Listen to this article
Estimated 4 minutes
The audio version of this article is generated by AI-based technology. Mispronunciations can occur. We are working with our partners to continually review and improve the results.
This First Person article is the experience of Alaya McIvor, a Winnipeg-based community matriarch and advocate. For more information about CBC’s First Person stories, please see this FAQ. You can read more First Person articles here.
This is my gratitude post to those overlooked in service delivery.
A few years ago, I was chronically homeless, strategically planning my stays at people’s residences while employed by the government.
At times, it was impossible for me to commit to a full-time work schedule, because nothing was concrete while couch surfing. Sometimes, out of the blue — at three or four in the morning, while I was sleeping — I’d be asked to leave the place I was staying at.
I was so embarrassed to reach out to anyone.– Alaya McIvor
I remember one night I even called 911, volunteering to be put in the drunk tank just to feel safe. It was a place I tried so hard to avoid.
At that lowest point in my life, I couldn’t even get employment insurance, even though I had more than enough hours.
I even tried the whole process of applying for income assistance. But I was met with so many barriers and obstacles, it felt like they were literally put in place just to make it impossible for people who need that social program.
Reaching out
I remember the week of Nov. 25 of that year, when I reached out to Marion Willis of Street Links to inquire about a possible hand-up approach to help me get back on my feet. I was so embarrassed to reach out to anyone.
Thank God she replied to my message and kept in contact with me. She worked with her team of people — whom I call my “heart helpers” — who literally are out on the streets doing the hard work. They meet people where they’re at, house them, and give them a sense of purpose and belonging again.
By that weekend I was housed. She even made sure I had food to eat. I couldn’t be more grateful.
I remember through all of this going back and forth to income assistance, and every single time, I was sent on a different search for another document they would randomly need.
It was not a service designed for people living in crisis. It was just a horrible experience that seemed like it would never end. I remember even asking for a bus ticket from them, to get to the place they needed the document from.
They housed me in a place where I could stabilize myself and feel safe again.– Alaya McIvor
Weeks would go by, and I was feeling on edge because I couldn’t even get a hold of anyone to be told what to expect next. Instead, I found out from one of Marion’s heart helpers that the income assistance office had actually rejected me, despite the crisis I was in at that moment. I remember sitting in their makeshift office, getting this information second-hand.
My immediate response was, “I’m sorry. I don’t have the rent money to pay the rent and don’t have money to even buy myself food. I’ll pack up my stuff and leave as soon as I can.”
But then Marion told me, “That’s not going to happen.”
I swear, this woman and her team are forms of human guardian angels who were sent to our communities for a purpose.
Even though all the odds were stacked against me, in that moment they helped me overcome them with the simplest act possible: caring with compassion. They housed me in a place where I could stabilize myself and feel safe again without fear.
This is something our relatives need when in situations such as this.
From the bottom of my heart, I’d like to take this opportunity to acknowledge their heartfelt work. Miigwetch, Marion Willis and the heart helpers!
Do you have a compelling personal story that can bring understanding or help others? We want to hear from you. Here’s more info on how to pitch to us.