Recently, a UBC study found that Vancouver has the highest number of renter evictions in Canada. While we typically would love nothing more than to beat Toronto at something, this dubious distinction leaves much to be desired.
According to the study, Vancouver’s rate of 10.6% of renters being evicted in the last five years is nearly double Toronto’s. Talk of unaffordability and renovictions is hardly new, and has seemingly been playing on a Mobius loop for decades.
Unsurprisingly, Vancouver is the second least affordable housing market in the world, after Hong Kong.
The average price across Canada for a 1-bedroom apartment rental is $1,574 a month and in Vancouver it is $2,167 according to rentals.ca. Anyone lucky enough to have managed to find a relatively reasonably priced rental lives in near-constant fear of renoviction. With property values continuing to skyrocket, many owners are choosing to sell to developers or opting to kick out existing tenants, make a few small surface repairs, and then jack up the price for the next inhabitants. In response, there has been a near steady stream of those paying lip service to solving our housing crisis, taking it up as a cause du jour, but none have succeeded in making so much as a dent in it.
Wrestling with evictions is nothing new. We are hardly the first city to do so, nor will we be the last. There is one locale, however, that has made actual progress: Mexico City. And they’ve done so by taking their fight on, literally.
Dating back to 1863, Lucha Libre, with its colourful masked characters, has become somewhat emblematic of Mexico. Second only to soccer in popularity, the wrestling matches are perfectly choreographed stories of the good guys (tecnicos) and the bad guys (rudos) battling it out in the ring. During his five-decade-long career, El Santo (The Saint) was the sport’s most famous luchador. Known for his iconic silver mask, he grew to be a local folk hero synonymous with justice, inspiring many even after his death.
In the wake of the 1985 8.0 magnitude earthquake in Mexico City, thousands of inhabitants were left homeless. Those whose homes managed to remain unscathed faced a second threat in the form of landlords trying to use the catastrophe as an excuse to evict them. Born from the ashes of this tragedy was Super Barrio, a Lucha Libre-style social justice crusader in a yellow and red mask. Not a real luchador, but a member of the Asamblea de Barrios, an organization fighting for affordable housing, he battled not in the ring, but in the streets on behalf of those facing eviction.
Inspired by El Santo, Super Barrio is the ultimate tecnicos, describing himself as “the defendant of poor tenants and the scourge of greedy landlords.” Dressed in full regalia, sporting his mask and red tights, he would show up at political gatherings and disrupt the congratulatory glad-handing, making sure the rights of the common citizens were represented. Known for confronting landlords directly, it is said he is responsible for stopping upwards of ten-thousand evictions.
Clearly, Vancouver needs its very own Super Barrio. Seeing as the real one continues to be busy, even decades after his inception, we need to look locally for our own social justice crusader. Yet, we aren’t exactly rife with characters or mascot-style contenders that would not only resonate with the populace but lend themselves obviously to the role. While it would be tempting to have an ironic Expo Ernie come back to atone for his own eviction-related sins, to the tune of thousands on the Downtown Eastside leading up to the fair, word is he’s shacked up with a local billionaire.
At first glance, the disarmingly cute Main Street Poodle could be mistaken for a possible contender, but it is in fact a non-starter. The seven-foot-tall porcelain dog statue, which cost $97,600, all but represents the very gentrification that is devouring its environs.
Our best option is already seen as a hero in the eyes of many. No, not Deadpool, but close. While the Marvel character is sometimes described as having a strong moral compass, and did come to cinematic life on our streets, he isn’t local. But Ryan Reynolds is. The epitome of a philanthropist, he may have moved south, but continues to feel compelled to support local causes. In recent years, he has supported our food banks, voiced public service announcements encouraging COVID-19 safety measures, advocated for BC Wildlife, donated to the Indigenous Women’s Leadership Fund, and even offered a $50,000 reward for the return of a teddy bear.
Obviously, we can’t expect the real Ryan to bail us out every time we need him, but to have someone dress up as him (life-like mask required obvs), espouse his altruistic values, and put pressure on the powers that be, could be a viable alternative. As an added civic bonus, he would beautify our streets. In an odd coincidence, the Deadpool movie tagline is “With great power comes great irresponsibility,” something that could very well be said of many a landlord. If executed properly, our Ryan Redux might be able to usher in the future with less flipping of properties and more flipping of the current narrative on its head.
Sara Kinninmont is a writer living in Vancouver. She is the author of the book The Bucket/F*ck It List and has been published in The Globe & Mail, Bust, The Georgia Straight, The Vancouver Sun, McSweeney's and on Nerve.com.
