Request for Leadership on a 6-Month Emergency Housing Plan

 Sample Letter,

Please Copy, Paste and send your letters and concerns 😟 

To: elizabeth.may@parl.gc.ca

CC: Elizabeth.May.C1@parl.gc.ca

Dear Ms. May,

I am writing with deep respect and admiration.

I have watched your work in the House of Commons for years. Your preparation, your integrity, and your willingness to speak truth — even when inconvenient — have consistently stood out. I have long supported and voted Green because of that leadership.

This is why I am writing to you now.

Across British Columbia — Vancouver, Surrey, Abbotsford, Hope — thousands of people remain unhoused. Women are being turned away from shelters. Residents are sleeping outside in a province as wealthy as ours.

I have personally been turned away from shelter twice.

Governments continue to announce 10-year strategies. Units promised for 2030. Plans for 2035.

But homelessness is not a 10-year issue. It is a 6-month emergency.

I have sent an open letter to federal MPs, provincial MLAs, and municipal governments requesting one simple action:

A joint, public, recorded forum including all three levels of government to answer one question:

What is the 6-month plan to house the people currently experiencing homelessness?

Not projections. Not future builds. Six months.

Housing responsibility is divided across federal funding (through the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation), provincial housing programs and health services, and municipal zoning and land use. When they operate separately, people fall through the cracks.

You have consistently demonstrated the courage to raise uncomfortable truths in Parliament. I am asking if you would consider calling publicly for coordinated emergency housing action — not as a partisan issue, but as a human one.

This is a moment where leadership matters.

I believe this is where all parties must move beyond long-term promises and demand immediate coordination.

Thank you for your years of service and your example of principled leadership.

Respectfully,

Tina Winterlik

Open Letter: Joint Public Forum Request — 6-Month Housing Plan

 

Copy, Paste, Send

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📍 ELECTED OFFICIAL CONTACT LIST

(Vancouver, Surrey, Abbotsford, Hope – BC)

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🇨🇦 FEDERAL MEMBERS OF PARLIAMENT

Vancouver

Hedy Fry – Vancouver Centre
📧 hedy.fry@parl.gc.ca

Don Davies – Vancouver Kingsway
📧 don.davies@parl.gc.ca

Joyce Murray – Vancouver Quadra
📧 joyce.murray@parl.gc.ca

Harjit Sajjan – Vancouver South
📧 harjit.sajjan@parl.gc.ca

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Surrey

Sukh Dhaliwal – Surrey–Newton
📧 sukh.dhaliwal@parl.gc.ca

Randeep Sarai – Surrey Centre
📧 randeep.sarai@parl.gc.ca

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Abbotsford

Ed Fast – Abbotsford
📧 ed.fast@parl.gc.ca

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Hope (Fraser Canyon area)

Hope falls under:

Mark Strahl – Chilliwack–Hope
📧 mark.strahl@parl.gc.ca

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🏛 PROVINCIAL MLAs (British Columbia)

Vancouver

David Eby – Vancouver-Point Grey (Premier)
📧 david.eby.mla@leg.bc.ca

Mable Elmore – Vancouver-Kensington
📧 mable.elmore.mla@leg.bc.ca

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Surrey

Garry Begg – Surrey-Guildford
📧 garry.begg.mla@leg.bc.ca

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Abbotsford

Bruce Banman – Abbotsford South
📧 bruce.banman.mla@leg.bc.ca

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Hope

Hope is in:

Kelli Paddon – Chilliwack-Kent
📧 kelli.paddon.mla@leg.bc.ca

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🏙 MUNICIPAL GOVERNMENTS

Vancouver

Mayor & Council
📧 mayorandcouncil@vancouver.ca

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Surrey

Mayor & Council
📧 city@surrey.ca

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Abbotsford

Mayor & Council
📧 mayorandcouncil@abbotsford.ca

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Hope

Mayor & Council
📧 district@hope.ca

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📧 SAMPLE LETTER (Copy & Paste)

Subject: Open Letter: Joint Public Forum Request — 6-Month Housing Plan

Dear Federal MP, Provincial MLA, Mayor and Council,

I am writing to formally request that all three levels of government meet together in one public, recorded forum to answer a single urgent question:

What is the 6-month plan to house the thousands of people currently experiencing homelessness in our region?

Not a 10-year strategy.
Not projected units for 2035.
Six months.

Homelessness is happening now. Women are being turned away from shelters. People are being denied safe spaces to sleep. Many residents have personally experienced being turned away.

Housing responsibility is divided across three levels of government:

• Federal — funding and financing through the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation
• Provincial — BC Housing, health services, social supports
• Municipal — zoning, permits, and land use

When these levels do not coordinate in real time, people fall through the cracks.

During floods, fires, and pandemics, governments act quickly. Funds are released. Buildings are secured. Timelines are immediate.

Homelessness is a public health and human emergency. It deserves the same urgency.

Therefore, I am requesting:

1. A joint public forum including all three levels of government.
2. A recorded session accessible to the public.
3. A clear written 6-month action plan outlining:
   • Immediate unit acquisition (hotels, vacant buildings, modular housing)
   • Funding already available
   • A timeline with measurable milestones

If people can be counted, they can be housed.

Please confirm whether you will participate in such a forum and provide proposed dates within the next 30 days.

Respectfully,
[Your Name]
[Your Postal Code]

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📢 BLOG CALL-TO-ACTION (You Can Post This)

I have sent my letter.

Now I am asking others to send theirs.

The more residents who send this request, the harder it becomes to ignore.

We are not asking for 10-year promises.
We are not asking for future projections.

We are asking one question:

What is the 6-month plan?

Copy the letter above.
Add your name and postal code.
Send it to your federal MP, your provincial MLA, and your mayor and council.

CC them all so they see each other copied.

Coordination should not take 10 years.

If 5,000 people can be counted, they can be housed.

The more who send, the stronger the demand.

Minimum Wage Increases Mean Nothing Without Affordable Housing

 Minimum Wage Increases Mean Nothing Without Affordable Housing

To the Elected Officials Responsible for Wage and Housing Policy in British Columbia,

Raising the minimum wage may look like progress on paper, but it does not reflect the lived reality of single adults trying to survive in this province.

Let’s speak honestly.

If a person works full-time at minimum wage, they may earn roughly $3,000 a month before deductions. After taxes, that drops closer to $2,500. When average one-bedroom rents are around $2,400 in many urban areas, that leaves virtually nothing for food, transportation, utilities, phone service, medical expenses, clothing, or emergencies.

There is no room for savings.

There is no room for stability.

There is no room for dignity.

This situation affects:

Young adults just starting out

Older single adults with no dual income support

People transitioning off social assistance

Workers in essential but low-wage jobs

Telling people to “budget better” is not a solution when 90–100% of their income goes to rent. The math does not work. It is structurally impossible.

Housing is no longer functioning as shelter first. It has become a financial asset class. Meanwhile, wages increase slowly and cautiously, while rents respond instantly to market pressures. Wages crawl. Housing sprints. People fall behind.

A minimum wage increase without meaningful housing reform is not economic justice. It is a headline.

If the goal is stability, public health, reduced strain on social systems, and a functioning workforce, then housing affordability must be tied directly to income reality. Otherwise, you are asking single working adults to live permanently on the edge of insolvency.

A society should not require roommates, debt, or family wealth simply to survive full-time work.

Please address the gap between wages and housing costs with the seriousness it deserves. Because this is not about luxury. It is about basic shelter and human dignity.

Respectfully,

Tina Winterlik

When the Bureaucrat Makes More Than the Prime Minister

 When the Bureaucrat Makes More Than the Prime Minister

It’s an interesting moment in Metro Vancouver politics.

The Chief Administrative Officer of Metro Vancouver, Jerry Dobrovolny, recently said that “laws may have been broken” in relation to information that became public about leadership turmoil inside the organization.

That’s serious language.

When a senior public official invokes potential criminality, it immediately shifts the conversation. It moves the focus away from governance concerns and toward identifying who disclosed the information.

But here’s what makes this moment particularly striking.

Dobrovolny’s total annual compensation in recent years has been reported at well over half a million dollars — in some years approaching or exceeding $700,000 when salary, taxable benefits, and expenses are included.

That’s more than the Prime Minister of Canada.

For comparison, Justin Trudeau earns roughly $400,000 annually in combined salary as Prime Minister and Member of Parliament.

Pause on that.

The head of a regional district — albeit an important one overseeing water, sewer, and regional infrastructure — is compensated at a level significantly higher than the elected leader of the country.

Is that illegal? No.

Is it unprecedented in public administration? Not entirely.

But is it interesting?

Absolutely.

When someone earning more than the Prime Minister speaks about possible laws being broken in response to internal disclosures, the public has every right to ask questions:

• What exactly is being investigated?
• How much taxpayer money will be spent investigating a “leak”?
• Why is the primary focus on the disclosure rather than the governance issues that prompted it?
• What accountability mechanisms exist for senior administrators at Metro Vancouver?

Metro Vancouver provides essential services to millions of residents in the Lower Mainland. It manages billions in infrastructure. It is not a minor entity.

But with high responsibility comes high scrutiny.

Executive compensation at this level is often justified by the complexity of the role, the scale of infrastructure oversight, and the need to attract experienced administrators. That is the policy argument.

The public-interest argument is different.

When compensation rises to levels that exceed national leadership salaries, transparency should rise proportionally.

This isn’t about personal attacks. It’s about structural accountability.

In a region facing affordability crises, housing instability, and rising utility costs, residents are paying close attention to where their money goes.

And when strong legal language is used in response to public disclosures, it’s fair to ask whether transparency is being treated as a threat — rather than as a democratic necessity.

Isn’t that interesting?

Public Is Not Permission

 Public Is Not Permission

Wearable smart glasses with built-in cameras are becoming more common in everyday life. While many people use technology responsibly, these devices can record video without the obvious signal of someone holding up a phone.

That shift matters.

For years, social norms developed around visible recording. You see a phone pointed at you — you know what’s happening. You can move away. You can object. You can protect yourself.

Wearable cameras change that dynamic.

Public space is not automatic consent to be filmed.
Nudity in certain communities is not permission to be posted online.
Private conversations in semi-public settings are not content.

As technology evolves, our standards around consent and respect need to evolve with it.

If you ever feel uncomfortable, you are allowed to ask:
“Are you recording? I don’t consent.”

If you discover yourself online without permission, document everything — screenshots, links, usernames — and report it immediately to the platform.

Businesses, event organizers, and community leaders should also be thinking proactively about clear policies around wearable recording devices. Protecting guests and patrons is part of modern responsibility.

This is not about fear.
It is about awareness.
It is about preserving trust in the spaces where we gather.

Technology moves fast.
Ethics must not fall behind.

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When Places Change: Las Vegas, Zipolite, Vancouver

 When Places Change: Las Vegas, Zipolite, Vancouver

I never liked Las Vegas.

The first time I landed there on a layover, I hadn’t even left the airport when I heard it — slot machines ringing, chiming, pulling at people before they had even collected their luggage. The sound felt invasive. Mechanical. Relentless.

I remember thinking about the electricity. The lights. The excess.
And the lives gambling has quietly broken.

Vegas has always felt like spectacle built on vulnerability.

For decades, it was run by the mob. Later, it was absorbed by corporations like MGM Resorts International and Caesars Entertainment. The mob era was criminal and violent — not something to romanticize. But today’s corporate era isn’t innocent either. It is simply legalized, polished, and shareholder-driven.

The model shifted.

From cheap rooms and volume tourism
to premium pricing and affluent clientele.

Now there are fees for everything. Parking. Resort charges. Dynamic pricing. Exclusive events like the Las Vegas Grand Prix that reshape the city for global spectacle.

Fewer tourists. Higher margins. Bigger corporations.

Vegas is an extreme example — but it isn’t unique.

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In a much smaller way, I have watched similar shifts in Zipolite.

When I first came decades ago, it was raw. Imperfect. Affordable. You knew the people running the places. It felt accidental, not curated.

Now it feels managed.

Yes, important progress has been made. Zipolite became internationally known as a safe haven for gay men. That matters. Safety matters. Visibility matters.

But safety for one group does not automatically recreate the feeling of home for everyone.

Large resorts rise. Branding replaces randomness. Prices climb. The rhythm shifts.

It is still beautiful.

But it feels different.

I feel different in it.

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And then there is Vancouver.

A city I have loved and struggled with.

A city that slowly transformed from a livable coastal port into a global investment vehicle. Housing became an asset class. Downtown became hollowed out in places. Community scattered under the weight of speculation.

Different scale. Same pattern.

When places become financial instruments, something subtle happens.

Belonging becomes conditional.
Intimacy becomes rare.
Community becomes fragile.

You are no longer part of the fabric — you are part of the revenue stream.

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This isn’t about romanticizing crime.
It isn’t about blaming any one group.
It isn’t about resisting change.

Places evolve. They always have.

But when the organizing principle shifts from human need to shareholder return, the emotional climate changes.

It becomes quieter. Harder. Less forgiving.

You can still walk the beach.
You can still see the lights.
You can still admire the skyline.

And yet something essential feels thinner.

A place can still be beautiful and no longer feel like home.

Housing Without Fragility

 Housing Without Fragility

Day 5

I’m writing this from a hammock in Zipolite.

Roosters. Wind. Human scale.

Not perfect. But breathable.

Vancouver needs housing.

But housing is not just units per acre.

It is:

Infrastructure

Access

Employment land

History

Mechanical resilience

Social stability

If industrial land disappears, jobs disappear.

If towers rise without infrastructure planning, fragility increases.

If land becomes speculation, communities become temporary.

I am on a housing list near 12th & Cambie.

This is personal.

But it is also structural.

We must ask:

Are we building homes?

Or financial instruments?

Are we building resilient systems?

Or vertical dependency?

A city is not just height.

It is balance.

The Elevator Nobody Talks About

 The Elevator Nobody Talks About

Day 4

Two elevators.

Fifteen floors.

Hundreds of residents.

Deliveries every hour.

Electric bikes.

Food apps.

People moving constantly because rent is $2400 for a one-bedroom.

Elevators break.

When they break:

Seniors are trapped.

Parents carry groceries upstairs.

Tension rises.

Repair costs rise.

Maintenance never ends.

Older elevators lasted decades.

New ones break frequently.

Is density being designed for reality?

Or for spreadsheets?

No one at public hearings asks: How many elevators per resident? What’s the repair budget? What’s the contingency plan?

Vertical living is mechanical living.

And mechanical systems fail.

🏙️ District 5: Safety, Policing, and the Future of the Downtown Eastside

 🏙️ District 5: Safety, Policing, and the Future of the Downtown Eastside

The creation of District 5 by the Vancouver Police Department marks a significant shift in how Vancouver is responding to ongoing challenges in the Downtown Eastside.

Eighty-eight officers now patrol an area that includes Chinatown and Gastown. The district operates out of the Woodward’s building and represents what police describe as a return to “old-school beat policing” — officers walking the streets, visible, present, and engaged.

For some residents and businesses, this brings relief. After years of street disorder, retail theft, violence, and overdose crises, visible enforcement feels like action. The closure of London Drugs at Woodward’s due to safety concerns was symbolic — a sign that something was breaking. Police leadership argues that stability must come first if the neighbourhood is to recover.

And there is evidence that targeted enforcement can produce measurable results. Weapons seized. Warrants executed. Fewer reported fires. A reduction in overdose calls during the task force period.

These outcomes matter.

But they are not the whole story.

The Downtown Eastside is not simply a crime hotspot. It is the epicentre of intersecting crises: addiction, untreated mental illness, poverty, trauma, and housing instability. Many of the calls police respond to are not traditional criminal acts — they are health emergencies playing out in public.

Police officers are trained in enforcement and crisis control. They are not doctors. They are not psychiatrists. They are not long-term addiction specialists. Yet they are often the default responders because other systems are underfunded, overwhelmed, or unavailable.

This raises an uncomfortable but necessary question:

Are we investing in enforcement because it is effective — or because it is the only system that responds immediately?

Nearly $4 million is being requested for the district and a training academy. Meanwhile, detox beds remain limited. Supportive housing waitlists remain long. Mental health services remain stretched.

Public safety is essential. Communities deserve to feel safe. Seniors, people with mobility challenges, workers, and families deserve sidewalks they can use without fear.

But safety is not created by visibility alone. It is sustained by stability.

And stability requires:

• Housing
• Treatment
• Trauma-informed care
• Income security
• Community trust

If hundreds of officers are simultaneously facing misconduct investigations, public trust becomes even more critical. Expansion without accountability risks deepening skepticism.

This is not a simple “pro-police” versus “anti-police” issue.

It is a structural question:

Are we addressing symptoms, or are we addressing root causes?

District 5 may bring short-term order. Whether it produces long-term healing will depend on what comes next — and whether policing is paired with serious investment in social infrastructure.

Because enforcement can clear a sidewalk.

But only social systems can rebuild a life.

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📘 Reflective Questions for Readers

Understanding the Issue

1. What does “public safety” mean to you personally?
2. Do you believe visible police presence makes communities safer? Why or why not?
3. What is the difference between crime and social disorder?

Resource Allocation

4. If you had $4 million to invest in the Downtown Eastside, how would you divide it between policing and social services?
5. Should police be the primary responders to mental health crises? What alternatives could exist?
6. What role should housing play in crime reduction strategies?

Accountability and Trust

7. How important is police accountability when expanding enforcement budgets?
8. Does increasing police presence automatically increase public trust?

Long-Term Vision

9. What would a truly healthy Downtown Eastside look like in 10 years?
10. What balance between enforcement and social investment feels ethical and sustainable to you?

Why 25 Storeys?

 Why 25 Storeys?

Day 3

Why 25 floors?

Why not 8?

Why not 10?

Mid-rise buildings:

Are easier to service

Depend less on complex mechanical systems

Are easier to evacuate

Are more human scale

High-rises maximize land value.

They also maximize dependency.

Above a certain height:

Fire trucks cannot reach upper floors.

Everything depends on internal systems.

Elevators become lifelines.

We rarely discuss this.

Why?

💔 $18 Million on Naloxone: Could It Save More Lives in Treatment?

 💔 $18 Million on Naloxone: Could It Save More Lives in Treatment?

B.C. is spending $18 million on nasal naloxone kits — life-saving devices that reverse opioid overdoses in seconds. And yes, naloxone is a miracle drug. It’s preventing deaths right now. 💉

But here’s the tough question: what if that $18 million went to addiction treatment instead?

Let’s break it down:

Use of $18M	What it buys	Impact
Naloxone kits	~200,000 kits	Can save lives immediately during an overdose, but doesn’t treat addiction long-term
Treatment programs	~450 residential treatment spots for a year	Helps people recover fully from addiction, but doesn’t prevent immediate overdoses

So, we’re facing a real-life dilemma: save lives now or invest in long-term recovery?

The truth is, we need both. Naloxone stops deaths in the moment, but treatment gives people the support they need to rebuild their lives.

💡 Imagine if funding was balanced — more kits on the streets and more treatment spots open across B.C. That could turn a crisis into real recovery.

It’s time for a conversation about smart funding, life-saving interventions, and giving people a real chance to recover.

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Reflective questions for readers:

1. Would you prioritize saving lives immediately or investing in long-term recovery?
2. How can government spending balance emergency measures and treatment programs?
3. What barriers prevent more people from accessing treatment in B.C.?
4. Should communities push for both more naloxone kits and treatment spots?
5. How do we measure “success” in addressing the opioid crisis?

The Milagro Beanfield War: A Story That Still Speaks to Our Times 🌱

 🌱 The Milagro Beanfield War: A Story That Still Speaks to Our Times 🌱

I first read The Milagro Beanfield War while pregnant 🤰, and it left an indelible mark on me. Later, watching the movie adaptation 🎬 brought that vibrant story to life in a way that felt both intimate and epic. Robert Redford’s film perfectly captures John Nichols’ unique blend of humor 😄, heart 💖, and biting social commentary.

At its core, The Milagro Beanfield War is about more than just a small town in New Mexico 🏜️. It’s about water rights 💧, land rights 🌾, and the clash between development 🏗️ and community—issues that remain incredibly relevant today. It’s a story of ordinary people standing up ✊ to powerful interests, of activists who refuse to be silenced ✨, and of elders who carry the wisdom and traditions of generations 👵👴. And yes, there are even moments of magic 🕊️—angels, unexpected miracles, and that beautiful sense of hope 🌟 that blossoms in the most unlikely places.

What I love most is how the story celebrates resilience, community, and the courage to protect what’s rightfully yours 💚, even when the odds are stacked against you. It’s a reminder that change often starts with one small act of defiance—sometimes as simple as planting a beanfield 🌱.

If you care about justice ⚖️, the environment 🌎, and the quiet power of ordinary people, this book and movie are must-sees. They’re funny 😆, touching 🥹, and profoundly moving, weaving together the personal and the political with warmth, wisdom, and a touch of magic ✨.

💚 Watch it, read it, and let it remind you that even the smallest voices can make a difference 🌱💧.

Build Canada Homes: Hope, Urgency, and 10 Questions Canada Must Ask 💛

 Build Canada Homes: Hope, Urgency, and 10 Questions Canada Must Ask 💛

In recent months, the federal government has launched Build Canada Homes (BCH), a new housing agency aimed at building more homes faster, using modern construction methods like prefab and modular units and unlocking partnerships across provinces and cities. The initial $13 billion investment and emerging partnerships — including in British Columbia — show that real work is underway.

So first: thank you to the leaders, civil servants, and community advocates working to translate policy into homes. I mean that sincerely — including Mark Carney and others trying to bring more housing into Canadian communities. Your efforts are necessary. 👏

But this moment also needs clarity.

We’ve spent the last few posts exploring who affordable housing actually serves (Parts 1–3), what solutions might work (Part 4), and what success or failure could look like (Part 5). Today, I want to tie those ideas together and ask hard questions we all need to wrestle with.

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🧱 What’s Happening Now

Yes — Build Canada Homes is moving.
Yes — partnerships and funding agreements are starting to produce housing projects.
Yes — construction of supportive and transitional housing is beginning in the next 12–24 months.

This is progress, and it’s welcome.

But Canada still faces:

• Thousands of people experiencing homelessness in cities like Vancouver.
• Thousands more who can’t find housing they can afford.
• Shelters that turn people away because there is simply no space.

The structural crises we face are urgent and human. And good intentions must meet real results.

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🧠 Why This Matters

Build Canada Homes is more than a construction program. It should be a turning point — not just in the number of homes built, but in who gets them and how fast.

To be worth it, BCH must:

• Reach the lowest income Canadians, including people on social assistance.
• Deliver housing that is actually affordable, not just “below market.”
• Include rapid response solutions like tiny homes or modular villages.
• Ensure that eligibility rules don’t filter out the most vulnerable.

We know supply matters. But supply without accessibility leaves people behind.

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❓ 10 Hard Questions for Canada (Not Just Leaders — All of Us)

These questions aren’t easy. They require reflection, honesty, and empathy — whether you’re a policymaker, a renter, a homeowner, an employer, or someone early in your career:

1. What does “affordable housing” really mean if people on social assistance still can’t afford it?
   Is tying rent to market rates enough, or must we tie it to actual incomes?

2. How can we expect people to thrive if they are housed — but still living paycheck to paycheck?
   Should affordability benchmarks change?

3. If thousands are homeless now, why do so many housing plans focus on long-term supply rather than immediate shelter?
   What does urgency look like in practice?

4. How much are we willing to invest in truly affordable housing versus housing for “middle-income” households?
   Is there room for both?

5. Do we value housing more as an investment asset or as a basic human right?
   How would that choice change policy?

6. Are we prepared to rethink land use, zoning, and community resistance — even when it’s uncomfortable?
   What kind of country do we want to be?

7. What does success look like 1 year from now? 5 years from now? 10 years from now?
   Are we setting goals that truly reflect human dignity?

8. If modular and tiny homes can be built quickly and affordably, why aren’t they central to the plan?
   Whose voices are shaping those decisions?

9. How do we measure the success of housing programs — by units built or by people sheltered?
   What story does each metric tell?

10. Are we willing to hold leaders accountable when progress is slow — even when we want them to succeed?
    Accountability shouldn’t be about blame; it should be about results.

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🧩 Final Thought

Build Canada Homes can make a difference — but only if we insist that housing is defined by access, dignity, and urgency. It is not enough to build more homes. We must build homes that people can live in, afford, and thrive in.

So thank you, truly, to everyone trying to make this work — including those inside government. But let’s not let good intentions become excuses for delayed impact.

Housing is a human need. And Canada’s future depends on meeting that need now, not just promising more in the years ahead.

💛 Let’s keep asking the hard questions — and demanding answers that change lives.

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What Does “Industrial” Actually Mean?

 What Does “Industrial” Actually Mean?

Post Tomorrow

When people hear “industrial,” they imagine loud, dirty, stinky.

But I worked industrial laundry.

I worked in processing plants.

I’ve seen how these spaces operate.

Industrial zoning includes:

Production

Distribution

Repair

Storage

Film sets

Equipment yards

These are jobs that don’t require tech degrees.

They are working-class infrastructure.

Only about 6% of Vancouver’s land is zoned industrial.

Ninety percent is residential.

When industrial land gets rezoned, land values rise.

And when land values rise, small operators disappear.

The city becomes:

Service work

Real estate

Hospitality

Is that resilience?

Or fragility?

Public Service or Public Privilege?

 Public Service or Public Privilege?

I’ve been thinking about pensions.

In Mexico, President Claudia Sheinbaum has proposed capping very large pensions for former high-level officials. Some reportedly received close to a million pesos a month. The proposal would limit them to about 70,000 pesos monthly — still comfortable, but no longer extraordinary.

This isn’t just about numbers.

It’s about principle.

What is public service supposed to mean?

In Canada, Members of Parliament can receive pensions that average around $80,000 a year. Meanwhile, many seniors live on $20,000 to $25,000 annually through CPP and OAS. That gap isn’t illegal. It isn’t hidden. But it raises questions.

It’s the distance.

The distance between those who govern and those who count every dollar.

And then I think of José Mujica.

Before becoming president, he was a guerrilla fighter in the 1960s. He was imprisoned for nearly 14 years — much of that time in solitary confinement under Uruguay’s military dictatorship. He endured isolation, harsh conditions, and psychological strain. He later said he survived by talking to ants and imagining conversations in his mind.

After prison, he didn’t pursue wealth. He returned to farming.

As president, he chose to live on his small rural property, where he and his wife grew flowers — including carnations — and vegetables. He drove an old Volkswagen Beetle. He donated about 90% of his presidential salary.

He rejected the presidential palace.

Not because he had to.

Because he believed power should not distance leaders from ordinary people.

One of his most quoted reflections was:

“Poor people are not those who have little. They are those who need infinitely more.”

That idea lingers.

This conversation isn’t about punishment. It’s about alignment. About solidarity. About whether leadership should reflect the lived reality of the majority.

Should the highest public pensions mirror the economic reality of ordinary citizens?
Or should our focus be on ensuring no senior lives on $20,000 a year?

Maybe both.

Perhaps the real measure of a country is not how comfortably its leaders retire — but how securely its most vulnerable citizens live.

Public office is a responsibility. Not a reward.

And maybe the richest leaders are the ones who need the least.

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Reflective Questions

1. What does “public service” mean to you?
2. Should elected officials retire with benefits significantly higher than the average citizen?
3. Does a leader’s personal lifestyle influence your trust in them?
4. Is solidarity symbolic — or should it be structural?
5. What would economic dignity look like for everyone, not just those in power?

The Elder Brothers Tried to Tell Us (1990

The Elder Brothers Tried to Tell Us (1990)

Back when we only had television — no scrolling, no doom feeds, no algorithm pushing the next outrage — I remember watching a BBC documentary that has never left me.

It was called From the Heart of the World: The Elder Brothers’ Warning by Alan Ereira, featuring the Kogi of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta.

The Kogi are deeply private. They rarely speak to outsiders. But in 1990, they chose to.

They sent one of their own — someone who had learned some English — to deliver a message to the “Younger Brother.” That’s what they call the rest of us.

The message was simple.

If there is no snow at the top of the mountain…
there is no water below.

If the high places dry out, the rivers will not flow.
If the rivers do not flow, life below suffers.

It wasn’t dramatic.
It wasn’t political.
It wasn’t angry.

It was observational.

They showed receding snow. They spoke about imbalance. They warned that the world was being destabilized by human behavior — long before climate change became a mainstream headline.

They trusted a filmmaker.
They trusted television.
They trusted that we would listen.

We didn’t.

---

We Knew

That’s the part that stays with me.

People talk like climate change is some new revelation. But it isn’t.

In 1990, Indigenous elders were already explaining the water cycle collapse in spiritual and ecological language. Scientists were publishing data. Environmentalists were warning about fossil fuels.

The Kogi didn’t use graphs.

They used mountains.

They said: when the snow stops falling at the top, the balance below breaks.

And now?

Wildfires rage across the U.S.
Snowpacks shrink.
Reservoirs drop.
Forests burn.
Communities choke on smoke.

It’s not abstract anymore.

It’s happening.

---

The Grief of Being Ignored

There’s something deeply sad about remembering that program now.

They broke centuries of silence to speak.

They believed we would hear them.

Years later, they made a second film — Aluna — because they realized the message had not been understood.

Imagine carrying that grief.

Imagine watching the mountains dry while the “Younger Brother” debates economics and growth

The Land Remembers

 

In my last post I wrote that no one is illegal on stolen ground. Today I want to talk about what happens to that ground after it is taken, rezoned, and built upward.

I once worked in a 100-year-old industrial building near False Creek.

It was the operational guts of Expo 86. Costumes, computers, uniforms, cleaning equipment — all of it moved through that warehouse.

Years later I learned that during WWII, parts of Vancouver’s industrial lands were used to process Japanese Canadians before internment. Much of that happened at Hastings Park, but the broader waterfront and warehouse district carried that era’s weight.

Land remembers.

Then came the transformation after Expo 86 — when industrial waterfront became global real estate.

Now, council has approved a residential tower on industrial-zoned land in the Mount Pleasant industrial area.

We are told this is progress.

But what is lost when industrial land becomes housing?

Industrial doesn’t mean smokestacks.

It means:

Bakeries

Industrial laundries

Film studios

Repair shops

Recycling centres

Trades yards

Food distribution

It is the backstage of the city.

When we erase backstage space, we change the economy itself.

I’m currently on a housing list near 12th and Cambie. So yes — I understand housing need.

But I also understand infrastructure.

And I wonder:

Can a city survive when everything becomes residential?

No One Is Illegal on Stolen Ground

 🌎 No One Is Illegal on Stolen Ground — So Why Do Borders Still Decide Our Worth?

Lately I’ve been feeling angry.

Not just annoyed.
Not just frustrated.

Angry.

After watching Bad Bunny’s performance and the symbolism people were explaining — the history, the resistance, the pride — something clicked for me.

A wake-up call.

Because the truth is simple:

No one is illegal on stolen ground.

And yet… governments keep acting like we are.

---

✈️ The “Land of the Free”… with a data checklist

Recently I saw a list of personal information travelers may soon need to give the U.S.:

Social media history.
Emails from ten years back.
Family members’ names.
Biometrics.
Fingerprints.
Faces.
Iris scans.

Like entering a country is applying for parole.

Even though I have zero desire to go to the U.S., it still made me mad.

Because it’s not just about travel.

It’s about something deeper.

It’s about who gets treated like they belong — and who gets treated like a suspect.

---

🌿 My family didn’t cross borders. Borders crossed them.

Here’s the thing.

My own family history makes these rules feel ridiculous.

My relatives moved:

East Coast
Quebec
down to the Willamette Valley in Oregon
then later up to what we now call BC

This was the early 1800s.

There were no passports.
No visas.
No interviews.

People just… moved.

Because humans have always moved.

Later, in the 1950s, my mom’s sister left Vancouver at 16 and went to live in California.

No drama.
No surveillance.
No digital trail.

Just life.

And in the 1970s?
Europeans could come to Canada, have a short interview, and voilà — work, stay, become Canadian.

Easy.

So what changed?

---

🧭 The hypocrisy

Let’s be honest.

When Europeans arrived: “Welcome! Take land! Start a life!”

Now? “Prove you deserve to exist here.”

The same countries that:

• colonized continents
• crossed oceans freely
• redrew maps

… now criminalize movement.

It’s backwards.

It’s historically absurd.

And it’s cruel.

Especially on land that was never theirs to control in the first place.

---

😔 But it’s complicated too

Here’s where it gets messy — and real.

Because I also see the other side.

When tens of thousands of students or newcomers arrive without planning or housing?

Rent explodes.

Locals struggle.

Communities get stressed.

And people start blaming each other.

But let’s be clear:

That’s not immigration’s fault.

That’s:

• governments not building housing
• corporate landlords
• speculation
• greed

Newcomers become scapegoats while the system cashes in.

Divide people.
Keep profits.

Same old story.

---

🎨 Why art matters

Maybe that’s why art feels so important right now.

Art questions borders.

Art questions ownership.

Art tells the truth governments don’t want to say out loud.

Watching artists like Bad Bunny speak about identity and land reminded me:

Culture survives.
People survive.
Borders are temporary.

Humans aren’t.

---

🌎 What I believe

I don’t have all the answers.

But I know this:

No one should be treated like a criminal for moving across land their ancestors once walked freely.

No one should need to hand over their entire digital life just to visit somewhere.

And no one should be told they don’t belong when the ground itself carries stories older than any flag.

Borders are political.

Belonging is human.

And those two things don’t always match.

---

We’re living in strange times.

But I’ll keep painting.
Keep writing.
Keep speaking.

Because art is how I fight back.

🎨✊

#FightBackWithArt
#WarriorUpWithArt
#Borders
#Belonging
#NoOneIsIllegal
#LandBack
#ArtHeals
#MigrationStories
#CulturalResistance
#Zipolite

Bad Bunny no solo actuó — recordó por todos nosotros ❤️🔥

🇪🇸 Spanish (Español)

Bad Bunny no solo actuó — recordó por todos nosotros ❤️🔥

Ayer me perdí feliz viendo clips de la presentación de Bad Bunny 🎶

No era solo la música.
No era solo el baile.
Era el simbolismo.
La historia.
El orgullo. ✨

Personas explicando cada detalle, cada referencia, cada mensaje escondido — como si todos estuviéramos aprendiendo la historia que intentaron borrar 📚

Y lo entendí:

Esto no era entretenimiento.

Era preservación.
Era resistencia.
Era AMOR. ❤️

Porque cuando los sistemas intentan borrarte…
cuando se elimina la historia…
cuando familias se esconden de ICE…
cuando vecinos viven con miedo…

Hablar tu idioma en voz alta se vuelve revolucionario 🗣️🔥

Cantar en español se vuelve político 🇵🇷
Bailar se vuelve desafío 💃🏽
La alegría se vuelve protesta ✊🏽

Toda la presentación en español.

Sin traducción.
Sin disculpas.
Sin hacerse pequeño.

Solo: Aquí estamos. Siempre hemos estado aquí.

Y eso es PODER ⚡

La cultura vive en la música 🎶
en el idioma 🗣️
en la danza 💃🏽
en la memoria 🕯️

Y la memoria es más fuerte que el miedo.

El arte sana.
El arte recuerda.
El arte lucha.

Porque el amor es más poderoso que el odio. ❤️✨

#FightBackWithArt
##WarriorUpWithArt

---

🇫🇷 French (Français)

Bad Bunny n’a pas seulement performé — il a porté la mémoire pour nous tous ❤️🔥

Hier, je me suis perdue à regarder des extraits de sa performance 🎶

Ce n’était pas seulement la musique.
Ni seulement la danse.
C’était le symbole.
L’histoire.
La fierté. ✨

Des gens expliquaient chaque détail, chaque référence — comme si nous réapprenions une histoire qu’on avait essayé d’effacer 📚

Et j’ai compris :

Ce n’était pas du divertissement.

C’était de la préservation.
De la résistance.
De l’AMOUR. ❤️

Quand un système essaie de t’effacer…
quand des familles vivent dans la peur…

Parler ta langue devient révolutionnaire 🗣️🔥

Chanter en espagnol devient politique 🇵🇷
Danser devient un acte de défi 💃🏽
La joie devient protestation ✊🏽

Aucune excuse.
Aucune traduction.
Aucune réduction.

Juste : Nous sommes là. Nous avons toujours été là.

La culture vit dans la musique 🎶
dans la langue 🗣️
dans la danse 💃🏽
dans la mémoire 🕯️

Et la mémoire est plus forte que la peur.

L’art guérit.
L’art se souvient.
L’art résiste.

Parce que l’amour est plus fort que la haine. ❤️✨

#FightBackWithArt
##WarriorUpWithArt

---

🇮🇹 Italian (Italiano)

Bad Bunny non si è esibito soltanto — ha ricordato per tutti noi ❤️🔥

Ieri mi sono persa a guardare i video della sua performance 🎶

Non era solo musica.
Non era solo danza.
Era simbolismo.
Storia.
Orgoglio. ✨

Persone che spiegavano ogni dettaglio, ogni messaggio nascosto — come se stessimo recuperando una storia che avevano cercato di cancellare 📚

E ho capito:

Non era intrattenimento.

Era conservazione.
Era resistenza.
Era AMORE. ❤️

Quando il sistema cerca di cancellarti…
quando le famiglie vivono nella paura…

Parlare la tua lingua diventa rivoluzionario 🗣️🔥

Cantare in spagnolo diventa politico 🇵🇷
Ballare diventa sfida 💃🏽
La gioia diventa protesta ✊🏽

Nessuna traduzione.
Nessuna scusa.
Nessun ridimensionarsi.

Solo: Siamo qui. Ci siamo sempre stati.

La cultura vive nella musica 🎶
nella lingua 🗣️
nella danza 💃🏽
nella memoria 🕯️

E la memoria è più forte della paura.

L’arte guarisce.
L’arte ricorda.
L’arte resiste.

Perché l’amore è più forte dell’odio. ❤️✨

#FightBackWithArt
##WarriorUpWithArt

English Version 

---

Bad Bunny Didn’t Just Perform — He Remembered for All of Us ❤️🔥

Yesterday I fell down a beautiful rabbit hole watching clips of Bad Bunny’s performance 🎶

Not just the music.
Not just the dancing.
But the symbolism.
The history.
The pride. ✨

People breaking it down online — explaining every detail, every reference, every hidden message — like we were all in class together learning the history they tried to erase 📚🧠

And it hit me:

This wasn’t entertainment.

This was preservation.
This was resistance.
This was LOVE. ❤️

Because when systems try to erase you…
when history gets deleted…
when families hide from ICE…
when neighbours are afraid…
when artists, photographers, and everyday people are terrorized just for existing…

Speaking your language out loud becomes revolutionary 🗣️🔥

Singing in Spanish becomes political 🇵🇷
Dancing becomes defiance 💃🏽
Joy becomes protest ✊🏽

The entire performance in Spanish.

No translation.
No apology.
No shrinking.

Just: We are here. We have always been here.

And that is POWER ⚡

It reminds me of Canada’s reckoning at 150 — when Indigenous voices said,
“Celebrate what exactly? You erased us.” 🧡

Every country has to face its ghosts.
The U.S. is in that moment now.
Puerto Rico has lived it for generations.

And here comes Bad Bunny — not with a speech, not with hate — but with art 🎨

Art that says:
You can’t erase us.
You can’t silence us.
You can’t delete culture.

Because culture lives in music 🎶
In language 🗣️
In dance 💃🏽
In memory 🕯️

And memory is stronger than fear.

A year from now, when the news cycle moves on…
when people feel tired or defeated…

I want to remember this moment.

I want to say:

“What about Bad Bunny?”

Look what he did.
Look how he told the truth.
Look how many people felt seen.
Look how love filled that space.

Because love is louder.
Love is older.
Love is more powerful than hate. ❤️✨

Always.

Art heals.
Art remembers.
Art fights back.

And yesterday, a stage became a history book. 🌎📖🔥

#FightBackWithArt
##WarriorUpWithArt
#BadBunny #PuertoRico #Cultura #ArtIsResistance #MusicAsProtest #LoveWins #Remember

When Instagram Moves Too Fast:

 Update:

After feeling sick watching the fast, flashing clips, I wrote to the organizers to let them know.

They responded kindly and said they hadn’t realized the edits could affect people this way — and they’re going to address it.

That meant a lot.

It reminded me that accessibility isn’t about blame.

Sometimes people simply don’t know.

But when we speak up, things can change.

If something online makes you feel unwell, it’s okay to say so.

Your comfort and your brain health matter too.

‐----------

When Instagram Moves Too Fast: Flashing Graphics, Seizures, and Why Our Brains Need Gentler Media

The other day I tried to watch clips from a local art fair on Instagram.

I was excited.
Friends were posting.
Paintings, music, sunshine, community.

But I couldn’t watch.

The videos were cut into tiny pieces and sped up — flash, flash, flash — jump cuts, strobe transitions, white screens, red screens, half-second clips stacked together.

Within seconds I felt dizzy.

My stomach turned.
My eyes hurt.
I had to look away and close them.

And I thought:

Why does something as simple as watching art make me feel sick?

---

It’s not “just sensitivity”

For a long time I wondered if it was just me getting older or “too sensitive.”

But it isn’t.

Fast flashing graphics and rapid edits can trigger very real neurological reactions.

Even in people who don’t have epilepsy.

Symptoms many people experience: • dizziness
• nausea
• headaches
• eye strain
• anxiety
• disorientation
• brain fog

It’s your nervous system saying:

This is too much.

---

The Pokémon incident many of us remember

If you grew up in the 90s like I did, you might remember this.

In 1997, a Pokémon episode aired in Japan that used intense flashing red and blue lights for about 12–15 seconds.

Over 600 children experienced seizures.
Hundreds were taken to hospitals.

It became one of the largest mass photosensitive seizure events ever recorded.

After that, broadcasters created safety rules about flashing lights on television.

But here’s the strange part…

Those rules don’t really exist on social media.

Now anyone can post rapid strobe edits directly into our faces — with zero warning.

---

Our brains didn’t evolve for this

Think about nature for a moment.

The world we evolved in looks like:

🌿 waves rolling in
🌿 wind moving leaves
🌿 slow clouds
🌿 sunrise light
🌿 steady motion

Not:

⚡ strobe flashes
⚡ 20 cuts per second
⚡ bright white screens
⚡ red/black flickers
⚡ hyper-speed edits

Our brains process natural movement smoothly.

But flashing contrast and rapid visual changes can overload the visual cortex and nervous system.

It’s not weakness.

It’s biology.

---

Social media rewards “faster, louder, more”

Platforms like Instagram now push:

• faster reels
• shorter attention spans
• constant stimulation
• flashy transitions
• visual shock

Because it grabs attention.

But grabbing attention isn’t the same as being healthy.

Sometimes it feels like our feeds are becoming tiny casinos — lights, noise, flashing, everything competing to hook the brain.

And some of us pay the price physically.

Especially: • people with epilepsy
• migraines
• concussions
• autism or sensory sensitivity
• anxiety
• PTSD
• or simply tired nervous systems

Accessibility matters.

And right now, a lot of content simply isn’t accessible.

---

Art shouldn’t make us sick

What really struck me is this:

These were posts about an art fair.

Art.

Something that’s supposed to feel inspiring and joyful.

But the way it was edited made it unwatchable.

When did we decide that everything has to be sped up?

Why can’t we just see a painting for a few seconds?

Why can’t we breathe?

Why can’t we look?

Not everything needs to flash.

Not everything needs to shout.

Sometimes slowness is more powerful.

---

Choosing gentler media

Living here in Zipolite, I notice how different life feels.

I wake up at 5am.

I watch the ocean.

I paint slowly.

I photograph light moving across sand.

Nothing flashes.

Nothing screams for attention.

And honestly?

My nervous system feels better.

So maybe we need more:

• slower videos
• longer shots
• softer transitions
• fewer strobe effects
• more calm

Media that respects the brain.

Media that includes everyone.

Media that heals instead of overwhelms.

---

A small request to creators

If you make videos or reels, please consider:

• avoid rapid flashing
• avoid strobe effects
• avoid extreme contrast flickers
• slow down cuts
• give the eye time to rest
• add content warnings if needed

It’s a small change that can make a big difference for someone.

You might help someone avoid a migraine.

Or a panic attack.

Or a seizure.

---

If you feel sick watching fast videos…

You’re not dramatic.

You’re not old.

You’re not “too sensitive.”

Your brain is protecting you.

Listen to it.

Look away.

Choose calmer spaces.

Your nervous system deserves care.

---

Maybe art doesn’t need to be louder.

Maybe it needs to be kinder.

🌿

---