Who Gets to Live Here?

 Who Gets to Live Here?

I often look at the glossy graphics used to promote redevelopment projects and wonder if we're all looking at the same city.

The renderings are beautiful. The reality is often the loss of old character homes, mature trees, affordable rental housing, and neighbourhoods that took generations to build. A minimalist box replaces a family home. A tower replaces a streetscape filled with memories.

I was born near Kitsilano and have lived here on and off since 1997. I raised my child here. This isn't just a neighbourhood to me—it's part of my life story.

When I see plans that would dramatically reshape Broadway and Kitsilano, I understand why so many residents pushed back. Whether people supported or opposed specific projects, many felt they weren't being heard. There was a sense that decisions had already been made and public consultation was simply a formality.

The neighbourhood is changing rapidly. Old homes are being demolished. New developments rise in their place. People arrive from across Canada and around the world because Vancouver is one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

The truth is simple: people love it here.

Once they arrive, many don't want to leave.

But that raises an important question: who gets to stay?

As housing prices continue to rise, many long-time residents, artists, seniors, young families, and people working ordinary jobs are finding themselves pushed further away from the communities they helped build. Increasingly, it feels like Vancouver is becoming a city reserved for those with significant wealth.

I don't pretend to have all the answers, but I believe we need to think differently.

What if we embraced small-scale solutions alongside larger developments?

What if tiny houses were allowed on selected streets and underused land, connected to existing neighbourhood services?

What if high schools taught practical building skills and students graduated with experience in construction, sustainability, and community design?

What if every neighbourhood had shared gardens, fruit trees, and spaces where people worked together to grow food?

Previous generations understood the value of local food production. After the world wars, people planted Victory Gardens to strengthen communities and improve food security. My grandmother had a garden that could grow almost anything. Today, her modest home is gone, replaced by a much larger house that covers most of the lot.

That loss feels symbolic of what has happened throughout Vancouver over the past twenty years.

We have gained density, but have we strengthened community?

We have built wealth, but have we created belonging?

As we plan for the future, I hope we remember that a city is more than buildings. It is memory, culture, relationships, and the people who call it home.

The question isn't simply how many housing units we can build.

The question is: who gets to live here?

And what kind of city do we want to leave for the generations that follow?

And what kind of city do we want to leave for the generations that follow

Reflective Questions

1. What makes a neighbourhood feel like home?

2. How can cities balance growth with preserving local character?

3. Who benefits from redevelopment, and who may be displaced?

4. What role should community gardens and local food production play in urban planning?

5. What housing solutions would best serve future generations?

Keywords: Kitsilano, Vancouver housing, Broadway Plan, urban development, neighbourhood character, affordable housing, tiny houses, community gardens, density, gentrification, Vancouver history, city planning, local culture, redevelopment, housing affordability

Hashtags: #Kitsilano #Vancouver #BroadwayPlan #HousingCrisis #AffordableHousing #TinyHomes #UrbanPlanning #CommunityGardens #NeighbourhoodCharacter #VancouverHistory #CityBuilding #HousingJustice #KeepKitsUnique #FutureOfVancouver