Inside Vancouver’s Women's Shelters

At an anonymous Vancouver-based women's shelter women who are victims of violent relationships are encouraged leave the situation they are in and enter a ‘rehabilitation and revitalization program'. They are asked to cut all ties with their violent partner and remain committed to a shared, open and honest living environment with other women residing there. When I began volunteering with this organization the objective seemed simple enough – cut ties and the violence stops. With time, the woman will eventually become independent and empowered. What I did not understand at the time was just how oversimplified this approach revealed itself to be when the woman in question was a racial minority, impoverished, and/or addicted to drugs.

Women often feed addictions by entering into sexual relationships that become violent in order to ‘get their next fix'. By this logic, removing a woman from a violent situation does not address the underlying cause of its conception, but rather acts as a band-aid solution to an issue that is likely to repeat itself for as long as the woman remains addicted. I witnessed this occur time and time again as victims would leave the shelter after a few days only to call the crisis line weeks or even days later with similar cries for help. When drug counseling was suggested, she would cut off communication entirely.

Moreover, battered woman often face systematic neglect as a result of their racial and/or socio-economic status. The downtown east side is notorious for its crime, blatant drug abuse and often violent gang disputes. However, when an aboriginal woman called us about being violently stabbed and beaten by her boyfriend, we were surprised to hear that the police had simply bandaged her up and sent her on her way. No charges were laid, no arrest made, and no statements taken. The indifference of police to this incident speaks directly to both the scale and significance of illegal activity in this area. It was easier for the police to simply turn this woman away than it was to face the social, economic and political consequences of helping.

When it comes to mentoring women that are often the victims of not only sexual and physical abuse but of social and political neglect, it is often difficult to find the common ground on which to connect. As an educated, middle-class, Caucasian woman I often feel contrived in my ability to relate. I do not know what it feels like to be marginal, to be impoverished, or even sexually or physically abused – and in countless ways I am grateful for my ignorance – but often, when I sit in a counseling session and offer my guidance to women who may never know the comforts of my existence, I can't help but feel guilty. It is time we recognized the complexity of structural barriers faced by women in Vancouver's downtown eastside community and responded not to their outcomes but to their root causes.