Regent Park

I remember being in a stroller in front of 347 Parliament Street in Regent Park, a social housing building now replaced by condominiums. It was a bright sunny day, and I felt the warmth of its rays on my skin. How old must I have been to remember but small enough to be in a stroller? People don't usually believe me when I tell them this was my earliest memory. 

Growing up in Regent Park for me wasn't terrifying, it was filled with a deep feeling of sadness that came from the struggle. When my family and I moved away and told people where I grew up, their reactions told me more about its reputation than what I had known. When I was 6 or 7, I recall my parents telling my sister and I to not look out the window, there was some type of commotion – I remember the sounds of yelling. I remember looking at the window from where I was sitting, tempted to take a little peek. Perhaps this represented my childhood, my parents were the shield protecting me from what was really happening around me. 

I have this one memory: One Christmas, my sister, mom, and I waited outside a church. I think this was one of the many Christmases where we stood outside in the cold waiting to receive gifts from the toy drive. We would receive these plaid boxes filled with donated toys. Looking back, I didn't realize how poor we were at the time because my parents tried so hard to give us a normal childhood. 

As I learn more and uncover the events of my childhood, I begin to unpack that deep feeling of sadness - the one that haunted me as a child. As children we feel, but we do not have the tools to label and explain deeply how we feel about our circumstances. “My tummy hurts” was a phrase I used to describe the sadness I often felt when I was 7. My parents worked hard to provide my sister and I a life they could not have, and they still do. “You don’t want those old clothes? I’ll take it”. And in the same sentence, my parents will say, “Do you need money for (insert your needs here)?”. 

It took a community to get me to where I am today, from strangers donating to toy drives, my parent’s family friends connecting them to jobs and babysitting my sister and I, to the cafeteria lady who knew my parents, and would look after us in the early mornings; all of these people and more, single-handedly laid a steppingstone, to better shape my life.