The cultural identity of a neighbourhood is as important as its structures: what would Chinatown be without the Chinese? Davie Village without the gays? The Downtown Eastside without the down and out?
We’re going to find out.
When a distinct group of migrants cluster together and open businesses to serve each other, they define a neighbourhood. But unless forced by circumstance or segregation, that distinctiveness doesn’t last much more than a couple of generations.
People grow, change and move on. The children rarely have the same affinity with a place as their parents. Over time, the descendants leave behind their history, perhaps a cultural centre and a few restaurants.
That process can be fraught with conflict, as the newcomers often bring their own language, customs and taste – and maybe more money. The old-timers begin to lament the loss of the way things used to be, and the heritage community sends out an alert about the loss of unique architecture and traditions. Maybe city hall responds with a local area plan to see what can be done to save the character of a neighbourhood.
It’s currently happening in the West End, where some in the gay community would like to see wording in the zoning bylaw that explicitly identifies the Davie Village as gay, their precedent being Chinatown.
But none has gone as far as some of the community leaders in the Downtown Eastside who argue that because the poor have nowhere else to go, that section of the city should be reserved exclusively for them.
That’s what the anti-gentrification incidents are about: a desire to save a place for the benefit of the existing residences – something that’s as true on Hastings Street as it is on Davie Street and Dunbar.
It’s largely futile if the residents move on. The gay community in the West End, for instance, catalyzed in the 1970s when young men left behind the small towns and suburbs for one-bedroom rentals downtown at a time of social and sexual liberation. They frequented the bars, restaurants, stores and gyms along adjacent transit routes within easy walking distance. Gays, it turned out, were the pioneers of Vancouverism.
But then they started to grow up, pair up and move up. Social media replaced the bars; the suburbs regained their appeal. So now, while Davie Village may keep its rainbow flags in the same way Commercial Drive flies tricolours during the World Cup, those who come for the celebration will effectively be cultural tourists.
Indeed, as South Asians depart South Vancouver for Newton in Surrey, and the Chinese dine on No. 3 Road, there might only be one neighbourhood that has a reasonable chance of preserving its character in a way that reflects a current reality.
Ironically, it will be the one most fearful of losing it: the Downtown Eastside.
There are more than almost 13,000 housing units serving the impoverished – 7,600 dedicated as non-market. That is about a third of all the apartments in the West End, a neighbourhood that is more likely to change in character because of market forces than the Downtown Eastside.
And while the protesters against gentrification might at best have a few short-term victories, their argument that their neighbourhood should not be mixed in income or class will give other communities justification to argue against the presence of non-market housing in their neighbourhoods. Thus the Downtown Eastside will continue to be one of the only places where the poor will have a significant presence, sufficient to justify the services provided and even gain them some political power.
It might then be one of the few neighbourhoods where, because the people stay, so will its identity.
