Regent by Night

When I first moved to the city in 2004 I can remember being on the subway with my uncle Rob and him telling me about the dangerous areas of the city. "If someone ever asks you to go up to Jane and Finch you shouldn't go," he told me. "And the further east of Yonge you go, the more dangerous it gets." For the longest time I was scared to go to Cabbagetown. I could remember going to visit my cousin who lived in St. James Town while he was in university and I knew it was somewhere up Sherborne St. - I also knew how bad that area was. Once I found out that Carlton St. around Parliament was actually a nice little area with shops and grocery stores, and even a Blockbuster I didn't mind it so much. I guess before I planned my first trip to Regent Park I hoped that it was going to be the same. Unfortunately, I was wrong.
I recruited my friend Barbara to come with me for my first visit to Regent Park and we headed out along Dundas Street so we would go right through the area and get an idea of what it's like. I should mention that it was about 11:00p.m. when we started out, so we were going to get a glimpse of Regent at night. Things started to get a little bit creepy after we crossed Sherborne Street. A large black woman wearing a rag that probably used to be a white t-shirt, but is now more of a yellowed, shabby skirt which was much too short was the first character we saw on our journey. She stumbled along Sherborne Street and turned the corner onto Dundas. "Do you think she's a hooker?" I asked Barbara. As we passed the woman she was approaching a shady looking man who was slumped over a garbage can. "That or a dealer," Barbara replied. We also saw a couple of men who looked alright until they passed us, muttering something inaudible and then purring at us. That's when I decided to stop looking at people...but come to think of it, they were probably the last people Barbara and I saw until we were well past Parliament Street. In the areas of the city that I'm used to, there are coffee shops and convenience stores that are open well into the night, if not 24 hours. I found it strange that all we were passing were rundown burger joints and convenience stores, and even stranger that at 11:00 there were absolutely none open.
Further along Dundas, almost at River St. we did see one of the prostitutes that I've heard called the "independent prostitutes". These aren't like the ones you see on Jarvis Street at midnight that wear the clear plastic heels and fur coats in the winter. They're not like the ones on Wellesley that look like the ones on Jarvis...until you get close and realize that they're actually men. These are the ones that have no pimps...no one to look out for them. They wear shabby, oversized clothes on their frail bodies wreaked from hard drugs, and would do anything to get five bucks to put towards their next hit. I think she was the saddest part of my journey tonight. As she jay walked accross the street through the housing developmet, we saw another sad sight, a Muslim woman and what looked like her two teenaged children walking through the pathways between the apartment complexes on our side of the street. It was sad to see that people who came to our country, probably seeeking refuge are now living in what is thought to be one of Toronto's ghettos.
When we got to the corner of Dundas and River Streets we saw a drug deal. It wasn't one of those drug deals that happens in a back alley where one guy slips another guy money and the other guy slips him drugs at the same time. This was happening right on the street, right infront of us. We saw the exchange of money, one guy handed another a backpack, and the recipient put it down on the ground, opened it up and took out the brown paper bag inside to check out the merchandise.
At that intersection, which was mostly blocked off for the street car track construction, there was a sign that read "Mercedes-Benz and Volvo of Toronto are open for business. Please drive in." Above it, like an illuminatod becon in the sky is a Mercedes symbol, which residents of the park would be able to see from their homes. The juxtaposition of these high end dealerships made me feel the representation of the kicking out of the current, poverty stricken residents of the Regent Park area and bringing in of new, rich residents who drive those cars. It was like saying "Look at me Regent Park, soon, this is what you're going to be."
Since we had reached the boundary, we decided to head up River Street, and then along Gerrard. The most excitement we encountered there was what sounded like an argument going on in one of the many L-shaped lowrise buildings. We cut up Parliament to Carlton, and when I saw the No Frills sign, I was back in familliar territory and felt safe again. It was then that I realized I had been tense the whole time walking through the Regent Park area.
I dropped Barbara off at her place and then continued my walk home. Although the area I was in at that point was much safer than the one I had just come out of, I was still very aware of my surroundings and more suspicious than I have ever been walking along Carlton St.
The biggest question I had leaving Regent Park was how the area got so bad. I understand that community housing brings in poverty which traditionally brings in other things, but it makes me wonder why the city decided to build the homes there, so close to the touristy area of downtown, almost intentionally creating a "ghetto".
I think the trip to Regent Park made me more appreciateive of the areas of Toronto that I know. I didn't like Regent Park. I didn't feel safe there, and like many other people I'm sure, I don't like putting myself in places where I don't feel safe. If I didn't have to, I don't think I would ever go back to the area...but since I do, maybe next time I'll try going at noon.