Winnipeg: not the city it was
I grew up in rural Manitoba and moved to Winnipeg in 1978. I was in my early teens. Coming from a village with a population of 500, Winnipeg was my New York City: bright lights and excitement, non-stop places to go and things to do. Spending time downtown on Saturdays, meeting friends for breakfast, going shopping, seeing movies, that was the life. Downtown Winnipeg was the place to be. For many years I felt safe, and I loved this city.
I never had a driver's licence. Just because we can doesn't mean we should, and I know I would have been a terrible driver. So instead I took the bus for 42 years and was quite familiar with the city routes. I got around well on my own most of the time, but then things started to change. A lot.
In the mid 2000s I stopped facilitating the Finding Your Voice writing program for newcomers at the Millennium Library because taking the bus home alone at night had become terrifying. From the Graham Avenue bus stop I experienced different levels of fear, for myself and for others, on an all-too-frequent basis. Assaults were commonplace. I had to seek assistance from various groups, organizations, and authorities more times than I wish to remember.
JOHN WOODS / WINNIPEG FREE PRESS
A 71 bus passes a bus shack on Portage Avenue at Burnell.
'Is this normal?' I'd ask myself. The same way I did growing up in a household where alcoholism and violence were normalized, I couldn't help but wonder why so many of us humans find ways to justify and explain it away.
Desperate people do desperate things. Hurt people hurt people. Everyone has a story. It's a lot of the content I'd include in my programs for refugees and immigrants new to the city. But after a while I couldn't answer the questions from those I was mentoring and teaching.
Why are so many struggling and suffering?
Why aren't the people able to get help?
Why do we have to live in fear?
Why is it that when we begin to ask questions we are labelled in all kinds of ways?
On a winter's day in 2020, I decided I'd had enough and would never get on a bus again.
By that point I'd witnessed everything from yelling and screaming to violent pushing and shoving. I'd experienced sexual advances, having someone fall over me in a seat, and someone behind me pass out on my shoulder. I'd seen bodily excretions that included vomit, blood and excrement. (The excrement was significant in quantity and the bus driver had to get to the bus station so passengers could get on a different bus.)
Those are just a few of the highlights, but on that day after my shift as a writing tutor at the Red River College downtown campus, I got on the packed bus. It was late morning. A man forcefully shoved me to where he wanted to go and began verbally abusing a woman and child beside us.
At that moment I said never again.
I got off the bus and walked home. It was a 45-minute walk in the cold. But I couldn't take it anymore. I still think of that woman and child years later, and all the others I helplessly watched over the years.
Since then, I haven't taken another bus. I walk or rely on friends for rides. I'm in my early 60s now. I'm lucky because I can still walk to get around.
It's not really socially or politically acceptable to talk about these things anymore, so I've refrained from writing about the topic the way I used to. But at my age, I'm not as worried about what people say. I'm much more concerned about trying to help bring change to where change is screaming to happen.
I've been told it's like this in every city and in every neighbourhood.
I've been advised to volunteer more.
It's been suggested that maybe I'm too sensitive or I attract these incidents.
Perhaps my trauma-informed life brings them to me.
I have tons of empathy for people, and more than an awareness of the complexities of mental health issues and addictions. My own anxiety levels have skyrocketed as a result of what I've experienced on the streets of downtown Winnipeg and in my former home in Lord Roberts, but that's another story, for another time.
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A weekly look at politics close to home and around the world.
I feel awful for those who struggle and suffer, including those who don't feel safe anymore. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have a partner with a vehicle. My world would be really small.
Winnipeg has changed dramatically. People need resources desperately.
We don't need expensive studies and conferences in fancy hotels. We don't need reviews or updates or statements from politicians. We need action.
Winnipeg is in pain. The people need help and they need it now.
Janine LeGal is a local freelance writer, community activist, life-long member of Amnesty International and volunteer who has dedicated her life to ensuring that everyone has a voice.
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