what will it take for us to stand up?

What will it take?

How many people have to lose their homes?

How many seniors have to choose between rent and food?

How many people have to sleep outside?

How many families have to move again and again because the rent keeps climbing?

How many people have to become vulnerable before the rest of us decide that vulnerability is a problem we all have a responsibility to confront?

Look at what is happening in Spain.

An 87-year-old woman named Maricarmen Abascal was evicted from the Madrid apartment where she had lived since 1956. Her rent had reportedly risen from about €500 to a demand of €1,650. When she was finally removed from her home, she was taken out on a stretcher.

People took to the streets.

Tens of thousands protested Spain's housing crisis. Hundreds camped in Madrid's Puerta del Sol, demanding stronger protections for tenants.

And something happened.

The Spanish government has now proposed extending protections against evictions of vulnerable tenants until 2030, along with other housing measures. The proposals still need parliamentary approval, so this isn't finished — but the government responded to public pressure.

And Maricarmen?

She has accepted a preliminary agreement that could allow her to return home, paying about 30% of her pension — roughly €533 a month.

One woman.

One eviction.

One enormous public reaction.

And suddenly the housing crisis became impossible to ignore.

So what will it take here?

Canada counted more than 65,000 people experiencing homelessness on a single night in 75 communities in 2025 — and that number does not represent everyone experiencing housing insecurity. The federal government says homelessness remains substantially higher than before the pandemic.

And this isn't only about people sleeping outside.

It is seniors.

It is people working full-time who cannot afford market rent.

It is people living in SROs.

It is people couch-surfing.

It is families doubled up in tiny apartments.

It is people one rent increase, illness, job loss or landlord decision away from losing their home.

It is people who have spent decades contributing to their communities and suddenly discovering that they can no longer afford to live in them.

And yes — governments are doing things.

British Columbia points to more than 99,000 homes delivered or underway since 2017, rent protections, the speculation and vacancy tax, and other measures.

But there is still a housing crisis.

So perhaps the question isn't simply:

What is government doing?

Perhaps we should also ask:

What are we doing?

Where is our line?

Why do we accept seeing people sleeping outside in the rain?

Why do we accept seniors worrying about whether they can remain in their homes?

Why do we accept people being moved from one temporary place to another?

Why do we accept encampments as though they are simply part of the scenery?

Why do we talk about vulnerable people as statistics instead of neighbours?

And why aren't more of us standing together?

I'm not talking about violence.

I'm not talking about destroying property.

I'm talking about peaceful, organized, persistent public pressure.

People gathering.

People carrying signs.

People writing letters.

People showing up at city halls, legislatures and Parliament.

People demanding answers.

People refusing to let the issue disappear when the cameras leave.

People standing beside seniors.

People standing beside families.

People standing beside people who have nowhere else to go.

People saying:

Housing is not optional.

Human dignity is not optional.

A safe place to live should not be a luxury.

Spain's protesters didn't solve their entire housing crisis in a week.

They didn't magically create hundreds of thousands of homes.

But they demonstrated something powerful:

People can make housing impossible for governments to ignore.

And perhaps that is the question Canada needs to ask.

Not:

"Why are those people protesting?"

But:

"Why aren't more of us?"

Because today it might be someone else standing outside.

Tomorrow it could be you.

Or your parent.

Or your child.

Or your neighbour.

Or the person who has worked beside you for twenty years.

We don't have to wait until someone is carried out of their home on a stretcher before we decide that enough is enough.

What will it take for Canadians to stand up for the vulnerable?

And perhaps an even harder question:

What are we waiting for?