My family of three was out for an evening walk, taking in some fresh air before we plant ourselves on the couch for videos games. We live an easy life: our house belongs to us and it’s a safe space, the fridge is filled with fresh foods, and our greatest health concern is plaque buildup. While we’re invested in the social justice issues, which stream in via public radio broadcasts, our direct experiences with discrimination and prejudice are few and far between.
Our walks take us through our blended community of haves and have-nots. It’s residential and nestled up to a compact downtown core where poverty takes the form of addiction, mental illness, and homelessness. Some of the homes around ours are pristine with solar-paneled roofs, others are ramshackle with rusted cars. There are blocks of derelict government housing next to newly-constructed townhomes with private playgrounds.
On a typical evening, we see an assortment of neighbours and others passing through. At times, there’s a person pushing a shopping cart filled with their belongings, or collecting empties from recycling bins on garbage day. Having lived here for more than a decade, we recognize most people and wave hello. The unfamiliar faces are just as likely to receive a greeting or a nod from us — we’re friendly and curious, especially if there’s a dog involved.
