Page 23 of Voice to Raise
“Dude, whatever. Stay out of trouble, okay?” He cut the line before I had a chance to respond.
Probably just as well since he wouldn’t have liked my answer.
I made my way to the room where the council was meeting. I slipped into a seat in the back row, noting at least four people on their phones in the gallery. Or what I supposed was the gallery. Although the room was large, the area for the public wasn’t that big.
The lady who sat at the center of the room—and on an elevated platform—was the mayor. I hadn’t voted for her. Not progressive enough, in my books. She’d done okay so far, so I’d given her the benefit of the doubt. Only a couple of the councilors sat in chairs, although I quickly realized some were attending the meeting virtually.
A bunch of procedural stuff happened—including evacuation procedures. This all felt unnecessary, but I supposed there must be a good reason for it. The mayor then gave the land dedication.She said it too fast. She didn’t give us time to reflect on what it means. Moments later, she was on to business.
The first three items were boring as fuck. Renewal of some program that encouraged the construction of net-zero homes. Well, that was good. The rezoning of two adjacent lots so the developer could build a four-plex instead of the current two single-family homes. Increased densification. Sounded like a great idea. Vancouver’s housing crunch was legendary, with oneof the lowest vacancy rates in Canada. Anything we could do to increase densification was a good thing.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the proposal for the social housing came up. The councilors asked questions. The mayor peppered in a few. The developers clearly knew their stuff as they had answers for everything. What I wasn’t hearing, though, was how they were going to be respectful of Indigenous people.
Is this even your fight? You’re not Indigenous. You don’t have a stake in this.
The project was to be in Kitsilano—a tonier neighborhood in the city.
With a lot of detractors. Person after person spoke—all NIMBY people.Not in my backyard. Well, where did they think people were going to live?
One particular lady got my hackles up. She kept going on and on aboutthose people.
Finally, Spencer was called up. He went up to the lectern, put down his papers, and looked up toward the mayor. “Thank you, Mayor Johnson and council members. I am Spencer Wainright, and I’m the administrator for This Land is Ours. Our mission is to ensure Indigenous rights are respected and environmental protections are enacted. Normally, we focus on pipelines and other things detrimental to tribal lands. For too long, we haven’t taken care of either the members of the community or the land on which we reside. I am speaking in favor of this new project. Of course we need more social housing. I want to ensure, however, that equity is involved. That—”
He glared at me as I nudged him aside.
“What he’s trying to say is that although the amount of social housing in this project is good, it could be better. The developer’s going to get rich off the at-market-rate units—so they can damn well build more units for the less advantaged.”
A throat clearing behind me had me turning. I faced the woman who’d spoken vehemently against the proposal. “What’s your problem? How does this affect you? People need a place to live.”
“They can live on the east side.” Herwhere they belongwas completely implied in her statement.
“There’s not enough housing on the east side. There’s not enough housing anywhere. Why is it so wrong to give—”
“I’d like to see order.” The mayor’s words rang out.
I pivoted my attention back to her. “I was just saying—”
“Whomever you are, you’re not on the speakers’ list.” The mayor glowered at me.
“But I just—” Even as I said the words, Spencer grabbed my arm with both of his hands and yanked me.
Hard.
“Hey, wait just—”
“No waiting. Apologies to you and council. We’ll be leaving now.”
“Very well.” The mayor eyed her list. “Has everyone who wished to speak taken a turn?”
“Well, I haven’t—” Again, Spencer pushed me away from the lectern.
“Do we need to call security?” The mayor appeared to be reaching for something.
“I’ll go.” I glared at Spencer. “Sorry.” With that, I stormed out of the chamber. Righteous anger—and Spencer—followed me right out to 12thAvenue. I rounded on him. “What the fuck? I had everything under control.”
His green eyes went wide. “What are you talking about? You had nothing under control. I had sound arguments and reasoning and was about to present some interesting findings—”
“More studies? More logic? You have to act with your heart, Spencer. Otherwise, people are just going to tune you out.”
