, taking part meant a new lease not simply on an apartment but on life itself, a chance to recover dignity, to engage in treatment, to avoid the jail/ER/shelter cycle, and even to reconnect with long-lost family. The study has not been without its challenges, but has also taught us many important things.

While this study didn’t invent Housing First – now we will have made-in-Canada high-quality evidence about it, including who it helps and who it doesn’t. We already know from interim analysis of the data (the final data analysis should be available by the end of the year) that for people who are “frequent flyers” in the cycle of jail/ER/shelter, there is money to be saved with a Housing First approach.

I have had the privilege of meeting some of the participants and being a guest in their homes. And they are indeed homes in the sense of the pride people take in a place of their own. It’s a moving experience and an important step in working toward stability, productivity, and recovery.

Five years ago, the spring federal budget announced $110 million as the investment in At Home/Chez Soi. Now the project is coming to an end, and five years later – there is another significant investment in this year’s budget released on March 21st. It included an unprecedented $600 million over the next five years for its Homelessness Partnership Strategy, based on the Housing First model, and acknowledging the influence of the evidence from At Home/Chez Soi.

Internationally, in France, a similar study using the same instruments is in place based on the At Home/Chez Soi approach.

It has been a five-year journey from idea to design to research to outcomes to policy and action. For some people, it is tragically too late. But we now have more reason – and evidence – to be hopeful for a better future for people with mental illness who find themselves without that most basic of needs: a home.

This post is the latest in a series of articles from guest bloggers. Each week experts and activists in fields of homelessness and mental health explore some of the issues raised by a Here At Home film.

From NFB interactive, Here At Home is a cutting-edge documentary experience that offers a look inside At Home, a radical experiment to end chronic homelessness. Led by the Mental Health Commission of Canada, the experiment is the largest of its kind in the world. The theory it’s testing: there’s a way to end homelessness for people with mental illness and it starts with giving them homes.

For today’s post we matched the Moncton film, “Open Sky” with Mary Alberti, CEO of the Schizophrenia Society of Ontario. Alberti has over twenty years’ experience in the non-profit sector.  She joined the Schizophrenia Society of Ontario in 2001, following work in the community and mental health fields, and the policy and government sector.

In this film we meet Anthony, an individual who is living with schizophrenia.  Anthony has been homeless and lived in shelters, but with the support of the At Home/Chez Soi initiative he has the opportunity to live in a one-bedroom apartment and then later relocates to a cooperative farm.  Anthony talks about his life story, mentioning that initially he didn’t believe his diagnosis of schizophrenia, and that the voices he heard he thought were the spirit world communicating with him.  The film introduces us to Anthony at a point in his life when he’s quite stable, he’s on medication, working at the coop farm and starting classes at university.

Anthony’s story mirrors many of the issues the Schizophrenia Society of Ontario (SSO) encounters on a routine basis.  Each individual’s journey toward recovery is a personalized one and typically includes both high and low points.  Social supports, such as housing and friends are just as crucial to the recovery as medical and mental health supports.

But Anthony also embodies the statement that the SSO shares with all: with access to treatments, services and supports individuals living with schizophrenia and psychosis are able to lead fulfilling lives.

The Schizophrenia Society of Ontario is a province-wide charitable organization that was founded in 1979 by Bill and Dorothy Jefferies to build awareness about serious mental illnesses and to support families and individuals living with these illnesses.  Since its grassroots beginning, the SSO has expanded and now provides support and services to individuals, families and communities affected by schizophrenia and psychosis.  These include education initiatives; awareness, information and knowledge building programs; advocacy; youth-oriented programming and a diverse research portfolio; all geared to breaking down stigma and making a positive difference in the lives of individuals, families and communities who are living with schizophrenia and psychosis.

One of the largest obstacles the SSO, individuals and families living with schizophrenia face, is the stigma and discrimination associated with this illness.  While any mental illness must battle public misconceptions, schizophrenia faces a wealth of prejudice and discrimination and initiatives like Here At Home/Ici, Chez Soi, which shed light on the reality of individuals who live with mental illnesses, help fight these.  This film also helps support the message that the SSO works hard to communicate – that individuals living with schizophrenia, are not their diagnosis, they are individuals who, like the rest of society, have hopes, aspirations and goals.  Just as individuals living with physical illnesses are not and should not be defined by their disease, individuals living with mental illnesses are more than their diagnosis.

This post is the latest in a series of articles from guest bloggers. Each week experts and activists in fields of homelessness and mental health explore some of the issues raised by a Here At Home film.

From NFB interactive, Here At Home is a cutting-edge documentary experience that offers a look inside At Home, a radical experiment to end chronic homelessness. Led by the Mental Health Commission of Canada, the experiment is the largest of its kind in the world. The theory it’s testing: there’s a way to end homelessness for people with mental illness and it starts with giving them homes.

For today’s post we matched the Vancouver film, “A Model Person” with The Centre of Research, Policy & Program Development at the John Howard Society of Ontario. The Centre engages in research which contributes to the evidence-based literature in the criminal and social justice fields, policy analysis and rigorous program evaluation.

 “I do brunch once a month.”

If this were uttered by a well-to-do urbanite, you’d probably take it as a given; banal, even. However, context matters. When MadDogg says it, it’s given entirely new meaning; to ‘do’ brunch, is to prepare a meal for 100 people. Many take for granted their disposable income, that they have a roof over their heads every night, that if they had a mental illness or addiction, they would never wind up in a shelter, let alone jail. ‘It couldn’t happen to me’. Stability is taken for granted. Unfortunately for thousands of Canadians, instability shapes their daily lives.

MadDogg, through the supportive housing he resides in, is experiencing stability and continuity for the first time in a long time. Homeless individuals face numerous challenges. Here’s some context: poverty, lack of social supports, unemployment and lack of stable housing all increase an individual’s likelihood of becoming homeless. Homelessness, in turn, is linked with mental illness and addictions, poor health outcomes, victimization and criminal justice system involvement. Due to a lack of community treatment options, many people with mental illness and/or addictions are ‘housed’ in overcrowded jails. And if these individuals were not homeless entering jail, they have a good chance of leaving homeless, which in turn increases the likelihood of re-incarceration. Not having housing arranged prior to release from jail creates, in criminal justice parlance, a ‘revolving door’.

A recent study by the John Howard Society of Ontario found that providing justice-involved homeless individuals with supportive housing, with staffing approaches that are client-centered and strengths-based, works to address the many challenges underlying homelessness. Client-centered care provides that client plans are individualized based on each client’s unique goals and capacities. MadDogg notes that the staff in his building see the qualities of a role model in him. What’s more, he enjoys working in the kitchen and receives modest compensation for his work. These types of experiences and interactions, which enhance self-sufficiency, self-esteem and structure, are invaluable steps toward recovery and integration. To someone who has not experienced mental illness or homelessness, this may not seem like much. But context matters.

Housing is a critical piece of the complicated homelessness puzzle; without a stable home and a fixed address, an individual’s ability to access social services, healthcare, treatment for mental illness and/or addictions and employment will be compromised. MadDogg’s story shows us what promise housing first approaches hold.

This post is the latest in a series of articles from guest bloggers. Each week experts and activists in fields of homelessness and mental health explore some of the issues raised by the Here At Home webdoc.

From NFB interactive, Here At Home is a cutting-edge documentary experience that offers a look inside At Home, a radical experiment to end chronic homelessness. Led by the Mental Health Commission of Canada, the experiment is the largest of its kind in the world. The theory it’s testing: there’s a way to end homelessness for people with mental illness and it starts with giving them homes.

For today’s post invited Sandra Dawson to write about the Here At Home site as a whole. Dawson is a mental health and homelessness advocate from Vancouver, and was an At Home/Chez Soi peer advisor (2009-2013). Creator of the Unsuicide Online Suicide Help Wiki, she can be found at @unsuicide.

I had a friend over for dinner who complimented my dishes. I told him I acquired the soup bowls in a thrift store for $2 each, after losing my wedding china long ago in one of my bouts of homelessness. On a disability pension I can’t afford to replace an entire set at once but since last regaining housing I’ve put together a mismatched but coherent set of blue glass pieces I can be proud of. Four dinner plates that match the bowls were $5 at a yard sale, tumblers I’ve bought one by one, and two beautiful mugs with First Nations designs were just $3 each. They look great together.

So although I still have a low income, I’ve learned ways to thrive in recovering from the trauma and loss that accompanies homelessness.

I now share that knowledge to help others, including acting as one of many peer advisors for the At Home/Chez Soi project. As a member of the Vancouver Local Advisory Committee, Peer Reference Group, and National Consumer Panel I contributed to reports, tracked peer roles across the project, gave presentations, attended meetings with other stakeholders, was involved in surveying participants about their use of peer support, and co-authored a poster on Diversity in Peer Engagement in At Home/Chez Soi: Types of Research Involvement.

Knowledge exchange takes many forms, and the project prioritizing peer involvement helped to affect change for the better. Something as simple as having a peer perspective at the table proved useful, just being able to offer an opinion about what a person needs when they’re homeless and newly housed based on what I needed and what my concerns were. I was glad to see the project utilize some of that input.

I’ve lived in many places across Canada so my experience is national in scope as well as from the unique Vancouver environment. Because the project is national, my perspective has had a wider lens and I’ve been able to reflect on our shared lived experiences, both our similarities as well as our differences, focussing on what unites us. Homelessness isn’t all that different whether in Moncton or Winnipeg, despite regional issues. Desperation and despair are universal. It will take a coordinated approach from municipal, provincial, and federal governments working with stakeholders including service users to solve underlying issues of poverty, lack of affordable housing, and lack of access to mental health services. Highlighting common issues through a national forum like At Home/Chez Soi and sharing them in Here at Home is a good start.

It’s like collecting a set of dishes, looking for patterns and colours that draw them together. Although each dish has its own purpose and they may look quite different from each other, eventually you see they function together with underlying themes.

One of the themes in homelessness is the digital divide. When I was homeless and had no computer, I spent a lot of time taking the bus to libraries, community centres, and Internet cafes, connecting to lifelines online. There are many homeless and “at risk” people using the web to look for jobs and housing, stay in touch with friends and family through social media, etc. Research has also indicated Internet use among homeless people is common, despite barriers in computer literacy and access. In a survey of 45 Vancouver At Home/Chez Soi participants about peer support usage, conducted by the Peer Reference Group, two thirds indicated they would or might use online services.

Free access points like libraries are often limited to an hour at a time, overwhelmed by demand. Canada must address the digital divide to increase computer access, training, and online services, with a simple and coordinated way for homeless people to connect to peers, government and non-profit services, and other supports.

The Here At Home blog is a great venue to highlight peer advocacy, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to do a guest post. Seek out other voices of lived experience online, like AHA Media and Invisible People, learn about mental health peer support work in Canada, and I encourage more homeless people to connect with We are Visible.

Without support from the federal and provincial governments, including a rent supplement so I can afford to live in a small bachelor suite that comes with wifi, it would be difficult to be online to write this or to be involved with the work of At Home/Chez Soi. People with lived experience of mental health issues and homelessness have valuable contributions to make, and by supporting and facilitating us, society is enriched. The Mental Health Commission of Canada recognized this and supported peer involvement at a groundbreaking level, resulting in peer support workers, peer research assistants and interviewers, peer advisors, peer organizers, and others providing a wealth of input. It is one of the most important lessons learned from the project.

That, and finding that although we’re diverse and mismatched from coast to coast, Canada is more beautiful and functional when it works together.

From NFB interactive, Here At Home is a cutting-edge documentary experience that offers a look inside At Home, a radical experiment to end chronic homelessness. Led by the Mental Health Commission of Canada, the experiment is the largest of its kind in the world. The theory it’s testing: there’s a way to end homelessness for people with mental illness and it starts with giving them homes.

For today’s post we matched the Montreal film, A New Lease, with Julia Gonsalves who supervises Adult and Senior Community Services at The 519 Church Street Community Centre. The 519 is a multi-service agency in downtown Toronto serving the local community as well as broader LGBTQ communities. It runs a weekly drop-in program for homeless, under-housed and vulnerable LGBTQ people and their allies, the first drop-in with this focus in Toronto. Julia wrote a regular column for Xtra! Canada’s largest and most widely read gay and lesbian publication from 2001-2012. 

I just watched Simon seeing his apartment for the first time – his genuine excitement and optimism – and I think about the handful of folks who bounce into the drop-in to tell me they’ve “found a place”- it’s too far and maybe it’s got bugs and the people upstairs use crack and pound on the ceiling – but they’ve found a place. There is pride in that. At the same time, we both recognize, there is risk in that. Once you’ve got something, you’ve got something to lose. There is a component of tragic freedom in having nothing because you’ve got nothing to lose. In a tiny, enormous, painful way, you’re free. Going home – to a house – there is risk in that.

I sit and listen to people at The 519 regularly who live on the street – not just survive or get by but truly do live on the street – flirt, fight, eat, find love, philosophize, find comfort, face fears – everything some of us do in the privacy of houses, they do on the street. Someone told me yesterday that he got caught in the snowstorm a few weeks ago in a short skirt and heels, hailed a cab with three bucks in his pocket. When he took his hood off the cab driver said Hey, get the fuck out of my cab. He said Sure, thanks for the free ride. We laughed. He had beautiful iridescent purple nails. Going home- to the street- there is risk in that.

As I watched At Home I had fantasies of getting to say to someone here, I am going to give you somewhere to live, four walls, a door that locks, maybe even a couch. They would think I was out of my mind. I have never been able to give anyone anything so concrete. Going home – to anything other than the thing you’ve known – there is risk in that.

Sober this week, using the next, dirty clothes, clean clothes, methadone, anti-psychotic, new wounds, old scars, new phone, old glasses, patient, insolent, affectionate, cold, hitting on you, crying on you, fighting with a “faggot”, being “one of them”, knowing your name, forgetting your name – it is hard maybe to measure how all of these coincide with going home. But they do. Any of us who works in drop-ins knows- they do. Trying to measure it – footage, interviews, arguments, miles on foot, miles in a car- there is risk in that. Some risks are not worth taking. This isn’t one of them.