Visions Journal

Daniel Gudino Perez 

Reprinted from the Out of Sight, Out of Mind: The unseen reality of hidden homelessness issue of Visions Journal, 2024, 20 (2), pp. 27-29

It was early January 2024. A politically charged debate was underway about the reasons behind the lack of affordable housing in Canada. This issue had dominated the news for weeks, but something about the discourse felt off to me. When I read a CBC article entitled “Immigration is making Canada’s housing more expensive,”¹ I couldn’t help but wonder: how? How did immigration make housing more unaffordable and less available? It just didn’t add up, especially given my own experiences. 

I’m an international student at the University of Victoria. My wife and I moved to BC in 2018, leaving our dog with my parents because we were told it would be nearly impossible to find housing with a pet. We moved to Canada because I was accepted into a PhD program and my wife had lived in Vancouver previously. Having experienced the housing market before, we knew it wouldn’t be easy to find a place. 

We started looking in May 2018, three months before our move. We spent hours each day searching online through Facebook Marketplace, Kijiji and every possible listing site. We quickly realized that without being there in person, securing a place would be difficult. 

Eye-opening apartment hunt  

By August, we landed at Vancouver International Airport with four suitcases and more questions than answers. My wife, already familiar with BC, helped me set up a Canadian bank account, apply for my SIN and MSP accounts and get my BC ID and driver’s license. While handling all this paperwork, we began contacting listings in Victoria from Vancouver. Right off, you could really tell there were some odd arrangements around housing. We ran into situations where people asked for rent deposits up front and offered to mail us keys, which seemed fishy. Is that how things are usually done here? How would you know?  

The listings we saw were expensive: $1,500 for a one-bedroom basement suite, compared to the $500 US we paid back home for a one-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment with a balcony. We applied to any listing that seemed legitimate. But then came the questions: What are your references? Well, we’ve never lived here, do our references back home count? No? OK, thanks. What’s your salary? Where do you work? We had just moved and hadn’t started working yet, so we had savings. Some landlords demanded three months' rent in advance plus a security deposit, which we couldn’t afford. Good luck next time.  

Reading the rental-market lingo felt like deciphering a secret code. If English isn’t your first language, it adds to the stress. We made several trips to Victoria, eventually finding a three-month sublet for $1,800 a month. We offered to pay half the total rent plus security deposit up front in order to not lose the apartment to other bidders. It was beyond our budget, but it bought us time to find something more permanent. It wasn’t until we had to move out of there that we learned about the Residential Tenancy Act. The Act states that it’s illegal to ask for rent in advance. 

The sublet came to an end by late November. We found a new place to move into by early December, which we thought would finally be a permanent place for us to live. Just as we were moving, the landlord backed out, saying she was taking possession after a breakup. After hard negotiations, we settled with her on a two-month lease, so that, again, we could have some time to find a new place. 

By then, we had moved three times in six months, including an intercontinental move. By Christmas 2018 we still hadn’t found stable housing. My wife had changed jobs three times, and I was finishing the first term of my PhD. While my Canadian colleagues were discussing the pressures of securing graduate funding and working with their supervisors to apply for grants and scholarships, I was mostly filling out housing applications. 

The real cost of finding a home 

Finally, in February 2019 we found an affordable apartment in a decent neighbourhood with good public transit. The day after signing the lease, the university informed us we were eligible for student housing. The irony of having two places to live after being shuffled around for nine months meant losing our security deposit and part of our first month’s rent (about $1,600). We paid for additional moving costs and completely lost track of how much we spent in the end. But we gained stability with cheaper, on-campus housing. 

I share our story to highlight the lack of nuance in discussions like the one in the CBC article. Yes, immigration has increased in Canada, but housing affordability is a symptom of broader systemic issues, not just population growth.^2,3 We need more public housing options for everyone. The mental health toll on students moving to Canada is often overlooked. The stress of finding housing, worrying about scams, dealing with landlords and paying rent can lead to anxiety and depression. Poor living conditions can exacerbate these feelings, and financial strain can force students to cut corners on nutrition and overall well-being.  

Learning about your rights as a tenant goes a long way. If you’re a student, discuss this with your school’s supports systems, such as departmental secretaries, international student services or even student unions. Several action groups have also been organized in solidarity with people who struggle to find housing across BC and Canada, like the Together Against Poverty Society (TAPS) and the Victoria Tenants Action Group (VTAG).⁴  

As I walk through the city and see encampments and the rising cost of living, I’m reminded that the systems currently in place are failing us—both Canadians and non-Canadians alike. As an uninvited guest on Indigenous territories, I’ve re-learned to appreciate the importance and meaning of land for human wellness and well-being. Sustainable, affordable housing is possible if we treat it as a right, rather than a commodity.⁵