By Ally Wang
Recently, the discussions about supportive housing heat up within the community. Some people strongly oppose it, while others believe any opposition is against humanity. Setting aside ideological positions, I want to share my personal thoughts based on what I have seen.
I am a highly compassionate person in other’s mind. I always keep changes in my car so I can help homeless people or panhandlers whenever I met one. This habit started in childhood — even back in the 70s, when you need to save money just to buy a five-cent popsicle, I would still give that money to a beggar if I saw one. I’ve always believed it’s better to mistakenly help someone undeserving than to refuse someone who is genuinely in need.
Since I came to Canada, I’ve been making small donations monthly to three places: UGM, the Terry Fox Foundation, and my city’s Mountain Search and Rescue. UGM is an organization located near Vancouver’s Chinatown and provides services for homeless people. I fully support to provide living place for the homeless people. However, after visited two supportive housing buildings and learned more on the reality, I believe some of the government’s policies shall be adjusted.
Around spring or summer time in 2023, I was coming out from a supermarket I rarely go, and I noticed a man was sitting beside the wall, asking for money. He wasn’t old and looked physically capable. After giving him some money, I couldn’t help to ask, “Would you like a job?”
He said yes.
We exchanged the phone numbers, I refer him as W. When I was back home, I asked a few friends who run factories, and one of them needed a labourer. He told me, if the person has a work permit, is physically able, and willing to do manual labour, he would hire him.
When I called W, I realized the number he gave me is the supportive house he lived in. Two days later, my friend told me W never showed up for the interview, so I decided to go to his building myself.
I previously tried to avoid that block since I saw open drug use gathering there. This time, I walked in and experienced the environment by myself.
The building was a large low-rise apartment complex. Entrance was strictly controlled — sign-in is required, and visitors were not allowed to get on the upstairs. When I entered the building, I had to step around multiple people passed out caused the drug using in the courtyard. The lobby was not spacious; people was walking through; the atmosphere was serious and depressing. I didn’t feel comfortable to stay there, so I stepped out.
On the street, tons of drug users were sitting or lying on the ground, barely conscious. My next visit was a hot day. Two female staffs were handing out water, gently calling people to check if they were responding. They were clearly concerned about the overdose or heatstroke.
While waiting for W outside of the fence, I saw a young man repeatedly bending down to pick things up. I asked what he was doing.
He said he was collecting the used needles.
He showed me a container which was nearly half-full of medical sharps disposal. He didn’t want the passengers, especially the pets or children, accidentally step on those used needles scattered by drug users. He had been voluntarily doing this for years and proudly told me he had even been interviewed by CTV. I checked his words later, it was true.
Let’s call him C.
Due to a serious workplace injury, C is no longer able to do manual labour and relied on the disability assistance. He said he had once lived in this supportive house and now lived in a long-term subsidized housing nearby. He described his life as “stable enough,” though he still looked malnourished. Even though he could not work, he wanted to give back whatever he could.
When I asked if he was willing to work, he hesitated. He worried he couldn’t keep a job consistently. And more important, he is worried to lose his disability benefits. If he lost his job, reapplying for benefits would be long waiting and uncertain. After living through homelessness, he can’t take the risk.
He said a few of residents inside also wanted to work. We agreed to meet the next day at a café nearby so I could help them to find jobs. But the next day, none of them showed up.
I realized they all have the same fears as C’s, a job could disqualify them from the benefits, and then losing those benefits again would be life-threatening. If disability assistance could be reinstated immediately upon losing a job, perhaps more people would have the courage to return to the society.
W never went to the interview. When I found him again, he told me a bit about his past. He is almost 60 now. He was born, raised, married, and divorced within this city. Years ago, unemployment, divorce, and the drug addiction hit him one after another. He ended up homeless. He had used meth but had been clean for years.
He has a daughter in her thirties with a family of her own. But he feels too ashamed to contact her.
A year ago, he finally reached the top of the waitlist and got a room in this supportive house for two years.
I asked, “What happens after the two years?”
He looked lost. He didn’t know — and he feared to return to the streets.
When I encouraged him to work, he told me sincerely:
“I haven’t interacted with society for so many years. I’m truly afraid.”
The disconnection between homeless individuals and society does not just happen over a night. And it can’t be resolved by simply providing them a room. The government must offer real support for the reintegration, not just a temporary shelter.
I also met a young man from Alberta. He said his friend lived in the building, so he pitched a tent outside to stay nearby. This explains why the clusters of tents often set around the supportive house. They turn to the gathering points for the homeless. The drug using become more frequently around the area. The social workers are not only looking after the residents in the supportive house but also need to take care of the people live in tent outside.
When drug possession is decriminalized, and supportive housing units are considered “private residences,” the drug use becomes hard to manage, and the drug trafficking naturally follows.
In less than twenty minutes of waiting, I witnessed a police operation.
A middle-aged man walked out of the building, chatted with someone in a car, and casually handed them a yellow pill bottle, the kind used by pharmacies. Then the car drove off.
I thought it was a friendly visit, until I noticed a vehicle across the street suddenly followed behind, switched on hidden police lights. Clearly, this was a drug dealing. The man was selling the medication he obtained. And it wasn’t his first time, otherwise, the undercover police wouldn’t be waiting.
After W told me he wouldn’t go to the interview, I decided not to return. A social worker came out and spoke to me, advising that without professional training, I should not frequently enter or linger around such facilities — for safety reasons.
She said the supportive house never recruit the volunteers because they cannot guarantee volunteers’ safety.
From my brief visits, I gained several insights:
(1) Supportive house is necessary but cannot stand alone without supporting systems and strict management.
Allowing drug use inside supportive house inevitably harms both residents and surrounding neighbourhoods. These facilities should be dry , meaning drug-free environments.
(2) BC’s drug decriminalization pilot should end, and drug regulation must return to judicial oversight.
Drug use is not a moral issue, but a behavioural one. Harmful behaviour must have the consequences, like traffic violations result in fines. Why should harmful drug use be exempt?
(3) The government should invest more in detox programs and reintegration support, rather than indirectly enabling drug use.
Portugal is often cited as a success story on drug decriminalization, but the truth is Portugal paired decriminalization with large-scale rehabilitation programs, psychological intervention, vocational training, and mandatory assessments. Drug use was not “allowed” — it triggered sustained intervention.
Helping people does not mean letting them sink deeper, it means giving them the chance to be clean and back to the society again.
(4) Location selection for supportive housing matters greatly.
Ignoring the realities of used needles, tent clusters, concentrated drug use, and related crime is self-deception. Safety concerns are real, as even the social worker gently warned me.
Differences in opinion on public issues are normal. Personal attacks are meaningless. Persuasion depends on facts, logic, and respect, never insults.
Supportive house, drug policy, and social welfare are complex and serious topics. They deserve rational, humane discussion, and action from all levels of government rooted in real-world conditions.